#she's on thin ice for the rest of the week

[thepurecinnamonroll]

(with urgency) Y'all I don't know how to explain it, but Alex is so "baby, can you call me back? I miss you... It's so lonely in my mansion" coded

[pathologicalreid]

central nervous system | s.r.

in which you are drugged on what should've been a routine case

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst; hurt/comfort content warnings: being drugged, threatened sexual assault, season 10, blood, broken glass, in a bar but reader doesn't drink, jareau!reader. word count: 1.7k a/n: oh dear. this week was so eternally long. work was crazy busy i worked overtime and almost ended up in the hospital which all led up to me taking the lsat today. crazy shit, but margovember will prevail. also! i'm hoping to get masterlists updated tomorrow if that's something you've been waiting on.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before,” an unfamiliar voice intrudes on your private thoughts, looking around the bar that you had been planted in to see if you could catch your UnSub before he had the chance to attack someone else.

He sets a glass in front of you, and you drop some cash on the wooden surface, you shrug, “I’m in town on business.”

The bartender laughs heartily at your response before shaking his head, “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just—that’s a line I hear a lot.”

Your face warms at the recognition that the bartender was flirting with you, but this is a man who gets paid to be nice. You take his words at face value and sip at your drink, “Well, I have no reason to lie to you,” you squint at his name tag, “Jackson.”

He wipes down a spill, hooking the rag over the sink, and smiling at you, “Well, it’s nice to meet an honest woman.”

Following him with your eyes as he walks away, that last comment rubs you the wrong way, but Jackson Gleason was the bar manager, and Garcia had already cleared him from the suspect list.

You find yourself wishing Hotch had sent you into the bar with an earbud to communicate with the team, but instead, you were handed a phone, preprogrammed to alert the team if you hit the power button. There was a plainclothes officer somewhere in a corner to keep an eye on you, and the rest of the team was at the precinct or in an unmarked van outside.

Kate had coached you to the best of her abilities, but this wasn’t your first time going undercover. Catching serial rapists was more her speed, but she was pregnant, which immediately took her out of the running. Sipping from the thin straw in your glass, you let your eyes wander around the bar, antique posters and advertisements are littered across the walls, and someone just started playing Radiohead on the jukebox.

Eyeing the phone in your purse, you sigh, stirring the ice in your cup listlessly.

“Can I get you another? Maybe something stronger?” The manager offers, returning from the employees-only door with a new package of straws to restock the bar.

You shake your head, holding your empty glass out of him to take, “The same thing is fine.” Ignoring the fact that you don’t drink—you couldn’t drink on the job; all you’d been given was a coke.

He raises his eyebrows at that, “Suit yourself,” he says, ignoring the fact that you were trying to hand off your already dirtied glass to him and filling a clean cup with ice and coke.

Brushing it off as company policy, you thank him for the drink, placing another few dollars on the bar and smiling at him. Over your shoulder, you glance at the plainclothes officer, engaging in an animated conversation with another patron over whatever sports game is playing on the TV. You suspect he’s a little too good at pretending to be off the clock.

You make a face at the straw in your glass, and the bartender notices, “Sorry, just ran out of plastic.”

Taken aback, you use the paper straw anyway, sipping at your drink while you still can—knowing the straw will inevitably disintegrate.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice something wrong, a dull ache in your chest exacerbated by a slight rise in your body temperature. Your fingertips feel hot like they would after coming inside from the cold. You look down to find the emergency phone in your purse, but your head droops with your eyes, every controlled movement before a struggle.

“Hey,” Gleason says, jutting his chin in your direction, “You don’t look so great.”

A different version of yourself would’ve given him snark in return, but that different version of yourself would’ve been able to feel her extremities. “Woah,” You breathe, trying to swing your legs off of the stool only to find that you’re much higher from the ground than you initially thought.

When you lift your head again, whipping it back so hard you’re afraid it might fly off, he’s standing directly in front of you, “Why don’t I take you out back? You can get some fresh air,” the offer is innocent enough, but it rubs you the wrong way. His hand is on your waist, at the very least you know that’s wrong—you have a boyfriend, and it’s not this guy.

No, your boyfriend is outside of the bar in a van, waiting for your signal because you’re… oh. “No,” you whisper, trying to get your breathing under control. “I’m��� Where’s my phone?” You’re digging through your purse as he stands you up and guides you to the back of the bar, closer to a large exit sign.

Sirens are going off in your head, but even they sound separated from your situation. “I can call a cab for you,” he assures you, leading you by your arm and closer to the back door.

“No,” you say again, “I really need my phone…” his grip tightens on your wrist, practically dragging you out of the bar while you use your free hand to find your phone, pushing the power button before it slips out of your hand, clattering to the ground. “That really hurts,” you tell him, now able to give more of your focus to evading the man who was most decidedly not Jackson Gleason.

Pulling your arm back, you manage to break free from him, the momentum from your struggle sends your hand flying into a picture frame, shattering the glass and causing the UnSub to spin on his heel. “Look at what you did,” he seethes, gripping your hair at the back of your head and forcing you to look at the shattered glass.

Your mouth gapes at the sensation of your hair being pulled until there’s a rush of cold air and he pushes you forward, into the waiting arms of someone else, “Woah, hey, I’ve got you,” Spencer says, keeping you off of the floor and, with the help of someone else, carrying your dead weight over to one of the booths.

Spencer clambers into the booth seat first, seating you in front of him so that your back is pressing against his chest. You let out a low groan when he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping your body from flopping onto the sticky hardwood.

“Do you know what you took?” He asks, pressing his face into your hair so that the two of you can keep your voices down.

Vaguely aware of the way his fingers are pressing into the pulse point on your wrist, you shake your head, “I didn’t take anything.”

He hums in response, “You were drugged. I— I’m so sorry we didn’t realize who it was sooner. By the time we realized there was a discrepancy in Jackson Gleason’s file, you had already pushed the alert button,” he tells you, being careful not to move around too much. “Can you lift your head for me? It’ll help your breathing.”

With tremendous effort—and some help from Spencer—you lift your head, letting it rest on him. Now, you can see that the majority of the bar has cleared out, Rossi watches you nervously from the bar, telling Spencer something about paramedics. You huff, “Where’s JJ?”

“She’ll meet us at the hospital, love,” he answers you, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

Trying to adjust yourself, you shake your head indeterminably, “No, it’s… I need my sister. I need my sister.” Somewhere—a past version of yourself, perhaps—you knew that JJ was at the hospital, speaking with one of the survivors.

Spencer speaks with someone that you can’t see, they’re standing in your periphery, a mangled blur of a person. Moments later, something cold is pressed to your face, and the sensation makes you jump, “Ow,” you whine, though it doesn’t hurt.

“Ducky?” Your sister’s voice rings through the phone, and you’re surprised to hear her using your nickname. Although, your status as JJ’s little sister tends to come through when you’re hurt.

You hum into the receiver, “Hi, J,” you greet wearily.

A sigh of relief is her next response, “Hey, Derek said you’re waiting for the paramedics to take you to the hospital, and I’ll be here to greet you when you arrive. Does that sound alright?”

“It’s cold in here,” you mumble, wondering if Derek is the blurry shape remaining in your periphery.

There’s a pause on her end before she speaks up again, “I’m sorry, Ducky.” There it was again. “You’ll be okay though; you just have to wait it out.”

You nod as a jacket is laid out on your lap; Spencer must’ve heard you mention being cold to your sister. Your boyfriend whispers something to you, “Spencer says the paramedics are here and I can’t talk to you anymore.”

JJ laughs slightly on the phone, “I’ll see you when you get here, okay?”

“Yeah, J,” you whisper, letting someone take the phone from you. You frown at Spencer, “I don’t feel quite right.”

Helping you get on the gurney, Spencer holds your hand while an EMT wraps a blood pressure cuff around your arm, “He likely gave you a central nervous system inhibitor.”

You nod slowly, wrinkling your nose when the other paramedic shines a light in your eyes, “I am nervous,” you answer. Trying to listen to the medical personnel as they explain what’s going on, but it all goes in one ear and out the other. One of them crudely wraps a cut on your hand to staunch the bleeding, but you couldn’t even remember when it started to bleed.

Anxiously, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. “Don’t bite down on your lip,” Spencer instructs, “You could bite right through it and not even realize.”

Releasing your lip, your eyes widen at him while he pulls a blanket over your shoulders. “That’s scary,” you whisper.

“I agree,” he says, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “It is scary.”

[xazse]

look...I LOVED all of your puppy hybrid reader works. But just think about Kitty reader??? That was a stray and stsg find her. And it takes time to get comfortable for her. So there's lots of scratching and hisses but she'll come around sooner or later.

Oh she definitely would, the first day inside is rough, you don’t want to talk, eat and you definitely show no signs of wanting to be near them. Satoru had really laid it on thick when he got too close to you, invaded your personal space: you had no choice but to feel threatened at the man leering over you! You have no choice but to scratch at him then run and hide yourself in their shared bedroom locking the door in the process.

The next week Suguru tries to calm you down when you start giving him lip about what’s yours in this house and what they can’t touch. They’re appalled? Baffled even. You hiss and bare your teeth at them when your rummaging through their fridge as they attempt to get close, they keep telling that most of the stuff in there needs to be cooked in order to eat so you don’t get sick, you’re having none of it.

It’s like this for an exhausting month before you start showing signs of being comfortable, you slowly start letting Satoru touch you, slowly start letting Suguru touch you as well.

When you’re resting on the couch and Satoru boldly sits next to you, you make no move to strike at him: Suguru is watching the exchange from the kitchen shocked. Even when he begins rubbing your back, slowly inching his way up to your neck, you’re fully accepting it and leaning back purring. Suguru doesn’t want to be left out so he normally (attempts without distracting you) walks to the back of the couch and starts rubbing your ears, a little jumpy though you let him stroke them ever so softly.

You find yourself liking the touch from the two men, it feels good. Eventually you start mewling for more attention, slipping into their bedroom at night to smoosh yourself all over them to wake up. One of them usually does and gives you exactly what you’re craving. Feeling bad you always make sure to give them something in return: soft licks up their face.

It’s not long before you’re being treated like a queen, these men do your beckoning with no complaints.

Suguru has you propped up on a pillow on your stomach, legs spread. He has you in that thin nightgown that gives easy access, the no panties really is the icing on the cake. He’s behind you licking long stripes up your cunt, you’re so fucking sensitive, jumping with every bump against your little swollen clit. You’ve never felt this before, you can’t help it when you’re whining the entire time he’s eating you out, your poor brain turned to mush by the time he decide hes finished.

Satoru loves having you use that cute mouth of yours, he’s guiding you through every step of the way, no no you need to be extra careful with your sharp canines, roll your tongue around his length and coat it with your saliva: good girl he praises and you go crazy for those words.

They agree to not give you cock until your first heat comes, they want you begging just a little!

[iinthehexcore]

little mouse

Silco saved you in the bar a while ago. It was only fitting that you returned that favor.

content: SLIGHTLY suggestive toward the end, talk of weapons, sequel to 'the last drop', tagging a few of the people who asked for a p2, 1825 words

an: happy christmas to all who celebrate! hope you guys like this, enjoy!

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

"Hey, Mouse."

You stood up from your crouching position, placing a glass on the bar top. Sevika came in, a lit cigarette on the corner of her mouth as she let out a sigh, plopping down on one of the seats. Over the months, the two of you had became some sort of friends. Now, Sevika was a closed off person to begin with, not trusting you even one bit, but after seeing you work and defend your people, she warmed up to you. Ever since that one moment where you sneaked behind a man to steal back the bottle of booze that he had taken from the bar, she called you Mouse. Silent, but gets the job done.

"Rough day?"

The woman in front of you hummed, inhaling the smoke before turning her head, blowing it back out. Her favorite liquor was already set in a place where it was easy for you to grab. You dropped an ice cube into the glass, filling it up before pushing it her way. She thanked you, downing the entire thing as she groaned.

"Finn wants to meet with Silco today."

You raised an eyebrow, topping up her glass again before screwing the cap back on, placing it on the shelf right beside you. Some of the droplets that had spilled got neatly wiped up with your rag as you tossed it on the counter.

"What does Finn want with him?"

Sevika knew you didn't like the man either. It was something you bonded over. His exaggerated confidence annoyed the both of you, together with his lame attempts on trying to get Sevika on his side, and trying to get you in his bed. You knew not to fully piss the man off though. At least, not without Silco knowing first.

"Can trust you, can't I, Mouse?"

"Sevika," you sigh, "I quite literally cleaned blood off of the tables just so Silco wouldn't know that you beat that drunk guy up. Yes, you can."

She raised an eyebrow, the slightest smirk on her face as she sipped from her cup.

"Heard something about him wanting to overthrow Silco. Wants to be the most powerful Chembaron in Zaun."

It made you roll your eyes.

"He always bites off more than he can chew. He came to you?"

She hummed and nodded, swirling the ice cube in the glass. It made you chuckle as you glanced at the door, seeing the rest of the pub still empty.

"So he is still stupid enough to think you will betray Silco," you sighed, "Finn needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. Not only better for us, but also better for him."

"I just hope he stays away from here. I can't be here tonight - Silco has me out on a job."

You grimaced, squinting your eyes before pouring yourself a glass of water. Silco had told you that you could drink as long as you knew how to handle yourself, but you felt much more confident in being completely sober. You never knew what could happen, not in the Zaun now.

A week ago, Silco gifted you something. He said that it was because you were so good at your job, but little did you know the real reason. The man, though not doubting your skills or confidence, was… scared. With nothing but some glass bottles and a tea towel to defend yourself, he knew you needed something. Thieram had a gun, Sevika had her whole arm, so, for you, he found another weapon. A knife, small and thin, hidden away on your belt. You wouldn't even need to kill someone, no. That was not what he wanted. It simply gave him some peace of mind to know that if something were to happen, you would have something to defend yourself with.

"Thieram and I can keep an eye out," you winked, sipping your water, "Highly doubt you will miss anything."

The small clock next to you made you realize it was already later than you thought. Normally, Silco would have been downstairs right now, sipping a drink before the crowd would get big before disappearing into his office.

"Well, I will see you later, then. Time for Silco's drink."

"Hmm," Sevika threw her head back, gulping down the rest of her drink before wiping her mouth, "See you later, Mouse."

With a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, you walked up the stairs, knocking on the door before you heard a 'come in'. Behind the door sat Silco, annoyed look on his face. On his desk laid a map and a lit cigar rested on the dish that Jinx had painted for him.

"Care for a drink?"

"Gladly," he groaned.

You quietly closed the door behind you, placing the gold-rimmed glass on his desk. Neither of you exchanged words, but it didn't feel necessary. The liquor splattered against the glass as you filled it up, closing the bottle again and stepping back.

"Expecting any guests?"

"Thankfully not."

"Well… If you need another drink, let me know."

He hummed in return, raising the glass to his lips as you left again. It seemed that in the few minutes that you were gone, the bar had filled up, and Thieram had arrived. He was busy making drinks as you greeted him with a smile, placing Silco's bottle back before pouring glasses.

Half an hour. That was how long you were able to just simply do your job. An odd character here and there trying to flirt with you before drunkenly walking off, drinks spilled, Thieram having to scold some idiots. You smiled at the woman in front of you as you handed her the drink, your gaze falling to the door behind her that opened and closed. In walked Finn, his golden jaw shimmering in the dim light. It made you raise an eyebrow - Silco wasn't expecting anyone today.

Instinctively, you looked to the booth to your left before remembering that Sevika wasn't here for the evening. But, what in the hell was Finn doing here? On his own, too. The man was nothing without at least one person by his side. You wiped the counter, your eyes following the figure as Finn walked up the stairs, disappearing from your sight.

"Thieram, I will be right back."

Your hand reached for Silco's bottle, the other one patting your hip to make sure that you had the knife with you. Maybe Finn was just there being harmless, but when has he not tried to pull some tricks? Worst case you have to pour both of them a drink. And so, after pushing yourself through the crowd, you sneaked up the stairs. No trace of Finn.

Stopping in front of the door, you paused. It was hard to hear if anything was being said as the crowd was rather loud, but you could hear the low humming of Silco's voice. Then, a louder voice, one dripping in forced confidence. You slowly opened the door, bottle held in your hands as if a weapon, before peeking in. There, Finn with a blade in his hand, standing right in front of Silco. Your boss must have been sitting down as you only saw his legs peek out from under the desk, but with Finn puffing his chest, it was hard to see anything.

