#take one out and the other two are not complete!!!
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Sister fucker
warnings: p in v, cursing, jay is readers brother and rikis bsf
Having jay as your brother was so hard because he was too overprotective.
Going out at night? No, someone will attack you. Guy wanting to take you out? No, Jay doesn't trust him.
Jeez. You love your big brother so much, but he can fuck off honestly. Even your own father doesn't care as much as him.
You were glad Jay didn't know you were dating his best friend Riki. He would absolutely crash out and kill him first then lock you in your room and never let you out. He stated so many times how uncomfortable and awkward it'll be for him if one of his friends dated you. You didn't care, Riki was a sweet boy and you loved him.
It's been five months since you two were dating and it was going so great, as long as Jay doesn't find out. You weren't ready to tell your brother yet.
Jay and your parents weren't home... so Riki came over. You knew your parents are on a date and Jay is somewhere out so the house was definitely free for a while.
Obviously, you and your boyfriend were fucking like bunnies. Who wouldn't?
You moaned as your boyfriend thrusted into you, his large hands on your waist. He was enjoying himself so much he didn't even care about being a cool nonchalant guy anymore. He moaned like a bitch, eyes rolling back as you squeezed on his dick.
"Fuck- stop squeezing..." He begged, abs tensing to stop himself from cumming too fast. You whimpered out a small "sorry", trying to relax.
Both of you didn't hear the door downstairs opening and slamming shut, since your room was closed. Skin slapping and moaning filled your room continuously, you were shaking at this point because of how good it felt.
Jay was flabbergasted when he walked upstairs, hearing male and female moans. At first he thought it was his parents, neck flashing red from embarrassment.
Then he realized it was coming from your room and he almost died. God, that was so embarrassing.
He went to his room and closed the door, going to the bathroom to take a long shower and ignore the VERY loud sounds.
You were having a great time on the other hand. Getting dicked down to the point your eyes were rolling back and pussy squeezing on your boyfriends dick so hard he needed to pause for a second to not cum prematurely.
When he started rubbing your clit you were completely gone. You were cumming and trembling, clenching on his cock and he orgasmed right after you.
He collapsed on you, cuddling to you in exhaustion. Both of you were tired and limp, breathing slowly to calm down.
After a while he mustered up the strength to sit up and clean up everything. Then, you both got dressed and got out of your room to go to the kitchen.
You stood frozen in front of the kitchen when you saw your big brother there. Oh shit.
He turned around and saw Riki. He expected anyone, a random guy, not his best friend. He just stared at the boy in shock, then at you, then back at him, then at his messy hair and your red cheeks.
"Oh I'm gonna kill you mother fucker!" Jay yelled, charging at Riki. Your boyfriend screamed, running upstairs.
"Sister fucker!" He corrected your big brother, laughing even though he doesn't know if he'll survive today. Riki locked himself in your room and Jay pounded at the door angrily.
Let's say, both boys were sulking at each other for a while, but Jay accepted you two dating after some talking.
Not even a month later he was happily taking couple pictures for you two for Rikis Instagram.
Hi hi hello!! y'all this is pretty short but that's all i can shit out😔 i don't wanna neglect y'all so.....
#enhypen#nishimura riki#enhypen riki#enhypen smut#niki smut#riki#riki smut#enhypen nishimura riki#enhypen niki#jay#jay enhypen#enhypen jay#enhypen jongseong#jay park enhypen#park jongseong
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in his hands.
cw: nsfw!! female reader, hand kink, cnc-ish, fingering, G-spot stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, verbal teasing, praise, use of term "babygirl", aftercare, some mild possessiveness, caleb is a meaniehead
word count: 1760
Caleb sits across the table from you, completely oblivious to your stolen glances as he twirls the pen between his fingers. He follows a strange pattern where he spins it once, twice, then lays the tip back onto the blank sheet of paper in front of him. His fingers tap, tap, tap on the edge, clicking the pen open and closed. The black beads on his bracelet clink against each other with every movement, the perfect accessory to the thick ring on his index finger. You find yourself unable to look away, despite knowing what would happen if you were noticed.
You’ve always liked his hands. To you they were perfect, lovely to look at and even better to hold. The length of his fingers. The large size of his palm. The chapped skin on his knuckles. The warmth you felt whenever thw two of you held hands. They were a comforting familiarity, one part of him that remained unchanged yet had grown with him as he matured.
You understood why he still called you pipsqueak. With palms pressed against one another, yours still looked tiny compared to his.
While you're busy daydreaming, he plays with his pen a few more times, seemingly lost in thought, before he suddenly looks up and meets your eyes. When he notices you staring back, a little smirk creeps up his face, one you know will be followed by playful teasing. You quickly turn your head away.
You’ve been caught. And when you glance back at him and see the cocky look in his eye, you know that he’s not going to let it go until he’s teased you to hell and back.
“What’s up, pipsqueak?” he teases. “See somethin’ you like?”
You shake your head and bury your face back into your work, trying to ignore his quiet chuckles.
“Don’t get all shy now,” he cocks his head to one side to better see your face, seeking out the flustered expression you’re trying so desperately to hide. “Fess up. Why were you starin’ at me?”
You stay silent, mumbling some half-assed excuse about not being able to focus. He laughs at your poor attempt to change the subject. A sudden warmth covers your hand, followed by soft strokes from calloused fingertips. When you turn your face away to hide the heat rising in your cheeks, he takes your hand and holds it gently.
“Come on, now. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”
He rubs his thumb across your knuckles, slipping it in the spaces between each finger. You eventually succumb to his gentle touch, intertwining your fingers in his. You toy with the ring on his index finger, poke at the black beads on his bracelet, trace the patches of flushed red on his knuckles that contrasts the paleness of his skin. You stroke each one with your thumb and index finger, feeling the dry, cracked skin beneath your hands.
A good deal of time passes before you finally snap out of it. When you meet Caleb’s gaze once again, you find him grinning victoriously, as if he’s just won some unspoken contest you never agreed to enter.
“You…!” is all you manage to stutter out.
“Me?” he smiles innocently. “What did I do?”
“...”
He lifts your hand to his lips and gives it a small peck in an attempt to softly coax you out of your shell. It makes you melt from the inside out, but still, you refuse to admit defeat. He watches you carefully for a few more seconds, giving you one last chance to come clean. When you don’t, he gets up from his seat across the table and circles around to your side. Before you can get a word of protest out, he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder, carrying you straight to the bedroom.
He plops you down on the soft comforter, trapping you in place with both hands at either side of your body. You try struggling, but he simply pins you down by straddling your waist, making it so that all you can do is wriggle slightly beneath him. He leers down at you with a wild, uncouth grin, like a wild beast about to consume its prey.
The sweet, honey-eyed Caleb is gone. You realize a little too late that you are totally, completely, undeniably fucked.
