#starting to get my hair long enough that i look more like her. and starting to fuck up often enough that i Feel more like her

[kamaluhkhan]

WE DESERVE A SOFT EPILOGUE, MY LOVE.

pairing: vi x firelight!reader word count: 2k summary: after years of thinking her dead, ekko brings vi to the firelight base. you don't really know how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. warnings: arcane level angst + lesbian yearning. reader is referred to with she/her pronouns. reader has tattoos and a star-shaped birthmark behind her ear (y'all know vi loves a nickname and i thought 'stargirl' was v cute so i had to make it work). fic gets slightly suggestive at the end ;) author's note: happy act iii release day!!! i wrote this instead of working on my thesis oops. in my defense, vi has sparked something in me that i simply cannot ignore. i'm also working on a werewolf! pitfighter!vi x vampire slayer!reader fic (set in the same universe, just with a slight twist) sooo that might be done before part 2 of this fic (which is where the smut happens hehe). anyways, thank you for reading!

inspired by that quote: "i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love. we are good people and we've suffered enough" by nikka ursula

even after all these years, vi is still the first one to notice you. 

her eyes widen as she hesitates to pull away from ekko, but you clear your throat to catch both of their attentions.

“i thought we were gonna question her together.”

ekko wipes a stray tear from his cheek and stands up a little straighter. 

“you were taking too long,” he shrugs. “don’t worry — she’s clean.”

you trust ekko’s judgement, but you still can’t reckon with the fact that vi is alive. you’d splashed cold water on your face just before to make sure you weren’t dreaming. 

“i don’t know.” you walk closer until you’re standing arms length from vi. “the vi i knew wouldn’t be caught dead with a topsider, let alone an enforcer.” 

you examine her carefully, and you imagine she’s doing the same to you. vi looks more grown up — stronger and sharper. you’d spent so much time in limbo, not knowing if she were alive or dead. you aren’t sure how to react when the girl you grew up loving is now a woman you know nothing about and still, somehow, feel everything for. 

“i guess the shoddy undercut is a pretty clear give away,” you deadpan.

vi quirks an eyebrow at you. “shoddy, huh? you know, your tattoos look like they were drawn by blindfolded children.”

she smiles, all bright and toothy. the scar on her upper lip stretches, achingly familiar, and you decide there’s nothing you want to do more than to bring her into your arms, to bring her closer, so you do. 

her hair tickles your cheek as you whisper:

“i did those tattoos myself.”

vi chuckles, and you feel it vibrate across her body to yours.

“i know. they’re beautiful.” her index finger traces the star-shaped birthmark behind your ear; you shiver. “i was just messing with you, stargirl.”

vi was the only one who ever called you that, said you made her life brighter or some other sweet nothing that would effortlessly fall from her mouth.

gods, she was the first one who even noticed that birthmark on your skin. 

“i was messing with you, too. the hair — you look hot.”

you feel her heart beating faster against your chest as she smiles into your shoulder.

she’s here.

she’s not some ghost from your past.

she’s really here. 

you’re so overwhelmed by how solid she is against you that you start to pull away, but vi catches your hand before you can fully untangle yourself from her. 

“that’s all i get?” she wonders, licking her lips.

you’re tempted, very tempted, to give her more. maybe you would have, until ekko clears his throat behind you.

“should i….give y’all a moment?” ekko asks. “i’ll go get the piltie.”

you then remember who vi came here with; she might not be working for silco, but you stand by your suspicions at her bringing a topsider to the lanes. 

you slip your hand from hers. you roll your shoulders back as if that would really shake away the hold she’s always had on you.

time has passed. things have changed. neither of you are kids anymore, and you don't have the luxury of indulging in a frivolous crush.

“it's fine, e. let’s show them around.”

“still a night owl, i see.”

vi finds you perched on one of the trees highest branches, surrounded by firelights as you sketch something. you close your sketchbook instantly and place it on the other side of you when vi sits down.

“thought you’d be in bed with that enforcer of yours.” 

“her name’s caitlyn.”

“caitlyn,” you scoff, shaking your head. 

the bitterness you try to hide is all too transparent to vi, who has to bite back a laugh at your pettiness. 

“you say her name like you’re gonna hex her. never pegged you as a jealous ex.”

“technically, we never broke up,” you point out. 

a firelight lands on your hand, and you let it crawl up the lines etched on your skin. 

“if that’s the case, i owe you an apology for cheating on you when i was in prison.”

you frown, but say nothing, your eyes following that same firelight as it illuminates your tattoos. 

“don’t worry, i’m kidding!” vi pauses. “mostly.”

the firelight flies away, and you huff out an annoyed breath. 

“whatever. i don’t care who you’ve fucked, or who you’re fucking. and, you don’t owe me anything. it’s not like we’re anything to each other, anymore.”

vi sucks in a sharp breath — she wouldn’t have expected such harsh words from you.

“is that why you can’t even look at me?” she finally asks.

you’d been strictly business since you first reunited hours ago. you expertly distanced yourself from vi all throughout the tour of the firelights’ base, and throughout dinner, too. 

where’s the girl she’d spend hours goofing around with, who always had a witty response to her sarcastic remarks, who smiled at her in such a way that made her chest glow? where’s the girl who brightened vi’s life when it seemed like the darkness would never leave?

“i don’t know,” you admit. “part of me still can’t believe you’re alive. i know that i should be happy that you are, but i keep thinking about everything i could have done to protect you, and powder —”

“hey. it’s my job to worry about everyone, remember?”

“you weren’t here.”

“i am now.”

she gently moves your chin so that you face her, so that you can see that she’s not going anywhere, at least for tonight. 

which is probably more time than either of you thought you’d ever have together again.

vi notices how your eyes flick down to her lips and back up, and she feels something spark in her chest. but then, you shake your head as though trying to wake up from a dream and turn away once more. 

“that enforcer of yours —”

“she’s not my —”

“whoever she is, she talked about how we all need to heal. i just keep thinking about what you’ve been through, what we’ve all been through…. how it never really stops. healing would be nice, but it’s hard when you have to keep fighting every day. you remember what ekko said, about why we chose this place?” 

of course, she remembers. 

“that if even a seed can survive down here, maybe we could, too.”

 “we. who’s ‘we,’ vi?” you laugh, but there’s no joy behind it. “we’ve gotten used to surviving without each other. maybe it was meant to be that way.”

“that’s not fair.” 

“a lot of things aren’t fair.” you gesture around at the base. “this — this community — took blood, sweat, and tears to build and i just know how easy it would be for someone to destroy it all. which is why we fight, obviously, to protect all this and each other, but i’m scared that we can only do so for so long before we burn out.”

you press your knees to your chest and curl into yourself. vi notices then — the slump of your shoulders, the shadows beneath your eyes, and just how deeply exhausted you must feel, down to your bones. 

you let out a shuddery breath. “is it even all worth it?”

vi swallows the tears building in her throat. you had always been the hopeful one, and it makes vi’s chest ache to think about what you must have endured to lose the brightness that had been woven into your being. 

that's part of what got her through these past few years, and there's no way she's going to let it fade.

“i....i think so,” vi starts, trying to find it within her to be inspirational. “maybe it'll make a difference in the long run, even if we don’t see that now. maybe someone, someday in the future, will be able to not just survive, but live in a better world.”

you raise an eyebrow at her, and vi swears there's a slight smile on your face.

"what?" she asks, her cheeks heating up.

"i'm just...surprised. how is it possible that prison made you less cynical?”

there's a glimmer to your eyes that wasn't there before, something playful, and vi decides to lean into it.

"oh, it wasn't prison," vi says, nudging her shoulder against hers. "see, i ran into this pretty girl from my past and she's this totally badass freedom fighter now, so i think there's some hope in the world."

you snort. "good to know you're still an unbearable flirt."

"i thought you loved that about me."

you laugh, a sparkling sound that vi wishes she could carry with her wherever she goes. it’s contagious, too, and vi finds herself giggling along with you. when it dies down, you rest your head on her shoulder, something you did even back when you were only friends.

“i missed you,” she admits. 

“yeah?” your voice is softer than a whisper. 

you lift your head and vi cradles your face in her hands.

vi nods. “so fucking much, and i want to prove it. if you’ll let me. please.”

“vi,” you exhale. she’s so close now that she can feel you breathing against her lips. “i can’t. you’re with that enforcer.”

“we’re not together,” vi assures, bumping her nose against yours. 

she leans in ever so closely to kiss you, but you move away. 

“you’re still with her, though, and you’re leaving in the morning,” you continue. “things are already so….complicated. i just don’t think we should start something we won’t be able to finish.”

with nothing more to say, you gather your sketchbook and pencils. vi’s sure that you’re not going to bed, just off to nestle into another hiding spot for the night, away from her.

maybe you’re still putting up a cold front, protecting yourself because that’s how you've been surviving in this world where the risk of losing everything lingers, and only gets heavier as you grow older.

but, gods, vi really has missed you, the you she remembers so vividly, the you that shone through just moments ago. she knows that glowing heart of yours is hardened by layers of ice, and she’s determined to make them all melt away.

so, vi gets up, heart beating in her throat, and calls after you:

“haven’t we already?” 

you stop in your tracks. you slowly turn around to back at her.

a moment passes, maybe more. the two of you suspended in time. your eyes are telling her a million different things – you’re confused, you’re scared, you’re tempted, you’re tired – and all vi can do is unsuccessfully blink back more tears because it’s true, how your story together never got the happy ending you deserved. 

“please, y/n. if this is our second chance, even just for a night —”

she’s cut off by you crashing your lips against hers.

the two of you were young, really, just girls when you first kissed. it was awkward and messy and though it ignited something in the pit of vi’s stomach, it was nothing compared to this.

she lets you guide her as you please, lets you press your warm body against hers against the trunk of the tree. she lets your lips mold into hers until her lungs are burning. 

your chest is heaving as you pull away slightly; vi bites back a whine, feeling empty. but air isn’t what she needs, she’s sure of it. what she really needs is more of you.

you study her like a work of art, like you're committing her to memory in case she slips away. your thumb wipes away a fallen tear, across the tattoo on her cheek. 

fuck, no one's held vi this tenderly since, well, you.

“you’re so beautiful.”

vi blushes, becoming increasingly flustered. she'd wanted to make this about you, take care of you in all the ways she'd imagined, but the way you're looking at her, touching her....she's not a religious person, but vi thinks she might have stumbled into her own, personal heaven, with you having some divine hold on her, soft and bright and passionate.

you're kissing down her neck, nipping at her collarbone when you repeat: "you're so fucking beautiful."

“yeah, i know. they should build statues of me,” she breathes, closing her eyes and trying to keep upright on weak knees. she squeezes your hips in an attempt to keep herself steady.

you’re the only person vi can recall calling her beautiful. 

sexy? oh, yeah. charming? definitely. hot? often. 

no one else calls her beautiful, though, let alone makes her feel like it the way you do.

“bad at flirting and full of yourself," you tease. "some things really don't change."

by now your lips are travelling lower, and vi doesn't want to miss a second watching you have your way with her. when her eyes flutter open, vi gets a glimpse of something over your shoulder.

“hm, i guess drawings are a good place to start.” 

she gestures with her chin, which she instantly regrets as you pull away to follow her gaze, eyes landing on the sketches of her from your fallen sketchbook.

“you weren’t supposed to see those,” you groan. "they're personal...."

it's cute, how flustered you get after making vi all hot and bothered.

vi smirks. "personal, huh? had some fun picturing me when i was gone? missed me so much you had to draw me back to life?"

"well, no - wait, yes, obviously, i missed you, but --"

vi cuts you off with a searing kiss.

she tugs on one of your belt loops to bring you closer to her. vi presses her thigh between your legs, relishing in how your mouth opens in a perfect gasp. vi takes the opportunity to bite your bottom lip and you whimper.

“don't be embarrassed, baby," vi mumbles against your mouth, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hips. "you know i missed you, too. 'cept i'm not talented like you, so my creative imagination had to carry me through some long nights."

“is that so….” your hand slips underneath her tank top, and you manage to pull a groan from vi by scratching your nails against her stomach. “maybe you can clue me in to what, exactly, you’ve imagined.”

vi grins triumphantly. she places a kiss on your birthmark before whispering in your ear:

“sure thing, stargirl.”

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 6

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 4.7k

c/w - language, tiny bit of angst (this is only the beginning i fear.)

a/n - is it cringe of me to ask for live reactions? bc i want live reactions sb. anyway, sorry ik i said this chap would be long and juicy but i decided to hold off on the juicy part, i needed a lil more plot development! also ty to everyone who sends me asks, even if it’s just things like “when’s the next part😫” i love it sm lol. hope yall like this one!!

The next two days are—at least compared to the first two—almost peaceful. The weather is nice, just warm enough and not too humid, which Azzi’s hair appreciates. She got goddess braids done just before the trip and even in protective styles, her hair gets frizzy at the very notion of moisture.

The peacefulness largely comes from the fact that Paige is avoiding her parents like the plague, instead spending all her time with Azzi and her siblings. The third day they spend almost entirely at the local park, shooting around at the court there under the hot sun. Lauren even reluctantly joins for a few games, and she may be adamant about not wanting to play basketball but the talent for it must be genetic because she’s a natural. And if Paige and Azzi spend the whole ‘competition’ brushing hands and flirting, nobody says anything. (Though Ryan does wrinkle his nose at them a few times.)

The fourth day starts out warm, and so Paige and Azzi sneak the kids out bright and early (Azzi, of course, ends up with the job of waking all three siblings up—not one of them is a morning person whatsoever) and go to an ice cream shop, where they eat their cold, sweet breakfasts on the curb while they chat. Both Ryan and Lauren may have argued that they were too old to be excited about ice cream for breakfast anymore, but they both end up with matching, chocolate-covered grins when they’re done.

The weather turns for the worst before noon, though, and the kids want to go home but Paige insists they go to the arcade instead. When she says she’ll pay for as many games as they want, they’re easily swayed. Of course, Paige and Azzi make a competition out of the day, deciding to keep a tally of all their points so that whoever has the most wins by the end has to buy the whole group prizes.

Azzi gives it a fighting go but Paige plays way more video games than she does so she very nearly beats her—but then, when they’re almost out of game tickets, Azzi pouts at her about the whole situation, and suspiciously, she ends up making an incredible recovery, easily beating Paige at almost every game after that.

Lauren picks a koala plushie, Ryan picks some new shoes, and Azzi gets this shiny plastic tiara.

“You didn’t have to get the cheapest prize,” Paige says as Azzi adjusts the tiara on her head. “I got money.”

“I know,” Azzi replies, smiling at her reflection in the mirror. “But I had to. As the princess.”

Paige gives her that stupid fucking look again—the one Azzi still can’t figure out even though she knows Paige like the back of her hand, which is just driving her crazy—and that look shows up so often Azzi should really just start referring to it as The Look at this point.