Softly, you closed the door behind again, sneaking closer and closer.

"Today is the day you die, Silco."

You peeked past Finn's legs, seeing Silco sigh before putting his hand on his head. It seemed like neither men had noticed you. Finn tightened the grip on the blade, a sly smirk on his face.

"That's a risk I've known all my life."

With that, you jumped up, raising the bottle high above your head before smashing it down on Finn's cheek. He let out a surprised gasp as he stumbled to the floor, blood trickling down his eye as you slipped your knife out of the holster, holding it against Finn's neck.

"Day you die, Finn?"

Silco, who already had his hand on the holster of his pistol, looked at you confused, though he knew now was not the time. He cocked it, aiming it at Finn. The loud thuds and breaking glass seemed to catch quite some attention as Sevika burst in, metal arm nearly breaking off the door. She had just finished her job, wanting to let Silco know it was all done, stains still on her metal arm.

There, you on top of Finn with a knife to his throat, Silco with a gun aimed at the very same man, and a blade laying too far away for Finn to reach.

"Sevika, perfect moment," Silco pushed back his hair, his shoulders dropping before pointing to the man on the floor, "Surely you can take care of him?"

It seemed like all her dreams came true as she grinned. Oh, she can. She grabbed him by the neck as you stepped off of him, huffing as Sevika dragged him away. To where? You had no idea, but you did not doubt Sevika's skills.

"Well, well, well, little Mouse."

You averted your gaze back to Silco who only looked at you with what seemed to be an amused grin. He placed his gun back on his desk, one hand on his hip before gesturing.

"Quite a spectacle there. Care to explain?"

He moved one of the chairs back for you before sinking down on his own, taking a hit of his cigar. You sat on the chair in front of him, placing the blade right next to his pistol.

"I wasn't going to kill him. Don't think I could, no matter how annoying he is," you sighed, "I just… You said that there were no meetings today, and Finn showing up when Sevika wasn't supposed to be here seemed like much more than a mere coincidence. I didn't mean to come in without knocking, Silco."

"No," he tutted, "No apologies. I believe in loyalty more than a closed door, Mouse."

He swirled the ice around in his cup, looking at the broken glass and spilled liquor on the wooden floor.

"Such a shame we wasted this on an... idiot like Finn."

You snorted, shaking your head.

"Sorry. If it turned out he was here to make peace, then at least I could have poured you both a drink."

"You know, Mouse," Silco hummed, his fingers tracing the rim of the glass, "I never understood why you were called that. Mouse."

He placed emphasis on your nickname, glancing up at you.

"Sevika called you Mouse, and so did I. Surely there had to have been a reason for it. But now, I have seen it first hand," he nodded, "Didn't even see you sneak in. Finn surely didn't expect it."

You looked up at him, tilting your head.

"I can be quiet if I wish to."

"A handy skill indeed," hummed Silco, placing his glass on his desk, "Care to see how quiet we can be, little Mouse?"

⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

tags: @nottherealamber @sevikashimmerstrap

[hcneymooners]

⋆ thinking about model!cait & model!reader.

ꕮ you and model!caitlyn find one another unexpectedly, your friendship a perfect firework across an otherwise tedious skyline of existence. she has a strong reputation comprised of a perfect work ethic, but a "bitter aftertaste" of a personality. the coworker who says this is notorious for being vicious, so you smile palely and take the assessment with a grain of salt.

ꕮ model!caitlyn whom you first meet backstage at an indie designer's debut show, whom you keep running into backstage. she's softer than you expected with her deep blue hair tugged up into a topknot, balancing like an artist on a tightrope. her cheeks are dusted with a metallic blush that shimmers weakly every time her cheeks bunch and loosen, the movement repeated as she chews on an apple.

ꕮ model!cait who is the last to go on most of the time, as are you, so you watch as she keeps to herself amid fashion week and is the first one out at the end of every show. it's the same cycle of working up the courage to speak to her, to show her that you aren't whispering along with the rest of the girls sitting beside you, but your little streaks of bravery are blotted out by the hot lights of your twin vanities and there's nothing left by the time she calls her car.

ꕮ you finally see her at the right time, finally send her a tight smile that you meant to be fuller with a little wave. she's at the mouth of the door, head bent back as the movement coordinator orders her to be earlier tomorrow for rehearsals because she's opening this time. she's surprised at the soft spread of your teeth towards her, and reflexively she smiles back. congratulations, you tell her and your voice is strong. thank you, she says.

ꕮ and you think that's the end of things but then you get stuck in the open half of a prop plane with her. the set is an elaborate platform to showcase the newest alice+olivia spring-summer collection. the two of you swing like a pendulum across the floor, tumbling into one another. her body is lanky, almost awkward, and she smells deeply of iris, lime, and rose.

ꕮ "you smell good," you whisper with a hand on your stomach because you think you might throw up. she smiles, surprised, and you understand exactly why they scouted her.

ꕮ after that, your relationship grows almost lazily like ivy. you run into her everywhere: the grocery store, the members club right across your townhouse, the museum where you went to see the quilt exhibit. one day you just take her hand and interlink it with yours, promising her a delicious bowl of pho and saying that you'll teach her to haggle prices at the little market you're going to after this—the one owned by the khti with kind eyes.

ꕮ she follows you, lets you swallow her, and basks in the solidarity of finding someone who doesn't hate her for once. you find out more: that she's a nepotism baby (her mother is a top designer), that she dislikes a lot of who she walks for but doesn't think she deserves to complain, that she majored in philosophy and military history at university but dropped out in her junior year, that she's been thinking of going back. "go back," you tell her with a soft smile. "i'll go with you."

ꕮ you go back to school together: her to finish her bachelor's, you to get your master's.

ꕮ when you're off-duty, she calls you. it's always at the same time—she's very structured, you notice—which means you always find yourself rushing through the rooms of your home, trying to find where you last tossed your phone.

ꕮ it's 2007 then, so it's a thin slab the color of ice with the logo of the most prominent tech company at the moment. you're always worried you're going to drop it, that you'll lose her, so you memorize her number to call her from a pay phone when you're somewhere different in the world.

ꕮ on call, she tells you about the first time she walked paris fashion week, how her hands wouldn't stop shaking even after she'd made it back behind the curtain. you share your own story of tripping during milan, catching yourself at the last second while your heart drummed against your ribs.

ꕮ "i was there," she tells you, laughing gently. the words cut out a bit as she moves around, and without thinking, you speak to the ache in your chest and say, "i wish you were here."

ꕮ backstage becomes your sanctuary together. you learn to recognize the slope of her shoulders when a designer has been particularly cruel, and she learns exactly how you like your tea when you're running on your fourth show of the day. "chamomile, splash of honey," she murmurs, pressing the warm cup into your hands. her fingers linger against yours longer than necessary.

ꕮ you rest your head on top of her jutting shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as she adjusts the alligator clips in your hair so that you're more comfortable, switching out your perm papers for new ones so the stylists won't yell about the crinkles.

ꕮ there have been many times when you've sobbed into her lap or she into yours, bodies run ragged after doing 10-20 shows in a day or two. it's never too much work to soothe her or for her to coo at you, quieting you until you fitfully fall asleep.

ꕮ you start sharing hotel rooms to save money, but really it's because neither of you can stand the loneliness anymore. you always share a hotel room now with two beds, just for you to wrap around her in only one. these are the best times of travel: caitlyn in her cotton hollister boy shorts and her long-sleeved soccer camp tee, hair lumped into a loose knot at her neck as her chest rises and falls gently with her breath.

ꕮ you huddle closer every night, late at night. you order room service and critique the collections together. she has strong opinions about necklines, and you can spend hours discussing the politics of sizing.

ꕮ sometimes you fall asleep mid-conversation and wake to find her having tucked you in.

ꕮ the industry starts to notice your friendship. "the ice queen has finally thawed," they whisper, and you hate how they talk about her like she's a puzzle to be solved rather than a person. but she just squeezes your hand under the table at fashion week parties and whispers, "let them talk." you realize you'd let them say anything as long as she keeps holding your hand.

ꕮ your first kiss happens in taipei. you're both half-delirious from lack of sleep, sharing a pepper bun in the early morning before shows begin. she has a dot of sauce on her lower lip, and you reach out without thinking, thumb brushing it away and coming to your mouth so that you can suck it clean.

ꕮ "oh," she says softly, and then you're colliding, kissing desperately and tenderly among the crumbs and cups of cucumber water, dawn breaking over the city of azaleas. she breaks away because she can't stop smiling and you can't either, and her hair looks like blue fire in the sunlight. you kiss her again because you can and drag her by the hand down the street, your water sloshing as you try to make it to the show on time.

ꕮ together, you start to imagine a life beyond the runway. she talks about teaching military history to undergraduates, her eyes lighting up as she describes battle strategies and political maneuvering. you sketch out plans for your own vintage styling firm, something small and carefully curated with a tight clientele.

ꕮ "we could do both," she says, and you love how she always includes you in her future.

ꕮ life begins to slow down without either of you meaning for it to. it's subtle at first: you start saying no to castings that don't excite you, and caitlyn realizes she hasn't done a full fashion week in nearly a year.

ꕮ you find yourselves going to the same places more often—your favorite cafe, the record store that still carries CDs, the bookstore where cait always beelines for the history section while you browse vintage magazines.   

ꕮ caitlyn buys a dog before you do—a retired racing greyhound named laguna with eyes too soft for the world. you tease her about how predictable it is, how of course she'd choose a creature as long-limbed and elegant as her. but then you find a pocket bully in a shelter with a wiry coat and the sweetest underbite you've ever seen, and suddenly you have two. your inbox fills with emails from brands who want to feature them instead of you.  

ꕮ there's a video of you and caitlyn sitting on a blanket in central park, sharing a bagel slathered thick with avocado while your dogs sprawl between you. someone posts it on youtube with the title supermodels—THEY'RE JUST LIKE US and suddenly laguna and your little bully (you named her venice) have their own fanbase.

ꕮ people start recognizing you not for the runways, but for the dogs. “cait, i think we’ve peaked," you joke, showing cait a feature in a fashion mag about “all the best supermodels have turned dog moms.”   

ꕮ one day, cait tells you she’s serious about completing her phd. "i think i’m ready," she says, her fingers twisting the hem of your sweatshirt. you kiss her forehead and tell her you've been looking at spaces for your styling firm. "i think i'm ready too."  

ꕮ leaving modeling feels like shedding skin. at first, you both keep a toe in—an editorial here, a campaign there—but eventually, the industry moves on without you, and neither of you mind. 

ꕮ the mornings are slower now, filled with newspaper crossword puzzles and late brunches. your lives feel like the belong more to you than before. sometimes you still wake up expecting to rush to a casting, but then laguna whines at the door, and venice jumps onto the bed, and you remember you don't have to be anywhere except beside her.  

ꕮ you start teaching styling workshops, curating looks for indie films, slowly building your firm from the ground up. caitlyn, true to her word, finishes her degree and starts lecturing. she still paces when she talks, still moves like she’s walking the length of a runway, but now it’s in front of a room full of students who hang onto every word she says about ancient war tactics. 

ꕮ you don’t understand any of it, but still you’re proud of her. you sneak into her lectures with a ball cap that does nothing to disguise you, a polaroid camera in your hands as you take pictures of her for the keepsake box underneath your bed.

ꕮ your home becomes filled with old fashion week spreads pinned open like faded butterflies, shelves lined with history books, and a basket of dog toys that always end up in the middle of the floor. life is lovely. not perfect, but good nonetheless.

ꕮ and then one day, years later, you're walking through a square—maybe in new york, maybe in london—when you look up and see her face on a billboard. it’s an old campaign, maybe one of the last ones she did, and the sight of her, frozen in time, steals the breath from your lungs.   

ꕮ you call her.  

ꕮ "hey, baby,” you say when she picks up. "i just saw you on a billboard."  

ꕮ there's a beat of silence, then her voice, warm and teasing. “wasn’t expecting to hear that bit of news. tell me, was i beautiful all blown up and life-sized?”  

ꕮ you smile, tilting your face toward the sky. "yes. but they don’t know how much more beautiful you are in person."

© hcneymooners.

⚚ notes: for @marieeeluvsyou & @srooch.

[dearest-nell]

here comes your man

s. harrington x f!reader, 2.1k

summary: you go to pick up your very drunk boyfriend from the bar after a well deserved night out warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, reader uses she/her pronouns

a/n: i was half asleep when i wrote this so all i can say is my bad, and i hope my three am deleirum brings you some joy

Hey… you might wanna come pick up your Stevie-Boy. He’s a bit wrecked...

It was a phone call you had half expected, though you didn’t mind admitting that you wished it had not come at 3am on your Saturday night. Steve had been so excited for a night out with the boys – work seemed to be piling onto him more than usual, and more often than not you’d find him half asleep on the couch by 8pm, arm propped uncomfortably beneath his head and back twisting awkwardly. This night came along with the extra TLC you prescribed him this week, taking on a little extra responsibility around the house so he might relax even just for a moment. Steve was a caretaker by trade, and doing things for himself seemed to hark back to a time where he only did things for himself. It took a lot for him to rewire that belief in his brain – self care did not mean selfish, he was a good person. 

You thought that the time out with his friends would remind him of that; how wonderful he was, how loved he was. He could be without responsibility for a night and simply enjoy himself. And enjoy himself he was… you hadn’t heard such an amused lilt to Eddie’s tone for a long time. You spent the drive over pondering just what kind of state your boyfriend might be in, your eyes heavy, body cooling with the iced air that blew through windows opened in an attempt to keep yourself awake. Eddie at least had sounded coherent, so you figured you would not be alone in the battle to try and haul your boyfriend into your beat up car. 

Dressed for the comfort of your own home, it took one disgruntled look towards a stubborn bouncer to let you past without paying an entry fee. You wondered how often this happened – half asleep partners turning up moments before closing to take their inebriated darling home. The thought made you chuckle softly to yourself, body weaving through the stragglers of the night still dancing to a wrapping up DJ. 

Eddie had told you they’d meet you by the lounges when you arrived, though Steve was nowhere to be seen as you approached your tired looking friend, his face pleased, if not a little weary. 

“Where is he?” You questioned, letting Eddie lean down to wrap his arms around you tightly, his weight pressing heavier on you that you had expected under the influence of what you assumed had been many, many shots. 

“At the bar. I thought he’d crashed half an hour ago, but he’s had a second wave.” 

You felt the short burst of laughter bubble up, an unsurprised uh-huh leaving your lips at the notion, eyes drifting towards the thinning crowd collected for the last call. Eddie let you go with a shrug, stepping back to let you go. 

“Alright, I’ll go get him. I’ll wave if I need you, ‘kay?” The nod you received was answer enough, and you set off leisurely towards your unsuspecting boyfriend. 

Steve was half hunched over the bar, palm rolling an empty shot glass flatly across the sticky surface as he waited for an already busy bartender. You couldn’t see his face, but you could picture the expression with such clarity – eyes heavy, blinking slowly as they tracked blearily across the back of the bar, that sweet, contented smile plastered on his lips for no reason at all. 

Following suit, you leaned yourself up against the bar beside him, elbows propping you up to rest your head in your palms. 

“You getting another drink, handsome?” 

Steve made a soft sort of mumbling sound, his head lulling to the side as he leaned away ever so slightly. “Mm, yeah… think so.” 

You nodded, smiling at the way he swayed on his feet. “Oh, I see. You wanna have some water with me?” 

Steve rubbed harshly at his face, eyes screwing shut tightly before blinking hazily at you. “No, thanks.” 

His gaze turned away, his grip on the shot glass faltering for a moment, reflexes only just catching it before rolling over the edge. You reached slowly to pluck it from his hand, though he recoiled sluggishly at the contact, forcing your brow up into a curious arch. 

“How about I take you home, then? Seems like they’re wrapping up.” 

Steve sighed, hands running through his hair in that same familiar flustered motion you were so acquainted with. Ordinarily, Steve would have been bouncing out of his skin to see you, but right now, he seemed like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

“Look, it’s nice of you to ask, but ’m taken. My girlfriend’s comin’ to get me.” 

Oh, how sweet. You’d never seen Steve so far gone that he hadn’t recognised you, but now that you focused your own tired eyes, you could see that his own were barely open to begin with. Your smile widened, amusement settling over you at the sweetness of him. 

“Really? You’re not even gonna look at me? Maybe I’m worth breaking the rules for.” 