“I won’t let you run away, from this” he growls, with one hand on your thigh and the other gripping your arm, holding you firmly in place.
“Caleb…!”
“I saw you staring at my hands,” he gives your thigh a squeeze, smirking when he hears your muted squeal. “What do you want me to do with them? Hmm?”
You put up a half-assed fight, pretending to hate how he’s cornered you despite your growing wetness. He quickly picks up on this after slipping his hand under your panties. His fingertips brush against the entrance of your hole, circling it for a moment before sliding towards your swollen bud. He smiles when you let out a small moan.
“Tell me what you want, babygirl.”
His voice is gentle and low, but his touch is firm. He rubs your clit in a slow, deliberate motion, with just enough pressure to build you up but not enough to push you over. You arch your back and press your mound further into his palm, begging him without words.
“Say it,” he leans forward, mumbling in your ear. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
You start to whine, unable to handle the way he’s teasing you. He’s being extra mean tonight, barely flicking your throbbing bud and ignoring the attempts you’re making to guide his fingers into your hole. You know he won’t comply until you give him what he wants. Which is the last thing you want to do.
“Mmm… Caleb…” you whimper cutely, hoping to appeal to his sense of mercy. He chuckles darkly, his once friendly eyes filled with sadistic glee.
“What are the magic words?”
“Nghhh… Caleb, please!”
“Please, what? I’m pleasing you right now, aren’t I?”
He sticks one finger into your pussy, just for a moment. When he pulls it out, he slaps your mound hard just to throw you off. The tiny, surprised shriek you let out is met with a mean-spirited laugh.
“Okay!!” You cry out, unable to hold back any longer. “Finger me, please!”
“Yeah? You want my hands inside you?”
“Yes! I want them inside me, please…”
A wicked grin stretches across his face as he savors his victory. Satisfied with your pathetic pleas, he finally yanks down your panties and gives you what you want.
First one finger pushes itself into your hole. He pumps it in and out, making sure to caress that sweet, sweet spot inside of your walls. You’re singing like a bird within seconds. Another finger is added, easing in gently so as not to hurt you. He finds his rhythm and uses your moans as his guide, focusing on your G-spot to build you up to the biggest orgasm possible. He presses his thumb against your clit, massaging it in tandem with his rapid fingering, and soon you’re squirting all over his hand. He pulls out momentarily to lick his fingers, savoring the taste of you on his skin. His amethyst eyes lock onto yours, feasting on the desperation permeating your gaze. Distracted, you cry out when he shoves his fingers back inside.
This time, he’s a bit more forceful. That first little orgasm was just a warm up. When he gets like this, one is never enough, and he won’t stop until he’s brought you to tears. With his swift fingers curled inside you, he pumps in and out at such a fast pace that you begin to see stars. That one little spot inside of you becomes his target, a button he presses over and over again until you reach climax once again. The second time is much more intense than the first; you can feel the soaking wet bed sheets underneath you, along with the slick fluid covering his fingers.
Still not enough. He wants more.
He fingerfucks you again and again, forcing out countless orgasms that shoot through your body like hot lightning bolts. Your voice starts to feel hoarse from the screaming and shrieking, sounds that only seem to spur him on. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve cum, having given up on keeping track long after the third or fourth. And Caleb shows no signs of stopping.
He whispers his affection into your ear while he plays with your pussy, telling you how beautiful you look as he makes a mess of you and how lovely your voice sounds when you make those cute noises for him. He fills your head with sweet praise, his words worshipping your form and beauty, weakening you with every syllable.
“That’s it,” he coos while coaxing the last orgasm from you. “That look on your face… that’s mine. Only make that face for me.”
You mumble something in agreement, barely able to form coherent words as you cum one more time. Inexplicable pleasure ripples through your body, setting ablaze every last nerve ending from head to toe. You go limp, covered in sweat and completely worn out from his torment. Caleb pulls out his fingers, licks your fluids off his skin one last time before he switches gears. He grabs a towel from the dresser and gently pats your face dry, pushing some of your tangled hair away from your face. That crazed look in his eyes is now gone, and once again he admires you with utmost affection. He asks if you need water, if you want a warm blanket, if you wanted to be held or left alone. You say yes to the first two, and cling to him when he asks the third.
After you finish drinking a full glass of water, he wraps you up in the warmest blanket on the bed and cuddles up next to you, playing with your hair in a soothing, gentle manner.
“Soooo,” the teasing tone returns to his voice. “When were you gonna tell me you had a thing for my hands?"
You pout at him, feigning annoyance, but he just laughs and hugs you tighter.
“I’m definitely going to use this against you, by the way.”
You don’t have the energy to argue back. Exhausted, your heavy eyelids shutter closed, and soon you drift into a peaceful slumber, which Caleb’s arms still wrapped snugly around you.
#love and deepspace smut#caleb x reader#lads caleb#lads smut#minors DNI#caleb love and deepspace#caleb smut#love and deepspace x reader#i have lost all control.#this man has a fucking chokehold on me#dividers by cafekitsune
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⟡ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆𝒔─────𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈, 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅.
f!r ⠀ 🦢⠀ 𝑓. est rl fluff kisses skinship ot7 drabble ─── 145O >ᴗ< 𓈒 𓈒 魂
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀𝑙𝑖𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑟𝑦⠀⠀⠀୨୧ ⠀⠀⠀𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀⠀〝⠀ 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄
𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆. heeseung is rather strict about his phone, and if anyone else asked to use it, he’d hesitate, always peeking over their shoulder to make sure they didn’t see what they weren’t supposed to. but with you? he’s entirely different. the second you glance at his phone, it’s already yours. whether it be to google something stupid or just go through his camera roll, he wouldn’t mind. if you take a few silly photos of yourself—your tongue sticking out or your nose scrunched—he’d smile earnestly upon discovering them, staring at the pictures of you like you’re the prettiest, most dear thing ever (to him, you are). the only thing he doesn’t want you to stumble upon is the secret photo album that he’s made just for you; he goes through it when he’s especially missing you, but that’s far too embarrassing for you to find out. if you ever ask why he doesn’t care when you take his phone, he’d simply shrug, pretending to be casual, but the grin on his face gives him away. “because it’s you. and i trust you.”
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆. jay likes to keep his personal space, and he always makes sure anyone around him is at a reasonable distance. he’s different with you, though, making an exception just because of how tender your touch is. sometimes, when the two of you are sitting next to each other and you’re feeling weirdly shy (despite the fact that you’re literally dating him), jay would notice. it’s in the way you contemplatively glance at his hand, debating whether to reach for it or not. he’d smile before deciding not to let you think any harder, grabbing your hand and holding it in his—tight enough to express his love, but not to the point where he’s hurting you. he’d shift closer, so close that there’s no space between the two of you, before tilting your head into the warmth of his neck while his thumb drew slow, soothing patterns up and down your arm. there’s no real explanation for you to be this close to jay—he just wants you to be. as uncharacteristic as it might be for him to crave proximity; he craves it with you, because it just feels so right. if anybody thought to tease him or you about it, he’d scowl, shooing them away, for all he wanted was a moment more with you and just you.
𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍. it’s not like jake lets you tickle him. he hates being tickled by anyone, let alone his girlfriend! too bad for him, ever since you learned of how ticklish he was, you’ve been absolutely abusing the fact: tickling him when you wanted something, when he said no to you… the likes. it’s just that everytime your hands reached for his ribs, he didn’t pull away, even though he very well could, being stronger than you and all. perhaps it was the way your eyes glimmered, reflecting the mischievousness in your head that completely stilled jake’s brain, rendering him defenseless. the giggles that left his mouth against his will made you laugh, as well. “no—stop! seriously!” he protests, but his hands lay at his sides, not even trying to push you off, an observation that made you grin. after a few more seconds of your hands on his torso and his laughter in the air, you finally decided to pull your hands away. as soon as you did, jake’s fingers wrapped around your wrists, pressing you against his undulating chest. you barely had time to process this, because before you knew it, his hands loosened on your wrist, moving to gently hold your face, and then his smiling lips were on yours: soft, yet playful still. when he pulled back and saw your half-closed eyes, he grinned even wider. “now you’re the speechless one,” he teased. “shut up! you giggle like a girl…”
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍. “you know,” sunghoon’s accusatory voice cuts through your focus, making you freeze. you slowly turn to him with guilt written all over your face, caught in the act of rummaging through his color-coordinated closet, looking for yet another piece of clothing to ‘borrow.’ “you’re lucky i like you enough to let you take my clothes,” he says, a small smirk playing on his lips. “i’m not taking your clothes!” you lied, unconvincingly so. sunghoon just laughed and walked closer to you. he picked up a soft, gray hoodie—the one he knew was your favorite—and held it up to your torso. the familiar scent of sandalwood and roses greeted your nostrils as he hummed in consideration. “i don’t mind, though.” sunghoon’s tone was softer now. “you look cute in them. just you.” and it was true. sunghoon barely lets even his closest friends borrow his clothes—his wardrobe is far too expensive, and he doesn’t trust anyone to treat it right. but there’s something so cute about the way you look in his hoodies, the ones that you drown in, that fall all the way down to your thighs and hang over your hands; he can’t help but lend you any piece of his that you want. even if you do stain his clothes, he wouldn’t mind, not really. he would just laugh softly and kiss away your worried apologies while whispering that he could always buy another one. seeing you in his hoodies is worth any stain or wrinkle.
𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎. whenever anyone else so much as tries to grab a bite from his plate, sunoo slaps their hand away—“you have your own plate!” he’d say, even if they didn’t, as he shielded his plate. but you’re not anyone else, for the second his gaze caught yours lingering on his food, he’d smile, ready to give you anything you want off his plate and then some. “hungry?” sunoo tilts his head, your sheepish eyes giving him the answer he already knows. “here.” sunoo holds up a forkful of his mango fruit to your mouth. your eyes spoke depths of gratitude, and starvation. however, just as you leaned in, he laughed, pulling it away from you. “you have to say please, first.” your jaw dropped slightly in disbelief, but sunoo just shrugged, “it is my food, after all.” after a few seconds of silent expectancy, your expression shifted into one of desperation. “sunoo!” you whined, your tone drenched in plea and reprimand. his laughter softened, and he finally relented, letting you eat the fruit. the vague tang of the mango made you smile, and any irritation you held suddenly dissolved. “be glad i tolerate you,” you huff, plucking another slice off his plate while sunoo watched, his heart brimming with warmth. between all the mangos and the little jokes, sunoo decided that you were the sweetest thing of all.
𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍. jungwon is, without a doubt, one of the busiest people you know! he has places to be and things to do; if he’s having a particularly busy day, his first priority would be to finish any and all tasks he has, and if anyone else asks him to take a break and spend time with them, his answer would be an immediate but gentle ‘no.’ but, you on the other hand; nothing comes before you when you need him. he would give up anything to spend time with you, no matter when you asked. “jungwon, can we hang out? i’m bored,” you’d suggest, and without hesitation, he’d drop whatever he was doing to go see you. “won, 5 more minutes, stay.” you’d whine during the lazy mornings, pulling him back under the covers so you could once again be wrapped in the cozy, warm haven of his arms. it doesn’t matter if he has an important event or a choreo practice to attend—as soon as he sees you with that adorable bed-head and those big, sleep-dazed eyes that always managed to get their way, he’d be all yours once again (when was he not?), kissing you gently until you were lulled back to sleep in his grasp.
𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈. riki hates being styled by anyone but himself. every outfit he wears is handpicked and carefully arranged to fit him best, down to even his socks! if anybody else even tried giving him suggestions on what to wear, he’d furrow his brows, and their words would go through one ear and out the other. however, with you, he’s different. as you go through his closet, inspecting his clothes, he’d watch you, absorbing everything you said, even if you didn’t know the first thing about fashion. “you should wear this…” you plucked out a dark hoodie, “and this!” you held up a pair of ripped, mud-dyed jeans proudly. and that’s exactly what he wore the next day. he’d saunter around in the outfit you chose and if anyone asks him about it, he’d proudly state “my girlfriend chose this for me. yeah, my girlfriend.” and if you went one step further and styled his hair for him, carefully tousling it with your hands, he’d lean into your touch with content, and for the rest of the day he’d make sure every strand of hair on his head stayed exactly as you placed it. your advice and input meant more than anything to him, of course.
𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝓈𝗍. @bywons
#𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝖾𝗍’𝓈 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 ꣑꣒#lee heeseung#heeseung#enhypen#enhypen x reader#x reader#nishimura riki#kpop#fluff#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen reactions#enhypen drabbles#enhypen scenarios#enhypen headcanons#enhypen smau#enhypen social media au#heeseung imagines#jake imagines#jay#jay imagines#jake#sunghoon#sunghoon imagines#sunoo#sunoo imagines#jungwon#jungwon imagines#riki#riki imagines
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‘animals’
⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ thinking about logan & f! reader being absolute animals during his cage fighting era
content warnings ;
porn & somewhat plot (in between the lines) , actually y’all i apologise this is just pure smut i think , rough sex , oral sex (m! & f! receiving + giving) , spit play , messy sex , facials, overstimulation , more stuff probably that i forgot help
author’s note ;
nothing to say other than the fact this is probably my most insane fic . send help, i need this logan so bad though 💔💔 y’all have been warned this is messy
you had met logan at one of the bars he was cagefighting at. being the owner’s daughter, you had the job to clean out the whole bar and close it down — including the cage, wiping it clean after every fight. the first few times, logan would pretty much just ignore you, but soon a night of him staying overtime as you poured him more than just a few drinks even though you were supposed to close the bar hours ago, you didn’t have it in you to kick him out. you didn’t know why. maybe it was the way your body tingled with need each time you watched him down another shot and take a drag of his cigar, tapping the then empty glass on the bar table as if silently asking for a new shot — which you instantly gave, not needing to exchange any words as you just went back and forth, cleaning the bar, scrubbing at the tables, watching him from afar as he just sat there and smoked and drank and god you knew he was no good. everything about him screamed bad, but you yearned for him each night somehow, even with having exchanged no more than three words; knowing little to nothing about him, all you knew was that you waited for the moment for him to finally make a fucking move, as the sexual tension was unbearable.