But then Paige smiles, previous odd expression gone, and the way she does that,—slips out of it like she doesn’t even realize it was there in the first place—drives Azzi even more crazy than The Look itself.

Now, it is the fifth day. And Azzi reminisces on these past two blissful days to try and distract herself from the fact that Paige and her parents are having a heated argument right in front of her and her scrambled eggs.

“No, Paige,” Amy is saying. “Absolutely not.”

“You can’t do that!” Paige replies, throwing her hands into the air. “I’m an adult, I make my own money, I can do—“

“It’s stupid.”

“It’ll be fun!”

“It won’t, because it’s not happening.” Amy is unpacking a load of groceries, and Dean is lingering in the corner of the kitchen being absolutely useless. That seems to be his brand.

“Yes it will, Mom,” Paige replies, voice lower now but still obviously frustrated. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. I was just seeing if you wanted to come with us. I was tryna be nice!”

“Well it won’t be nice when you crash and we all drown, Paige.”

“Jesus, Mom! I ain’t gonna go around crashing!”

Azzi feels very uncomfortable, wishing she were literally anywhere else, but at the same time this is sort of amusing and she has to hide a smile in a bite of eggs.

This argument is, out of all things, about a boat. Paige wants to rent one and have a lake day, and though she didn’t want to, Azzi convinced her to invite her parents—she figured they’d decline but that they’d be offended if they weren’t at least invited.

She wasn’t really expecting a lecture to come out of it, though. But by the tired look on Paige’s face, she knew exactly what was coming their way.

“You don’t even have a boating license,” Amy continues, placing a new jug of milk and some apples in the fridge. “This is illegal. If you won’t listen to your mother, at least listen to the law.”

That very nearly gets a giggle out of Azzi. She chokes it down.

“This is a private lake, I’on need my license.”

“Well that doesn’t sound shady at all.”

“It’s not, it’s super legit!” Paige makes for her phone in her back pocket. “It has its own website and everything, I looked way into it.”

Amy stares her daughter down for a few seconds, hands on her hips, before she lets out a resigned sigh. “Like you said, Paige, I can’t tell you what to do. You’re an adult, do what you want. But you will not be taking your siblings on that death trap.”

“Wha…” Paige flounders, eyebrows furrowed, and her voice raises again, “that was the whole point of this entire thing!”

“Well, that’s too bad. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll make them wear life jackets!”

“They’re teenagers,” Dean points out rather unhelpfully, and it’s the first time he’s spoken around her in days but Azzi is already sick of him again. “Neither of them are gonna wear life jackets.”

“I’ll force them, I swear.”

“Paige Madison,” Amy snaps, and Paige may be an independent adult now but she still straightens her back subconsciously at her mother’s warning tone, “no means no. They are my kids.”

“They’re my siblings!” Paige replies—rather boldly, Azzi thinks, because if Azzi were in her place she would’ve given up by now.

But Paige, as most daughters do, knows exactly how far to push her mother to get what she wants—apparent in the way Amy massages her temples with her fingers before saying, “You know what, Paige? Fine.”

Dean is jumping in immediately. “What? No, she can’t take my kids out on a boat.”

“She’s right, Dean,” Amy says, though she looks a little pained to be siding with her daughter for once. “They’re her siblings. She wants to do something fun for them.”

“It’s dangerous!” Dean motions sporadically at where Paige and Azzi are sitting at the island. Azzi’s eggs are gone now and so she has nothing to put her awkward energy into. “Neither of them owns a boat, and they are practically strangers—“

“She is my daughter,” Amy says, and it’s so quiet Azzi almost doesn’t hear it, but she does, and it sends shivers through her. Because there’s something dangerous, something protective in her tone, something only a mother who loves their child could convey. And it sends a flicker of hope through her. “She is my daughter and I trust her with her siblings.”

Dean flounders for something but comes up empty, instead storming off all red-faced like a child. Amy doesn’t look either of them in the eye when she says, “Let me know if you kids need anything today,” before leaving the two best friends alone in the kitchen.

Slowly, Paige turns to look at Azzi, something like disbelief in her expression. “Did that—actually go well?”

“Yeah,” Azzi responds. “I think it did.”

Things may just be looking up.

———————————————

Dean may be an asshole, but it turns out he was right about one thing: Ryan and Lauren will not wear life jackets.

“C’mon, guys, it’s the law,” Paige insists, thrusting a pink life jacket at her sister, who scrunches her nose in disgust.

“No way! That’s so ugly, Paige.”

“The color wont matter when you’re drowning.”

“You sound just like Mom!” Lauren sighs, and Paige’s mouth falls open.

“You did not just say that.”

Lauren gives Paige a smug smile, which amuses Azzi because it’s the same smile Paige gives her whenever she wins an argument. “And I meant it too.”

If Lauren were not much smaller than Paige, she would be tackling her right now, based off the look on her face. But instead she composes herself and turns to Ryan, who is sitting at the front of the speedboat on his phone. He feels his older sister’s gaze and looks up at her, then at the life jacket in her hands. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being so for real.”

“There’s gonna be hot girls in bikinis on the lake,” Ryan replies, as if this is the most obvious thing ever. “No way I’m wearing a life jacket.”

Paige sighs and rubs her temple with her fingers, and Azzi would never say it out loud (for fear of being pushed into the lake) but she does kind of look like her mom in this moment.

When Paige turns on her with a warning look, Azzi startles, wondering if she’s somehow read her mind. But instead, Paige picks up another life jacket and says, “Will you at least wear one?”

Azzi smiles, a little puzzled. “Paige, I don’t need a life jacket. I can swim.” Which is obvious considering she and Paige have spent various lake days at her family’s cabin.

“Yeah, but for my peace of mind, though!” Paige shakes the life jacket in Azzi’s direction.

The truth is, Azzi wouldn’t mind wearing the life jacket. But ever since she put on this bikini—pastel purple in color—Paige has been swallowing thickly and averting her eyes constantly. So Azzi thinks she has other reasons for wanting her to cover up.

And Azzi can’t let her get away with that, can she?

“I don’t need it.” Azzi steps forward and takes the life jacket out of Paige’s grasp, tossing it aside before reaching to trail her hand down Paige’s bicep, squeezing the hard muscle a little bit. “And besides, won’t you save me if I’m drowning?” she asks, smiling coyly.

Paige’s throat bobs, eyes landing respectfully on a spot past Azzi’s shoulder. “Well, that’s not really how that works.”

Azzi blinks, and she knows just how big and brown her eyes are when she looks up at Paige through her lashes. “No? Thought you’ve been in the gym?”

“I have,” Paige says defensively.

“Hm.” Azzi lets her hand trail off Paige’s arm, resting it on Paige’s side before dancing her fingers dangerously over Paige’s exposed abs. “You wanna prove that to me, baby?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and Azzi loves the way she can not only see but feel her stomach tense under her fingers. But the moment is broken by a gagging sound nearby.

Lauren—who has sat beside her brother and pulled out her own phone—is now looking at them with disgust. “You guys are so gross.”

“You shouldn’t be making sexual innuendos in front of Lauren,” Ryan adds on, though his eyes don’t leave his screen.

“Yeah!” Lauren agrees, then furrows her eyebrows and starts tapping at her phone. Azzi guesses she’s probably searching what sexual innuendo means.

“Hey, yo, don’t blame me,” Paige says, putting her hands up and taking two big steps away from Azzi. “She started it.”

“Azzi’s a freak,” Ryan says.

“Whoa, chill!”

“Hey, that’s actually offensive,” Lauren says. She has picked up a habit of defending Azzi with her life these last few days they’ve spent together, and Azzi has decided she would do the same. “That’s like calling her a monster or something.”

Ryan smirks, finally looking up at them. “I didn’t mean that kinda freak.”

“Okayyy!” Paige jumps in before Lauren can do any more Googling. “Let’s get this show on the road. Imma go untie us real quick, then we’ll head out.”

For the first time, nerves bubble in Azzi’s tummy. “Paige, you sure you’ll be able to drive this thing?”

Paige looks almost offended at the question. “Yeah, duh.”

“It’s just, you’ve never driven a speed boat before…”

“Trust me, mama,” Paige says, nodding cockily to herself. “I got driving skills like you’ve never seen.”

Fifteen minutes later, Azzi realizes Paige was telling the truth. She has certainly never seen these driving skills before.

Paige is an—erratic driver, to put it mildly. This lake is private, huge, and though there are plenty of other boaters out Paige drives as if they’re the only ones on the water. At one point, she gets to such a high speed that even Ryan grasps onto Azzi a little bit.

When Paige very nearly runs into a cruising party boat, Azzi finally gets up from her place between the kids and marches over to Paige, who glances up at her with a sheepish smile. “Whoops.”

“Lemme drive,” Azzi demands, beckoning for Paige to get up.

“No!” Paige says stubbornly. “I’m doin’ good!”

“I thought I was going to die!” Lauren pipes up angrily.

Azzi motions to her. “See? You’re scaring your brother and sister.”

“Whoa, who said I was scared?” Ryan says.

Azzi decides against bringing up the fact that he kept clinging to her arm. “This is scary, I wanna drive.”

“But babeee,” Paige groans, bringing the boat to a stop so she can properly argue, “you drive like a grandma.”

“I drive like a sane person, is what I think you mean to say.”

“It’ll be boring.”

“Paige.”

Paige stares her down for a moment before sighing like a stubborn little kid. “Fine. You can drive.”

Azzi nods, pleased, and shoves at Paige’s shoulder when she doesn’t move. “Get up.”

A slow smile creeps over Paige’s face and Azzi doesn’t like the look of that at all. “I gotta show you the ropes.”

“I don’t need you to teach me how to drive this thing,” Azzi says as if it’s obvious, because really, it is. The thought of Paige trying to teach anyone her…unique ways is downright scary. “I got it.”

“Nah, I think you’ll need some help.”

“P, for real, stop being difficult and move.”

“I’m not about to—“

“Can we go?” Lauren says loudly, getting both girls’ attention.

“Yeah, I’m getting hot as hell just sitting here,” Ryan agrees.

“I wanna get to that diving cliff Paige was talking about!”

Before Azzi can turn back to Paige to continue arguing with her, Paige has her hands on her hips and is pulling her firmly into her lap. Azzi squeaks, grabbing onto the wheel for leverage.

“Paige!” she exclaims, turning to glare at the smug-looking girl underneath her.

“You heard them,” Paige says simply, shrugging her shoulders as if her hands are tied. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t—“ Azzi starts to argue once again, but then Lauren is sighing dramatically in that teenage-girl way of her’s and saying, “Seriously, come on!”

So, almost in a daze, Azzi turns back to the front and moves her hand to the shift, getting the boat moving slowly again. She tries desperately to ignore it when Paige leans up close to her ear and murmurs, “Atta girl,” but she can’t help the goosebumps that erupt over her neck and Paige must spot them because she chuckles lightly before leaning back, letting Azzi do her thing.

Trying to shake off the feeling of Paige’s hot breath fanning over her skin, Azzi amps up the speed a little bit, determined to show Paige that she can be fun and safe, as promised.

After a few minutes of skimming over the water, Azzi calls over the wind, “Thought you were gonna ‘show me the ropes’?”

“Looks like you got it,” Paige says, sitting straight so she’s pressed up against Azzi’s back again, and her hands find their place on Azzi’s waist.

“Why’d you make me sit on your lap, then, P?” Azzi asks, and her tone lilts teasingly but she is sort of freaking out on the inside because moments like these—moments where Azzi hardly bothers to hide her feelings for Paige and Paige, instead of shying away, responds—are becoming a little too common for comfort.

Paige rests her chin on Azzi’s shoulder, lips brushing her cheek when she says, “Think you know why, hm?”

Yeah. Definitely far too common for comfort.

Ramping up the speedboat a little bit—enough that Ryan whoops and Lauren leans over the side to touch the water—Azzi shifts her hips. She moves out of discomfort, almost subconsciously trying to get away from this buzzing energy between her and her best friend, but Paige lets out a huff of air at the motion and, curious, Azzi does it again.

A full-on gasp this time.

A flush creeps up over Azzi’s cheeks all the way down her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s from pleasure or shyness, though likely it’s both. But she can’t let Paige have the upper hand, because Azzi can’t even imagine how quickly she’d fold if that happened. So instead, she turns her head to the side and says, “All good, Paige?”

The problem with this is Paige’s face is still turned toward her when she says it. And when Azzi moves to reciprocate the angle, their lips are so close that they brush on the last word. On the utterance of Paige’s name.

Azzi jerks back as soon as it happens, putting a couple inches of distance between their faces, and she’s sure the flush is noticeable by now. She tries for a lighthearted laugh, “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize you were so close—“

She doesn’t see it coming when Paige kisses her.

It pulls a gasp out of her, lips now pressed against Paige parting slightly in surprise, and her eyes don’t even close until she feels Paige’s tongue dip inside her mouth.

It’s a quick swipe, her tongue against the space between Azzi’s teeth and upper lip before she’s pulling away—only enough to make the kiss much more chaste.

Her hands slide from Azzi’s waist to her stomach, and Azzi grips onto the steering wheel for dear life when Paige moans ever so quietly into her mouth, the sound barely heard over the wind whipping around them. And then the wind is whipping Paige’s hair into their faces, a few strands getting in Azzi’s mouth, which she takes as her opportunity to pull away. Paige stares at her—The Look again—for only a split second this time (Azzi much prefers that over the lingering one) before her face is breaking into a smile, not cocky or smug or teasing but just bright, and Azzi can’t help but laugh with her as they pull Paige’s hair out of her mouth.

“Keep your eyes on the lake!” Lauren yells at them, and when they look at her she’s got her nose wrinkled. “What is it with you guys and PDA today?”

“Maybe someone put viagra in their coffees this morning,” Ryan suggests, looking equally as disgusted as his little sister but also twice as amused.

“What’s viagra?” Lauren asks.

“Yo, Ryan!” Paige snaps, her hands moving tantalizingly from Azzi’s tummy to rest low on her hips instead, and Azzi forces herself to look back where she’s driving. “Keep it PG, dawg!”

“I could say the same thing to you,” he replies, and Azzi isn’t looking at him but she can picture the smirk on his face—she knows the look all too well by now.

The three of them bicker for a few more minutes, and Azzi tries really hard to focus on where they’re going rather than the implications of that kiss and all the questions that follow it.

Paige is the bad driver, but when she leans forward and mimics her—“All good, baby?”—Azzi worries she may be the one to crash this boat.

———————————————

“Sunscreen time!”

“No, what?”

“We just put some on!”

“Az, I’m never gonna tan at this point!”

Shaking the sunscreen into her hands, Azzi motions the three siblings towards her. “C’mon, you need it.”

“I don’t burn,” Lauren insists as she steps up in front of Azzi, lifting her arms dutifully anyway.