He scoffed at that, body straightening up as much as his addled state could allow, his feet stumbling beneath him to put another feet of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m sure you are f’someone else, but ‘m not interested.” His tone was more clipped now, friendliness falling away in the hopes of deterring you. “Not another girl in the world for me but her.” 

God, he was sweet, and more in love with you than you could have ever hoped for a person to be. Your heart ached, entirely overwhelmed with adoration for this man who was waiting for you. 

“Well that’s very lovely.” You cooed, turning sideways to look at him, one arm dropping to your side while the other hand continued to prop your chin up, helping to hide that rosy blush that seemed to stain your cheeks. “I really think you should look at me, though, Stevie.”

You watched as the thought crossed his mind, a slow understanding that something about this interaction seemed out of place. It seemed to take another moment for reality to set in, his body turning and eyes widening comically as they came into focus. 

“Honey!” 

It had you in hysterics, the way his arm gave out from under him, narrowly avoiding his torso from smacking down against the bar top as he lurched towards you. Your arms extended out to catch him, meeting him halfway until his body was pressed tenderly against yours, eager hands creeping up to cup your cheeks, holding your face towards his so he might really look at you. 

“You’re here!” 

Your laughter rang out happily, eyes crinkled at the delight mirrored in his own. 

“Yeah, baby, of course I am. Wanted to make sure you got home safe.” 

If an iris could change shape, then you were certain you saw Steve’s melt into delicate hearts just at the thought of you coming out to take care of him. His thumbs ran adoring lines across your cheekbones, trembling slightly with restraint. 

“S’good to me.” He mumbled, words drowning out within the still deafening music that surrounded you. “Missed you.” 

You felt him slump against you ever so slightly, still conscious of weighing too heavily against you even in his inebriated state, though how he was holding himself up anymore was anyone’s guess. It was your sign to wave Eddie over, though, who without fuss looped a supporting arm around Steve’s back. 

“You gonna let your girl take us home, then? I’m gonna pass out, man, I’m so wrecked.” 

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarmed to have been so suddenly pulled back from you to lean on Eddie, and he reached out a hand in a needy sort of motion towards you. “I wanna dance with her before we go.” 

Too sweet for his own wellbeing, you offered him a sympathetic look, slipping yourself under his other arm to help prop him up. 

“We can dance at home just you and me, okay? In our pjs too — won’t that be nice. We just don’t wanna keep Eddie waiting too long; he’s all danced out.” 

You watched the contemplative look cross his features, leaving him distracted enough for Eddie to start guiding the three of you towards the door without much fuss from Steve. 

“Did you have fun though Ed? Really?” Steve asked, genuine concern threading through his tone as he addressed his friend who managed an affirming nod in response. 

“Loads. We’ll all go out again soon, but I’ve gotta give you back to your sweetheart before she gets too jealous.” 

Steve’s nod was so serious as he processed the words, entirely missing the small look of amusement shared between you and Eddie as you pulled yourselves from the establishment. 

“Yeah.” He agreed, his head lulling sideways to rest on the crown of your own. “She needs me.” 

It had sounded like a joke when he said it, but even you could sense the small severity behind the words, almost reassuring himself of the truth behind them. Of course you needed him. 

“Yeah, she does.” You confirmed, kissing at his shoulder clumsily as you tried to focus on your steps, narrowly avoiding toppling the three of you right over uneven pavements underfoot. “I always need you, honey.” 

You did not need to look at Steve to know that he was smiling — you felt it as you held him, felt it in his touch and the heat of his body carefully wrapped around yours. At least this night felt like a success in your eyes. Steve was happy, and you had done your part to make him so. He’d be awfully hungover tomorrow morning, but he’d be happy, and that was all that seemed to matter to you in the moment. 

Eddie managed to hold Steve upright while you fiddled with the lock of your car door, the boy now contently distracted with regaling tales of the night to the man who had witnessed them first hand. Getting him into the car was easy enough, tucking him cautiously into the front seat, your body leaning over him to click his seatbelt into place, his hand lifting to rub at your lower back in thanks. 

“You’re the best, y’know, baby? The real best. The best best.” 

You paused to smile at him, head shaking in amusement before brushing your lips against his cheek, relishing in the way his hand gripped excitedly at you for the briefest of moments. “I could say the same about you, y’know.” 

“Nuh uh.” 

A groan sounded from outside the car, drawn out and exasperated beyond compare. “Jesus H Christ, I’m begging for someone to take me home. It’s so fucking late, guys.” 

You pulled back with a laugh to witness Eddie’s petulance, your hand coming out to gesture to the back seat. “Then get in the car, dingus, and I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah, what she said!” Steve slurred from the front seat, the battle against his weariness now long lost, eyes closed and head resting heavily against its back, unable to hold itself up any longer. 

Eddie clambered into the back with a half assed eye roll, splaying out across the work back seat until he, too, was one with the upholstery. “You guys aren’t gonna be gross and sayin’ i love you’s all the way home, are you?” 

Steve’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh shit, I haven’t said I love you yet!” 

The charming little frown that spread across his face was enough to melt you in your entirety, your hand reaching out to brush his check with affection, his nose nuzzling sweetly into the cup of your palm. “I’m not worried about it; I know you do.” 

“Yeah, but I do love you. I was thinkin’ it the whole time, thinkin’ you’re so pretty n’ all. So pretty that I couldn't remember to say it.” 

Eddie just huffed again in the back seat, his complaints overtly ignored despite the growing expletives.

“I love you too, Stevie. How about we get Eds home and get you some water, then we can be as sweet as we wanna be.” 

Steve’s lips pressed into your palm, his kiss unhurried and uncoordinated as the alcohol hindered his usual grace, a mumbled m’kay tickling your skin as he spoke. 

You looked up into the rearview mirror, dropping your hand to Steve’s knee for the boy to hold, keeping his neediness satiated for the time being as he grasped it between his own eagerly. “You hear that, Eds? You’re in the clear. Let’s get you boys home.” 

A grumbled thank god and the creaks of the backseat window being clumsily wound down was enough incentive to start your travels, a pleased smile gracing your lips to know that Steve had been given exactly the night he deserved after all. 

[alchemistc]

Dipping my foot in the mpreg pool to give you all:

They used a condom every time. Even after they'd gone to get tested, it was a fling for both of them, and it wasn't supposed to mean a damn thing.

Only Buck's three months along and Jason won't answer his calls.

Four months, and Cap sits him down and tells him at six he's gonna have to accept being man behind.

Five, and he runs into Jason at the supermarket and tells him he needs his family history. Jason looks spooked, but he overnights it to Buck's loft a week and a half later and Buck sends him a text letting him know he's off the hook.

Jason blocks his number.

Six, and Buck's back to stress baking, just at the firehouse now. He's not allowed to clean much, there aren't a lot of chemicals that are safe, and the probies from B shift bitch about it but they're not carrying a fucking bowling ball around.

At seven, Tommy rounds a corner with his face tipped behind him on a laugh and nearly runs smack into Buck.

When he turns back around he stops dead. Buck can see him doing the math, but even if he was ready to pop it wouldn't quite add up.

He saw Tommy on a call before he started showing and it was the most cordial interaction he's ever had with another firefighter.

---

They say hi. Tommy introduces him to his friend Henry. Buck gestures like he's got bigger plans than going home and eating a pint and a half of ice cream. They say goodbye.

---

Tommy calls him an hour later and asks if he can stop by.

---

"So he's just... not going to be involved?"

"He's twenty-five and a terrible person, so no. It was a fling. The sex was hot."

Tommy grimaces. "Do you need anything?"

"You got a spare bladder?"

---

At eight and a half they put Buck on bed rest and he throws an absolute fit about it. Eddie spends three days watching him furiously clean the loft with the natural shit he'd bought the day he saw those two lines. Hen threatens to bring Mara over to sit on him. Maddie listens to him rant for an hour and then brings him peanut butter banana toast with pickles in bed.

Tommy drops by with his massage gun and swears up and down he actually consulted an OB about which muscles it was safe to use on.

"How do you know an OB?"

Tommy looks shifty. "Do you want me to stay?" He ignores Buck's goggle eyes. Nods his head decisively. "I should stay."

---

Tommy camps out on his couch for two and a half weeks and already has the go-bag in his hands by the time Buck gets down the stairs.

Buck asks him if he wants to be in the room and despite the panicked look in his eyes, Tommy says yes.

---

"They asked me why I wasn't listed on the birth certificate," Tommy hisses, little baby Buckley dwarfed in his arms. He's been staring at her button nose for half an hour now, and Buck keeps trying to remind himself that this isn't permanent.

"What did you say?" Buck asks, genuinely curious.

Tommy's gaze is sad when it meets Buck's. "I didn't."

Like he can't quite help himself, he reaches a free hand in and boops her nose. She's out, though. She likes the sound of Tommy's voice.

Buck sighs. "She recognized you immediately." He's read the books. A million and two of them. Babies know the people that are around, the people that are close.

Amelia knows Tommy.

"It's not just me anymore, Tommy," he intones, and Tommy turns back up to look at him. Startled. Hopeful.

"I've been babyproofing my house like a lunatic for two months," he whispers, and Buck reaches out to rub a hand over the thin skin of Amelia's forehead before he catches Tommy's fingers in his own.

[lilangelbud]

Would you be interested in writing about a daughter who wants her dad and a dad who knows it’s wrong but can’t help but to be aroused at her behavior?

I started writing and I kept going lol so it got a bit long. Hope you enjoy <333

“Dad, you can’t keep pretending this isn’t happening.” Her voice was soft, but firm, cutting through the silence of the dimly lit living room. She leaned against the back of the couch, her body angled just enough to catch the way his eyes flickered toward her. The tension between them was palpable, thick enough to choke on. “I can see the way you look at me. I know you feel it too.”

He froze, his hand hovering over the glass of whiskey he’d been nursing. The ice cubes clinked faintly as he set it back down, his throat tightening. “Stop it,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stepped closer, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. The hem of her dress swayed with each step, just brushing the tops of her thighs. She knew what she was doing. Every move, every glance, every breath—calculated. “Yes, I do,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You think I don’t notice? The way your eyes linger? The way you tense up when I’m too close?” She stopped just inches from him, her presence overwhelming. “You’re not fooling anyone, least of all me.”

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His mind raced, torn between the voice screaming this is wrong and the primal pull that made his body react in ways he couldn’t control. She was his daughter. His blood. And yet, here she was, standing so close he could smell the faint vanilla of her perfume, her lips parted, her gaze unwavering.

“You’re crossing a line,” he finally managed, though the words felt hollow. A feeble attempt to hold onto some semblance of morality.

“Am I?” she challenged, her hand reaching out to brush against his arm. The touch was electric, sending a shiver down his spine. “Or are you just afraid to admit you want this as much as I do?”

It hadn’t always been like this. There had been a time when their relationship was simple, uncomplicated by the undercurrent of desire that now seemed to dominate every interaction. She’d always been daddy’s little girl, the light of his life. But as she grew older, something shifted. Subtle at first—a lingering hug, a glance that lasted a second too long. Then, more overt. The way she’d dress around him, the way she’d flaunt her body, testing him, pushing him.

He noticed it first in the way she’d started wearing tighter clothes, shorter skirts. She’d catch him looking and smile, a knowing glint in her eye. It was a game to her, at least in the beginning. But as the weeks turned into months, it became something more. She’d sit on the couch beside him, her leg brushing against his, her hand resting on his thigh. She’d lean in close when she spoke, her breath warm against his neck, her lips just inches from his skin.

And he hated himself for it, but he couldn’t deny the effect she had on him. He tried to ignore it, to bury the thoughts that crept into his mind at the most inopportune times. But the more she pushed, the harder it became to resist.

“Dad,” she said now, her voice soft but insistent. Her hand moved from his arm to his chest, her fingers splayed against the fabric of his shirt. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm, the heat of his skin radiating through the thin material. “You can’t keep pretending. Not with me.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw tightening as he fought to keep his composure. “This isn’t right,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. It was a desperate attempt to cling to reason, to morality, to anything that would anchor him to the reality he knew he was supposed to uphold.

“Why not?” she pressed, her body leaning into his, her lips brushing against his ear as she spoke. “Because society says so? Because some arbitrary rule says we can’t feel what we feel?” Her hand slid lower, resting just above his belt, her fingers teasing the edge of it. “We’re not hurting anyone. It’s just us.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching as her touch sent a jolt of arousal through him. “It’s not that simple,” he rasped, his hands gripping the edge of the counter behind him as if it could keep him grounded.

“It is,” she insisted, her voice firm. “You’re overcomplicating it. You’re thinking too much.” Her lips moved to his neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. “Stop thinking. Just feel.”

His resolve was crumbling, and she knew it. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he leaned into her despite himself. She smiled against his skin, her hand dipping lower, her fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal.

“See?” she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You want this as much as I do.”

He didn’t know when it had started, this dangerous dance between them. Maybe it was the night she’d come home late, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with alcohol and something else. She’d stumbled into the kitchen, her laughter echoing through the house as she leaned against him for support. He’d scolded her, but she’d just smiled, her hands clutching his shirt as she looked up at him with those wide, innocent eyes.

“You’re always so serious, Dad,” she’d teased, her breath warm against his face. “Why don’t you ever just let go?”

He’d stepped back, putting distance between them, but the damage had been done. The spark had been lit, and it had only grown brighter with time. She’d started flirting with him openly, testing his boundaries, pushing him to the edge. And he’d let her. God help him, he’d let her.

Now, here they were, standing in the middle of the living room, the air thick with desire and desperation. Her hand moved to his belt, her fingers deftly undoing the buckle as she looked up at him, her eyes dark with need.

“Tell me to stop,” she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

He should. He knew he should. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he reached for her, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulled her to him, his lips crashing against hers in a desperate, hungry kiss.

She moaned against him, her body molding to his as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her that he’d spent so long trying not to notice.

“Dad,” she gasped as he broke the kiss, her chest heaving as she looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock and desire. “Are you sure?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed her back against the couch, his body pinning hers as his lips found hers again, his hands tugging at the hem of her dress. She reached for his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons as she pulled it open, her hands sliding over his bare chest.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and lust. “Please, Dad. I need you.”

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked down at her, her body pressed against his, her lips swollen from his kisses. Finally, he gave in, his hands moving to the waistband of her panties, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric as he—

“Dad, wait.” Her voice was soft, but it stopped him in his tracks. He looked down at her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“What?” he asked, his voice rough with desire.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his. “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “Because once we start, there’s no going back.”

He nodded, his jaw tightening as his eyes locked onto hers, dark with a hunger that surprised even him. His grip on her panties tightened, the delicate fabric straining under his fingers. She gasped, a sharp intake of breath that sent a thrill through him. With a single, deliberate motion, he ripped the panties away, the sound of tearing fabric echoing in the quiet room.

Her body was laid bare before him, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She was wet, her arousal unmistakable, and the sight of her—spread open and vulnerable—made his pulse race. His fingers found her, brushing against her slick folds, and she whimpered, her hips arching into his touch.

“God, you’re so ready,” he growled, his voice low and heavy with desire. His fingers moved with purpose, exploring her, teasing her, as she writhed beneath him. He could feel her trembling, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, and it only fueled his own need.

But he wasn’t satisfied. Not yet. He needed more.

With a firm hand, he pushed her legs apart, spreading her wider. Her eyes widened as he lowered his head, his breath hot against her. She let out a shaky moan, her hands tangling in his hair as his tongue finally made contact with her.

The taste of her was intoxicating, and he groaned against her, his tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes. She was sweet, so sweet, and he couldn’t get enough. Her moans grew louder, her grip on his hair tightening as she ground herself against his mouth.

“Oh my God, Dad…” she whispered, her voice trembling.

The sound of her calling him that—while he was between her legs—sent a shock of pleasure through him. It was wrong, so wrong, but it only made him want her more. He increased the pressure, his tongue flicking against her clit, and she cried out, her body arching off the bed.

“You like that?” he murmured against her, his voice thick with satisfaction.

She could only nod, her words caught in her throat as he continued to devour her. He could feel her body tensing, her moans growing more urgent, and he knew she was close. He pressed his tongue harder against her, his fingers sliding inside her, and she let out a strangled cry, her body shaking as she came undone.

He didn’t stop, not until she was writhing beneath him, her thighs clamping around his head as she begged for mercy. Only then did he pull away, his lips wet with her, his breathing heavy as he looked up at her.

Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy with pleasure. She looked ruined, and the sight of her like that—because of him—made his cock throb with need.