and you don’t know when this little ‘routine’ started happening, but, logan’s fucking you. you’ve even lost track of how or when, but you’re in the back of his RV and he’s absolutely ravaging your body against the mattress as he has you on all fours — large hand snaking to your throat and further up until two of his thick fingers pressed against your parted, moaning lips — sliding them in effortlessly. “atta fucking girl, that’s it..” he grunted, his other hand still on your hip, keeping it in place as he keeps on pounding into your sweet pussy from behind, over and over, hitting that bundle of nerves deep inside you that made you moan even more around his fingers in your mouth, slicking them up with your slobber and drool — his dick dumbing you completely.
“fuckin’ knew you would be good, since the moment i saw ya,” he would huff; now wet, spit slick fingers leaving your drooling mouth as that same hand grabs your jaw, pressing your cheek against the pillow and making you whimper. “logan.. gonna, gonna cum..” was all you could mumble out, your eyes fluttering back, the only thing you could focus on being the way your walls squeezed around his dick, needing support as that heat conjured up in your lower belly, your hands fisting at the sheets.
the same way they would fist and tangle in his messy hair as he would go down on you. it would be late at night, still way past closing hour — you were supposed to have the whole bar cleaned and closed hours ago but logan did a good job of distracting you of that as he sat you on the bar table (which, mind you, you had just got done cleaning, but you would yell at him for that later—) and started spreading your thighs apart for him, wasting no time in going to lick and eat at your sopping heat. “fuck,” you breathed, heels digging into his back as his tongue started teasing your entrance mercilessly, nose nudging your clit, his senses full of your needy smell as his tongue collected the sweet arousal that leaked from your entrance. “best fuckin’ thing i ever tasted, princess.” he would pull away just to growl against your thigh, littering kisses over there before making his way back to your cunt, placing sloppy kisses there too and to your aching clit; before he went to suck on the soft bud, your head turning fuzzy again as the warm feeling consumed you.
the same warm feeling that would consume you as he would have you in his lap, back pressed against him, head tilted back against his shoulder as his two of his roughed up fingers filled up your tight heat, working them inside it — making you squirm and gasp in his lap. you were always so sensitive when it came to those big hands playing with your little heat, making you whine and scratch at his arm, feeling the muscles flex each time his fingers pumped in and out of you. “logan,” your voice would come out in no more than a choked sob, as he was starting to drag out a third orgasm out of you already, just from his hands. “yeah, what is it baby? gonna cum for me, from my fingers?” he would chuckle, finding it absolutely ridiculous how much of a mess you could be reduced to with just his touch. your thighs were starting to tremble and threatened to close, the pressure being too much, overstimulating your little body against him — but his free hand rested on your thigh firmly and didn’t let you move, all you could do was nod and let out your choked moans that went right to logan’s aching cock in his jeans, but he would take care of that later.
later, being when you would get on your knees for him in the bar’s seedy bathroom, looking up at logan expectantly as he would fumble with his belt to quickly reach the buttons of his jeans and tug them down — his length hard and throbbing, heavy as you took it into your hand hesitantly to rub the bead of precum leaking from the flushed tip, but logan’s hands grabbed at your wrist harshly and pushed them away. he seemed on edge. “no, none of that. i only got a couple minutes here, so hurry up—“ he would grumble, making you huff softly in reply. it’s not that you hated quickies with him like this, but, he would always be on edge and rough, just overall harsher. but you knew he had a match in just a few minutes, and you didn’t want to add onto his stress. you just wanted to help. hesitantly leaning in to press a gentle, warming up kiss to the head of his cock, you took it into your mouth, feeling the weight on your tongue as you slowly started to take more in; logan’s low moans and praises encouraging you to do more. “fuck, yeah. just like that, baby. so good..” he would groan, a hand reaching up to run through your soft hair, grabbing a grip on it to gently start and push it down more — wanting you to take more of his cock down your pretty throat. the signal was pretty clear to you, and so you doubled your efforts, pulling away just a moment to catch your breath and stealing a quick glance up at logan for approval through your already glazed eyes, before moving back down onto his cock. your mouth was stuffed full before as you reached half of it, but you still managed to push the last few inches into your soft throat, making logan’s grip tighten in your hair. “goddamn it, princess.” he would hiss, head tilting back against the hard, cold tile wall as he let you work your mouth on him, pubic hair pressed up against your nose, the scent around you being him and only him, along with the noises in the bathroom — his suppressed moans and groans, as he gripped at your hair so much it eventually made you start to whimper. “makin’ a mess, droolin’ all over my cock..” he would grunt, using his grip on your hair to pull you off him as he rubbed his messy tip against your cheek. “gonna let me paint that messy face with my cum?”
and you nodded. like you always did. you were weak for the man.
#hugh jackman#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine#logan howlett smut
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I’m of two minds about this…
Yes, I agree it would be jarring for Steven to line the Diamonds up against a firing squad and have them executed.
Yes, it’s better to let them live if they can undo a lot of the damage they had done…
However, there is one notable harm that they have done that the show makes clear they cannot undo. And that is the abusive and neglectful treatment of Rose.
And this isn’t just me showing my Rose bias or being pedantic. Their mistreatment of Rose directly led her to most of the conflicts in this show.
They infantilized her and treated her like less of a person partly for not having a colony where they had several. So Rose wanted a colony.
They told Rose that Earth was her planet. That it belonged to her. But then turned around and told her she had no authority to stop the colonization peacefully. So Rose went to war.
Rose faked her shattering, believing the Diamonds cared so little about her that her death wouldn’t matter and that it would finally drive Homeworld away to end the war…
And then they corrupted all but three gems across Earth in an act of pure spite and grief.
After damn near 6000 years, Rose believed that Homeworld and the Diamonds all but completely forgot about her and Earth and was certain Steven and the rest of her family would never have to deal with them…
And, well, we know how she was wrong there…
They made Rose believe she was worthless and awful. In White’s own words “the part of me that I always have to hide”. The reason why Rose grew up such a guarded, broken mess of a gem who never felt like she could be open and honest with anyone.
Rose’s demons were placed in her head by the Diamonds.
Rose is gone, and more importantly gone FOREVER because of them.