“You’re already getting a little red,” Azzi points out, applying an extra-thick layer onto Lauren’s rosy nose.

“This is lame,” Lauren groans, though she still lets Azzi work in silence and mumbles a thank you before she turns back to the lake.

Ryan is next, and he doesn’t complain about it but he does stare down at his phone the entire time, his head only falling back down when Azzi tries to push it up. “Ryan,” she sighs.

He tears his eyes away from his phone, only to look around subconsciously. Azzi knows he’s trying to see if the gaggle of teenage girls along the rocky beach have noticed him getting his sunscreen done.

“Hurry up,” Paige complains, nudging her younger brother in the back, and he turns around to shove her.

Azzi fights back a smile. “You can put it on yourself if that’s better.”

“It’s good,” he says nonchalantly, but he hasn’t quite mastered acting like he doesn’t care.

Azzi finishes up quickly, ending the torture with an encouraging smile, watching him run up to join his sister where she stands on the ledge above the lake, sneaking up on her. He pushes her in and Azzi laughs at the way Lauren screeches before her eyes drift to Paige, who is now standing right in front of her, looking awfully petulant.

“You really don’t want me to tan, huh?” she says, wincing as Azzi rubs the cold lotion over Paige’s sun-kissed shoulders.

“Your white ass is gonna burn if we don’t do this every thirty minutes,” Azzi says, reiterating what she said the past five times Paige complained about the sunscreen.

“I got a little melanin in me.”

Azzi looks at the way Paige’s blue eyes are squinting against the summer sun, the way her pale skin is already tinted pink, and raises her brows.

Paige holds her hand up. “Just gimme the sunscreen.”

Chuckling, Azzi squirts some into her hand before giving the bottle to Paige, who turns around and starts doing her front while Azzi does her back. They’ve done this maybe a hundred times, before countless sunny fair days and hot boat rides, but today it just feels a little…off. Everything feels a little off about them recently.

Azzi worries it may be her fault. She has always been good at hiding her feelings for Paige, good at making sure her attraction doesn’t show on her face just like she knows all her other emotions do. But recently, ever since they began this facade—and more so ever since they arrived in Montana—she knows she’s been slipping up. She thought she’d be okay but she wasn’t prepared for the way Paige would look at her like she wasn’t pretending, the way Paige calls her pet names even when they’re alone, the way Paige told her she liked kissing her and wants to do it again.

The way Paige did do it again.

And there lies the burning question: why?

Azzi knows Paige doesn’t have feelings for her. Azzi knows that she’s the only one who lies awake thinking about having Paige in every sense of the word, the only one who wakes up in the middle of the night thinking of Paige with an uncomfortable stickiness between her legs. She is the only one, of course, who is in love.

Then why do Paige’s eyes and hands wander nowadays? Why does she call her baby in quiet moments? Why did she kiss her when she really didn’t have to?

Could she be—attracted to Azzi? Maybe through playing this role, she’s seen Azzi in a new light, and realized her best friend is no longer dorky and fourteen but rather a tall, pretty twenty year old with a great ass. (And yes, Azzi knows she has a great ass.)

She could be attracted to her and not be in love. She could be attracted to her and have no other attachment whatsoever. The two things can be true at once, can’t they?

The thought flatters her but it mostly scares her, because she’s barely surviving this unrequited love as it is. But with her best friend having any level of attraction back? How is she supposed to continue on like that?

“Azzi?” Paige asks, and the tone of her voice implies she’s already said it a few times.

Azzi hums, blinking. “Sorry, yeah?”

“Uh,” Paige says, and it’s then that Azzi realizes her hands have stopped rubbing lotion into Paige’s back and have sort of just come to rest on her waist—like it’s instinctive. Like it’s natural. “You done back there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Azzi says, but for some unknown reason she can’t find it in herself to let go.

Paige glances over her shoulder. “Azzi?” she repeats.

Azzi can’t really take it any longer.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

Paige’s sides tense up under Azzi’s hands, and then she’s stepping away, out of her grasp, and turning to face her.

The look on her face is guarded, almost closed off completely. This is dangerous territory and Azzi has barely dipped her toes in the water yet.

When Azzi’s hands fall helplessly to her sides, Paige says, “I was pretending.”

As much as Azzi doesn’t buy it, the words—and the flat, cold intonation of them—sting. “Didn’t feel like it.”

“Why’re you being weird about it?” Paige asks, eyes dancing nervously away from Azzi’s face.

“I’m not, Paige. I just—I wanna know. For real.”

“You agreed to do this for me,” Paige reminds her, as if that has anything to do with this. But, of course, it has everything to do with this, and Azzi hates how easy it makes it for the both of them to hide under a facade, a lie.

“I know,” Azzi says carefully, also taking a step back if only to get away from Paige’s chilly stare. “But you didn’t have to kiss me this time. There wasn’t a reason.”

Paige shrugs, and Azzi hates to admit it but she is much better than her younger brother at acting nonchalant. “We’re s’posed to be a couple. I don’t want my siblings getting suspicious. They know I’m a touchy person.”

Getting the sinking feeling that Azzi won’t get anything out of this conversation other than a fight, she nods slowly, looking down at the ground. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Paige, as usual, thaws at the slightest hint of weakness, taking a tiny step forward. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” Azzi is a little too quick to say. The kiss caught her by surprise, but they’ve only done it two times and Azzi is quickly coming to find that kissing Paige is the most comfortable thing in the world—it’s natural, and right, and like curling up in bed with a book and a warm cup of tea—and Azzi also knows they should never do it again.

Despite the earnest answer, Paige looks at her suspiciously. “You sure, ma? Don’t ever wanna make you uncomfortable.”

Azzi does her best to fix her face, which she worries may be showing a little too much. “Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.”

“Aight,” Paige says, but she still doesn’t sound very convinced. Azzi’s just glad she’s letting it go.

“Sorry for bringing it up,” Azzi says. She’s not.

At this, Paige sighs, reaching out to bridge the gap between them, running a gentle hand up and down Azzi’s arm. “Nah, don’t be, I get it. Sorry for getting a lil defensive.”

A little? Despite the fact she doesn’t believe Paige one bit, and that she doesn’t like anything about the interaction they just had, Azzi manages a smile. “You’re good.”

Paige nods, and her smile at least seems to be sincere. But as they jump into the lake, and as Paige talks Azzi’s ear off while Azzi floats around lazily in a donut floatie, things feel even more off than before.

Azzi can’t quite place what it is until late that night, when they’re both going to sleep and Paige is, for the first time in ages, strangely quiet. She glances over to find Paige lying on her stomach, face turned away, breathing too quickly to be asleep.

And that’s when Azzi notices it. The gap between them, the sheer amount of space from Azzi on her side all the way to Paige, who is almost on the edge of the bed.

Paige always sleeps close to Azzi.

And she always sleeps with her head turned towards her.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa

lmk if u wanna be on my tag list btw!!

[plasticfreckles]

🪶 early morning rookanis enjoy 🪶

Lucanis leaves the pantry to see Rook stumbling towards the stove, delightfully disheveled. Hair tumbling from her head in a middle part instead of swooped across her skull and down one shoulder, shirt umbuttoned lower than he dares to look.

Spite still points out the green and purple fabric of her breastband.

"Good morning." She jumps, suddenly, only barely keeps from spraining her ankle.

"Where did you come from?"

Lucanis points his thumb over his shoulder.

"The pantry. Like every morning." Rook huffs, runs both hands up her face and lightly pulls at the roots of her curls. "Short night?"

"My night was long enough," she starts, moving out of his way and leaning against the worktop, watching him light the fire in the oven. "Then I had the weirdest dream in a minute, right before waking up. Whatever rest I got - ruined."

"Want to talk about it? It'll take a while for the water to boil."

Rook rubs at her eyes.

"Dreamt Emmrich made me partake in some Fade magic or whatever but it backfired and I came out tall and skinny, but really disproportionate."

Came back wrong. Smells not right. Dry potsoil. Old, dry potsoil.

"Would.. would you not prefer to be tall and skinny?" Lucanis himself could surely do with a few more inches in the legs, on his bad days.

It dawns on him an instant too late, the way his question sounds, even to his own ears. But she's not offended. Far from it, actually.

"Are you kidding? Absolutely not. Have you seen my thighs?" Rook stands back up straight and cocks her hip. The high Crow boots and tight pants hug her curves enticingly. "Luscious, but spacially demanding."

A pause, as he crushes some coffee beans in a mortar. If he remembers his labels correctly, these beans will have a hint of chocolate flavor in them.

"Besides, people never think it's the short, fat elf who'll kill them." Lucanis snorts at that.

He pretends not to notice the way Rook's eyes linger on his forearm, the popping veins and the shifting muscles.

"Would you prefer to be taller?" Rook asks after a while.

"Sometimes. Though less because of the actual height and more because of the jokes." The noise out of her is knowing, familiar.

"Head taller than a cheese wheel." A phrase they both must have heard more times than they could care to count, judging by the familiarity in the way she quotes it. She moves away from the cooking corner, toward the cupboard around the stairs.

"How did you get into coffee?" She asks it as though it's a story she knows, and knows it well. So, as per usual, he deflects.

"How does anyone get into coffee? I imagine you told someone you were tired and they handed you a cup." Lucanis pauses, as he transfers the ground beans into a filterrag and secures it over the pot. "Only that it made you more tired."

She laughs, wiping out the two cups she chose with a dishrag.

"Accurate. Though the way you speak about coffee, it sounds like more of a revelation."

11 cups, Rook. Last night. ELEVEN. WE NEVER SLEEP AGAIN. STAY SUBDUED. STAY AWAKE. ALL THE SHITS.

"Our barista bought samples of all beans available in Treviso. Had me try them to find Caterina's favorite. I was fourteen. Didn't sleep for five days."

They're lucky she chose tin mugs. Her jaw drops, and so does her grip on the mug, and it falls loudly onto the tiles.

"One: you have a barista at home?!"

"Not anymore. Last I was there, I made my own coffee. The other staff don't get it right."

"The other staff?"

Lucanis shrugs, as he takes the kettle with an oven cloth and pours the hot water over the filterrag in slow, deliberate circles. The few memories he has of his parents, they waited on him hand and foot. After they were killed, and he went to live with Caterina, her staff.

"I'm sure your house has staff."

"Viago's the Talon, Lucanis. The Fledglings are his staff."

True point, he thinks. Viago has a tighter grip, more control over his underlings. So they don't get ideas. The reason he's constantly peddling with orphanages and whorehouses is that the moment a Fledgling even breathes wrong in his presence, they disappear. Myself is my true king, and he makes sure everyone knows it like the know the sun also rises.

"Two," she continues, either oblivious to secondary string of thought that always seems to run in the background no matter what or electing to ignore it. She has picked up the fallen mug and wipes it off yet again. "You drank every sample in one night?"

"The best beans at the time were from the Montilyet vineyard, surprisingly, crushed in a coarse herb mortar, run through alchemy water that's just about to boil. Press it onto this tiny metal sieve and pour the water as fast as you can without getting the grounds in your cup." During his youth, he drank that prep so often he can no longer think of it without recoiling. "I got so much done that week. And have no recollection of any of it."

She laughs. Holds both mugs as Lucanis transfers the ready coffee into their mugs. She already put creamer and a sugarstick into one of them.

"Sounds like you to remember the coffee and nothing else." The sugarstick serves as a spoon as she mixes creamer, coffee and the sugar falling off of it. "What's in this one?"

"If you believe me, the beans in Neve's pellet coffee before they abuse them beyond recognition. It's supposed to have a chocolate aftertaste."

She raises her eyebrows at him, lifting the cup to her lips.

"You think you can save that hogwash?" The expression on her face tells him there's no saving this. "Maybe the beans just suck."

"What can I say?" He takes a sip. Oh, dear. "If anyone can, it's me."

"Did Caterina like any of the samples you tried?"

"Of course not. She prefers tea over coffee. It was a lost cause."

Rook laughs so hard and sudden she inhales her swill. Spite laughs at the way it drips out of her nose.

🪶

i know bioware fixed that bug but idc if i saw it happen and they patched it its a dream now i dont make the rules

i still don't know how coffee works but I love some tevinter slander lmao

I'm trying to break out of the chronologic thing I had going with solavellan and just write what I feel like writing and its really cathartic ngl [also the way I finished my thesis and went straight back to creative writing for the first time in like FIVE YEARS lmao]

@lanafofana if you want me to tag u in ONLY what we talked about you gotta let me know lmao

@vespaer77 i forgot to tag u in my rookanis stuff and tbf I don't know if you WANT to be tagged in that but here u go haha

[~rina]

[carry-the-sky]

go spin the wheel, see where it lands—

Here's the thing about time: it's always running out. He felt it even as a kid, this urgency moving through him, around him. Always just ahead. He'd catch up, if everything else would just slow the hell down. But there are rules, and rule number one is that time tends to be, well, linear. Directional. Things get a bit messy when it's not.

Four seconds. That was rule number two, and the consequences for breaking it are— bad. To put it lightly.

He doesn't exactly have a choice. Or, he does, but if it's between breaking the rules or not, watching everything he loves get ripped away or digging in, claws first— well. He knows a thing or two about fighting dirty.

So, no, it's not a choice. It's immutable, like gravity. Time. A strict progression from cause to effect.

Ekko breaks rule number two.

And the line becomes a circle.

.

He thinks it's a dream, the first time. What else would it be? She fell. She's gone.

She's here now, though. Whole and happy and here, running a hand through her chopped-short hair. That single streak of magenta hits him where it hurts, square in his chest. You can't feel pain in a dream, can you?

"You're back," she says, without looking up. She's lying on her stomach, sketchbook open, a whirling kaleidoscope of color on the page in front of her. "Took you long enough."

"Was I gone?" Ekko says.

She actually laughs at that, the sound filling up his ears, warm and bright. "Benzo was starting to worry, not that he'd ever admit it. Big ol' softie." Her hand flashes, chalk sticks arcing across the page. "You seem to have that effect on people."

He shakes his head. "I don't. I'm not—"

She scribbles faster, fingers stained pink and blue and every shade in between. "You know, for a smart guy, you're kinda dumb."

"Ouch."

"I still like you, though."

This is a nice dream. Maybe the only nice dream he'll have again.

"I miss you," he says, dredging the words up from some sunless space inside him. "I didn't tell you before."

Her hand slows to a stop. From where he's standing, Ekko can only see a few snatches of detail on the page; a fuchsia smile, twin blue braids.

"I'm right here, buster," she says, not looking up. Grinning softly at her hands. "Never left, actually."

The circle wobbles, shifts out of focus. Time and space folding in on each other like paper cranes.

When he blinks, Powder is gone.

.

Too late. It's always, always too late.

.

"It's you," she says, the next time.