“Dad…” she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

He climbed up her body, his hands sliding over her skin, his lips brushing against her neck. “You’re mine,” he growled, his voice possessive.

She shivered, her hands grabbing at his shoulders as he positioned himself between her legs. He could feel her, warm and wet against him, and it took every ounce of self-control not to push inside her right then and there.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice rough, his eyes searching hers.

She hesitated for a moment, and he could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes. Was she thinking about the consequences? About what this meant? But then it was gone, replaced by a look of raw desire that mirrored his own.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice firm despite the tremble in it. “I want you.”

That was all he needed to hear. With a low growl, he pushed inside her, her tightness enveloping him in a way that made his head spin. She let out a cry, her nails digging into his back as he filled her, inch by agonizing inch.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his forehead resting against hers as he paused, giving her time to adjust. She was so tight, so perfect, and he could feel her shaking around him.

“Move,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Slowly, he began to move, his hips rolling against hers, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through him. Her gasps and moans filled the room, her legs wrapping around his waist as she pulled him deeper.

“You feel so good,” she whimpered, her hands roaming over his back, her nails leaving trails of fire in their wake.

He couldn’t respond, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold onto his control. But it was slipping, faster and faster, as she tightened around him, her body responding to his every move.

“I’m close,” she panted, her hips meeting his with every thrust.

“Me too,” he growled, his pace quickening, his movements becoming more erratic.

Her moans grew louder, her body tensing as she neared the edge. He could feel her climax building, her walls clamping down around him, and it was enough to push him over the edge. With a groan, he buried himself deep inside her, his release crashing over him in waves.

She cried out, her body shuddering as she came, her nails digging into his skin. He held her close as they rode out their orgasms together, their breathing ragged, their bodies slick with sweat.

For a moment, they stayed like that, tangled together, their hearts pounding in unison. Then, slowly, he pulled out of her, his body collapsing beside hers.

She turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “Dad…” she started, her voice soft, uncertain.

He reached out, his hand brushing against her cheek. “Don’t,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Just… don’t. Not yet.”

She nodded, her eyes closing as she nestled against him. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, his mind racing with the implications of what they’d just done. But for now, he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the warmth of her body against his.

“Stay with me,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t respond, but he tightened his hold on her, his lips pressing against her forehead. For now, that was enough.

[satoruxx]

SWEET SNACKS.

✧ PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader | 2.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: tooth rotting fluff, meet cute, battles with inanimate objects, reader's got exams bc i have exams, satoru's whipped af (as usual), sorry i love writing him as a simp, reader is also whipped bc this is gojo satoru, bonding over snacks !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: if you saw me tryna post this yesterday no you didn’t. this was supposed to be a quick drabble oops. but it's finals week so i'm offering this piece of fluff to maintain sanity and gush over the meet cute i will never have. if y’all are also dealing with finals, i'm wishing you the best !!

satoru strolls down the bustling streets with a quiet hum, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets to keep them away from the bite of the cold breeze. his boots crunch against the thin layer of melting ice that has formed overnight, now warming under the cold afternoon sun that coyly hides behind gray clouds.

honestly, he wasn't the biggest fan of weather like this, and he wouldn't have stepped out on any other day. but one meeting with the higher ups had his mood souring, and shoko had suggested he take a walk, maybe grab something to eat.

he knew better than to argue with her, especially since she could somehow read him better than most people could—scary.

so here he was, trudging down the streets of tokyo with his hat pulled over his ears, cheeks pink from the frosty air as it dances across his skin. despite the weather, satoru thinks there's something oddly peaceful about the city, the quiet chatter and sounds of boots scuffing against pavement as he turns a corner to head to the nearby vending machines he's frequented so many times.

the peace is broken by an annoyed grunt, and satoru looks up.

"are you serious?" another irritated groan. "of all the days…"

he takes in the scene with interest.

even with all the anger that he's not quite understanding, he thinks you're so undeniably pretty—puffy jacket hugging your body and the warm scarf resting around your neck. your brows are furrowed, exasperation tugging your features into expressions that shouldn't look so endearing.

you groan again, slamming your curled fist against the glass of the vending machine—frustration ticks at your brow.

and why wouldn't it?

nothing was going your way today. it had already started off badly, the atmosphere filled with gloom that made it impossible to want to leave bed. but you had to force yourself to miserably extract your body from the warm cocoon of blankets and pillows that urged you back with a siren's call—a promise of comfort that looked all too enticing.

and then, when you finally did manage to drag yourself to the library to sit down and study, nothing was sticking. you read through paragraphs over and over until your head was spinning, dizzy with information that wouldn't absorb, and that fact is nothing if not disheartening. the impending quickness with which your final exams were approaching made you feel even sicker, so you decided to take a twenty minute break to grab a drink from the nearby vending machines.

but of course, even that couldn't just work out.

satoru watches you stand in front of the machine with a glare, before you're shoving your weight against it, huffing as it remains in place and hoping that at least one of your efforts will prove to be fruitful. he's talking before he can help himself.

"hey, you need some help?"

you turn to face the owner of the voice, finding cerulean eyes behind black shades that so directly contrast the white of his snowy hair. he's tall—abnormally so as he peers down at you with curiosity and a bit of mirth.

you think you've never seen a man so handsome in your life.

then you remember he's asked you a question, and you attempt to swallow down the unnecessary nerves that have taken root in the pit of your stomach. "oh, my uh…my drink got stuck," you reply somewhat lamely, cheeks heating up under his gaze as you think about how utterly ridiculous you must've looked to passersby.

satoru's eyes travel from your face to the machine, noticing the way your drink of choice is stuck in a frozen free fall against the glass and the rack. he sighs in exasperation. "tried hitting it?" he asks, walking closer to stand next to you and take a closer look, even though he knows the answer already.

you're not sure what it is, but this man exudes a certain energy—confidence that leaks through his very skin. it makes you feel like you have no right to be standing this close to him, but all he does is smile at you patiently, waiting for an answer.

so you nod, brows ticking again as the dull throbbing in your fist reminds you of how you had lost the battle with the greedy machine. "yeah, i've been hitting it for the last ten minutes. didn't budge," you sigh, checking your phone to see that there are only a little over five minutes remaining for your quick break. "what a waste of time and money."

satoru watches you shrug helplessly, smiling up at him. "oh well—"

he takes two long strides until he stands right in front of the machine, grips the edges, and shakes it hard.

satoru can feel you gape at him, at the unfiltered display of strength, and the unbothered expression on his face that tells you it didn't faze him. you hadn't been able to move the machine even an inch.

his powerful movements earn you a tell tale thunk, and your heart leaps in excitement as he bends down to push his hand through the slot and pull out your drink. he returns to his full height, an easy smile on his face as he turns around and hands it to you.

"thank you." your voice comes out breathless, a weird kind of excitement thrumming through your veins because it feels like you aren't supposed to know this man.

satoru's smile stretches further when your fingers graze his, taking the drink and popping it open eagerly. he watches you take a sip, oddly pleased with himself at the sheer joy on your face. he doesn't quite understand why this drink looks like it's made your day, but he doesn't ask because you look so sweet drinking it.

"how did you do that anyway?" you ask after you drink a little, curiosity so obvious in your tone. "i tried so hard to move it and it didn't budge at all."

satoru smothers a smile, fighting back the urge to say something stupid. instead he grins, cheeks warming a little under your eager stare. "guess i'm just strong."

you make a face, raising a brow with a playfully disbelieving expression as you cross your arms—to which satoru just laughs. "what's your name?" he asks.

you purse your lips, hiding a smile as you tuck your nose behind your scarf. you give him your name, almost shyly, and satoru tests it on his tongue. he decides he likes the flow, cocking his head as he replies with his own.

"satoru."

for once, the pressure of his last name doesn't permeate the air, and he's all too grateful for it. he turns around to approach the machine again, and he can feel your somewhat confused gaze on his back.

you watch as he stands there for a good minute, his back to you as he ponders the choices in the vending machine like they'll lead to life or death. then he shoves in a bill and clicks a few buttons, and within a couple of seconds, you hear the thud of two things falling.

he remains facing away from you for a few more seconds and then turns around, and you see that he's bought a chocolate bar and the same drink that you have in your hands. you raise a brow.

"well you did almost just lose your life trying to fight a vending machine for it," he says, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly. "figured it'd be good to try."

you sputter over your words, embarrassment crawling up your neck, but satoru laughs good-naturedly. his eyes shine with mirth as his shoulders relax. "i'm kidding." he stresses, smiling into the collar of his jacket. "but it does look good so…"

he opens the drink and takes a sip, eyes squeezing shut dramatically as he hums at the sweet flavors washing over his tongue. you suddenly feel like getting revenge for his unfiltered teasing.

"well?" you hum cheekily, taking a sip of your own and raising a playful brow. "taste good?"

satoru laughs—a full, pristine sound that makes him throw his head back. "yeah," he agrees easily, feeling oddly fond of the way your voice curls around your words. "it's sweet, i like it. you've got great taste."

somehow the words of this man you've met not five minutes ago cause the muscles of your heart to trip over themselves. you watch him peel open the candy bar, a brand that's unfamiliar to you.

"what'd you get?" you ask, unsure of where the confidence to speak up is coming from. a man like satoru—so unflinchingly ethereal—would normally have your lips zipping and throat muted.

he holds up the bar with a grin. "my favorite."

there's a pause, followed by your sheepish smile, and satoru gapes at you, cerulean widening so clearly behind a backdrop of white. he takes in your innocently confused expression and his ribcage shakes with thuds. "what, you've never tried it?!"

before you can even shake your head no, he's breaking off a piece and handing it to you.

"no, oh my goodness, it's yours—"

"take it." he pushes his hand closer to you, eyes staring imploringly, and you sigh, reaching up to take the piece from between his fingers. a graze of skin—he's warm.

"thank you." you slip the piece past your lips, not at all surprised by its sweetness and yet a little taken aback by its underlying comfort—a rush of warmth.

"good." you're nodding, smiling between chews as satoru's stomach flips. "really good."

he chuckles, all too triumphant for something so menial. "told ya."

you laugh, a quiet subdued sound that satoru wishes he could hear more of. "thanks for getting my drink out," you say. "i really needed it today."

"oh yeah?" he finds himself asking. "how come?"

you sigh, smile dropping as a bit of fatigue makes itself comfortable on your face. "ah well, i've got final exams this week. i've been studying like crazy. nothing's really sticking, and the closer i get to the exams, the more annoyed and stressed i get."

satoru hums, not envying you for a minute.

"so it kinda felt like a kick in the butt from the universe when the drink decided to not just…"

he laughs again, taking another piece of chocolate and chewing on it soundlessly. "i gotcha."

you grin, curling your fingers around each other to diffuse some warmth back into them. "yeah."

there's a silence that follows—not uncomfortable, not unwelcome. you take quiet sips of your drink, and satoru breaks off little pieces of the chocolate bar to chew on. his eyes linger on you, watching the way your lips curl around the bottle, the way your fingers rub against each other, the way the cold has settled into your nose and cheeks and made a home amongst your skin.

when you look up at him, he looks away, throat oddly parched. his fingers flex.

"here, the rest is for you," he says, pushing the half finished candy bar into your hands.

you shake your head immediately. "no way! you paid for it! besides isn't this your favorite snack?"

satoru shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets with a grin that looks too happy. "you liked it, didn't you?"

you nod, slowly, like you're confused at what he's getting at. "well then, enjoy the rest of it. i buy them all the time—i don't mind sharing this one."

you can't help the soft smile that graces your lips, looking up at him with an odd sense of gratitude and surprise—touched that someone could be so casually kind.

"then thank you," you laugh quietly, eyes fluttering against the gust of cool wind that tickles your skin. "i'll enjoy it."

satoru grins, uncharacteristically pleased—he won't ever admit it, but he's glad shoko told him to take a walk. he'll have to thank her when he gets back.

he clears his throat, offering you a small wave as he turns on his heel to head back to the school. "well then, see you around. good luck with your studies, yeah?"

you smile with a gentle nod, oddly rejuvenated after seeing bright blue eyes and snowy hair. "thank you."

and then he's disappeared into the crowds. you laugh to yourself quietly, looking down at your drink and the half-eaten candy bar nestled between your fingers. a part of you feels strangely forlorn, wishing that you had the guts or confidence to talk to him a little longer—ask a little more.

but you've never been good at that, so even just this small happiness you'll take in stride. you grin to yourself, shoving the drink into your bag and slinging it over your shoulders.

you begin walking back to the library, fingers breaking off pieces of the chocolate and savoring the sweetness on your tongue. somehow you didn't expect a man with such an imposing presence to enjoy simple sweet things like this, but that just makes you all the more fond of him.

by the time you've reached the entrance of the library, you're shoving the last piece of chocolate into your mouth, sighing as the doors of reality swing open once more. the meager slice of giddiness that enveloped your very being dissolves, and all the reminders of what's left to do come back to suffocate you.

you bite back a groan, about to throw the empty wrapper in the trash when something catches your eye. you double-take, peering down at it with wide eyes and rapidly heating skin. there are a set of numbers scrawled there, along with a haphazardly written message:

in case you need someone to fight another vending machine for you -satoru <3

[azzibuckets]

sweet [part four]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 2.5k

masterlist

Azzi wakes up to a sweater being thrown on her face. It’s bright, sunlight streaming in through the window and bathing her room in a soft yellow. “Wake up.”

“Mhmmm.” Azzi tosses the sweater away, burrowing back into the warmth of her comforter. She’s halfway asleep again when the feeling of cold water dripping down her cheek sends her flying up. “What the fuck?”

Paige smirks, clearly fighting the urge not to laugh. She’s in her UConn puffer and sweats, her hair tied up in a messy bun and her eyes brighter than ever in the sunlight. “You gotta wake up for real.” She screws back the cap of her water bottle.

“What are you doing here?” Azzi fumbles around for her glasses, slipping them on as she takes in the sight of Paige in her room for the first time in weeks. She blinks rapidly, trying to get ahold of her bearings.

Paige stuffs her hands into the pockets of her puffer. “Your doctor called me. Said you missed your last rehab appointment?” She raises an eyebrow at this.

Azzi rolls over in bed, stuffing her face into a pillow. It’s too early to deal with this. All she wants to do is go back to sleep, her only escape from the nightmare that’s been her life recently. “What does that have to do with you?”

“Check the time.”

Glancing at her watch and seeing that it’s almost noon, she curses. She’d forgotten to set her alarm last night. Even if she left now, she’d still be hours late - her rehab center is all the way in New York.

“He asked me if I knew where you were, seeing as you haven’t been responding to most of his messages or calls lately.”

Choosing to ignore the question hiding in her words, Azzi searches frantically among her blankets for her phone. “Shit, I gotta call an Uber.” But Paige rests a hand on her wrist, the warmth of her touch burning through the long sleeve she’s wearing. Azzi’s pulse quickens.

“I’ll take you.”

“No, it’s really okay,” Azzi objects.

“Az. By the time the Uber comes you’re gonna be even more late. You won’t even make it by the time they close.” When Azzi still doesn’t look convinced, Paige adds, “I seriously have nothing else to do. Let me take you.”

Azzi hesitates before finally relenting with a nod. She’s already been on a thin ice with her doctors before missing her last appointment, and every minute she shows up late today is another minute under their scrutinizing gaze and interrogations.

Pulling on the sweater Paige had thrown at her, she rushes around the room, trying to collect her things and get dressed as fast as possible. Paige tosses her random items as she gets ready - socks, her shoes, her purse. The older girl seems to know what Azzi needs before she even says anything, and it makes her miss their dynamic even more - Paige always understood her so easily.

The look in Paige’s eyes hasn’t left Azzi’s mind since that night. She knows she should’ve said something, done anything to take that destroyed look off of her face. And she’d regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth, every step taken with Micaela and away from Paige feeling like another crack in the shattered glass of their friendship. But she hadn’t had the strength to turn around and apologize then, to face Paige when she could barely look in the mirror and face herself.

Afterwards, she’d expected the older girl to be frustrated, upset, angry at her. But in their clipped interactions during practices and team events, Paige never snapped or made snide comments. Instead, she almost seemed timid, wary and withdrawn, like she was just hurt, and somehow? Somehow that was even worse.

“Hey.” Paige glances over at her, surprise flickering across her face. They’d been sitting in silence for the past hour, aside from the occasional comment on the passing scenery. Paige had seemed lost in thought, her eyes darting around quickly like they usually do when she’s zoned out. But now she has Paige’s attention. This is her opportunity. Azzi shifts in her seat. “I just wanted to say I’m, uh, sorry about the other night.”