And yet… after season 5 that revelation doesn’t seem to bother them? If anything the death of Rose is brushed aside so they can beg Steven to come live with them. And Steven in turn feels he HAS to be cordial with them.
The Diamonds seemingly learned nothing and have not suffered after realizing the family member they mourned wasn’t murdered, but instead ran away from them because of how awful they were to her.
But meanwhile for Rose, it’s as if everything she had ever done to try and crawl her way out of the pit of fucking misery she was born into didn’t matter.
At best, all the people she ever loved and cared about become deeply uncomfortable whenever her name is brought up in casual conversation. And at worst, as we see with Steven, they can’t even stand to look at her anymore.
Meanwhile, Steven and the others are making sure to be extra patient with the Diamonds as they take on the role quirky space grandmas
This is what I mean when I say that post season 5, consequences only exist if your name is Rose Quartz.
Why does Rose have to settle for the ending where everything good she did ultimately doesn’t matter, her own son regularly tap dances and spits on her grave. And her own family is all too eager to shove her in a closet and forget she ever existed…
But the people who abused her, who did such an awful job raising her that she was willing to fight a war partly so she could finally get away from them… we apparently need to be patient with and give them the benefit of the doubt.
Fuck. That.
The Diamonds may not deserve to die, but they sure as fuck deserve to suffer for the wrongs they inflicted on Rose alone.
They do not deserve the comforting lie that they could ever be good people if the show is already so quickly to condemn Rose.
Sometimes I think about how and why some people had such a *bad* reaction to the end of Steven Universe, specifically in regards to the Diamonds living.
Even though they no longer are causing harm to others and are able to actually undo some of their previous harm by living, some folks reacted as though this ending was somehow morally suspect. Morally bankrupt, even.
And I think it might be because so many of us were raised on a very specific kind of kids media trope:
They all fall to their deaths.
Disney loves chucking their bad guys off cliffs. And it makes sense- in a moral framework where villains *must* be punished (regardless of whether their death will actually prevent further harm or not), but killing of any kind is morally bad for the hero, the narrative must find a way to kill the villain without the protagonists doing a murder.
It's a moral assumption that a person can *deserve* to die, that it is cosmically just for them to die, that them dying is evidence that the story itself is morally good and correct. Scar *deserves* to die, but it would be bad for Simba to kill him. So....cliff. (edit: yes, cliff then hyenas. But cliff first. Lol.)
Steven Universe, whatever else it's faults, took a step back and said "but if killing people is bad, then people dying is bad", and instead of dropping White Diamond off a cliff, asked "what would actual *restorative*, not punitive, justice look like? What would actual reparations mean here? If the goal is to heal, not just to punish, how do we handle those who have done harm?" And then did that.
Which I think is interesting, and that there was pushback against it is interesting.
It also reminds me of the folks who get very weird about Aang not killing Ozai at the end of Avatar. And like, Ozai still gets chucked in prison, so it doesn't even push back on our cultural ideas of punitive justice *that much.* and still, I've seen people get real mad that the child monk who is the last survivor of a genocide that wiped out his entire pacifist culture didn't do a murder.
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Part 14: The End And The Beginning
Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13
Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep (please don't leave)
(In which an infrequently-updating writer finally didn't take a month to update)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Fluff and I guess a little bit of Hurt/Comfort
Words: 9.2K
TW: Swearing (and I believe that's it)
A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 It's a little past 2 AM but y'all wanted a chapter at an ungodly hour so here it is. It's insane to think that there will only be one more chapter of this fic. In all honestly I did have ways to drag it out for a little longer but ultimately, this felt like the right path to take. I feel like some of this chapter is a little OOC (though my lovely friends have said maybe I'm just being paranoid) but whelp it was for the plot so! Like I said, ungodly hour chapters means barely any editing for now but I will go over and fix things later. In the meantime if y'all wanna point things out in terms of grammar and typos, please feel free. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see as this story comes to an end. Have a lovely rest of your day (night?) my loves <3
June 2033
Azzi thinks she might have every detail of her rather uninteresting bedroom ceiling memorized by now. After all -for almost 3 weeks now- instead of sleeping, all she’s done is stared up at it, her mind wandering off to a thousand places, all plagued with the same face. Azzi hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to ache as much as it had the morning after the proposal, when the regret had hit and she’d rushed into Paige’s room, only to be told by KK that the older girl was gone. The days following had been torture, like enduring a heart attack over and over again, the pain crescendoing until she’d gone numb from it.
But last time there had been no false notions, no open-ended goodbyes, just a clean break and somehow that had been easier to live with. These last few days -filled with the unbearable waiting of maybe today she’ll come back to me- have been worse. Perhaps it’s because of the innate hope flickering like a candle within her. And even though the flame of it seems to get smaller and dimmer every time she sees Paige and the older woman still can’t quite make the promise to stay, Azzi knows that until that hope of hers is either completely shattered or fulfilled, there is no moving on from this hurt.
Sighing to herself, Azzi grabs for her phone. The screen lights up to countless notifications and she bites her lip when she notices the one from Clémence. Dinner had been uncannily awkward last night in a way that it had never been before when the French woman had been a much more frequent presence in her and her daughter’s life. But in between Azzi being completely lost in thoughts of her and Paige’s conversation in the locker room and Stephie somehow managing to find a way to relate every little detail back to Miss Buecks and her face-falling a little every time she did, well it was suffice to say even Clémence’s attempts as making the dinner more cheerful hadn’t been enough to make the evening less of a disaster. Azzi had almost let out a sigh of relief when she’d finally dropped the other woman off at the hotel, trying to not to wince when Clémence had leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. But cleary she hadn’t been inconspicuous enough -and neither had Stephie, who’s voice had been rather devoid of her normal Clémence related cheer when she’d wished the Frenchwoman a goodnight- and the guilt from the way the other woman’s smile had faltered, still lingers in Azzi’s stomach.
Chewing at her bottom lip, she swipes the text open. It’s a simple “it was good to see you two again.” and perhaps it doesn’t mean much -maybe Azzi’s doing that overthinking thing again- but there’s something about the formality of it, about the full stop at the end of the sentence feels rather definite. Azzi almost feels like she should apologize for something, perhaps for being so aloof last night or maybe even more. She knows that Clémence had wanted something else from her, had patiently waited for her to turn their relationship into something beyond just casual, something Azzi had never been ready to give to her. But it almost feels too late for any of that and so all she says is “it was good to see you too.” and she hopes that Clémence knows that despite everything, she means it.
Throwing her phone back on the dresser and now feeling perhaps even worse than she had a couple minutes ago, Azzi pulls her blanket above her head, almost pleading with her brain to just shut off. She’s about to give into the impulsive urge to scream into her pillows, when instead her door creaks open and she immediately throws the comforter off of herself, reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp as she sits up straight on her bed.