They're somewhere green, somewhere he's never been. A part of the Undercity that doesn't exist where he's from, that never existed.

"Uh." He blinks against the sun. "It's me, yeah."

"Seriously?" Beside him on the lawn, she pops up on an elbow, scrutinizing him. "You still don't get what's happening? Sheesh, hopping dimensions really does do a number on the noggin."

Okay, this is a weird dream. Still, as long as he keeps her talking, as long as he has sun on his skin and grass beneath him, he doesn't really care. He'll take weird. He'll take whatever he can get.

"Noggin, right," he laughs. "Synapses. Drunk slugs."

Powder scrunches up her nose like she's trying not to laugh. "Alright, I give. If you wanna dance around the giant elephant in the room, be my guest." She turns her head into her arm, a shield from the sun. Between them, their hands brush in the grass, pinky fingers tangling together. "Next time, though."

Ekko hums, content. More than that— happy. Overflowing with it. Then he frowns. "Wait. Next time?"

Paper cranes, folding in and in and in.

"Dummy," he thinks he hears her say before she disappears.

.

"So when you said 'hopping dimensions', you meant—"

"Yeah."

"And that means—"

"Yeah."

Ekko spins in a circle, arms thrown out wide. "But— how? All of this, the lab, the tech— it shouldn't exist here. Heimerdinger made sure—"

"Hey, you're the genius," Powder says. "I just live here."

Four seconds. He lets it sink in for four seconds—she's whole, she's happy, she's here, at least in this tiny pocket of space and time—before he's crossing the space between them and pulling her into a bruising hug. Her breath puffs out in mild surprise, and then she's hugging him back, arms cinching tight around him. I won't forget this. But he's already started to. He drops his head to her shoulder, breathing her in, every tiny detail. He won't make the same mistake twice.

Her eyes are wet when they untangle. Ekko swipes at his cheek to find that his are, too.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I thought I saved you, but it wasn't— I wasn't—"

"Don't," she says fiercely. "Don't do that. Not with me, not here. I meant what I said, okay? You're a good one, Ekko. You don't give up on people. If I'm— if the other me is— then there was nothing you could've done to change it. That was always gonna be how the story ended."

The tears are a river, streaming salt down the slope of his nose and into his mouth. "I was too slow. I'm always too damn slow."

Powder's hands are on his face, her lips kissing the salt from his cheeks, his eyelids. "The boy savior," she murmurs. "It's not your job to save everyone, you know. But I love you for trying."

She's fading, or maybe he is. Time and space, a never-ending anomaly. But there are constants, too, things that keep the universe spinning. Rules worth breaking.

He feels it, this time. It's like someone's scooping out his insides, rearranging his atoms. Like he's being wiped clean, unmade. Hollowed out so that some other him can be stuffed into his skin. Four seconds is all it takes, or maybe four million.

I love you. I love you, too.

.

He tells her for real, when he sees her again.

"I know," she says, elbowing him in the ribs. Her cheeks are dusky-pink. "Following my lead, huh?"

He looks at her, really looks. Every detail; the dainty point of her chin and the dusting of freckles across her nose and her eyes, big and bright and blue.

"Always," he says.

.

Time and space. Paper cranes, folding and unfolding, creasing the lines of reality. Some rules can't be broken, but they can bend a little.

Here's one: when you die, you stay dead.

.

He must be dreaming. She's standing right in front of him, in this dimension, on this plane of existence, real and whole and here. Her hair is still short, all of it blue.

Four seconds. He holds his breath for four seconds, and then: "Jinx."

"Hey, buster," she says.

[sarah-denial-cq]

I'm on my knees, looking at another girl who's on *her* knees, looking at me. Someone is standing behind me, my long braid wrapped up in their hand. The other girl looks scared.

"strip.". We're both wearing identical matching bra and panties. We both look away from each other as we take them off, too nervous to look- until I feel a yank, hard, on my hair. "No, look right in each other's eyes. Look at her tits. You're both fucking porn, act like it. "

I feel the hand slap my ass. The other girl winces, seeing the pain on my face. "Tell her she's just porn, just like you. She's nothing."

I look at her carefully. Her makeup is running from crying. She's already been beat quite a bit. "You're just porn. You're nothing." She just looks at me silently. "Keep going".

I look right at her. I try to summon up my contempt for her. She could have been so much. Now she's here on her knees in front of me stripped and crying. So vulnerable. "You're a stupid, stupid bitch" I start laying into her. "You're pathetic. No self respecting woman would let this happen to her.". The girl starts sobbing. I feel the approval from behind me and I can't help but start insulting her and betraying her for the approval of the force of that hand in my braid and the validation I know I'll find there if I just do a good enough job tearing down this victim.

I'm going to make her a victim.

"you're shit. You're barely a person, you just sit there and strip and cry.". I start getting into it. I'm masturbating on my knees staring at this helpless naked loser crying. "Go on, cunt, touch yourself while I insult you.". She's touching herself, one hand between her legs and one on her nipple. I can't tell if she's doing it to impress the one behind me or just to self soothe or because- "fuck, you actually like this? You sick puppy. You're not even rape bait, because I don't think you're even capable of having an opinion on who gets to use you. Nobody thinks of you as anything other than a slutty, easy, fuckdoll. You're going to remember this moment for the rest of your life. I hate you. I hope you get drugged and passed around a party. You deserve to be pinned down by somebody and fucked dry. You, oh my god," the hand is twisting in my hair and this poor girl is absolutely sobbing at all the abuse and I'm filled with traitorous contempt as I realize her flush is half crying and half arousal and I see- "you whore. Don't you dare cum. You sick fuck, you rug munching cock sucking ass eating porn making easy access " I think the bitch is actually going to cum, I feel all the approval in the world from behind me as I realize this is what they want, they want to see if I can truly betray this victim they brought for me to abuse to get them off, this is my value to them, to hurt this girl, I go harder, I feel a hand on the back of my neck, "failure, nobody takes you seriously, everybody just imagines putting you on your knees any time you open your stupid mouth, people on the street look at you and imagine raping you, your colleagues call you names behind your back, you're going to be like this forever, you stupid, stupid, stupid-"

I feel, somehow, the pull on my braid that tells me to shut up. I look at the girl I've been tearing down to earn approval. She's quietly crying. Both her hands have come up to her tits. I hear the voice behind me. "Spit on her."

I... hesitate. Do I really hate this poor girl enough to do that, is she, okay with that? Do I care about that more than I care about doing what I'm told? She looks so afraid. She looks so... you know what? She looks like she deserves it. She deserves it.

I spit on the mirror.

"good girl", I hear.

[multistanisms]

Gentle Love || Ateez

FANDOM: Ateez

PAIRING: Yunho x Reader

WORD COUNT: 812

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A

SUMMARY: Sometimes you're not present for a time and Yunho knows how to tend to you. [I wrote this for DJ cuz she was having a tough time and I wanted to help her feel better. Sorry it took a bit, dearie, my will to type it up was low for a bit, but enjoy!]

TAGLIST: @no1likemybbgcharlie, @spookidema, @everyonewooeverywhere

☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑ ☼ ☽ ☆ ⁑

The fall air is chilly, but not enough to coop yourself inside. Which is how you’ve found yourself on the balcony in an oversized sweater, a pair of leggings and slippers, a cup of tea held between your hands to help keep your fingers warm. The sun is still out, but it's dipping below the horizon, and the sounds below your apartment carry on the faint breeze. It's little more than background noise to you, lost in your mind as you sit. The sound of the glass door sliding open registers, but you don't bother to look; only one person has a key to your place. 

“There you are,” Yunho breathes, obviously relieved. “Are you okay, Y/N?” He moves to kneel next to the chair as he speaks. 

“Mhm.” You reply, still not looking at him. 

“Darling, are you here?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Do I have three heads?”

“Mhm.”

Yunho sighs, reaching to gently pry the mug from your fingers, the touch bringing you to the surface of consciousness as he sets the mug aside. “Come on, let's go inside.”

When you look at him, you blink. “Yu? Why are you here? You have a show.”

“We already wrapped up filming.” Yunho replied. The confusion on your face registers and he reaches up to cup your face. “Your face is like ice. How long have you been out here, darling?” 

“When did you leave?”

Yunho stands, bending to scoop you up despite the squeak of protest, chuckling when your arms wrap at his neck. “I'm not going to drop you, I just want you inside where it's warm.” he carefully steps inside, moving to put you on the chaise side of the sofa. He steps away to slide open the coffee table lid and pull out a blanket, draping it over you. “Stay here.” 

“Yunho-” 

“Y/N, please don't fight me. You're freezing.” Yunho's voice is soft, watching you for a moment. You sigh, moving to bring the blanket up because you are, suddenly, cold. When you settle, Yunho kisses your forehead, leaves to get your mug and closes the door again. 

You watch him go about pulling a mug down for himself, washing out your mug and starting a fresh cup on the Keurig. While he waits on the water, he goes back to the couch, picking up the remote and turning the TV on, scrolling until he finds your favorite show, turning it on before reaching over to wrap his arm around your shoulders. You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you watch. His fingers find your hair, gently petting through it as you soak in his warmth. It's quiet between you, and Yunho doesn't press you to talk. When the keurig goes off, Yunho kisses your head and you reluctantly pull away. You keep your focus on the TV, letting Yunho work quietly. Yunho returns to hand you a mug before turning to go back to the kitchen. “Yu?” 

He turns back immediately, walking over. “Yes, my darling?”

“I love you.” 

Yunho smiles, leaning over to kiss you. “I love you, too. Now drink your tea, watch your show, get warm. I'm gonna make myself a cup and then come back, okay?” When you nod, he presses another kiss to your lips. You let him go this time, returning to your show. When he returns, you move to snuggle closer, legs tucking under you as you lean into him. Once you're comfortable, Yunho drapes his arm around you. 

You wake up on the couch, the warmth of Yunho's chest at your back with the blanket over the two of you. The TV's screensaver is playing, and you're held securely to your boyfriend. Groaning, you move to stretch a little, trying not to wake him. You know you fail when his arm tightens just slightly. Turning your head, you're greeted with Yunho kissing your head. “Hey,”

“Hey yourself.” Yunho mused. “Are you feeling better?”

Instead of answering, you reach to lace your fingers with his. “For now.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Exactly what you're doing, Yunho. Just be here.”

“I can't be here all day this week, but as soon as I can, I'll come home.The others will understand.” Yunho replied, thumb brushing over your hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Right now, I'd rather just not be alone.” You feel him nod, eyes closing. “Thank you.”

“You don't have to thank me, Y/N.” Yunho replied. “Of course I'm going to take care of you. Please, never doubt that.” He smiles when you turn your head back to look at him, unable to keep from kissing you tenderly. You press close and close your eyes, letting yourself drift back off in the safety of his arms, grateful for the gentle way Yunho loves you when you need it.

[venomwrites]

Caitlyn waiting for Vi to wakeup.

Warnings: Spoilers for Ep. 8

“She’s alive?” 

The doctor looks surprised at her sharp, desperate inquiry. Caitlyn could care less about his opinions. For the money she’s throwing at him, he should have none. The doctor nods. 

“Yes. She’s stable,” he continues, “they are going to clean her up—“

“No,” Caitlyn cuts in, “I’ll do it,” the doctor hesitates, “my father is a doctor,” Caitlyn reminds him sternly, “I know what not to touch.”

The doctor hesitates for only a moment longer before he nods. Someone leads her down a long hallway. Caitlyn reminds herself over and over that Vi is alive. Right now, that is the only thing that matters. It still takes her a moment to push open the door and step inside. 

The room is silent except for the beeps of monitors and the hiss of oxygen. Caitlyn can categorize all the numbers. They are stable. Barely. But understandable for someone who has just come out of major surgery. She knows that but it doesn’t make it any easier to approach the bed where Vi is laying. 

She looks like a stranger. 

Tubes snake from under the blanket to carry away waste. One peeks out from her ribs and drains into a rust colored bag of fluids. Above her are more bags. Liquids, blood, antibiotics. They snake through the clear tubing and into her arm. All Caitlyn can think of is how much she would hate this. 

Someone has left a tray with water and sponges. Caitlyn picks one up and wrings it out. She isn’t sure where to start. Brown antiseptic washes Vi’s chest, neck and face. It coats around the white bandage that wraps her head. There’s flecks of it underneath the oxygen mask that covers her face. 

Part of Caitlyn screams that she has no right to do this. No right to touch her after she shoved her away. She’s spent as many nights cursing her as she has longing for her. What right does she have to touch her? But then Caitlyn thinks how much Vi would hate people seeing her like this. Vi trusted he enough to at least try to work together. Caitlyn focuses on that. Jinx is imprisoned, Vander is dead. She’s the closest thing Vi has to a friend. Even if she is a poor excuse for one. 

She starts with her neck. 

Underneath the black greasepaint is the pale, tattooed woman Caitlyn remembers—and it’s not. There are new muscles that coil under Vi’s skin. Vi has always been strong and spent most of her life existing on a diet of prison food. Now she is solid muscle. Caitlyn gently moves the hospital gown to wipe at her chest. She takes care not to disturb the tube that drains the damage from the Noxian spear. 

She feels tears cloud her eyes as she works. 

It feels like her fault that Vi is laying here. No, it is her fault. She went along with Ambessa. She wasn’t fast enough to outsmart her. The knot of anger that has been loosening in her chest unravels faster as she wipes Vi’s leg. The best she can tell Vi hasn’t been taking care of herself. Of course she hasn’t. Caitlyn wanted to hurt her when she dumped her there. Now she feels like a child learning her actions have consequences. 

Before she can get to Vi’s shoulders, she turns to her hands. 

They’ve cut off the bandages Vi always wears. It’s the first time Caitlyn’s seen Vi’s bare hands. She hasn’t been taking care of them either. Some of the marks on her knuckles are pink and bright, they are new. That cracks something new in Caitlyn’s chest. Vi’s entire life is in her hands. Literally and proverbially. And because of Caitlyn they are littered with half healed marks and patches of raw skin. 

“Gods,” Caitlyn can’t quite contain the words, “I’m so sorry.” 

She dabs at her knuckles. Anger has clouded her judgement for so long. All she has wanted is Jinx. But looking at Vi’s mangled hand, Caitlyn knows she would trade anything to undo this. 

She slides a hand under Vi’s neck enough to clean the grease and antiseptic from her shoulders. Then her face. Until the only thing left is her hair. Caitlyn only hesitates a moment before she wipes the sponge across it. Of course the paint comes off. Of course it’s paint. Vi is right there under this hard shell. Just waiting. 

She is such a fool. 

She tucks the gown around Vi’s prone form and unfolds the blanket on top of that. She hopes Vi will open her eyes but she doesn’t. The puff of her breath against the oxygen mask and the beeps of the monitors are the only things that let Caitlyn know she is alive. 

But she is alive. 