Paige’s face remains indifferent, indecipherable. Azzi searches for any sliver of emotion in her expression - the familiar furrow of her eyebrows when she’s upset, the crease at the corner of her mouth when she’s sad - anything. But Paige’s face is carefully controlled, as if she doesn’t trust Azzi with her emotions, and Azzi thinks this might hurt more than anything. “It’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Paige’s hands tighten ever so slightly on the steering wheel. “I’m glad Micaela looks out for you.”

They fall into silence again. Azzi isn’t used to this either - Paige being silent, not chatting her ear off. She’s treading in unfamiliar waters, and it almost feels like she’s drowning. “I put you as the emergency number.” Azzi finally says. “That’s why they called you.”

“Aw, I thought Janelle just missed my face,” Paige says, her lips tugging upwards, and Azzi sighs in relief. A joke. She can work with this.

“I can change it, if you want,” she offers.

Paige looks at her weirdly, as if Azzi had just proposed something preposterous. “Why the hell would you change it?”

“I mean, I don’t want them to keep bothering you about stuff. I can just change the contact to Micaela?”

“No, don’t change it,” Paige says a little bit too quickly. “I know more, um, basketball and treatment stuff. It’ll be easier if they just contact me.” Paige doesn’t say that she doesn’t trust anyone else to be Azzi’s emergency contact. That she needs to be the first to show up if Azzi ever needs anything, that no one can understand Azzi like she does.

“Okay,” Azzi agrees. She taps her fingertips on her knee. “I won’t change it.”

Paige finally looks at her, and Azzi swears she sees the familiar softening of her eyes. But she turns her gaze back on the road, and it’s gone. “Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, Azzi’s stomach grumbles. “A little bit.”

Paige jabs her thumb towards the back seat. “I brought some snacks. Help yourself.”

Azzi reaches over, grabbing the bag and ruffling through it. Gummy worms, chocolate chip cookies, Quest protein bars - all her favorite snacks. And - a Tupperware of strawberries, and a mini jar of Nutella. “Did you pack this for me?”

Paige’s cheeks color. “No,” she says defensively. “I just happened to grab your favorites.”

“Aw, Paige,” Azzi coos, earning a roll of the eyes and a swat from Paige. She dodges her hand and laughs, and they almost feel normal again. But then Paige clears her throat, and says, “So what’s up with rehab? Why’d you miss your last appointment?” And Azzi knows that that momentary slice of normalcy could only last so long.

“Micaela was having a rough day. I wanted to stay home and make sure she was okay.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “You know every appointment you miss is another day you can’t play?”

“I know that. I missed one appointment, it’s not the end of the world. She gave me some stuff to do at home and I followed all of her instructions,” Azzi defends.

“Bullshit.” Paige shakes her head in disbelief. “You know that your actions affect the entire team too? It’s another game we have to figure out a way to work without you.”

“God, Paige, you’re acting as if I completely fucked up my entire rehab,” Azzi laughs incredulously. “It was one day.”

“One day you chose to fool around with a girl rather than focus on basketball,” Paige says sharply.

“Oh, please,” Azzi scoffs. “Fool around with girls? Yeah, real fresh, Paige. Let’s talk about how many girls you hit up at the bar every fucking week.”

“You know I don’t do that shit anymore. I have a girlfriend,” Paige shoots back.

Azzi’s eyes burn, and she forces herself to look out the window again, to blink away the tears before they start to form. Yet another reminder of how she was never good enough for Paige - Paige could never take her eyes off other girls when they were friends with benefits, but with Ella, she didn’t even want to look at anyone else. “Good for you,” Azzi replies coldly. They sit in silence for the rest of the car ride.

••

Azzi doesn’t want to admit it, but rehab somehow becomes bearable again with the presence of her best friend, even if the tension between them is still suffocating. Paige, always attuned to Azzi’s feelings, seemed to have noticed the negative shift in Azzi’s mood as soon as she entered the facility. She’d started cracking jokes at everyone they talked to, and although she never even made eye contact with Azzi, the younger girl knew that her sudden playful behavior was for her.

Even now, as Janelle works her fingers around her scar tissue, Paige is sitting just inches from her, telling a long story about an encounter she’d had with some crazy fans. Azzi is mostly quiet, merely contributing a nod or a laugh every so often, but she nevertheless appreciates it, because even despite petty arguments, Paige has always made it a point to look out for her. Azzi thinks to herself that it couldn’t possibly be her fault that she’s always been so caught up with the older girl. Paige was too easy to fall in love with.

Janelle’s phone rings suddenly, and she excuses herself to take it. “Paige, can you take over for a sec? Massage the tissue around her scar, just like how we did it with you.”

Paige looks hesitantly at Janelle’s retreating figure before slipping into her chair, taking over her position. Her hands hover over Azzi’s knee, almost as if she’s afraid to hurt her by touching her. “Is this okay?” she asks softly. And Azzi wants to laugh, because if someone had told her a month ago that Paige would be asking for permission to touch her when she’d once had her hands constantly on her waist and back and butt, she would’ve thought they were insane.

And Azzi’s not even sure if she can handle Paige touching her, because her heart is already thumping from the mere proximity of her presence. But Paige is waiting with bated breath and hopeful eyes, so she nods. Paige presses her thumbs into the tissue around her knee, moving them in soft circles. Azzi’s numb where her scar is, so she can’t really feel Paige’s touch until she shifts slightly, and the blonde’s fingers graze the sensitive skin of her inner thigh for just a second, and she lets out a little sigh. Paige freezes for a second before continuing to work more firmly around her knee.

“Paige.”

Paige looks up at her, and all Azzi can focus on is how pink and kissable her lips look, and the pretty flutter of her long lashes. They lock eyes, neither of them saying anything, scared to start another argument that will blow a fuse between them. But then Paige slowly lowers her mouth to her knee, her gaze stubborn on Azzi’s. She presses a kiss to Azzi���s scar, lips lingering on her skin as her thumb continues to stroke circles into the side of her knee. Azzi brushes a strand of hair away from Paige’s eyes, gently tucking it behind her ear, her thumb caressing her cheek for a brief second before she drops her hand.

“I said to massage my patient, Bueckers, not feel her up in my office,” Janelle reprimands as she steps back into the room. Paige jumps away quickly, looking at anything but Azzi, tucking her hands behind her back like a little child whose just been caught stealing a cookie red handed. Azzi licks her lips, wishing that Janelle could’ve waited just two more seconds.

Her doctor looks between the two of them with a knowing smirk. “I got it from here,” she tells Paige. “Go make yourself useful and stop distracting her.”

“I’ll go, er, fill up the ice tub,” Paige stammers, scurrying off before Janelle can make another comment. She busies herself for the next hour or so, filling bags of ice for other patients, making sure Azzi’s water bottle is filled, everything and anything she can do to keep her mind off the sound of Azzi’s breathy moan and the way it had made her feel warm all over. She had a girlfriend, for Christ’s sake. A girlfriend that couldn’t make her feel half of what Azzi made her feel.

When she’s finally done, Azzi is waiting for her in the lobby. “You might have to drive back alone,” Azzi says. “They said I should come back tomorrow because I missed my last one. Think I might just book a hotel room and stay over.” Azzi’s about to fall asleep on her feet, and she doesn’t feel like waking up at 5 am tomorrow to repeat the long drive.

“You’re funny for expecting me to let you stay in a random city by yourself.” Paige grabs Azzi’s duffel and tosses it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

••

Paige comes out of the bathroom in boxer shorts and a tank top. She wrings her hair with a towel, and Azzi’s eyes skim appreciatively over the muscle of her arms going taut.

“Wanna put a movie on before we sleep?”

Azzi nods, and Paige somehow manages to find a channel that’s playing Frozen. They sit on the bed at first, stiff. All the rooms with doubles were already booked, so they’d had to settle for the room with the biggest bed possible. But even as they sit on opposite sides of the king bed, the distance between them feels too small, too weak to stop the energy in the air between them.

And neither of them knows how it happens, but as the movie plays, they’re shifting closer and closer together until their arms are touching, their knees pressed against each other. Then Paige is moving Azzi onto her lap, and Azzi isn’t resisting, letting the blonde take control of her hips and place her in her lap.

They stare at each other for half a second, indecision running through their minds. Azzi knows that whatever happens next won’t fix whatever’s going on between them - the constant arguing, the back and forth, the exhaustion. It’ll only make it worse, complicate things until they’re tied into a messy tangle of knots. But Paige looks so soft in the dim light of the room, her hair loose and wavy and down and her eyes tired, and her skin still warm from the heat of her shower, that Azzi thinks that she just has to feel her, for just one second, and before she can stop herself she’s nuzzling her face into the crook of Paige’s neck. The older girl shudders at the feeling of Azzi’s lips grazing her pulse point, heat blossoming in her lower tummy. “We can’t do this,” Azzi whispers, even as she tucks her body in closer to Paige.

Paige’s hands wander down to Azzi’s ass, pressing their hips together. They both groan at the feeling. “Why the fuck not?”

“You have a girlfriend,” Azzi gasps as she rolls her hips, grinding against Paige’s lap. “And I have a girlfriend. This will fuck everything up.”

“Me and Ella are taking a break,” Paige moans, hips bucking up as she searches for more friction. Azzi whimpers, and it takes everything in Paige not to lose all control at how needy the younger girl sounds.

“How the fuck are you guys already on a break?” Azzi pants.

“Trust me, we are.” Paige suckles on Azzi’s neck beneath her ear, nibbling at the skin and tasting her sweat with a swipe of her tongue.

“This is so wrong,” Azzi whimpers, but she laces her hand through Paige’s hair and tugs her even closer. She can feel Paige smirk against her neck, her warm breath damp on her skin.

“Are you and Micaela exclusive yet?” Paige’s fingers creep closer to the waistband of Azzi’s shorts, itching to dip below.

“No,” Azzi moans. “Not yet.” She grinds against Paige again, getting lost in the slow, sensual rhythm of their bodies moving together in pure want.

“So what’s so wrong about this?” Paige rasps. “Because it feels so right.” She runs her hands up Azzi’s bare thighs, heart beating wildly at the sight of the prettiest girl on her lap, her abs flexing as she moves, eyes big and dark and blown out. Her thumb briefly pushes up her shorts, stroking her upper thigh, making the younger girl shudder. She kisses a line down Azzi’s clavicle, leaving a messy and heated trail of spit. “Let me make you feel good. Please.”

Azzi groans, and she’s so close to giving in, so close to taking Paige’s hand and guiding it to where she needs it most, so close to letting Paige take all control and have her way with her, until Paige pants, “Come on baby. It’s just sex.”

It’s just sex.

Fuck you, Paige Bueckers.

[starconstruction]

Hyperthermia and The Voyage of Love

Yena x Male Reader (Smut)

part two to Hypothermia and The Cosmos

Tags: fingering, squirting, blowjob, riding, throatpie

Wc: 3523

Wasn't expecting people to want a part two, considering I rushed the end. But here you go, more Yena.

Not proof read.

You and Yena set out at the cover of the darkness, a comfortable silence found as you walked through the icy wasteland with your newfound relationship with your girlfriend. Rime coated her jacket, adorning the sleeves with icy patterns. Her eyes smiling even with her face covered in a mask, the cold would tear and lash at any ounce of skin that dare revealed itself to the open air.

There was an over abundance of trees and bushes in this area, cosplaying glaciers as they were consumed by the night chill. Snow resting on the branches of the trees as ice hung vigilantly on leaves. The ground was the worst part of the planet to Yena, a mix of rock with mud that remained soft no matter the conditions, creating an unstable footing compounded by the snows invisibility.

The moon on this planet was a strange blue hue, it didn't provide as much light as the proverbs of the one of earth. It hung around uncomfortably long, no clocks were synchronised for this planet but you could swear every day felt like weeks.

Earlier scouting before you two got together found a cave that had the theoretical composition for ore, that night was special, embracing each other as you watched the night sky waiting for the results to generate from the company assisted products. Carelessly mumbling tales of the barren wastelands you two grew up on earth.

You two stood in front of the cave, a pitch black void stared at you as it beckoned you inside. A whistle could be heard as the wind filtered through the rocks inside. Yena's hand grasped your shoulder as she hugged into you, soft clothes pressing into you creating faint whispers of heat fighting against the outside cold.

Regrettably she pulled away, patting your head as her body rescinded, slinging her back to the ground as she pulled out the shared tools you two needed for the expedition. Yena always had her own style, seen from the very moment you laid your eyes on her. All her tools now kept that same black and pink that her hair was, little butterflies drawn on with the materials she snuck into her box of clothes.

Before you headed out this morning, she decorated your tools in a similar fashion citing "It's a good luck charm! I'll be right beside you even if we get lost :)", she was perfect.

Your combat knife was terrafomed from the standard sleek blue and white into a black and pink. A grey moth was scribbled onto the side of the handle, alongside a heart and Yena's name. Warmth filled your heart as you thought about her actions, filled with love despite the conditions you met on.

"Yena, this is.. nice" Your words lost all steam as the heat blossomed into your cheeks, admiring her craftsmanship, cutting the nearby air feeling it's strength.

"Told ya! I knew you would like it, now let's get in there and get out!" Yena grabbed her bag, slotting it around her back as she ran in. Giggling after you chased after her, flicking on your flashlight to pierce the dark, the cave was wide and somehow even colder than the outside, jagged rocks growing strange colourful materials on them, they all looked similar to materials you've heard about in legends for old earth. Greys, reds, blues. It was like a gold mine, just there didn't seem to be any gold.

Yena took heavy scrutiny of all the materials, pointing her flashlight as she ran her fingers over the strange rocks. Her experience far exceeded yours, so you let her be.

"Why couldn't the company make an ore identifier? Ugh. It's got to be lower down." Yena said, visibly frustrated as she swung her pickaxe into the thin rock wall that was covering the lower depths. An ominous feeling crept through your blood as you looked down the gravel slide. Yena seemed to pay no mind as she slid down, always the ambitious one.

You two landed in the lower levels, dust clouds forming as feet touched the ground, even more strange materials could be found. The darkness started to creep you out even more as more and more came into frame. You were always afraid of the dark, not that you ever saw the nightsky before a few weeks ago.

You were taken out of your fear when a loud screech filled your ears, pounding as they throbbed in agony. It was Yena.

"I think I found it! Help me mine it up." rushing to Yena's side as you lifted your pickaxe up. It was trapped in thick columns of stone, barely visible as metal ripped out the material. Landing on the ground with giant thuds as it shone bright as it got exposed to large sums of oxygen.

The ore took a lot out of you two, swings became laboured as your arms stung with lactic acid building up to assist the lack of air in your lungs. You two quickly grabbed it and threw it in Yena's bag, now you just had to get home.

You turned around your jaw dropped, those ghoulish freaks which you two aptly named "beasts" were falling down the slide, stumbling over each other as they approached.

"Shit! Yena, honey we've got to get out of here!" grabbing the two pickaxes as Yena ran ahead with the material, the way back was blocked with death. Running into the unknown as you were being chased.

The dim light from the moon came into view as you ran fast away from the horde, seemingly exponentially growing in size as the night raged on. Wind surged around you two, eyes being assaulted by the brisk cold. You had to make it home, no matter what.

A massive bridge of ice wound in front of you, visible cracks all over the surface, fear gripped you like a vice as you two stood in front of it. "Yena! Go first, I'll keep them off you. Go!"

"But-"

"Go! I swear, I'm right behind you!" She ran ahead, the bridge cracked further under her feet, it wasn't going to hold much longer. The beasts had encroached on your position, mere inches away from you. They couldn't get onto the bridge, not while she was in danger. A beast grabbed you, knocking you into the ground as it towered over your body. They couldn't get to Yena. You'd make sure of it.

Your knife jabbed into the head of the beast, a familiar splurge of green liquid fell out the wound as it went stiff, shoved onto the ground as more beasts came into frame. You swung at them, they were plentiful but not strong, more bodies hit the ground as time went out. Energy running thin as you danced with death, biding hope for your combined survival.

"Baby! I'm across, come on! Go!" she screamed frantically, turning away from the horde as you sprinted across the ice, the cracks became bigger and more severe as more and more beasts fell into ice. A harsh tug knocked you to the ground as you got jumped by one of those freaks, spitting it's rotten breath over your face as it attempted to bite you, your knife was just out of reach. Fingers squeezing desperately as you tried to claw it into your hand.