Stephie stands in the doorway, a fluffy teddy bear cuddled to her chest as she stares up at Azzi with big doey eyes and the older woman’s heart constricts when she sees the hint of sadness sitting heavily within them. Her little girl had been quiet all day -really since dinner last night. With today being a rare off day, the two of them had spent most of it lounging on the couch watching movies. But Azzi could tell something was off about Stephie. Her daughter, normally ever the commentator, had been dead silent, cuddling into her mother’s side and barely even chuckling at the comedy scenes. Truthfully, Stephie hadn’t been quite the same ever since they’d left Paige’s that morning -and with the amount of nights she’d snuck into Azzi’s room since, her mother had almost been expecting it tonight- but it seemed like something else had shifted last night.
“C’mere baby girl,” Azzi says softly as she holds her arms open and Stephie dutifully climbs into them, burrowing her head into her mother’s chest, “what’s up?”
“Can’t sleep,” comes the muffled response from her daughter as Azzi gently rubs the little girl’s back, “can I sleep here with you?”
Azzi smiles, pressing a gentle kiss against Stephie’s hair, “of course you can sweetheart,” she whispers, before falling back into her pillows with her daughter still securely wrapped in her arms.
She continues to brush her hands through Stephie’s hair, listening to the sound of her little girl breathing as she hums a lullaby.
“Mama,” Stephie says tentatively, after a while.
“Yeah Stephie-bean?”
“Yes-er-day when we were at dinner-,” the little girl swallows nervously and Azzi’s squeezes her shoulders, hoping it conveys that she’s listening, ready to hear whatever it is that’s been bothering the little girl, “yes-er-day at one of the other tables, I saw- I saw a woman with gold hair and she- she had it in a bun like- like the one Miss Buecks usually has.”
Azzi’s breath hitches, “go on sweetheart.”
“And she- she was-,” Stephie drops her voice down to a whisper, “she was kissing someone who looked a lot like you Mama.”
“Oh,” Azzi manages to get out as she feels her lungs compress.
“And there was a little girl too and they both gave her lots of kisses too,” Stephie’s voice is small as she says the fact and Azzi has to bite her lips hard to keep in the sob that’s threatening to escape her lips. And she remembers the exact people Stephie’s talking about, remembers the way her heart panged as she’d seen the way three of them -the two women and their little girl- were practically giddy around each other. They’d looked almost like an exact replica of Paige, Azzi and Stephie, not that long ago. Azzi had, had to tear her eyes away from the scene, not wanting to let the tears that were dangerously close to her waterline slip down her cheeks. She hadn’t looked in their direction again. But Azzi hadn’t even imagined that maybe Stephie would’ve noticed that too, that her daughter would’ve felt the sting of the happy picture the same way she had.
“Oh sweetheart-”
“My friend Anya has a Mama and a Mommy,” Stephie rushes out before Azzi can console her any further, “and my other friend Lena didn’t understand how that was poss-ble cause she has a Mommy and a Daddy like most of my other friends but Anya said it’s poss-ble and that her Mama and Mommy love each other just like Lena’s Mommy and Daddy love each other.”
“Anya’s right,” Azzi says softly, smiling at how simple children make everything sound even though she’s not quite sure where Stephie’s getting at with this story, “I’m sure her Mama and Mommy love each other a lot.”
“Anya says they kiss on the lips- just like- just like the women at the restaurant and like Nana and Pops or like Uncle José and Aunty Tully,” Stephie scrunches her nose as she finally untucks herself from Azzi’s chest, “Anya says that’s what people in love do but I think it’s kinda gross cause kissing on the lips looks kinda yucky.”
Azzi laughs, booping the little girl’s nose, “it does look a little funny.”
“But Anya says her Mommy and Mama do other things too. Like her Mama takes care of her Mommy when she’s sick and when her Mama cries over a movie, her Mommy laughs but then gives her Mama a big hug. And Anya says that sometimes when Anya’s Mama isn’t looking, Anya sees her Mommy looking at her Mama with a big smile,” Stephie stretches out her arms for emphasis as she climbs off of Azzi’s lap to sit on the bed next to her.
“That sounds sweet,” Azzi says wistfully, still a little confused why she’s being told everything about Anya’s two mothers.
There’s a moment of silence before Stephie drags in a deep breath as she stares intently at her mother, “I never seen you and Miss Buecks kiss, Mama.”
Her words loom in the air as Azzi’s mouth falls open, everything suddenly beginning to click, “Steph-”
“But when Miss Buecks was sick, I saw you make her soup and make her eat her med-cines even though Miss Buecks said they tasted yucky. And when you cry over Mr. Olaf melting in Frozen, Miss Buecks always says ‘Az you’re so silly, you’ve seen this so many times. How can you still cry at it?’”Stephie recites, doing an almost perfect impression that has Azzi’s letting out something in between a sob and a laugh.
“But then she gives you a big hug anyways. And Mama,” the little girl continues, “when you’re not looking, I see Miss Buecks looking at you with this big, big, big, smile all the time.”
“Stephie,” Azzi chokes out, trying to hold herself together.
Her daughter looks at her with something almost like wonder, “you and Miss Buecks- you were just- you were just like Anya’s Mama and Mommy?”
“Yeah,” Azzi whispers, as she grasps the little girl’s hands in her own, bracing herself for whatever Stephie might say next, “yeah I guess we were.”
But Stephie doesn’t say anything for a while, sitting all quiet and contemplative for a moment until she slowly climbs back into her mother’s arms, resting her head right against Azzi’s chest.
“Mama,” her voice is small when she finally does speak, “I really miss Miss Buecks.”
Azzi feels her heart constrict, finally losing the battle against her tears as they drip down her cheeks, and she tightens her grip on her daughter, “I know baby. I really miss her too.”
***
April 2025
“What are you doing?” panic filters into Azzi’s tone as she watches Paige slowly get down on one knee, her heart pulsating as she slowly begins to understand why her girlfriend had set this whole thing up. Really she should’ve known as soon as KK and Ice had excitedly bound into her room, mischievous knowing smirks on their faces as they’d made her change into something nice before practically dragging her onto the roof. She should’ve known when she’d seen the candles and the pink roses and Paige just a little too dressed up in the midst of it all, that this was more than just one of the older girl’s lavishly planned date nights.
Paige smiles up at her, either not hearing the distress in the brunette’s voice or perhaps not quite understanding the gravity of it. She reaches for Azzi’s hands, soft fingers entwining with the younger girl’s like their holding onto a lifeline. An unfamiliar sensation builds in Azzi’s stomach, one she doesn’t think she’s ever felt in Paige’s presence before.
“Paige,” she whispers helplessly.
“I’ve got you baby,” Paige squeezes her hands gently, mistaking whatever it is that Azzi’s feeling, for simple nerves.