Caitlyn doesn’t know why but she reaches into the cabinet and opens out a roll of gauze. She cradles Vi’s arm in her lap and winds it around the skin. Her forearms are the only unblemished part of her. Because they were locked around her sister as she covered her with her body. But Caitlyn wraps them anyway. If Vi wakes up she wants her to know someone thought of her preference. Even if she know Vi will be furious if she finds out it was her. 

Caitlyn draws the blanket up and tucks it around one shoulder. Even though she can hear it on the monitors, she leans forward and places her ear against Vi’s chest. Her heart beats steady against Caitlyn’s cheek. Her chest rises and falls evenly. It’s a drugged sleep but Caitlyn closes her eyes and tries to match it. That way if Vi’s heart stops again, maybe hers will too. She hopes when she opens her eyes Vi will be looking at her. But she doesn’t. 

Caitlyn lets herself look for just a moment. With the black paint stripped away, it’s the Vi she remembers who lays there. The Vi whose haunted her dreams since she left her. Everything in Caitlyn aches to touch her cheek. But she’s overstepped in so many ways. She settles for a press of fingers to Vi’s wrist before she forces herself up. She tucks Vi’s arm underneath the blanket and makes sure it is pulled all the way up. 

There are a thousand things Caitlyn wants to say. 

But words are cheap and Vi won’t hear them. She pushes the cart of cleaning supplies to the side and washes her hands in the bathroom. The greasepaint is stubborn under her fingernails. Even when she tries to scrape at it halfheartedly. She hates the dirtiness but it’s also fitting. Vi doesn’t deserve the stain, she does. Caitlyn allows herself one last look at Vi’s prone form before she leaves the room. 

“Commander?”

“We’re going to the bunker to see the prisoner,” she says, “tell them to expect us.” 

[whatdaikesneed]

A couple years ago I was fucking this girl (gonna call her M), and she was sending me the nudes her girlfriend sent her. The thing is, her girlfriend was a pretty TikTok-famous lesbian (calling her S). Hot as hell, too. I had jerked off to her TikToks before I met her girlfriend.

So I told M I wanted her to help me seduce S. She agreed right away—I was inside her at the time, which may have had an impact on her judgement, but she didn't change her mind when we were laying together and my cum was dripping out of her.

M started making sure S and I were at the same parties and shows, and she came up with ways to leave S alone with me. We got along really well, but she was very slow to trust. It took about six months before S started asking M about me. (M told me she absolutely soaked herself the first time S tried to very casually ask about when I'd be around and if I might want to hang out with them both.)

A couple more months after that, we'd been hanging out a lot, and S got real flirty when M left the room, but she was still holding a line of faithfulness.

Then she got sick, something with her stomach. M told me she'd have to miss an appointment to fuck because she was taking care of S, so I suggested an alternative: M had a family emergency and had to leave the state for a couple weeks, but I very thoughtfully offered to fill in and make sure S was okay.

On the first day, S asked me to stay the night, in case she needed help. I slept on the couch. Night 2, she asked me to cuddle her a bit before bed, and we fell asleep wrapped up together. Night 3, S was a long way towards recovered, and I could have left her to take care of herself. We got in bed together, and she wrapped her arms and leg around me, pressed her crotch into my cock, and put her forehead against mine.

We stayed like that for a long time, gently, cautiously moving our hands over each other's bodies, breathing together. After maybe an hour of feeling her surreptitiously rubbing her cunt on my bulge, moving our hands across each other's bodies, finding bare skin and sliding under each other's shirts, she finally said "Thank you for taking such good care of me." When she said it, her hand was in my hair, and mine was on the back of her neck. Our lips were so close together that they just barely touched when she spoke.

"It's been a pleasure," I said. My other hand was on her lower back, my fingertips just under the waistband of her bottoms. I slid my hand down a tiny bit further, and pulled her a little bit harder into my cock. She gasped, and dug her nails into my back, and tightened her grip on my hair. This pulled our open mouths into contact, but it took maybe another entire minute for that contact to slowly, cautiously resolve into a kiss.

After that moment she quickly escalated to kissing me like she'd been lost in the desert for a month and my mouth were the only source of water. She stopped long enough to pull her top off, then got back to kissing me. She didn't separate from my mouth while she pulled my pants off, or her own. I grabbed her ass and helped guide her in bucking against my cock, sliding her soaking wet hole up and down over me until I slid inside, just the slightest bit, and she moaned desperately into my mouth and gripped me tighter, shifting her hips to try and slide me deeper inside of her without giving up any skin to skin contact.

I rolled her onto her back and got on top of her. I sat up and pulled my shirt off, and she looked at me and breathed like a predator getting ready to bite. I fell upon her again, shoving my cock all the way into her cunt, and she did. She sank her teeth deep into my neck.

I bit her back as I fucked her, and we left marks on each other in intensely undeniable ways. I plowed into her for over an hour, then she got on top of me. I ate her ass while she sucked my cock. I came in her mouth, on her tits, and, finally, at about two in the morning, in her cunt. When we fell asleep, I was still inside her. She had dark bruises from my mouth all over her neck, shoulders, and tits.

In the morning, I woke up to the feeling of her mouth on my cock. I let her know I'd woken up by holding her down on it and watching her face turn red and tears form in her eyes. I kept her there a little ways past when she started desperately tapping my leg with her palm, and when I released her, she gasped for breath, sucking in lungsful of air, but never quite came all the way off—her lower lip still rested on the underside of my glans.

I came in her mouth, and she held it and came up and kissed me, delighting in sharing my cum while I played with her asshole. As I began to loosen her up, I said, "We're going to have to train you to take cock back here," and she responded, "oh, no, this is never happening again." Then she went back to kissing me, and she put my cock inside her.

True to her word, once we got out of bed and dressed for the day, she put a complete stop to sexual contact. She explained that it was a momentary lapse in judgement, that it would never happen again, and she very calmly begged me not to tell M about it. (I had already told M about it, but I gave her my word.)

That lasted for all of six hours, after which, when we were watching TV together on her couch, she leaned up against me, and then silently moved her head to my lap. I ran my fingers through her hair, and she unzipped my pants, took my cock out, and started sucking it.

At first she was extremely cautious about pictures—she knew how recognizable she was, after all—but around the end of the first week I snapped some photos of her walking around naked after a shower and showed her how hot she looked, and the resistance dropped. I took video of her sucking my cock, I filmed her saying she loves getting fucked by big, hard dick while she rode me, I took photos of her in bed, in the bathroom, in the kitchen. I sent all of this to M, who started sending her very sweet, loving texts about how much she cared about S and was grateful to have her, how sorry she was that she couldn't be there to take care of her and how glad she was that I was such a good friend to them both that I was willing to fill in.

The day M came back, she called S in the Uber home from the airport and they talked the whole way. S was bent over her kitchen counter, pants around her ankles, taking my cock the whole time. She didn't make me pull out and pull her pants up until M was out of the car and coming up the stairs to the apartment.

There's an old English book called Maurice, about a middle class gay man in the early 20th century, and about halfway through one of the gay characters gets sick and turns straight. It's not how we tend to think of sexuality working these days, but people are weird, bodies are weird. M and S broke up about two months after that. S later told me that she hadn't been the slightest bit attracted to me at any point before she got sick, but she kept riding my cock for about five months afterwards (fully including the period where she was drifting apart from M and had stopped enjoying their sex). She pivoted to a different cock, and has to my knowledge only fucked men since, although she still plays a lesbian on TikTok. (I can't blame her, she makes a lot of money.)

S was one of the best fucks I've had in my life. I hope some day soon she decides to cheat on whoever her current boyfriend is and come ride the cock that made her want it.

[nightmare-of-homophobes]

Anything Goes ~ Reno Sweeney x f!reader

Warnings: drinking; smut; sex with a strange; creampie (Reno receiving); fingering (Reno receiving); oral sex (reader receiving); mirrors; slow burn(?); misuse of "anything goes" songs; probably annoyingly ooc (idc); no established period; ignores the cannon; hints of bdsm and corruption kink; maybe lightly hints of religion kink but y'all are not ready for this conversation and I didn’t dive into it so let’s all ignore it; no beta reader; and Carol's reference.

Words: 4,7k (more or less)

It’s my first work in months and English isn’t my first language, so be nice leaving comments! Xoxo!

Tag list: @confuseuniverse ( @jubshead @yourbasicqueerie @kenzie-floops, in case you guys aren't interested in being in my tag list please let me know)

***

That night was supposed to be just one more cold, boring and lonely night, hadn’t your friends asked you to come with them to a new bar, where - they told you - would have some good drink and very good music since a rising singer would be singing there that night. Always trusting your friends to not let you down on your nights out, you put on your best trousers and a long-sleeved shirt and accompanied them.

The bar was a bit hidden, but you were able to find it. It was a rustic but comfy place, like some old tavern adorned with fairy lights and curtains of silk. It felt like entering another land. One where you could rest and forget your problems.

– So… Who is this rising star we came to see? – you asked once you and your friends were settled down on a table in a corner. The bar wasn’t that crowded and the table was close enough to the stage, so you could still have a clear view of it.

– Her name is Reno Sweeney, if I remember it right. – one of your friends, Hope, told you. – She has been doing shows in the bars around the city and it’s starting to get some attention.

– Reno Sweeney? – you repeated the name, tasting the name. It was a good name, one that you weren’t used to. – Have any of you actually heard her singing?

– No, but you know… There’s always a first time. – Billy, Hope’s boyfriend, said while wiggling his brows. You just rolled your eyes, amused with his attitude.

You all had some drinks before the light on the room started to dim and someone announced the great attraction of the night:

– Ladies and gents, I would like you to welcome our guest star, the woman who had been stealing hearts around town with her seductive voice and tempting looks… Reno Sweeney!

Everyone in the bar applauded as a woman went up on stage. The woman was slim and elegant, dressed on a shiny dress with a slit while a faux fur scarf hung around her naked shoulders. All in white tones… Just as some ghostly (or angelic) vision. The only different color she was wearing was on her lips: dark red lips.

Like a forbidden fruit that few would be able to taste.

– She's gorgeous! – Evelyn, by your side, exclaimed.

– Yes… – you breathlessly agreed. – She is.

When the applauses ceased, the woman spoke seductively, her voice soft as a breeze:

– It's good to be here with all of you tonight… – her smile was charming and playful. – The night is a child, my friends, and I'm certainly just starting. – she winked at the crowd.

As the band started playing, Reno Sweeney started to sway gently to the melody before the first verses finally let her mouth. The hair on the back of your neck immediately raised up at the sound of her singing, her words dripping from her lips like honey. Sweet and, oh, so dense. You just couldn't rip your eyes off her.

It was clear tha the moment she started to sing, the bar became hers… And you were afraid you had become hers too.

***

As the night went on and the drinks were drained by your group, you felt yourself getting lighter. When Evelyn asked you to dance, you quickly accepted the offer, playfully assuming the guiding role of the dance - to what he didn't complain at all.

As Reno's gentle voice sang “La Vie En Rose” in the background, you led Evelyn to the dance floor. Couples started to join you and the singer’s attention turned to it, smiling at your playfully behavior as she spotted the two of you in the crowd, dancing through the couples in reversed roles.

You felt nervous as you met her eyes at some point through the dancing, her sassy attitude never faltering as she smirked and winked at you.

(Well, it could've been - and it would make more sense if it was - to Evelyn, but you got yourself hoping that it was to you.)

When the music ended, Reno chuckled maliciously.

– Look at all of us here on a Saturday night… – she started. – Dare I say, we got the behaviour of a bunch of sinners. – she stood up from the little stool she was and gestured towards the people at the bar. Her smile never disappearing. – And since we're a bunch of sinners and mass is only tomorrow morning, I'm afraid I will have to take the burden of guiding you to the light tonight. – signaling to the band, she finished her discourse. – Ladies and gentlemen, we are here tonight to fight the devil… But, of course, we'll do it in the best of styles, so I hope y'all help me by accompanying me in this dance.

As she finished talking, a lively jazz began to play as Reno began to sing about the angel Gabriel. Only that woman could sing a gospel in such a sinful way and yet entertain people who clearly didn't go to the church assiduously.

As she sang excitedly, she left the stage to swing among the people, interacting with tables before getting on the dance floor, dancing with some guys in her way before getting to Evelyn and you.

– Once I was headed for hell… Once I was headed for hell! – she took Evelyn from you, spinning him around just how you've done with him during your dancing. – But when I got to Satan's door, I heard you blowin’ on your horn once more… – she let Evelyn so she could take your hand on hers and spin you too, holding onto your waist after she did it. – So I said, “Satan, farewell!”. – she sang the verse close to your face, making your cheeks burn.

As she let you go and slid across the dance floor back to the stage, you stood frozen at your tracks. Evelyn chuckled at your reaction as he returned to you.

– What the fuck just happened?! – the words blurted out of your mouth as you looked at him.

– I don't know but you got her attention, sweetie! – he said in a singing tone and bumped his hips against yours. – Oh, God, someone pinch me, did we just dance with Reno Sweeney?! – he freaked out a bit.

– WE DID! – I freaked out with him and we laughed our asses out before going to the bar to get a drink.

As Evelyn discussed something about his drink with one of the bartenders, I called another one and asked:

– Could you send one of these to Miss Sweeney? – I pointed down to my own drink. A minty cherry cocktail.

– I could try. – the guy said. – But she hasn't accepted any of the drinks people tried to buy her tonight.

With that, the man caught the attention of one of the waiters and sent them out to ask the singer if she would want the drink. You watched as the man approached her during the break between songs and whispered in her ear, gesturing to the bar.

She gazed at you and you, not knowing what to do, waved shyly at her. She smirked at you while tilting an eyebrow before facing the waiter and saying something to him.

You waited anxiously as they got back.

– She will want a Cosmo instead of the cherry cocktail. – the man informed, waiting for the drink so he could take it back to the woman at the stage.

You smiled to yourself with that and watched when she accepted the drink. She looked at you again and raised her drink subtly at you, to which you answered by raising your own at her direction.

– Seems like you're a lucky one. – the bartender said to you, watching the interaction.

You just chuckled and paid for the drinks.

***

The bar was slowly getting empty and Evelyn was drunk at this point of the night. Billy and Hope were getting disgustingly tactile towards each other and you were in the best of moods.

– I think we should get going… – Hope said after annoyingly letting out a chuckle because Billy was kissing her neck. – Are you coming with us?

– No, you can go… – you said. – I want to see the end of it. – you gestured to the stage.

Billy stood up with Hope and they both took Evelyn with them.

– Good luck, dude! – Billy said as they started making their way out of the bar.

As Reno announced the last song, a man approached your table:

– Excuse me… – you looked at him confused since you didn't know him. – I couldn't help but notice your dancing partner left you and I really want to dance so… Do you fancy a last dance?