The ice bridge shattered underneath you, knocking the beast and all their friends into the glacial spikes below you. You managed to land on the corner of a thin pillar of ice. Panicking as you jammed your pickaxe, providing you enough leverage to take a breather.

"Y/N!"

"Yena! I'm, fine I promise you." the ice was cracking under you again, a familiar threat as the fall below you would certainly kill you.

"I'll come get you! Stay there Y/N!"

"No! It's not safe, I'll find a way!" Taking a deep breath, you could not let Yena down. Thinking was a luxury you were quickly running out of.

"Shit! There's more" Yena exclaimed.

"You've, got to get out of here! I'll meet up with you later, we can't lose this material! Yena! Run!" The cost of this mission was far more than you expected, you could lose everything. But her.

"Y/N-"

"Now! I love you Yena, don't ever forget that!" tears filled your eyes as you started slipping, the ice becoming too weak to support the length of your pickaxe.

"Fine. But you better not fucking die! I'll see you soon" Yena ran as the beasts covered her from your vision, you had to get back.

Wrapping your hand onto the small ledge, hoisting your legs off the crevice of ice. No time to falter, you were going to have to jump. Pulling out the pickaxe from the shattering ice, shards flying out in a every direction. The wind grew stronger, raging against your clothes as you shuddered once again.

You threw your pickaxe to the nearby ledge, you just had to make the gap. Getting as close as possible, springing your legs forward as you flew into the air. Time froze in place as your body hung in the sky. Your feet touched the ledge, cracking as it succumb to your pressure. You fell into the pit.

-

The world came back into vision as the blur dissipated, providing clarity as you adjusted to the light, the snow reflected beams of light into your eyes, you tried to move, a sharp stabbing pain made you nearly throw up, your leg landed on a spike of solid ice, colouring it sanguine as your blood soaked it. You felt lightheaded as your head throbbed. The scent of disease felt so much stronger than you could ever remember, growls came from around the pit.

Fuck! Not now!

The beasts approached your suspended body, Yena would be so disappointed in you if you didn't fight. Punching the spike that severed your leg, frantically trying to break it, crumbling under the force of your actions. You got yourself up, there were 100s of spikes in your vision. Piercing the hearts of beasts as they struggled to break free, hands moving absently as they painted them in their colour, those who were lucky were meters away. You had to go.

Taking a step forward was a futile effort, collapsing into the floor as your legs shot up in pain, creeping through your very soul, white heat throbbed in your head, legs burning up as you felt hot. So so hot.

A beast grabbed your leg, clawing it with its razor sharp nails, lacerating what flesh was not punctured earlier, blood coating it's claws as it went in again, lifting your other leg as you kicked the nasty creature into a spike, trapping it, arms and legs struggling as it begged for freedom.

You lifted yourself up, struggling to stand. The world spinning around you as the other beasts approached, limping around the spikes towards the nearby cave. You limped and limped. Sensation in your leg entirely frozen off by this unrelenting nightmare of a planet you crashed onto. A sharp object met your foot, a familiar set unfolded you. It was Yena's gift to you, you took the knife back with a feeling of pride, she really loved you.

One final battle.

I'm coming home Yena.

The cave was clearer than usual, not as many beasts to crowd the environment as you walked through, a few stragglers loomed. Every step took a monolithic amount of energy, the fuse was running low as you struggled to get through.. Collapsing onto the ground again, the leg begging for the pain to end.

Yena's gift struggled to pierce the beast that assaulted you, arms moving side to side as you fought for your life. Yours and Yena's. Together. The beasts head fell next to yours, knife piercing it's brain in a fell swoop.

The night felt soothing, the thoughts of Yena played in your head as the cave came to a close. All those laughs, all those moments of passion, all those late night conversations. Your leg fell through again, a loud buzzing filled your ears as your body started to shutdown, the world went dark as you fell into the snow.

-

"Y/N! Y/N! Wake up! Wake up!" The world came back to you slowly, glazed and blurry as all you could make out was her. Yena's body was hunched over, tears leaking incessantly and unrestrainted. Hair sticking to her swollen red cheeks.

"relax sweetie, i'm awake" you said, voice weak with exhaustion, exerting all your strength to reassure her.

Her lips met yours suddenly, eyes widening as her hands reached to your head, pressing your lips against her like this moment was ephmeral. You melted into her touch as she pulled away. A string of saliva connecting you two together, a proof of your undestroyable bond.

"I-I, thought you were dead! I saw you just lying on the ground, you nearly left me.." Yena pressed her head into your chest, wrapping her arms around you thanking the lucky stars that you were here.

"You said I couldn't die, I would never break your wishes, honey." You lifted her head up slightly, wiping her tears off her delicate face.

"God! Your such a dork. I love you Y/N" she backed up slightly as your leg spasmed in pain, reminding you of what transpired tonight.

"oh yeah, your leg! Can I please take care of it? It's the least I can do" her eyes pleaded with you, begging for more responsibility.

"Of course, let's get it stitched up"

-

You two showered together, helping you stand as she lathered you up, cleaning each other quickly as your leg ran out of tolerance to keep up. Getting out and changed into pajamas.

You and Yena were hugging each other, basking in the glory of a successful expedition. Rubbing her back gently as she squeezed closer, tracing circles on your chest gently. "Y/N~ this is the last time in awhile before we could, have some fun.." she said.

"What are you implying darling?" You teased, as she sighed.

"you are always so mean! Fine, I want the love of my life to let me ride their dick. Are you happy now?" She huffed in your face. Smiling as you celebrated your humble victory.

"I would do anything for your honey." Locking lips again, sucking on her tongue as she moaned gently at your actions, regrettably you pulled away and she pulled you down.

Yena was a natural tease, slowly lifting her shirt up with a sway of her movement, revealing her black bra. She was stunning, you didn't get to revel in her appearance last time. Rushing out of frustration, you mentally took a picture of her body. Taking focus on her toned midriff, she was aphrodite reborn. Her hands reached behind, clicking her bra as it fell to the wayside. Her breasts were the perfect size, everything about Yena was perfect. Her fingers reaching out to squeeze her nipples, light moans strung out from her mouth as you felt your dick harden under her noises, your mouth salivated as you looked at Yena's tight body. It's like you two were linked as her body lowered. Giving you the luxury of putting her heavenly nipple into your mouth.

You licked aggressively as your lips created a suction, her nipple was salty with her sweat, generated from your earlier hugs. Your hands found the waistline of her jeans, pulling them off alongside the leggings she wore for thermal resistance earlier. Revealing her underwear, damp with her arousal as you rubbed her clothed cunt, your fingers wet with Yena. She gasped as you sucked harder, you pulled her panties to her side, giving you direct access to her pussy. Stroking her clit frantically as Yena pulled her nipple from your mouth. Turning around to sit comfortably in your embrace, giving you full access to her cunt.

Your fingers trailed up Yena's picturesque body, leaving a trail of slick as you probed at her mouth, greedily accepting your fingers as she lathered them in her saliva, "Thats my good girl, always so accommodating" beaming with your praise she licked faster.

You pulled out and gently pressed into her cunt, swallowing you up as she squeezed on your digits, suffocating them as you inserted in and out rapidly. Her moans were a steady stream of breathy affirmations, your other hand got bored. Squeezing her tits as your fingers kept shoving into her. You felt a spongy part inside Yena, immediately invoking screams of pleasure as she tightened around you. Making it hard to pull out as you kissed her exposed neck, leaving small nips as you kept your motions going.

"Ah fuck! Y/N! I'm gonna cum for you! please please please please" you kept your pace steady as she came undone under your grasp. Liquid shooting out violently from her cunt, pushing your fingers out of her as she painted the bed with her essence.

"My good girl, that's it" you kissed her as her chest, heaved up and down trying to recover. You took your slick ridden fingers into your mouth, tasting your girlfriends perfect juices.

Yena suddenly moved, getting off the bed in order to remove your tight jeans, made tighter by your aching shaft, pressing for freedom as it's granted by your good girl. Your shaft flew out as her rigid hands let it free from the constraints of your clothes. She spat out a thick glob of spit onto your shaft as she stroked you frantically, using her other hand in order to stroke your balls softly. Every action of hers felt perfect, peppering small kisses all over your shaft, she came a long way from the first time she tried this. Licking the sides of your cock as she slobbered all over you. Her eyes locked in as you unconsciously thrusted due to her tongue.

As soon as her head started, it ended. Stroking you as she lifted herself above you, bumping your tip against her clit. She begun to lower herself on you, the tightness you felt earlier now strangling your cock. She felt so good as she took you to the hilt, her eyes closed due to the intense pleasure as you two shared moans.

You couldn't thrust upwards due to the intense pain in your leg, keeping you constrained to the bed as you have to take whatever she gives you. Thankfully, she shows mercy as she bounces up and down, skin slapping as the sweaty skin of Yena and yours bodies connected. Her glistening pussy was spreading itself to accommodate your dick. Her rhythm was completely lost as you laid there, feeling the sensations of her grip tightening suddenly. She was getting more frantic and you could tell she was getting close.

"Y/N! Fuckkkk I'm cumming!" She tightened around you painfully, losing herself to the pleasure of your cock.

She stopped moving as she sat to recover, she gingerly got off you as her eyes looked at you seductively "Don't worry baby, you'll get to cum soon. I'll show you how much of a good girl I am" she dropped down. Her warm breath ticking your balls as she got ready. Wrapping her lips around your awaiting cock, grabbing your ass cheeks as she went lower.

Sinful gags came out from her mouth as she pushed your cock into her throat, going up and down as she licked the underside of your shaft, you moaned violently as she kept going up and down. You knew you weren't going to last, very long.

"Fuck Yena! I'm gonna cum!" She pressed her nose into your body as she took every inch into your mouth, pressing against her throat as you released shot after shot of semen into her awaiting throat. Taking her rightful award.

You took her off your cock as she gagged semen all over your dick, struggling to take all of her deserved load. Being the good girl she is, her tongue lapped up all of your spent load. Moaning as she swallowed it for the second time.

"Was I a good girl Y/N~" Her voice dripping with a sense of pride about her effect on you.

" The best, now let's get cleaned up darling. Long day tomorrow."

-

You two spent the entirety of the next 3 days figuring out how to fix the engines, the material unstable as you turned it into power sources that could handle long expeditions. It was long, stressful, and led to a lot of arguments between you and Yena about how to handle the situation, but you two always made up with a kiss and kept moving.

You two finally repaired the engine and got ready to take to the sky.

"Y/N? Do you think we'll ever find a planet worth living on? She exclaimed.

" Of course, we deserve something other than this wasteland."

" Yeah your right! Let's go."

"Lead the way, my mysterious pilot."

She sighed as the engine came to life.

---

read part 3 here!

[uumeboshii]

wc: 1, 104

content warnings: breeding? ! reader is referred to as ma'am. feminine pronouns. oral (fem rec)

"Hinata Shoyo, the acclaimed professional volleyball player and part of Japan men's national team, coming up next week!"

The cheerful voice of the show's narrator vibrates through the room, announcing the appearance of your fiancé. He had been thrilled when the show's producers and parents contacted him, wanting him to come on the show and do some activities with the kids. He flew to South Korea within a week of talking and making arrangements, stayed for another to explore the city he was staying at, and would be coming home in a few days.

The screen showed clips of Shoyo smiling at the camera, looking around with a baby in arms, and- oh, taking a nap with the baby on his chest. You couldn't help but smile at the image; thoughts stirring in your mind (are you ovulating soon?) so loud and fast that your phone ringing almost makes you scream.

"Sugar! My flight is booked. I'll be home in three days, do you want me to bring you anything from Korea? They have a ton of varieties of that spicy ramen you like so much..." Shoyo's voice was bright, bouncing off the speaker as he named all the different flavors of ramen "... and curry, wait, there's also one of those self-heating Hot Pot bowls"

"Mmm... bring carbonara and curry ramen, and some rice cakes if you can" Yes, ma'am! He responded, hanging up. He was so sweet to you. Would his babies be as cheerful as him?

Five days later, Shoyo was at home, resting, eating of those spicy curry-flavored ramen while you sat on the couch, waiting for his episode on the show to begin.

"I can't wait for you to watch it, the babies were so cute!" He says, a mouthful of noodles going into his mouth.

Nodding, you try the noodles, hoping the overwhelming heat will overpower the feeling in your lower abdomen.

It all goes well. Shoyo helping the older kid to tie his shoes, calling him endearing names every other sentence. You can't help but picture the kid with orange hair and your partner's big smile. Shoyo taking said kid and his younger sibling to the convenience store right after they expressed their craving for some melona ice cream bars, both of them holding his hand. He was so caring, so protective. Would he prefer to have boys? He seemed so at ease with them. And then, her. After coming home, the father had brought the youngest in the family to meet Shoyo, and it was impossible to miss the way his eyes lit up. She was a year old, hair in two little pigtails at the top of her head, in a yellow onesie.

Everything became a blur after that. He was so sweet to her, so soft. His eyes never left her, a secure hold on her at all times. Such a good father.

Sleep doesn't come easy.

Tossing, turning and groaning, your brain just can't sweep away the image of Shoyo with children of yours. Happily running through your house, their voices filling your ears.

Being pumped full of cum by your perfect, sweet soon-to-be-husband who'll take care of all of you.

You reach your hand out to your partner, tracing lines down his bare back. Poking his ribs, softly scratching the tan, freckled skin. His muscles tense when your nails leave red marks behind, a low mumble coming from your fiancé. "Hm?"

"You okay? Why are you up?" He says, turning around, facing you. His eyelids still open and close with sleep, a pair of fingers going straight to the ends of your hair. You nod. Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek, a leg pulling him closer to you until your lips meet for a kiss. It's soft until it isn't. Hunger takes over quickly, your teeth pulling on his lip as his hands grope your ass, positioning you on top of him. You sit on his hard-on to give the both of you a minute to breathe, moving slowly back and forth.

"I've been so wet all day, Sho— can't do it anymore," you blurt out, the thin fabric of your underwear sticking to your outer lips, making everything so, so uncomfortable. You hear him mumble some prayers before pulling himself up, all his weight on the palms of his hands as he pushes himself to you. Your lips clash, he has you leaning back as he takes your waist in his arms, his big muscles crushing you. Managing to lift your hips, you shimmy out of your shorts and squeal as Shoyo shifts your positions and throws you to the mattress, giggling. He snatches your shorts and dives into you, biting and kissing and sucking your inner thighs. His face gets closer to your heat, inhaling your scent as his arms around your legs, locking you in place.

"I can tell", he says. You try to close your legs around him, but his grip on you is so secure you only feel the tip of his tongue as he gives a kitten lick to your clit. A shiver goes through your body, his tongue licking long strips on your slit. "God, I've missed you."

Whimpering, you run your hand through his hair as he keeps licking and sucking at your clit; his tongue traces shapes along the folds of your pussy, nose bumping you with every move. It's as if he's doing it for himself, for his own pleasure.

Your grip tightens when you feel one of his hands snake and position itself at your entrance. His fingers prod at your hole as he keeps sucking, adding one finger and curling it upwards as his tongue presses flat against you. You grind on his face and he lets you, another finger being enough to have you moaning in a higher pitch, "Shoyo-Sho, mhm, just like that"

It fuels him, burying his face even deeper along with his fingers, pumping and curling just right. Your nails dig into his scalp and that's when he loses it, grinding against the mattress; he's so intoxicated with your scent, your touch, your voice, he just has to have you cumming on his face. Which you do, when he moans right into your core as he keeps fingering you. The burning sensation on your stomach spreading all over your body sends shivers down your spine and legs, which tighten around Shoyo's head as he keeps kissing. Your heart races. Shoyo climbs up your body, his nose breathing in the scent of your lotion.

"I wanna make you mine, no one'll take you from me"

[lewkwoodnco]

You look like shit - Lockwood x Reader

One time you told lockwood he looked like shit and four times he told you you looked like shit

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re in a hospital bed but I’m the one who looks like shit.”

“Exactly, you look spectacularly terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried, but my sorry excuse of a boss got his ass kicked by some Type Two, so here I am.”

“Doesn’t your sorry excuse of a boss write your cheques?”

“Have I mentioned how fond I am of my sorry excuse of a boss?”

a/n: just a little drabble i typed up having been inspired by this post :)

tropes/warnings: mostly fluffy, some mentions of grief, slight description of injury, smidge of flirty-ish banter 🙈🙈

wc: 1.5k!

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

“You look like shit.”