But it’s not that. Azzi knows this unsettling feeling that’s tornadoing around her isn’t just nerves or butterflies or whatever else it is that one normally feels before a proposal. It’s something much, much worse. Something almost like dread. And Azzi can feel all those suppressed emotions that have been building for the last couple of weeks-the whispers of thoughts that she’d brushed away as nothing serious- suddenly rushing through her body and settling like a large, immovable lump at the back of her throat.
She remembers the first time she’d felt it, that unfamiliar twist in her stomach. It had been at a press conference after some easily won Big East game with UConn’s Big Three sitting diligently at the media-table. And it had suddenly occurred to Azzi, just as they’d finished their media availability, that she’d been asked exactly one question about her own performance -a respectable 24/4/3 statline- from the pool of reporters. Every other question of the four that had been directed her way, had been about Paige. She’d come to a stop outside the press room, letting herself sit with the thought for a second until her girlfriend -with her bright blue eyes and just-for-Azzi smile- had come bounding up to her. And suddenly, as it always seemed to be when it came to Paige, Azzi couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Not when the blonde was lacing their fingers together and putting her lips dangerously close to her ears, whispering all the sinful things they could get up to that night.
But then it happened again two games later. One question about her own performance followed by a cycle of questions about Paige during a presser where the blonde wasn’t even in attendance. This time Azzi had thought about it a little longer but then she’d chided herself for it, chalking it up to her brain doing that overthinking thing again. It was natural to be asked about teammates, especially superstar, generational, teammates who were likely to go #1 in the upcoming WNBA draft.
And then it happened again.
And again.
And again.
Until it was the Elite Eight and Azzi found herself, after a 28/5/4 statline and two clutch free throws to win it all, still somehow fielding more questions about Paige -and how the blonde had impacted Azzi’s game and recovery and their relationship as best friends- than about her own performance.
That’s when she’d finally begun to understand what that twist in her stomach had been. She’d felt sick at the idea that it could be envy -how could she ever be jealous of her Paige’s success- but she’d understood then, almost gawking at the reporter who’d had the audacity to ask her, her fourth Paige-related question that night, that it wasn’t that. Maybe it would’ve been easier if it was.
It was fear.
The fear that her own identity in the basketball world was slowly withering away under the weight of her relationship.
“Hey,” Paige’s voice feels like it’s coming from a distance even though she’s right in front of Azzi and the brunette swallows hard as she tries to pry herself away from her thoughts to focus on her girlfriend.
“Paige,” she whispers back helplessly, as her eyes begin to water.
Every time Azzi had imagined Paige proposing -the first time had been when she was 15 and she’d woken up from the dream, almost shaking but still filled with the serene calmness that came from knowing something was inevitable- she had always in fact pictured tears in her own eyes.
But not like this.
Because these little droplets cascading down her cheeks that Paige’s fingers diligently reach up to wipe away aren’t the tears of a girl whose dreams to marry her best friend -the love of her life- are coming true. They’re the tears of a girl who’s bracing herself for an inevitable fight when she puts her career before a relationship, when her head wins this fight against her heart.
Blissfully unaware, Paige continues on, “I’ve um- I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you.”
Stop, Azzi thinks but all that comes out is a whimper.
“So you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did you know. I uh- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too,” Paige laughs and the sound of it, that had once felt like a warm blanket shrouding all of Azzi’s senses, now feels a lot like a wintry chill settling around her body.
“And what I realized,” there’s moisture pooling in the blonde’s own eyes now, “is that I don’t need a speech. I don’t need hundreds of words. I just need three. I love you,” Paige presses a kiss against Azzi’s knuckles and the other girl shudders, “I love you so fucking much Azzi Fudd. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”
She lets go of the brunette’s hands to retrieve a black velvet box from her pockets and Azzi bites her lip so hard, the metallic taste of blood overwhelms her taste buds.
“Azzi Jazlyn Fudd,” Paige says softly, flicking open the box to reveal a heart-cut diamond ring, “will you marry me?”
“No,” it comes out so soft, almost blending with the wind, that for a second even Azzi doubts she’d said it.
“”What?”
Azzi clears her throat, “no.”
“No?” Paige repeats, blinking up at her with a mixture of confusion and anticipatory dread.
“No,” Azzi says again, her voice much stronger now as she takes a step back, the tears freely falling from her cheeks.
“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Paige, still on one knee, stumbles a little as she tries to formulate the right words, “you- you don’- no?,” her eyebrows furrow in confusion, “you don’t want to marry me?”
I do, Azzi wants to scream.
“I can’t,” she says.
Paige stares up at her, something akin to disbelief etched across her beautiful features, “what does that even fucking mean you can’t?”
“I just-” Azzi struggles against the jumble of thoughts in head as she tries to piece together a coherent sentence, “I can’t.”
“Bullshit,” Paige snarls.
“Paige-”
“Do not Paige me,” the older girl seethes, her expression darkening, “you better fucking explain yourself.”
“I- I will,” Azzi stutters, trying to make herself small as she wraps her arms around herself, “can you- just,” she eyes Paige, who’s still kneeling one one knee, “can you please- please just stand up.”
Paige flinches, like Azzi has asked her to shoot an arrow into her own soul. And maybe she had. But she does as asked. The blonde’s movements are reluctant, almost like it pains her to stand up and when she does, the distance she puts between her and Azzi can’t be more than a few meters, but it feels like it stretches the length of an ocean.
“Explain,” Paige says scathingly.
“I just-” Azzi takes in a deep breath, barely able to meet her girlfriend’s eyes as she forces out the next words, “I don’t want to be known as just your wife.”
Paige lets out an expected noise of protest, “you wouldn’t-”
“You don’t know that,” Azzi cuts her off with a pointed look, “because right now- right now sometimes it feels like all I am is just Paige Bueckers’ best friend. It doesn't matter how many points I score or how many defensive moves I make on the court or whatever else I do on the court, somehow it all leads back to you. And it makes me feel-,” she chokes on the next words, the acidity of them leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, “I feel invisible.”
“Azzi-”
The brunette holds up a hand, needing to finish what she’s saying before she fully succumbs to her emotions, “sometimes- sometimes my entire career at UConn so far feels like- like it’s just an extension of yours. Paige you- you get to be Paige. Just Paige. The superstar. You get to go to entire pressers not having to answer a single question about me or our friendship. You get to have entire articles written about you that have just a throwaway line about me and not have half of it be dedicated to how I’m the driving force behind your success. And that’s how it should be because- because as much as we rely on each other, your success is still yours. But sometimes it feels like mine isn’t mine.”
“I’m sor-”
“No!” Azzi cuts Paige off loudly when the older girl tries to apologize, guilt flashing in her eyes, “it’s not your fault Paige. You- you’re my biggest cheerleader. You always have been. But I just- I need to have my own identity. And that’s already been so hard being known as just your best friend. It’s only going to get worse if I-” she stops, unable to say the rest but even unspoken, it lingers in the air.
If I become your fiancé.
“I need next year to be different,” Azzi says instead, “I need it to be my year. Just mine. Just for once, I just want to be known as Azzi.”