You frowned slightly but nodded anyway, quickly standing up. The man didn't seemed harmful at all, so why not?

– Just don't try any funny business. – you warned him, to which he raised his hands in redemption.

– No funny business! – the man agreed.

As Reno's voice flooded the place, you claimed the dancefloor with the stranger. Now there were few people in the bar and most of them were too drunk to know their own name.

The man was gentle and respectful, leading the dance but still giving you some space. While swaying around with the guy, you couldn't shake off that feeling that someone was staring at you - that light pressure nugging at the back of your head and making you feel warmed.

As you looked back to the stage, your eyes locked with Reno’s.

In olden days, a glimpse of stocking

Was looked on as something shocking

But now, God knows

Anything goes

Good authors too who once knew better words

Now only use four-letter words

Writing prose

Anything goes

She sang the verses seductively, never breaking eye contact. You felt your breath hitch.

If driving fast cars you like

If low bars you like

If old hymns you like

If bare limbs you like

If Mae West you like

Or me undressed you like

Why, nobody will oppose

When ev'ry night the set that's smart is in-

Truding in nudist parties in

Studios

Anything goes…

Anything goes

As she finished her show, the man thanked you for the dance.

– This was fun… – he said. – Maybe we could repeat this on another occasion…? – he asked unsure.

You were about to dismiss his offer, when the silky voice rang behind you.

– Excuse me, but can I borrow the lady for a moment?

You felt a shiver run down your spine, so you quickly dismissed the man:

– I'm sorry… – he just nodded politely and you turned around to face the ginger woman again.

– I don't think I caught your name, sweetie… – Reno said, invading your personal space to hold onto your shoulders.

***

The woman's lips clashed against yours in the hall as she used her body to trap you on the wall. After thanking you for the drink and doing some small talk, Reno invited you to her place, which wasn't that far from the bar, to grab some more drinks and talk, so you accepted the offer.

Yet, she clearly had other plans in her mind.

When you both were out of breath, she stepped back so she could find her key and finally open her room’s door. Once you were inside it, she pushed you back against the wall, her hands going to the back of your neck as she smiled with desire.

– You're beautiful… – she said with honesty, making your heart flutter. You weren't used to being complimented.

– If I'm beautiful, then what are you? – I asked breathlessly. – An angel flung out of heaven?

She chuckled amused, leaning into you again as if to kiss you, but stopping to speak against your lips:

– What does this make me? – her voice sent heat straight to your core. – A demon? – you were about to say that wasn't what you meant when she brushed her lips in a way to your ear to whisper. – I liked it.

Those three words almost made you whimper and you had to shut your eyes tight. You would certainly need to go to church after that night.

Holding onto her waist, you brought your mouth to her jaw, kissing and licking a way to her left shoulder while slowly unzipping her strapless dress - sometimes you even dared to softly bite her milky skin, feeling more confident once you noticed she wouldn't prevent you from it.

When you were about to pull her dress down, she escaped from your hands and mouth, a playful smirk on her face as she held the fabric while throwing off her fur scarf. Sitting on the bed with fluid movements, she stared at you - waiting.

– You first. – she said, her tone deep and sultry.

Swallowing hard, you started undoing your buttons. First you undid the trousers, quickly taking it off with your shoes. Then, as you started to undo the shirt, she gestured with one of her finger for you to come closer.

She slipped off her dress as you walked to the bed. Laying down while pulling you with her, she finished your work before throwing your shirt on the ground, her cheeks a bit flushed as she found herself under your weight - your hands placed at the sides of her head to support you.

At that moment, reality hit you. You had a sexy and talented woman under you. But she was a complete stranger.

– We know nothing about each other… – you commented softly.

– Does it bother you? – she asked in a tone as soft as yours, one of her hands was holding gently at your neck as the other caressed your side, tickling you a bit.

– Not at all… – you answered. – But I would like to know more about you.

She held your gaze and bit down on her lip. The lipstick was smudged and you knew your lips, face and neck were covered in that exactly tone of red.

– Well, then ask me before my mouth is too busy to answer. – she whispered tauntingly, making you close your eyes and the butterflies in your stomach twist crazily.

– Reno Sweeney is your real name, or is it an artistic name? – you asked, sitting down at her thighs.

She sat herself too, holding onto your back so she could kiss and bite your clavicle.

– My real name. – she murmured against your skin. – My turn… Do you live in this city, or are you just visiting?

– I live here… – you gasped as she licked from your clavicle to your jaw. – Uhh… How old are you?

She leaned back for a moment to wink at you.

– A lady never reveals her age. – she dived back into work. – Have you done this before? I mean… With a woman?

– Yes. – your breath hitched as she unclasped your bra and took it off. – You?

– Yes… – she took your breasts in her hands. – How old are you?

– 20. – her hands froze for a second and you looked down at her, worried. – Any problem?

– Not at all… You're just younger than I thought. – she said and you watched how she kissed your nipples, feeling yourself get more soaked at every passing second.

– Too young for you?

– As long as you have age to consent… – she licked one of your nipples. – It won't be a problem for me. – latching her lips on it, she lifted her gaze to meet yours eyes.

You lost any rational thought at that sight and a whimper fell from your lips. Throwing yourself back on her, you kissed passionately, holding onto her tight as you unconsciously started rocking your heat against her thigh.

When her tongue teased your mouth, you promptly opened it for her, letting her taste once more the cocktails you had earlier. She also tasted like alcohol, but with hints of sweet and sour that you recognized from that cosmopolitan.

It didn't take long for her to reach between your legs and start rubbing your clit with her thumb, making you gasp slightly against her lips. You took a sharp breath when, putting your panties to the side, she slipped her fingers through your wet folds.

– Gosh, you're soaked… You probably have been wet since I climbed on that stage, haven't you? – she provoked you, bringing her fingers to your clit to lubricate it.

A small moan left your lips as your forehead rested against hers. Your eyes were closed again and when you opened them it was only to be met with Reno's big brown ones staring up at you in desire and admiration. You almost moaned again at that sight.

Rocking your hips against her hand and thigh, Reno built for you a gentle rhythm as she went back to your chest, playing with your nipples into her mouth or free hand, taking rounds between pinching, licking, sucking and biting them. Making you a total mess for her since her busy fingers on your clit were working at a pace that didn't satisfy you at all.

– Reno… – you whimpered her name, feeling so frustrated you could cry if she didn't give you what you wanted. – Please…

You felt her smirk against your breast before raising her head to look at you.

– What is it, darling? – she asked in an innocent tone, pretending to be clueless to your needs.

– Faster, please… – you begged her, your hands holding at her shoulders with such force you would certainly leave marks.

– What? I don't think I understood you, darling… – she said with a smug smile on her face, her eyes twinkling with malice as she slowed even more the pace of her fingers.

You groaned irritated and looked down at her with a begging expression.

– Please, Reno, don't tease me like this. – you hold her face in your hands, panting softly against her lips.

You watched as her eyes darkened even more and she let out a low, throaty humm at your request.

– I love the way you say my name… – she said before catching your lips again, lying you down on the bed so she could have her way with you.

Feeling her kissing a way from your lips to your belly, you almost couldn't hold yourself from buckling and whining as a slut, trying - not so subtly - to get her attention to where you needed her the most.

– Please, please, please… – the soft pleading left your mouth as if it was your personal mantra, which made her very satisfied.

– Since you're asking so well… – she muttered before diving between your legs, a loud and obscene moan leaving your mouth as she did it.

Her tongue circled your clit slowly and lightly before flattening it against you, pressuring down deliciously so you had no option but to throw your head back on the mattress and tangle your fingers on her perfect red locks. Losing your head as a strain of curses fell from your lips.

– Do I have such power on you or are you always this needy? – she mocked you before licking, very slowly, from your entrance to your clit, sucking it hard as she reached it.

She released your clit with a loud pop and your hips quivered under her. You were so sensitive for her at that point.

– You'll have to fuck me in another occasion to discover… – you answered without even noticing, making her laugh.

– Maybe I'll do it… – she answered before bringing her lips to your clit again as she slipped a finger inside you. You were so wet it didn't have any resistance.

As she resumed her sucking, her finger built a rhythm that made you feel both satisfied but in need of more at the same time. And you let her know it.

– Put another one… Please. – for your surprise, she didn't tease you, just obeyed. Her brows were furrowed from being so focused on bringing you to your climax.

You were an unashamed mess. Face hid on the pillow, fingers tightly holding ginger locks, mouth opened, chest rising and falling heavily, cheeks warm, belly tense, erratic hips and trembling legs.

You were at the edge of your orgasm.

Reno, of course, had noticed all of that and was giving her best to ruin you. Twirling her fingers inside you, she found that spot that almost made you scream from pleasure and flattened her tongue again against you, letting you grind onto her mouth as she kept hitting that spot inside you.

Your hips stuttered as an intense wave of pleasure crossed your body and your mind went blank as you shut your eyes tightly.

When the pleasure subsided and you returned to your senses, you realized you still were holding Reno buried between your legs, so you let her go, watching her pull her fingers out of you while choking to catch her breath.

– I'm so sorry, did I hurt you? – you asked her with worry in your voice.

Her only answer, though, was to throw herself back on your lips, kissing you fervently as she straddled your hips, making you taste yourself on her tongue.

When both of you ran out of air, you separated yourselves, a strain of saliva still hanging between your mouths, connecting you two as you breathed the same air.

She didn't give you time to recover at all before she was grinding against your belly and whispering on your mouth:

– I'm so wet for you… – you groaned at her attitude, which just made her grind harder down onto you. – What are you going to do about it?

Sitting straight while still catching your breath, you averted your eyes from hers for a second and an object, in the corner of the room, ended up catching your attention.

– Nice mirror you have there… – you said to her, your mind already turning its gears.

– Fuck, I'm practically jumping at your lap and your attention is on my mirror? – she complained, shaking her ass on your lap.

You chuckled and took her off your lap, going to the mirror. It was a full size mirror and you replaced it in front of the bed.

– What are you doing, come back, darling… – she said seductively, spreading herself temptingly on the bed.

– Wait a minute, you're going to like this, I swear… – you said and adjusted the mirror. – Sit against the headboard of the bed… Can you see your reflex well? – you asked as you watched her obey your request.

– Hmm… a bit to the left. – she guided you. – Enough, yes, now it's perfect. What are we going to do? 

Returning to the bed, you seated beside her and told her:

– Sit in front of me.

Lifting an eyebrow, she smirked, understanding what you were leading to. As you spread your legs and she sat between them, you pulled her body flush against yours.

– Now… Where were we? – you muttered under your breath, letting your hands slide down her body to reach her knees and spread them widely, putting your legs above hers so she was under your mercy. – Your stockings are so soft… – you whispered against her ear, watching through the mirror how she tilted her head to the side, her lips parting as you were running your hands along the stockings. – I wonder if your panties are as soft as them...

Her breath hitched under that comment and you smirked against her neck, letting your right hand wander to her core, feeling how she tensed up the closer you got to it.

Starting to rub her through her panties you used your other hand to pull her bra down and to the side, just enough so her breasts were free from it. Squeezing them and pressing her clit, you were very satisfied to have her getting impatient on your hands.

One of her hands went to the back of your neck while the other held onto your wrist, her breathing getting labored as you put her panties to the side and collected some of her juices with your fingers, before taking them to your own lips to taste her.

– Hmm… So sweet. – you said and heard the small whimper that fell from her as she watched you, through the mirror, lick her juices off your fingers. – Do you want to taste it too?

You placed your fingers back on her pussy, collecting more of her juices. Tapping your fingers against her lower lip, you didn't have trouble slipping them inside her mouth, playing with the softness of her tongue before she actively sucked her own wetness from your fingers.

– Lube them well, okay? – you asked while kissing her jaw and neck. – Then you won't feel any discomfort when I slip them inside you.

A muffled sound left her mouth and you just chuckled before taking your fingers out of her mouth. Without warning, you slipped them inside her.

– Oh, God! – she moaned, throwing her head back on your shoulder, her eyes fluttering close. 

– Is it hurting? – you asked, kissing her temple.

– No, no… – she bit down her lower lip, furrowing her brows as she shifted softly against your hips. She didn't seem uncomfortable at all, just unaccustomed. – Just stay still until I tell you so.

With your free hand, you stroke her face and jaw, making her relax against you.

– Go on. – she said softly.

Pushing your fingers deeper, you found her clit with your thumb. 

– You know… you have a nice bush down here. – you complimented her, eyeing the ginger locks contrasting with the white fabric and her milky skin. A blush creeped on her skin.

– If only you fucked me with the same talent you use to talk nonsense... – she mumbled with a bratty attitude. 

– A what now? – you asked just to be met with her silence. – Well, then I'm sure you could do a better job yourself, don't you think? – you threatened to remove your fingers from her, but her hand on your wrist tightened, holding it in place as she regretted.

– No, no, you're doing great…! – she said, holding your gaze through the mirror. – Don't stop.

You smirked at her reflex and watched her melt against you once again as you started thrusting your fingers in and out her slick hole, the wet sounds filling the room along her small whimpers. But, of course, the quiet atmosphere was broken once her pleasure started to build up. 

Everyone who had watched Reno knew she was cheerful and loud at the stage, yet few knew that she was just as loud in bed. Unashamed - and, honestly, not caring at all - if people were able to hear her in the closest rooms.

– Yes! Yes! Just like that! – the words would fall from her lips in succession, like a hellish melody and you were the one orchestrating it.

You couldn’t point out what was better at that moment. If it was to feel her panting against your body as you held her in her place. Or to hear her cries of pleasure so close. Or to see her slim and beautiful figure squirming at every thrust. Or to be thrusting your fingers as deep as you could, caressing the velvet walls of her insides in a dance you discovered  with her...

Or to have all those sensations combined with the fact that, in the intensity of the moment, Reno acknowledged how loud she was getting and, in a desperate measure to quiet her down for a bit, she reached for your free hand and placed it around her neck, inciting you to choke her quiet.

Holding her throat firmly and doing a final effort with your fingers and thumb to calm down her buckling hips, you watched, mesmerized, as her eyes rolled up and her mouth fell open as a struggled moan left her, her whole body tensing up as she reached her climax, her legs shaking and her hips occasionally buckling to the gentle rhythm you set to help her ride down her orgasm.

Once she started to melt in your arms, you started to slow down your fingers until they came to a stop. Your whole hand was covered in her juices and you didn’t waste time before sliding into Reno’s mouth the exact fingers that were inside her greedy pussy just seconds ago.

She opened her eyes in surprise, but didn’t make any move to not take them inside her mouth. You were still holding her neck softly and gave a playfully squeeze at it before guiding her chin to face the mirror once again.

– Look at you, Reno… – her eyes stared at themselves in the mirror.

She was the absolute picture of lust. Fiery locks falling into all directions, breasts showing off above her bra, legs spread widely, stretched out pussy, skin flushed in a soft pink, eyes hooded and a bit hazy and all the while you were the one holding her like that.