Lockwood froze with his mug halfway to his mouth. He gaped at her briefly before setting the mug down once the shock passed. She was Lockwood & Co.'s newest employee and it was only recently that the ice had been sufficiently broken for their interactions to evolve into something more than a passing smile or greeting. This, however, was more than he had expected. He was possessed by a sudden overwhelming urge to laugh.

"It's like, 10 in the morning, and you already look exhausted. Do you ever sleep?"

He struggled with his words for a moment. "...yes. Sometimes."

"Not enough, clearly."

He did look especially worse for wear that morning. Only just recovering from a mild flu, his insomnia was at an all-time high and the lack of sun over the past week had his skin looking nearly transparent. He was a frail, washed-out thing flitting restlessly between rooms, bemoaning all the cases he was missing out on while cooped up here.

He smiled for what felt like the first time in days. She coughed, embarrassed, feeling like she had grossly overstepped.

"I mean...you don't look that horrible."

Fortunately, Lucy chose that exact moment to walk in and sufficiently distract Lockwood with the details of their newest case and she took the opportunity to duck out of the room. What the hell had she been thinking?

"H- oh, you look like shit."

She emerged from behind the counter through a cloud of steam, her hair resting on her shoulders like a large, frizzy, brittle rat. While he and George had spent the morning at the Archives, she had spent it at Portland Row preparing Fesenjān for their lunch as part of some stupid bet she had made with George.

"Oh, good, you're back. You took your time."

"George is still there so Lucy's going in to hel-"

She cut him off by shoving a spoon of hot stew into his mouth.

"Taste."

Lockwood spluttered around the spoon, mouth working furiously to cool the scalding food while she watched him intently.

"Well?"

"It's...it's good."

"As good as George's?"

He grimaced. "I don't think I should be taking sides in this." He didn't even want to think about George finding out.

"This isn't taking sides. But also, if anyone asks, you weren't here. So...?" She fixed a desperate look on him. Lockwood sighed.

"It could use a little more salt."

"Angel." She turned around, pulling out the salt while he watched her with a flicker of amusement in his eyes. The crazy hair suited her in some odd way.

“You look like shit.”

He had meant for it to come out as teasing but at the sight of her tearstained face, it sounded terribly mean. He had found her sitting on the front steps late one evening when he was about to turn in, only a thin hoodie insulating her from the harsh cold. Her head whipped around at the sound of his voice, a hand carelessly dragged across her face. He took a seat next to her, dropping his voice.

"Everything alright?"

She swallowed, eyes trained on their shoes. Her voice was hoarse with disuse.

"One of my friends moved away a couple of years back. She's been in an accident."

"How bad of an accident?"

There was a tightness in her chest that made it difficult to go on. "The worst."

In a rare moment of weakness, she crumbled, sagging against Lockwood like she had no spine left to hold herself upright. He wrapped a warm, comforting arm around her, and the simple gesture was enough to break her down. She cried into his shirt, cried for the friend she would never see again, cried for the part of her childhood that had chipped off and floated away into some abyss. Cried while he held her.

"I can't -" she hiccuped, unable to hold back a poorly concealed sob. "I can't even remember the last thing I said to her." It felt like an awful thing to admit, something sinful and evil, something that made it impossible for her to shake the tremble from her hands. His hold on her tightened a fraction, like he was holding her shattered pieces together, and she clung to his shirt with all the despair of a shipwrecked passenger.

Maybe it was selfish, but she didn't want him to leave. And so he stayed.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

They had just returned from a job at some old, abandoned building set to be torn down in a few months. George and Lucy were handling some other case at the other end of the city, so the sounds of them shucking off their coats and gear echoed through the empty house. Between the two of them, she was always more prone to going ham on their cases. Today, it was in the form of her barrelling full tilt through a series of cobwebs to serve as a distraction. The case had ended with Lockwood hurriedly bagging the Source and her pink-faced and speckled with the grey strings.

Back at Portland Row's kitchen, there was still a lingering tinge of warmth to her cheeks. Lockwood paused by the cupboard where she was pulling out some mugs and plates, idly picking off the remaining strands still loosely clinging to her hair and shoulders. As his movements slowed, fading into something more gentle and meticulous, she glanced at him. He looked back. The cobwebs now littered the little space between them, but still he did not move away. The back of her neck prickled under his wretchedly attentive gaze. She did not know how to look away.

"Tea?" she croaked out, throat embarrassingly taut with choked-back emotion.

Whatever spell that had settled over them broke. Lockwood reeled back, almost noisily busying himself with fishing out the biscuit tin, forcing something nonchalant into his voice.

"Sure."

They spent the rest of their night operating with an invisible bubble between them, neither of them daring to get too close to the other lest a brush of the hand shattered the pallid illusion they were play-acting in. The house was far too quiet that night, filled with the unbearably soothing sounds of their cutlery, the rain and their breathing. Lockwood fiddled with his mug. She scratched at a particularly obscene message etched into the thinking cloth. He dragged a shoe along the scuffed kitchen floors. She drummed her fingers restlessly, watching the seconds tick by excruciatingly slow on the clock.

Where the hell were George and Lucy?

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re in a hospital bed but I’m the one who looks like shit.”

She was in a gleaming, sterile hospital room, painfully twisted into some uncomfortable plastic chair after a night of fitful sleep and checking to make sure Lockwood was still alive. Lockwood had gone out for a solo case and she had been waiting up, expecting him to return any minute when the hospital called. Luckily, it was nothing fatal, but enough to keep him out of commission for a while. Enough to make her worry.

“Exactly, you look spectacularly terrible. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I tried, but my sorry excuse of a boss got his ass kicked by some Type Two, so here I am.”

“Doesn’t your sorry excuse of a boss write your cheques?”

“Have I mentioned how fond I am of my sorry excuse of a boss?”

He quirked a smile at that, then immediately winced. She lightly tilted his bruised face just as he raised a tentative hand to the stitches on his lip, their fingers brushing against each other for a fraction of a second. He looked at her questioningly, unable to see how it was healing himself, and she thought it was extremely unfair to have eyes as disarming as his. She shoved down the stab of sympathy at the unexpectedly vulnerable sight. Hospital gowns really did a number on how strong, or lack thereof, a patient seemed.

“Poor baby. Do you need someone to kiss it better?”

“You could kiss me better.”

“You…are clearly still concussed. Where on earth is your nurse?”

She stood and busied herself by sticking her head out the door and looking for his nurse, which was most definitely not an attempt to hide the flush creeping up her neck. After a few minutes of futile searching, she returned, alarmed at how wan Lockwood was starting to seem.

“I don’t remember getting a concussion,” he murmured, closing his aching eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t. That’s how concussions work. Idiot.” She tried to keep her tone light, but he cracked an eye open as if he had heard something in her voice. He slipped her fingers through hers casually and she felt the tension in his stiff shoulders ease.

"You should sleep," she tried gently. His thumb slowly traced hers drowsily. Still, he forced his eyes open with considerable effort. Looked at her like she was all he wanted to see for the rest of his life.

"In a minute."

It was the first of the lifetime of minutes ahead of them.

TAGLIST: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cielooci @midnight--raine @mohinithoughts @neewtmas @snoopyluver20 @ahead-fullofdreams @elenianag080 @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits @avdiobliss @dangelnleif @mitskiswift99

[zegrasdrysdale]

wyatt johnston x hughes sister

she brings wyatt home with her to the lake house for the summer and her brothers really getting to see the two’s relationship

[ michigan summer ] w. johnston

part of the “falling for a hughes” au

paring : Wyatt Johnston x hughes!sister

summary : once Dallas gets eliminated from the playoffs, Lizzy brings Wyatt up to Michigan to spend the summer with her at the lake house with Quinn, Jack, Luke, and some friends

warning(s) : making out, slightly nsfw (nothing too bad), implied sex

author’s note : finally got healthy enough to actually sit down and write something. this isn’t my best work but i didn’t wanna leave y’all hanging. there is a lil something that i added in memory of johnny gaudreau in this fic bc it felt like i needed to do a lil something for him. fly high johnny & matthew gaudreau 🤍 (this is not gonna be the only fic in this universe that takes place at the lake house btw)

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She didn't mind staying in Dallas while the Stars were playing in the playoffs. The Pavelski's opened their house to her so she didn't have to stay in a hotel until either they got eliminated or won the whole thing. It could have been two weeks or it could have been two months. Lizzy is forever grateful for The Pavelski family and everything they've done for her and Wyatt, especially knowing that Joe is most likely retiring now that the season is over.

Now though? She's excited to go to Michigan like she does every summer. This summer is a bit different in that she gets to bring her boyfriend with her. Spending time with her brothers and some of their friends is her favorite thing to do in the offseason.

They depart Dallas about three days after Wyatt cleans out his locker and does his exit interview. There's an extensive and very emotional goodbye between Wyatt and Joe at the airport. There isn't a dry eye between her and Sarah as they watch their boys say goodbye. Lizzy thanks Sarah for the both of them before she and Wyatt make their way through security to get on their plane.

The plane to Michigan is filled with naps and laughing with Wyatt until it lands in Ann Arbor. Quinn waits for them with a car outside the airport. Jack sits in the passenger seat. Lizzy and Wyatt hop in the back once their things are loaded in the trunk.

"What's up, Sling Boy?" Lizzy asks as she slides in behind Jack. "How is your shoulder? Ready to get back on the ice?"

Jack turns and looks at her. "It's healing fine," he tells her. "You know I would get on the ice tomorrow if I could, but doc says I'm not allowed to skate until I'm cleared."

She smiles and scoots as close as she can to Wyatt. Quinn glances at the two of them in the rearview mirror and says, "No funny business in my backseat. You two hear me?"

"Aye, aye captain," Lizzy replies with a salute. She rests her head on Wyatt's shoulder and closes her eyes.

Quinn drives off with the windows down and she feels the Michigan air on her face. She feels like she’s finally home after a long season by being surrounded by all the people she loves in the place she loves.

The drive is about a half an hour long. Luke waits for the group on the back deck along with Seamus Casey, Ethan Edwards, and Mark Estapa. He greets his little sister with a hug. Lizzy says hi to his friends as she grabs her things from the car.

They walk into the house and Luke body blocks the stairs as he looks between his sister and Wyatt. “I want you to know that the walls are very thin and I am the room right next door to you two,” he tells them, his eyes more on Wyatt than her. “I don’t wanna be woken up at three in the morning because of the two of you. Got it?”

Lizzy’s cheeks get hot like all the blood from her body shoots to her face. “Luke, please,” she pleads. “This is so embarrassing.”

“You didn’t hear the conversation Pavs had with me after you went home after I introduced you to the team as my girlfriend,” Wyatt tells her. “That was embarrassing. This is just your big brother looking out for his sanity.”

Luke moves to the side. “It’s not a warning,” he says. “It was just a heads up that the walls are thin. I’ll sit you down later with Jack and Quinn to have The Talk.”

“Oh my God,” she gasps as she runs up the stairs. Wyatt laughs behind her as she runs into her usual bedroom. The door shuts when Wyatt is inside.

She opens the window to let the cool air into the room. It's a crisp 75 degrees with a breeze on the lake right now, which is a lot cooler than the weather she was faced with in Dallas the last few weeks. She sits on the bed and watches Wyatt look around her room.

The room is slightly bigger than her brother's rooms. Quinn has a room on the first floor, Jack and Luke share a room next door to her, and her parents' room is down the hallway. There are two guest bedrooms that Ethan, Seamus, and Mark are splitting.

She's updated her room over the last few years so it doesn't look like a childhood bedroom and has a more "adult" look, but she couldn't bring herself to pull down the One Direction posters that have been on her walls for ten years. The walls are still light pink from when she was 12 and she asked her father to paint them because she loved the color pink.

As she grabs her suitcase to unpack her things, Wyatt laughs. "Cute room," he comments. "Didn't know you were such a fan of pink."

"I was twelve, you asshole," she laughs. "I was obsessed with Barbie too. My whole room was pink at one point. Sheets, blankets, lamp. I had pink fairy lights around the mirror. All I wore was pink. It was really bad.”

Wyatt comes up from behind her and drapes his arms around her waist. “I would’ve loved to see that,” he tells her. She rolls her eyes with a smile on her lips while she continues to unpack her things.

“You would’ve thought I was a nerd or something if you knew me back then,” Lizzy explains. “We wouldn’t have been friends, Wyatt.”

“I like to think we would’ve been friends, or more, no matter how old we were or in any universe,” Wyatt mumbles next to her ear. Lizzy turns her head and looks up at her boyfriend. “I don’t think anything would stop me from knowing you.”

She lays out a shirt on top of the already forming pike and turns in Wyatt’s arms. He leaves his arms where they are as she drapes her arms around his neck. “Sap,” she teases.

“Duh.”

The pair share a laugh before Lizzy pulls him down to her level as an urge to be close to him suddenly overwhelms her. She gently claims his lips in a kiss that starts soft. It doesn’t take very long for the soft, gentle kiss into a heated, needy kiss.

Hands begin to roam over and under clothes as the kiss grows hotter. Wyatt pushes her onto her back on the mattress and he follows her as he climbs over her. She pushes his hair out of his eyes and decides that he’s not allowed to get anything more than a trim because she’s grown used to his longer playoff hair. She was already upset when he shaved.

Lizzy wraps his legs around his waist to keep him where he is as Wyatt’s lips leave hers to attach to her jaw. She bites her lip to keep herself from making any kind of noise. “Wyatt,” she sighs. “Gotta unpack.”

“This is more fun,” he tells her, lips brushing the sensitive skin on her jaw under her ear. Wyatt pulls back and meets her eyes. “Please? I spent all my time after we lost moping or packing my things or at the arena to clean out my gear. I rarely got to see you.”

He isn’t wrong. The first day after they lost, he moped in his room despite her, Joe, and Sarah trying to get him to come out. The second day he packed up his room. The third day he did his exit interview and was at the arena to clear out his gear. Then it was back to packing and looking for a new place to rent for next season with Logan. She rarely did get to see him.

That’s the only reason she says, “One round. Quick before my brothers come looking for us.”

“Deal.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A half an hour later, they can barely keep their hands off each other while they finish unpacking. Lizzy gives him half of the closet and one drawer for his things. She lets him take as much of the bathroom counter space as he needs since he doesn’t need much, and he does what he can with the space that’s left in the shower for his supplies.

It takes them an hour longer to unpack than it normally would because they get so caught up in each other. There was a five or ten minute interval where they stood in her bathroom making out. Lizzy called it a “much needed break” to justify it.

The pair leaves her room about two hours after they get to the house. Lizzy’s hand is in Wyatt’s as they walk down the steps to find her brothers, Ethan, Seamus, and Mark. The six of them sit around the living room when she and Wyatt walk in. Luke and Quinn have controllers in their hands and Chel is on the television.

“Predictable,” she comments as she leads Wyatt to one of the chairs adjacent to the couch that isn’t in use. Her boyfriend sits in the chair and she makes herself comfortable on his lap. “Do you guys play anything else besides hockey?”

Jack looks over to her. “Do you do anything besides your boyfriend?” he retorts. “I mean, two hours to unpack? We got bored waiting for you two to get done.”

She rolls her eyes as Wyatt drapes his arm over her thighs and she wraps an arm around his neck. “I had a lot of things,” she lies. “Sorry.”

Her older brother hums a “mhm” and turns his attention back to the game that’s being played. Luke is playing as Columbus and Quinn is playing as Calgary. Quinn has a tight two-to-one lead over his youngest brother. Being Luke’s twin, Lizzy takes his side and roots for him to win the game.

Wyatt and Jack play a round after Luke sneaks into the lead and wins three-to-two after scoring two goals late in the third period. Some good old fashioned Devils versus Stars in Newark. Lizzy turns on her brother and roots for Wyatt. Jack gives her a look every time Wyatt score and she cheers.

At the same time, Wyatt sees and experiences firsthand how competitive the Hughes siblings are because Jack begins to play dirty despite his shoulder being in a sling. Lizzy fights for Wyatt so he can focus on beating Jack.

"That all you got, Johnston?" Jack asks when Wyatt hits one of the Devils players -- she's pretty sure it was Jack his player hit -- and he goes down.

"Focus on your game, Hughes," Wyatt retorts instead of Lizzy. "Maybe you wouldn't be losing right now if you scored instead of trying to psych me out when you’re already at a disadvantage because of your shoulder."

Lizzy's jaw drops at his comeback, Quinn and Luke burst out laughing, and the Michigan boys smile. Jack sends him a glare and tries the Michigan goal with himself, and fails.

At the next stoppage, she leans into Wyatt’s ear and whispers, "That was kinda hot." He smiles and scores another goal to make it four-to-two going into the third period.

When Jack loses, he starts claiming that Wyatt cheated. “Lizzy was definitely helping him!” he accuses. “I mean, come on!”

Quinn claps his younger brother on the good shoulder and says, “I hate to break it to you, but Wyatt won fair and square.”

“I want a rematch.”

“And I want to go on the boat before it gets too dark or cold out,” Lizzy tells the group. “Wyatt’s never been on the boat either. I don’t know how to drive the boat so someone has to come out with me. Dad never taught me how.”

Her boyfriend puts his controller down on the table and taps Lizzy’s thigh so she moves. Lizzy stands up and looks around the room before she turns to walk out of the room. Quinn follows first, then Luke. The Michigan boys are next. Jack wallows in his loss.

When she gets to her room, she grabs one of the one piece suits that she packed. She’s not going to waste a bikini on a mid-70 degree late afternoon when she’s here all summer long. It’s a solid black piece with a very low cut neck that shows off a lot more cleavage than her brothers would probably like. Wyatt doesn’t seem to mind when she wears this bathing suit. He matches her with a pair of black swim shorts and one of his Stars hockey shirts with a 53 on his chest. She throws one of the shirts she stole borrowed from Wyatt before leaving the room.

The boys are down on the dock by the time she and Wyatt get outside. Quinn is in the driver’s seat and the rest of the group is scattered in the back. She and Wyatt find a place to sit next to each other, then they’re off.

Lizzy laces her fingers with Wyatt’s and rests her head on his shoulder while her boyfriend converses with her twin brother. Her eyes are closed and she listens to the two of them talk about the playoffs and how great Wyatt’s performance was.

“We couldn’t stop cheering for you guys,” Luke tells him. “Especially you. You were a point machine, Wyatt. Gave playoff McDavid a run for his money. You most likely would’ve passed him had you guys moved on to the Cup finals.”

A small smile forms on her lips as she hears her brothers all compliment Wyatt. She knows what their words mean to him. Not only are they coming from a Calder nominee, a top forward, and a top defenseman in the NHL, but they’re coming from his girlfriend’s brothers. Their words mean a lot to Wyatt, and he’s told her that nearly a dozen times since February.

The cool late afternoon Michigan air feels good on her skin after being in the humid 90 degrees in Dallas for the past month and a half. The breeze coming off the lake whips through her hair. Lizzy feels herself begin to relax as the boat bobs up and down with the waves. Quinn steers the boat into deeper lake water before they anchor so they can swim.

Luke immediately is in the water when Quinn drops anchor. Ethan and Mark are right behind him. Jack sits on the boat with his feet in the water since he’s still not cleared. Wyatt jumps in with Quinn and Lizzy sits beside her older brother. Seamus sits on his phone behind them.

She looks over at Jack and asks, “How are you really? I feel like I haven’t asked you that enough since you ended your season early to get surgery.”

With a shrug and a sigh, Jack replies, “Frustrated that I can’t do much until I get cleared. Hopefully that’s in two weeks or else the cover shoot is gonna be jeopardized in July. I need to be able to fully skate, take passes, shoot the puck. Do all that in full gear and uniform. I feel good but I’m frustrated that I feel good and can’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry, Jacky,” she says with a frown. “I will say that I am glad you’re taking the doctor’s advice to rest and do your physical therapy without pushing yourself. I know you want to get back on the ice with our brothers but I am glad you’re not pushing yourself to get there.”

He looks over at Lizzy. “I want to have a healthy season,” he explains. “I haven’t hit the one hundred point mark yet because of injuries. I could’ve hit it in the 22-23 season, but I was out with injury for a handful of games. Then last year I was on pace for it then was out for nearly twenty games. It’s incredibly frustrating to be so close but so far, you know?”

She nods but in reality, she doesn’t know. Lizzy played hockey and she’s good, but not good like her brothers. She wasn’t going to the PWHL, but she’s occasionally been on the US national women’s team. There was never any pressure on her like there are on her brothers and her boyfriend. Yes, her last name is Hughes, but she’s never been under that pressure of being a Hughes since she’s decided to go into college and temporarily suspend her hockey career.

The boys splash in the lake and Quinn is trying to drown Luke, but Lizzy’s full attention is on Jack right now. She drapes an arm around her middle brother’s neck and pulls him into a gentle side hug. “Love you, Jacky,” she tells him. “No matter what.”

Jack rests an arm around her waist and his head on her shoulder. The pair of siblings stay like that for a few moments, watching their brothers and friends in the lake.

She watches Wyatt swim up to the boat. He treads water in front of her and asks, “You coming in on your own or do I have to drag you in here?”

“Don’t you dare touch me, Wyatt Johnston,” she warns him as she lets her brother go. “I swear to God, you won’t like it if you pull me in the water.”

A mischievous smirk forms on his lips. Wyatt glances over at Jack. Lizzy looks over at her brother as he shoves her into the lake with his good arm.

She gasps and holds her breath as she goes under the cold water. Her head breaks through the surface and she looks up at Jack in the boat. “You’re so lucky that you’re hurt or I’d be pulling your ass into the water,” she tells him.

Jack sticks his tongue out at her. “That’s what you get for helping Wyatt beat me at Chel,” he retorts. “Enjoy the water, baby sister.”

A pair of arms wraps around her waist and she spins. Lizzy is face to face with Wyatt. He kicks them away from the boat and she wraps her legs around his waist as he kicks but drops them as soon as he stops. She wraps her arms around his neck.

Water droplets roll down his face from his hair. His blue eyes are brighter as the sun reflects off the water. Lizzy can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Is it bad at that I think it’s hot that you’re soaking wet in my t-shirt?” he questions. “Because all I can think about is how it’s going to hug your body when you get onto the boat and I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you.”

She smiles and plays with the wet hair on the back of his neck. “Only you would find me hot in a wet t-shirt,” she teases. Wyatt laughs and pushes a wet strand of hair out of her face. “I mean, come on, Wyatt.”

He pulls her closer to him by her waist until their noses touch. Her chest is flush against his. “Sorry that I find my girlfriend hot,” he mumbles.

Lizzy barely rolls her eyes before Wyatt captures her lips in a tame kiss. She reciprocates with the same gentleness as Wyatt had. Her hands slide to his jaw and she cups his face.

One of Wyatt’s hands slide into her hair and he cups the back of her neck. The kiss deepens very slightly when she tests the waters and licks across Wyatt’s bottom lip. Wyatt grants her full access and she takes advantage. A quiet hum bubbles from Wyatt’s throat. It’s only loud enough for her to hear.

Wyatt’s free hand slides up the shirt she’s wearing and rests it on her ass. She giggles into the kiss that follows.

“Ayo!” Luke shouts from twenty feet away. “Keep it PG! We don’t wanna see you trying to eat our sister’s face, Wyatt!”

She waves him off without breaking the kiss. Wyatt just laughs against her lips before he pulls back. “Are they going to say something every time I touch you?” he asks.

“Probably,” she admits with a soft smile. “I don’t think they’re used to the fact that their baby sister has a serious boyfriend. This is the first time you’re spending more than a day or two with them.”

Wyatt smiles. “Guess I’ll just have to keep it PG then,” he teases.

“It’s okay to push it to PG-13 sometimes,” she tells him. “They’ll get used to it.”

“Hope so,” Wyatt says. His voice lowers for a second as he continues talking. “Because I like touching you like I am right now with my hand on your ass.”

He gives her butt a little squeeze and she laughs. “I can’t stand you,” she lies.

“Mhm.”

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[wileys-russo]

alexia putellas, “i told you i would have a mini you”, hospital

mini you II a.putellas

"princesa! i told you to sit down and i would get it." your wife groaned as she returned to the kitchen from the bathroom to find you again stood up after she'd forced you onto the sofa.

"and amor i told you that i am perfectly capable of making myself ice cream." you snapped back, shoulders tense with a huff as alexia's stern face softened.

"i know you are bebé. you are strong, and beautiful and very independent...but also very pregnant." your wife pressed herself gently against your back, strong hands massaging at your shoulders as you sagged more into her.

"really? i didn't notice." you mumbled moodily, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth making alexia smile and gently kiss the back of your neck. "come amor, bring your ice cream." the midfielder guided you back to the living room.

"sit, feet up, pick something to watch." your wife pressed a kiss to your lips with every word, hovering over you with a smile and stealing a spoonful of ice cream before you covered it protectively with your hands and a frown.

"get your own." you scowled, grunting as you adjusted your position on the sofa and rested your bowl on your very pregnant stomach. "don't!" you warned your wife seeing an amused smirk cross her face, the blonde holding her hands up wordlessly and retreating.

you winced as another wave of pain shot through you, having been in some level of discomfort all afternoon, putting it down to the baby shifting positions as the doctor warned you was common this far along.

but as it doubled down you let out a cry and jolted, your bowl clattering to the floor as alexia was beside you in the blink of an eye, rambling away in spanish as you shook your head, closing your eyes and squeezing her hand.

"okay, okay, okay. we need to get to the hospital because the baby is coming!" alexia took a deep breathe, wincing a little at the strength in which you were gripping her hand. "no! i am not due for another three weeks." you groaned with a firm shake of your head.

but alexia didn't answer, phone already to her ear as she spoke quickly to her mother who promised to meet the two of you at the hospital and call your own mother on her way there.

"i will be back bebé, two seconds por favor." alexia promised, tugging her hand from your grip and darting off to the bedroom, your hospital bag having been expertly packed by her for well over two months now just in case.

racing around alexia grabbed everything she needed in record time, returning to your side with worry plastered all over her face at how you'd paled in that short amount of time, forehead coated with a thin sheen of sweat.

"oh mi amor." your wife murmured with a wince as another cramp rocked your body and your face scrunched up in pain, hurrying forward to take your hands and help you to your feet.

"the ice cream ale-" you attempted to bend down and get the bowl as another cry left your lips and suddenly there wasn't just ice cream on the floor as your water broke and alexia's eyes bugged out of her head.

"mierda! hospital now."

~

"you did so good princesa, so so good." alexia spoke softly, tender kisses pressed into your hairline as you lay down in a hospital bed hours later absolutely exhausted. "you are glowing preciosa, motherhood looks perfect on you." your wife smiled, hand caressing your cheek as you smiled tiredly.

"i look awful but i like that you lie about it." you mumbled, squeezing her other hand which was interlocked with your own. but all that exhaustion melted away the moment your daughter was brought back into the room after being cleaned by the nurses.

both you and alexia were speechless as the midwife helped you sit up gently before very carefully placing the bundle of tiny limbs in a bright purple blanket into your arms. "she is perfect." you exhaled, eyes welling up with tears as you stared down at her, alexias hand moving to squeeze the back of your neck affectionately.

"our nena." alexia whispered, both of you sharing a look and a small laugh at the way the tears rolled down both of your cheeks. "i love you amor, i love her." alexia shook her head in disbelief, pressing her lips against yours before your daughters tiny hand wrapped around her index finger, alexia softly kissing her arm.

"i would die for her. i have never loved anything more." you whispered with a smile, alexias forehead pressing against yours as she exhaled. "me too princesa, for both of you i would do anything."

"three weeks early, never late. i told you i would have a mini you!" you laughed, a small sob choked out as you did. "sí and she had to make the perfect dramatic entrance, just like her mami!" alexia teased, pecking your lips sweetly.

"our perfect girl amor, our most perfect girl."

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: On Thin Ice

Pairing: Reader x Caroline “KK” Harvey

Fandom: women’s ice hockey

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary: it stung more than it should have…

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The fight started last night.

It wasn’t just some stupid argument about hockey or chirping each other for fun. It was real, serious, and it left a bad taste in my mouth.

“You know she’s using you, right?” I had snapped at KK, pacing our shared dorm like I was trying to escape the frustration burning through me. “You’re just some shiny new toy to her.”

KK, sitting on her bed with her arms crossed, rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. You don’t know shit, Y/N.”

I scoffed. “Oh, I don’t? KK, she flirts with literally every hockey player she meets, and now you’re acting like she’s different with you?”

“Maybe she is,” KK shot back, her voice sharp.

“You’re delusional, KK.”

She stood up then, stepping closer, her expression hard. “And you’re a bitch, Y/N. Any other obvious things we want to point out?”

The words hit harder than they should have. The usual playful banter we shared had no place here, not when it was laced with real anger.

I swallowed, fists clenching at my sides. “Oh really, I’m a bitch now, Carol? Well, fuck you.”

And that was it. I stormed out of the room, leaving her standing there, probably regretting nothing.

The tension carried into morning practice.

We didn’t talk on the way there. Usually, we carpooled, filling the drive with endless chirping and music battles. But today, I rode with Lacey instead, leaving KK to get there on her own.

On the ice, it was even worse. Our usual chemistry was nonexistent. I barely looked at her, let alone passed her the puck.

KK, never one to let anything go, skated up beside me, her voice low. “Still mad?”

I didn’t answer.

“Jesus, Y/N, are you seriously this petty?”

I turned to her, my jaw tight. “Go practice with someone else, Caroline.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she skated off, pairing up with someone else. I ignored the sting in my chest and focused on drills, pretending like it didn’t bother me.

But it did.

After practice, I rushed out of the rink, still not looking at KK.

She called my name once, but I didn’t stop.

KK’s POV

I knew I fucked up.

I didn’t realize how much until I overheard Y/N talking to Lacey in the locker room.

“She really called you a bitch?” Lacey asked, sounding as shocked as I felt now that I was hearing it from the outside.

“Yeah,” Y/N muttered. “I mean, I know we joke around, but this wasn’t like that. It was real. And it sucked.”

I peeked around the corner, my stomach twisting at the defeated look on Y/N’s face.

“I just—I hate that I care so much,” Y/N admitted. “I wish I didn’t have a stupid crush on her.”

My breath caught.

Wait.

What?

My heart slammed against my ribs, my brain scrambling to process what I just heard. Y/N had a crush on me?

I barely heard the rest of their conversation before they left the locker room.

For the next two weeks, Y/N avoided me like I had the plague.

She refused to carpool with me. She didn’t sit next to me in the locker room. On the ice, she treated me like just another teammate—no teasing, no banter, just cold indifference.

I hated it.

So I tried fixing it the only way I knew how.

I left little things in her locker—her favorite protein bars, a note that said, Still mad? with a sad face, even a coffee from her favorite place.

Nothing worked.

She ignored me.

I finally snapped after practice one day. Instead of going back to my own side of the apartment, I marched straight to hers.

I knocked once. No answer.

I knocked again. Still nothing.

So I did the only logical thing—I used my spare key and let myself in.

She was sitting on her bed, scrolling through her phone. When she saw me, her face hardened.

“What do you want, Harvey?”

I shut the door behind me. “For you to stop avoiding me. And to never use my government name again.”

She scoffed. “Well, that’s not happening.”

I exhaled sharply, running a hand through my hair. “Look, I get it. I was an asshole. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Y/N didn’t say anything, just crossed her arms.

I hesitated, my throat dry. “And… I might’ve overheard you talking to Lacey.”

Her face drops. “You what?”

I swallowed. “I know you have a crush on me.”

Her eyes widened before narrowing. “Jesus Christ, KK, do you know how to mind your own business?”

“I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop! I was just… there.”

She groaned, rubbing her face. “Great. Just great.”

I hesitated. My heart was racing. I didn’t know how to do this right, how to say the things I should’ve said weeks ago.

So I just… said them.

“I like you too.”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

I took a deep breath. “I like you, Y/N. And I was being an idiot. I got defensive because you were right. That cheer girl? She was using me. And I think, deep down, I knew it. But I didn’t want to admit it. Not to you, not to myself.”

Y/N was silent, her expression unreadable.

I stepped closer. “And I think I freaked out because… I think I’ve liked you for longer than I’ve realized.”

Her lips parted slightly, but she still didn’t say anything.

So I kept going.

“I don’t want to fight with you. I don’t want you to hate me.” I exhaled. “I just want us to go back to normal. And maybe… try something more.”

Y/N blinked. “You’re serious?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

For the first time in two weeks, her expression softened.

“…Okay,” she murmured.

“Okay?” I repeated, hopeful.

She gave me a small smile. “Yeah. But if you ever call me a bitch again, I’m slashing your tires.”

I laughed, relief crashing over me. “Fair deal.”

And when she finally, finally let me sit next to her, I knew we’d be okay.

Maybe even better than okay.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️