– You really were onto something when you sang that nowadays anything goes.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Heyy Nausicaa!!

I love all of your fics, you're an amazing writer!

So, could you do a fic about mop era James hetfield and the reader? They r best friends and the reader gets a bf and James doesn't like him bc he's toxic but the reader doens't see him as toxic. They get in a fight outside the bar she told James about her bf and James is drunk telling the reader how he could be a better bf than her current bf is. The fight ends when the reader starts walking to her bf's house and James runs to her bc he doens't want her to go there. Soo they walk to james' apartment. At the apartment James agrees to sleep on the couch so the reader coul sleep in his room. They go to sleep but James can't sleep so he sneaks in his bedroom where the reader is sleeping and lays next to her and cuddles her. The next morning they wake up in each others arms and the reader finally comes to her senses about her current bf that he's toxic. Then she breaks up with him over the phone. James is real happy and then they cuddle some more and then... Suprise suprise they get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 😏🤭

Thank you so much, I hope you like it!❤

Warnings: mature themes, sexual content, emotional intensity, toxic relationship,

Breaking Through

James Hetfield had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We’d been through it all together—the wild nights, the heavy conversations, the laughter, and even the silence that spoke louder than words. Our friendship had always been easy, natural, and unspoken in a way that felt comfortable. We didn’t need to say it, but we both knew we’d always have each other’s backs.

And then there was him. My boyfriend.

It started innocently enough, just a guy who caught my attention. At first, he seemed perfect—charming, funny, easygoing. We fit together, or so I thought. But James hated him. And that wasn’t something I was used to. James wasn’t a guy who hated easily. If anything, he gave people the benefit of the doubt. But not this guy. And at first, I didn’t get it. I thought he was just being overprotective. But the more I ignored his warnings, the more I started to feel it in my gut—something wasn’t right.

I should’ve listened to him.

Tonight, the tension had reached a breaking point. I found myself outside a bar, feeling a little too buzzed from the drinks I’d had, standing in front of James, ready to tell him everything about the latest drama in my relationship. I thought I could keep it casual, tell him I was fine, but James had other plans.

We stood under the glow of the streetlight, the night air crisp against my skin. James leaned against the brick wall of the bar, cigarette in hand, but he wasn’t smoking. He was just looking at me with those blue eyes that seemed to see straight through me.

“Hey,” I said, trying to break the silence.

“Hey,” he replied, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. His gaze didn’t leave me. “What’s going on? You look... off.”

I shrugged, playing it off. “Just the usual stuff. My boyfriend’s being weird, but you know, it’s fine.”

James pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “You’re not fine, Y/N. I can see it. You’re not fine.”

I froze. There it was again—his ability to see straight through me. He always had it, but tonight, it hit differently.

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to mask the nerves in my voice.

“Don’t lie to me,” James said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m your friend. I know when something’s wrong.” He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “You’re with him, but you’re not happy. Why are you staying in something that’s pulling you down?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but no words came out. How could I explain it to him? How could I tell him that I didn’t want to face the truth? That maybe, just maybe, he was right?

“Y/N,” James continued, stepping closer again, his voice lower now, “You deserve better than this guy. He doesn’t care about you the way you think he does. I can see it, and you can too, if you’d just let yourself.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “You don’t know him like I do, James. He’s not perfect, but he’s mine.”

James took a sharp breath. His expression was tight now, frustrated. “That’s the problem, Y/N. He’s dragging you down. And you deserve better than this. I care about you more than he ever will, and I’m not gonna sit here and watch you get hurt.”

His words landed like a slap, but they weren’t angry—just raw. And for the first time, I realized just how much he really meant it. This wasn’t about him wanting me for himself—this was about him wanting me to be happy, wanting me to be free from something that was suffocating me.

I stepped back, the words on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. My heart pounded, the weight of his words pressing down on me.

“You know I’m right,” James said quietly. “I could be a better boyfriend to you than he ever could.”

My breath caught. Was he serious? He had always been there for me—sure, he’d always been my friend—but this was different. This was… something else.

“James…” My voice faltered. “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

But James shook his head, a frustrated, pained expression crossing his face. “I’m not drunk, Y/N. I’m not. I’m just telling you what I see. And what I see is you settling for someone who doesn’t care about you the way I do.”

I felt a sharp sting in my chest, my mind reeling. I had no idea how to respond, so instead of saying anything, I just turned away. The cold night air hit my face as I started walking, desperate to get away from the conversation, away from everything.

But James wasn’t having it. “Where are you going?” he called after me, his voice urgent.

I didn’t answer, just kept walking in the direction of my boyfriend’s house.

“Y/N, don’t do this,” he said, his footsteps loud behind me. “Don’t go there. Please.”

I felt my frustration rise. “I’m fine, James. I’m going to him. It’s none of your business.”

“It is my business,” he said, voice firm. “You’re my best friend. I care about you more than anything, and I won’t just stand by and watch you walk into a situation that’s gonna hurt you. I’m not letting you go there.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to process the weight of his words. Everything inside me wanted to keep going, to ignore what he was saying, but a part of me was scared. Scared of what I was doing, scared of what James was saying.

“Please,” he begged, his voice breaking a little. “Don’t go there. Please.”

I stopped walking, my body trembling with the weight of everything. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was scared. Scared of the relationship I was in, scared of how tangled I had gotten in something that wasn’t good for me.

I turned around slowly, looking at James. He was standing a few feet behind me, his hands clenched at his sides, his expression softening. For the first time in a long time, I saw it. The care, the love, the pure concern in his eyes.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I won’t go.”

James exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. Without a word, he started walking toward me. “I’ll take you back to my place. We’ll talk it through. I won’t let you go through this alone.”

When we reached his apartment, James didn’t push. He just opened the door and let me step inside. The familiarity of the space, the comfort of it, felt strange in the best way. I was used to this place, but tonight, it felt different.

“You can sleep in my room,” James said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll take the couch. I won’t push you to talk if you don’t want to.”

I nodded, too emotionally drained to protest. I needed space, but I also needed comfort. I slipped into his room, wrapping myself in the warmth of his bed, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Eventually, I felt the bed shift. A warmth spread beside me, and I froze. I looked over my shoulder, and there he was—James, his face relaxed as he laid down beside me, his arm gently around my waist.

I didn’t pull away. I didn’t want to. It felt right. It felt safe. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe.

I closed my eyes and let myself rest, my mind swirling with everything that had happened, but somehow feeling lighter than I had in weeks.

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the window. I turned over slowly, and there he was—James, still holding me close, his arm wrapped around me protectively. For a moment, I just lay there, taking in the peacefulness of the moment.

I didn’t know how to put it into words, but it hit me like a ton of bricks. My relationship had been toxic. I had known about it for a while, but I hadn’t wanted to face it. Now, with James here, so close, so real, I finally understood.

I reached for the phone and dialed my boyfriend’s number.

When he answered, I didn’t hesitate. “It’s over,” I said, my voice steady. “I’m done.”

 The phone call had ended, but the weight of my past relationship still hung in the air like a fog. I felt lighter, yes, but also raw—exposed in a way I hadn’t been before. And there James was, standing close, his gaze never leaving mine. The intensity in his eyes seemed to say everything, everything I hadn’t been able to put into words. At that moment, I didn’t need words.

His arms pulled me close, his chest rising and falling against mine as he held me tightly. His warmth was intoxicating, grounding me. And with every breath I took, I felt a part of me slip away—the burdens, the doubts. But what remained? That unmistakable pull between us.

“You don’t have to carry that anymore, Y/N,” James murmured into my hair, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers trailed gently down my back, soothing and steady.

I nodded, the words a comfort, even though they didn’t fully capture everything I was feeling. The relief was there, but there was also something else—a deep, almost dizzying awareness of him. The way his body felt against mine, the heat that seemed to radiate from him, pulling me in closer with every passing second.

And then, without thinking, I tilted my head up, closing the distance between us, and kissed him.

It started slow, tentative, as if we were both testing the waters. His lips were soft, but there was an urgency behind them, a hunger that matched mine. I felt myself melting into him, responding with equal intensity. His hands found their way to my back, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. My body pressed flush against his, and I could feel every inch of him, the warmth of his skin, the solidness of his muscles. It sent a shock of electricity through me.

When we pulled back, James stood before me, his eyes locked on mine, a question lingering in his gaze.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if he’s giving me room to decide.

I smile, my heart racing a little faster with the closeness between us. “You’re not,” I reply softly, taking a step toward him. My fingers hover over the collar of his shirt, and I slowly unbutton the first one, the motion deliberate. Each button undone feels like the quiet shedding of a barrier between us, a promise that we’re both ready for this.

His eyes follow my hands as I slowly remove his shirt, the fabric sliding off his shoulders and falling to the floor. There’s a moment where we just stand there, looking at each other, as if taking in the enormity of what’s happening.

I reach for the hem of my own shirt, pulling it off slowly, the cool air against my skin sending a shiver down my spine. I can feel his gaze on me, warm and searching, but there’s no judgment. Just a deep, unspoken understanding between us.

James steps closer, his hand brushing against my bare skin as he tugs gently at the waistband of my jeans. He pauses for a moment, looking at me, asking for permission with just the look in his eyes. I nod, my hands moving to help him, pushing the jeans down over my hips.

The sound of fabric hitting the floor fills the room, and for a moment, there’s nothing else but the warmth of his body just inches away, the air heavy with anticipation. His hands move to my back, slowly undoing the clasp of my bra, his fingers light but sure. I feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach, but they quickly settle as he brushes the straps off my shoulders. We’re moving slowly, methodically, as if neither of us wants to rush this moment.

I slide my hands up his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart under my fingertips as I trace the lines of his body. I can feel the heat between us, the way our bodies naturally gravitate toward one another. The last of his clothes fall to the floor, and we’re both standing there, exposed to one another, the air thick with something deeper than just desire.

He pulls me close, his lips finding mine in a soft kiss, a slow exploration that speaks more than words ever could. I press closer, my hands sliding up his back, feeling the heat of his skin, the way his muscles shift as he moves.

Slowly, I guide him toward the bed, crawling beneath the soft covers, my heart racing as I feel the weight of him beside me. He follows, his body pressing against mine in the most comforting way. The warmth of his skin against mine feels like the world stopping, like everything has led to this moment.

 The room is warm, the air thick with the heat of our bodies pressed together. James hovers just above me, his chest rising and falling quickly, and I can feel his presence in every part of me. His body against mine is a perfect weight, pressing me into the soft sheets, and I can’t help but respond to every tiny shift of his.

His gaze locks with mine, dark and intense, and his lips are just inches from my neck. There’s a brief pause as he takes in the moment, making sure I’m comfortable, his fingers brushing over my skin as he adjusts himself, moving just a little closer. His breath falters, and I feel the subtle tension in him.

And then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he shifts—his body fitting against mine, his breath hot against my skin as he thrusts, just enough to send a wave of heat through me. The feeling is intense, unexpected, and before I can even catch my breath, a soft moan escapes my lips, my body reacting to him instinctively.

James freezes for a split second, his breath shaky, eyes searching mine. His hands move to my waist, guiding me gently as he shifts again, adjusting himself to settle into a rhythm that feels even better, deeper. He looks down at me, and I can see the flicker of desire in his eyes, the way he’s trying to hold back, but can’t help but let his body respond to mine.

“You okay?” His voice is strained, barely above a whisper, and I feel the weight of his concern, the tenderness in his touch.

I nod, my voice barely audible, “Yes…” My fingers dig into his shoulders as I pull him closer, urging him to keep going, to keep moving.

James moves again, this time just a little deeper, his breath coming quicker as he adjusts, finding that perfect place where we’re both completely connected. My body reacts, my muscles tightening as I gasp softly, a quiet moan escaping my lips at the sensation.

His breathing becomes faster, more ragged, and I can feel him trembling slightly as he moves again, his hips shifting in perfect rhythm with mine. Every motion, every touch feels like it’s pulling us deeper, and I feel every inch of him, the way his body presses into mine, the way his hands hold me gently yet firmly.

I let out another soft moan, louder this time, unable to hold it back. My body arches up to meet him, my fingers digging into his back as he moves in a slow, deliberate rhythm, deepening the connection between us with each shift. His breath is hot against my neck, his chest pressing against mine, and the sensation is overwhelming, making my heart race even faster.

His voice is low, strained as he leans in, brushing his lips across my jawline. “You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire, and I feel a jolt of warmth race through me at the sound of it.

I pull him closer, my hands tangling in his hair, as my body responds to him with every slow, deep thrust. The pressure inside me builds, every shift of his body sending waves of pleasure through me. And with each movement, I can hear the soft gasps and moans slipping from my lips, the sound of our breathing quickening as we move together in perfect sync.

I can feel him tremble slightly as he adjusts again, his movements becoming more deliberate, more urgent. He shifts again, deeper, and I can’t hold back the moan that escapes me, my voice breaking slightly as my body reacts to him, the intensity building between us.

“James…” I gasp, barely able to get his name out, and my hands tighten around him as the tension inside me becomes almost unbearable. The way he moves, the way he adjusts to match me, brings us closer, and I feel myself getting closer to the edge with each thrust, each movement.

And then, as the pressure inside me reaches its peak, I let out a soft cry, my body shuddering as I reach that moment, that release. James follows closely behind, his breath shaky as he moves with me, his hands gentle on my skin, holding me close as we both come undone.

We stay like that for a moment, breathing heavily, our bodies still connected, wrapped up in the warmth of the moment. His forehead rests against mine, his breath coming in shallow bursts, and I can feel his heartbeat against my chest, a steady reminder that we’re both here, together.

He brushes his lips over my forehead, a tender, gentle kiss. “Are you okay?” he asks again, his voice soft, almost a whisper now.

I smile softly, my fingers tracing the lines of his back as I nod, my voice breathless. “Perfect.”

James pulls me close, his arms wrapping around me as we lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath. The world outside seems so far away now, and all that matters is the gentle rise and fall of our chests, the warmth of his body next to mine, and the quiet peace we’ve found in each other.

But then, just as the last remnants of the moment linger between us, James lifts his head slightly, his eyes searching mine with a new intensity. His thumb gently strokes my cheek, and his voice drops to a hushed whisper.

“You’re mine, Y/n,” he says softly, the words full of promise, raw with emotion. “And I won’t ever let anyone harm you. Not now, not ever. You’re safe with me.”

His lips meet mine in a slow, lingering kiss—full of tenderness, full of everything he’s just spoken. And in that kiss, I feel the truth of his words, the depth of his emotions, and a quiet certainty that nothing could ever take this from us.

As the kiss ends, I whisper softly, my voice full of gratitude, “Thank you, Jamie…”

He smiles against my lips, the warmth of it reaching all the way to my heart. His hand rests on my cheek for a moment, then moves to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Slowly, he lowers his head, resting it on my chest, his body curling into mine.

I run my fingers through his hair, gently stroking it, savoring the quiet peace between us. The sound of his breathing slows, becoming steady and calm as I hold him close, and for a moment, the world feels perfectly still, just us—together.

[spacetime1969]

Danny Fenton’s Field Trip to the Ghost Zone!

I have had the wonderful opportunity to write a fic inspired by the art of the wonderful @arisu-artnfics as part of @ecto-implosion. I ended up thinking it would be fun to bring in a trope from a completely different fandom, and write a Peter Parker Field Trip fic for Danny Fenton. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Magic, Dragons, and Storms? Oh my!

Ao3 | First | Previous | Next

Technus’s voice sounded over the speaker. “Welcome to the Time Lost Lands, students! The home of Queen Dorathea and her subjects.”

“Woah is that a castle?” one of Dash’s classmates asked.

Dash looked out the window and sure enough, there was a massive medieval castle right out the window.

“Is that a dragon!” Dash couldn’t help his yell as he spotted a large winged reptile climbing out from behind the castle.

Manson just grinned at him. “Yep.”

The Dragon jumped from the tower and started flying towards them. Dash made a very manly noise of surprise. Definitely not a terrified squeal. (AN: This is a lie. He actually did a very good impression of a baby otter)

The Dragon was getting closer and closer, and everyone, other than the nerds, was getting progressively more freaked out. Fenton and his friends on the other hand didn’t even flinch as the massive mythical creature landed on top of the bus.

“WHO DARES TRESPASS ON MY... Oh, hello Lady Samantha. How are you this fine morning.” Halfway through its booming yell the dragon transformed into a woman with long blond hair who smiled at Manson.

“Hi Dora!” Manson smiled back. “Our class fell through a natural portal and we’re trying to get home. Think you can point us in the direction of the Far Frozen?”

“Well I can certainly give you directions, but I’m afraid they won’t be much help. The next stop on your journey is Box Ghost and Lunch Lady’s lair, which is currently only accessible through The Storm of Doom.” Dash could hear the capital letters in that name. He looked out into the Ghost Zone where the ghost was pointing and saw a patch of dark clouds. It didn’t look like much, but something about it scared him.

“Oh no, are they alright?” Fenton asked. He and his friends actually looked concerned.

Now Dash would admit that he wasn’t the best at math, but if those four were actually scared of something after how relaxed they had been at everything else in this dimension, then Dash should probably be just as scared. (AN: Dash made an error in his calculations, he should have been far more scared than he was)

“Last I heard from them they were preparing their lair for the storm. So I assume they are doing alright, but we won’t know for sure until the storm passes,” the ghost queen said.

“Speaking of which, that storm is heading this way!” Technus’s voice said over the bus speakers.

The other ghost, Dora, nodded. “Yes, I have been working to prepare the castle and move my citizens inside for the storm. You and yours are welcome to shelter with us Lady Sam.”

Manson and her friends share a look. “The last thing we want is to be stuck in The Storm of Doom.” Valarie said.

Fenton and Foley both nodded. “Yeah, the castle is probably one of the safest places to ride it out. I vote we take Dora up on her offer,” Fenton said.

“Hang on just a minute!” Mr. Lancer interrupted. “Since when were the four of you in charge!”

Foley shrugged. “Hey, Technus!” he said, turning to the front of the bus. “What are the odds on us surviving if we try and fly through The Storm of Doom?”

“My current calculations indicate a 5% chance of immediate death.”

Mr Lancer’s eyes widened. “Well that’s not too bad,” he managed to stammer out, but Technus kept going.

“A 30% chance of your classmates' blood boiling in their veins. A 24% chance of their brains freezing solid. A 4% chance of death by electrocution. A 10% chance of death by poisonous gasses. A 7% chance of spaghettification. A 9% chance of death by eldritch madness, 6% chance of Danny, Valarie, and I being the only survivors, 3% chance of you and Sam also surviving, and a 2% chance of more than half of your classmates surviving. The odds of everyone surviving is less than 0.01% and statistically insignificant, so I rounded it out.” Technus sounded way too cheerful to be discussing their, apparently very probable, deaths.

Mr. Lancer’s face had gotten paler and paler as the ghost spoke. He stumbled into his seat, Foley just smirking at him. “So, do you want to do that? Or do you want to spend the night in a very secure castle and not die a horrible death?”

“Besides,” Fenton held up a glowing green post-it note that he had gotten from... Dash had no idea where he had gotten it from, “time is apparently moving at a two to one ratio to earth right now, so every two hours we spend here only one is passing on earth. So we have plenty of time.” No one bothered to ask him how he knew that.

Mr Lancer just nodded and slumped farther into the bus seat.

Manson turned back to the ghost dragon lady floating outside the bus and smiled at her, bowing at the waist. “We humbly accept your offer of shelter, Queen Dorathea of the Time Lost Lands.”

The Ghost, Queen Dorathea, nodded back at Manson. “The Time Lost Lands do not forget those who helped us find our path to the future, you and yours will always be able to find shelter in our walls, Lady Samantha.”

The solemness that had fallen over the group hung for a moment, before Manson straightened and smiled at the ghost. “Thanks Dora, I really appreciate it!”

“Of course Sam! I’m always glad to have you stop by! Have your vehicle land in the field by the stables. It should be safe from the storm there.”

They did as ordered, and the bus came to a stop next to a stable with, were those unicorns? (Star would later inform him that they were actually alicorns.)

They all hopped out of the bus and looked around at the castle. It was even more impressive up close. The walls absolutely towered over them, and they made Dash feel very small.

Off to the side he could see Fenton and his friends talking to Mr. Lancer, but they were too quiet for him to hear what they were saying. He wasn’t gonna have to wait long to find out what they were talking about though, since Mr. Lancer called them all to gather around.

“Alright class. Miss Manson and Mr. Foley are going to go find out how long we will have to wait out the storm. In the meantime, I encourage you all to eat your lunches. If you were planning to buy lunch at the planetarium please raise your hand, Mr. Fenton has offered to hand out Fenton Sustenance Crackers™ to anyone without a pre-packed lunch.”

Dash felt his lunch money in his pocket and winced, he didn’t exactly want to take Fenton’s charity, but he had worked up quite the appetite since they had fallen into the Ghost Zone, so he raised his hand. Next to him, Kwan raised his hand too.

Fenton slowly made his way around the group and passed the crackers out. When he approached the two jocks Dash was surprised to see that they were literal crackers, like a saltine. For some reason he had been expecting more. Fenton smirked at him and split the cracker in half, handing one half to each of them. Dash stared at it.

“Is this really it?” he asked.

Fenton just smiled. “Yep, trust me, that’s all you’re gonna need.”

Dash shared a look with Kwan as Fenton continued onto the rest of the group. Kwan just shrugged at him and the two inspected the crackers they had been handed. It looked like a normal cracker, for the most part. Dash was pretty sure the slightly green hue was just the lighting, but he still hesitated.

Dash’s stomach rumbled and he shrugged. It was better than nothing. He tossed the cracker into his mouth.

It tasted strange, both citrusy and bland, while also tasting like absolutely nothing. The taste was nothing compared to what happened when he swallowed though. He could feel the cracker slide down his throat and into his stomach, and then expand.

“Oh that’s really weird,” Kwan said with a shudder.

“You get used to it!” Fenton yelled from across the field.

Dash shuddered, he really, really hoped he never did. He would give Fenton one thing though, the crackers certainly worked. His stomach felt like he had just eaten an entire 16” pizza by himself.

He joined the other students as they sat in the grass eating and talking. For a moment he forgot that they weren’t just hanging out on the football field back at Casper High. Manson and Foley returning with the green skinned ghost queen broke the illusion though.

The group hurried over to Fenton, and Valarie. Dash didn’t recognize what Valarie and Danny did, that the group were only avoiding breaking into a sprint to not cause a panic.

Dash was just close enough to over hear their whispered conversation.

“Danny we have bad news,” Manson said.

“Really bad news. The storm’s drifted further than expected. The Core is heading straight for us,” Foley sounded scared, and that scared Dash. The look on Fenton’s face pushed him from scared to terrified.

Fenton stood up from where he had been leaning against the bus, straightening and turning to the ghostly queen who had offered them shelter. “Queen Dorathea, how may I be of service to you and your people.”

The Queen bowed her head to Fenton. “Your friends have agreed to assist the royal mage in raising a shield around the castle. But I fear that without your power they will be unable to outlast the storm.” The queen made eye contact with Fenton “I ask for your aid in this, K-”

Fenton interrupted the queen. “Just Danny right now, Dora.” Fenton looked over at the rest of the class, who were obviously trying to listen in to their conversation. He made brief eye contact with Dash before turning back to Queen Dorathea. “But you will have my assistance in any way you require it.”

Fenton turned to Valerie. “Come on, let’s go let Lancer know what’s going on.” He turned back to the Ghost and bowed. “We'll be back soon.”

They hurried over to Mr. Lancer. Dash wasn’t close enough to hear what was said, but he could see the way Lancer tried to argue with Fenton only for him to stand firm. Eventually Lancer slumped and seemed to give permission.

Fenton grabbed his bag and made his way back to his friends and the queen. “Alright, let’s go. Val, you got things covered here?”

She nodded, before pulling Fenton and the others into a quick hug. Then they walked away, leaving the class whispering behind them.

There was no sun in the ghost zone but it certainly felt like it was setting as the green sky grew darker and the howling noise of the storm began to grow louder and louder.

Dash and the other A-Listers watched as the storm rolled over them, the clouds covering the sky completely. The clouds seemed to whisper to him and Dash couldn’t help but be drawn to them. He felt himself stand up and, not hearing his friends call his name, started walking away.

Val smacked him over the back of the head. Hard.

Dash felt dazed and confused. When had he stood up? Where had he been walking to?

“Yeah, don’t look at the storm. It’s not the weather you really have to be worried about.”

Instinctively Dash looked back up at the storm. Val smacked him again.

“Don’t look at it idiot. Got it?” Dash nodded rapidly. “Good. Now get back to your friends. You scared them.”

Dash looked back over his shoulder. They really did look terrified.

He quickly walks back to them. “Sorry guys, I don't know what happened.”

Paulina’s voice shook. “Don’t do that again.”

“You scared us man,” Kwan said. "It was like you couldn’t hear us.”

Dash almost looked back up at the whispering clouds again. But he caught himself, and looked down at the ground instead. “I don’t think I could.” He whispered.

They sat in silence, intentionally not looking at the storm.

There was a deep ring that echoed through the castle, and voices raised in a haunting chant. All around them a glowing green dome raised to block out the storm, the whispers in the storm becoming muffled and drowned out by the chanting.

“Look! up there!” Star said, pointing up to the castle walls. Dash followed her finger to where four figures were standing silhouetted against the bright green of the shield.

Three of the figures were holding their arms up to the sky, green wisps of magic trailing out from their hands and stretching out to the dome above them, pulsing in time with the chanting. The fourth figure had his hands on the shoulders of two of the others, their hair seeming to glow with the lighting.

“Is that Fenton and the others?” Star asked.

“Yep,” Valarie said. Dash jumped. He hadn't seen her walk up behind them. “Them and the royal mage.”

“Since when could they do magic?” Paulina asked.

“Sam and Tucker have been studying for a while. Danny too, but he doesn't have as much talent in it. He’s so powerful though that it doesn't matter much in the long run. He can just brute force a lot of things.”

She turned to look at them, making eye contact with Dash in particular. “You should all be grateful you haven't bothered them since freshman year. Sam could turn you into a frog and Danny could separate your soul from your body with just a word. As for Tucker… let’s just say that we’re all glad he stays focused on technomancy.”

Dash felt queasy. "Did you ever learn anything?” He asked, morbidly curious.

Valarie just shrugged. “It's not my specialty. I know some of the theory, but not much more than that.” She grinned and pulled a very big ray gun out of her purse. “Besides, I'm more of a gun gal anyway.”

Kwan squeaked and Dash barely kept himself from doing the same.

“How’d you get that to fit in your purse like that?” Star asked.

“There are some benefits to having magic friends.” Val grinned at them again, before sobering slightly and gesturing back towards the bus. “Now come on, we fixed up the bus so that people can sleep in it.”

Dash and the others followed her to the bus. The backs of the bench seats had been laid down flat and someone had found blankets and pillows from somewhere, turning the seats into makeshift cots.

“Claim a bed and get some sleep if you can. It's gonna be a long night.”

Dash had a hard time sleeping on the makeshift cot. Not necessarily because it was uncomfortable, but more because his mind was too full. The green glow and unending haunting chanting wasn’t helping either. Though it was definitely preferable to the alternative. The way he had almost walked off into the storm terrified him.

He got up from the bed and quietly made his way out of the bus.

Val was sitting outside on a wooden stool that had been pulled from somewhere. She had her gun balanced on her knees. and was staring up at where her friends were still chanting on the castle wall.

“How are you so calm?" he asked. “All of this is absolutely crazy, and yet you're so calm. How?”

Valarie just sat there for a long moment. “There's not much I can say other than 'you get used to it,'” she finally said. “Danny Sam and Tucker, they've been there since the very beginning, since the portal opened in his parents lab.” She glanced at him. “It's hard to keep up with the rest of them sometimes. They're all so in sync and I joined them so much later, but I'm nothing if not stubborn, so I keep up with them anyway.”

“So this whole time Fenton and the others have been befriending the ghosts and learning magic and and... I don't even know what else.”

Valerie's laugh was humorless. “Yeah you really don't know what else Dash. And I'm not going to tell you.”

“Why not!”

“Why would I Dash? Why would I tell you a secret that isn't even mine when you bullied Danny and ostracized me back in freshman year. Why do you think Dash?” Val shook her head. “It's not my place to tell people, and even if it was, you'd never be someone I'd tell anyway.”

Dash had nothing he could say in response.

Valerie turned back to watch the castle walls. “Go back to bed Dash.”

He did as told, but he didn't get much sleep that night.

[nox-sssscraps]

Gawd I’m. it’s 4:20am and I’ve been listening to exclusively the new 21 savage album since it dropped last night and I’m thinking abt my ocs . And spacewaffles I suppose

[detective-werewife]

when is it My Turn to process my complicated feelings towards my mom and accept the parts of her i inherited, preferably via an artificial literal inner journey

[purpldawne]

that one arashi post about presenting her as overtly feminine in fan media but not in a "trans women are only valid if they conform to traditional femininity" kinda way and more in a "happyele are a bunch of pussies for having a trans woman imply/state she wants to be more feminine in every sense of the word and then never letting her do so beyond socially" kinda way

[m-kyunie]

elegance.

[baphofemme]

yet more strangely vivid dreams i had the other day (yesterday and the day before), this time it's a twofer