“It will be,” there’s a newfound conviction replacing the previous anger in the blonde’s voice as she takes a deliberate step towards Azzi. Bolstered when the other girl doesn’t instinctively move back, she takes another one and then another and another, until the seemingly never-ending distance between them disappears.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Paige says softly as she gently holds one of Azzi’s hands between her own, “and I hate- I hate that you feel this way. But it’ll be different next year when we’re not on the same team anymore right? Out of sight out of mind type shit? They won’t- they won’t ask you about me or make everything you do about me anymore-”
“You don’t know that-”
The older girl continues like she didn’t hear the interruption, “I just- I just don’t understand why you can be known as my girlfriend but not my-” she swallows, “but not my wife? Because Az- when we come out-,” the girl in questions flinches and Paige pauses, her expression falters at the movement.
A deadly silence clouds the air and it’s April in Connecticut and the spring breeze is just the right temperature. But as Paige slowly lets go of her hands, realization dawning on her face, Azzi thinks she’s never felt colder in her life.
“You- you don’t-” the blonde looks at her almost accusingly as she takes a step back, “you don’t want to come out?”
“Paige-”
“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”
Azzi casts her eyes downwards, digging her fingers as deeply into her palms as possible, “no, no I don’t.”
“I see,” Paige says slowly, her tone dangerously low, “and how long have you felt this way Az?”
“I-I-” the brunette stutters nervously, “I made- I made the decision after the Elite Eight.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Paige says calmly.
“I don’t- I don’t understand-”
“How long Azzi?” the blonde sneers, “how long have you had all the fucking doubts about your identity and our relationship? How long have you been questioning everything about us? How long have you bee going through this whole fucking decision-making process about our future?”
“That’s not-”
“Oh no,” Paige interrupts harshly, “that’s exactly it. That’s exactly what you were doing. So tell me. How. Long?”
Azzi gulps nervously, “since the game at home versus Nova.”
Paige blinks at her, “three months? Three fucking months Azzi. You’ve been feeling this way for three months and you didn’t once think that maybe you should tell me? That maybe we should talk about it?”
“I didn’t know,” Azzi says helplessly, “I didn’t even understand it myself Paige. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t even know there was something to discuss.”
“But clearly you did figure it out, Azzi. Because I know you and I know you didn’t make this decision without figuring your emotions out, so why not come to me then? Why not tell me as soon as possible. God fucking hell Azzi- when even were you gonna tell me?” Paige yells, all pretence of calm gone from her body, “if I- if tonight hadn’t happened, when would you have even told me?”
Azzi doesn’t say anything and Paige shakes her head, starting to pace around the rooftop.
“We had a plan Azzi. We’ve had a plan for four years. As soon as one or both of us was out of UConn, that was it. No more hiding. No more secrets. Just you and and me and we weren’t gonna care who the fuck knew about it,” the blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, “and you’re telling me that for three month- three fucking months- you’ve been questioning that whole fucking plan while I remained oblivious as fuck? Azzi all I’ve done these past few months is tell you how fucking excited I was about being able to call you my girl in front ov everyone. How excited I was to hold you in public and for us to just be us without giving a fuck who could see. And you just,” Paige’s voice breaks, “you let me. You let me do all of that- feel all of that. You let me be hopeful for a future that you weren’t even sure you could see for us.”
Azzi looks away, that rock of guilt settled in her stomach starting to get heavier and heavier with each word that leaves Paige’s mouth, “I’m just asking for a little bit more time Paige.”
“And what happens if that time doesn’t go the way you want it to Az?” Paige asks sadly, “what if we survive the next year but you decide that you can’t be attached to me to start your W career?”
“That won’t happen-”
“You don’t know that,” a sardonic smile appears on the blonde’s face, “I can’t keep hiding forever Azzi. All I’ve done is love you in secret. I can’t- I don’t- I won’t do that forever.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Azzi bursts out, her defensiveness suddenly translating into a burst of anger, “I am asking you for a little bit of time. Not even a whole year anymore. Just a little bit of time for me to establish my own identity and honestly Paige if you can’t even give me that- if you can’t understand why I need this time- then maybe-” she stops herself, eyes widening at the words -word she’d never even expected herself to think of - that are now sitting, like burning embers, on the tip of her tongue.
“Then maybe what?” Paige asks slowly, but there’s an almost resigned tinge to her tone that suggests she already knows.
“No,” Azzi shakes her head, turning away from the older girl’s piercing gaze. She looks down at the ground, still covered in rose petals. The wax of the glittering candles littered between them has melted onto them, causing their pink hue to turn into a darker shade of red. And it’s like there’s blood scattered on the remnants of Paige’s perfect proposal.
“Say it Azzi-”
“No-”
“Say it.”
“I don’t want to,” Azzi covers her ears and she wishes this were a nightmare, wishes she could open her eyes and find herself waking up in Paige’s arms. Warm and soft and loved.
“Godfuckingdammit Azzi,” Paige yells, “just say it. If I can’t understand why you need time then maybe we should what?” she repeats, waiting for the brunette to finish her own sentence.
Azzi whimpers, continuing to shake her head, “Paige please.”
“Just. Fucking. Say. It.”
The younger girl swallows, “then maybe we should end it.”
Another beat of silence.
“Maybe we should,” Paige’s voice is gravelly and Azzi doesn’t dare turn around, not ready to see the heartbroken expression -or worse, perhaps the nonchalant one- on the older girl’s face, “if after all we’ve been through, if it’s so easy for you to think those words. Then maybe we should- maybe we should end it.”
And Azzi thinks for the rest of her life she will wonder what she should have done next. If she should’ve said something or if -when she hears those retreating footsteps- if she should’ve run after her. She thinks, for the rest of her life, she will look back on this moment and dissect every single second of it, that she will wish for the time machine to go back and stop herself from doing and saying so many of the things she had on the rooftop that night.
But Paige walks away.
And Azzi doesn’t do anything to stop her.
It isn’t until the morning after -when her head does finally catch up to her heart and all she can feel is that unfamiliar sting of regret- and she races into the apartment downstairs and Ice’s expression is filled with sadness and KK’s glare is filled with accusation, that she finds out just how far Paige had gone away from her and Azzi realizes, she’s just a little too late.
***
June 2033
There’s a redhead and a brunette, holding hands and chatting quietly as they wait outside the school. The two women are clearly entrenched in their own world -sharing those warm gazes and bright smiles that Azzi’s just a little too familiar with- blissfully unaware that they are currently being stared at. Actually, perhaps glared at is a more accurate statement because there’s a clear tinge of envy running down Azzi’s spine as her eyes remain laser-focused on the scene in front of her. She hadn’t meant to be doing this of course -nobody really plans to come to pick up their daughter from school and somehow end up stink-eying said daughter’s friends parents for being too in love. But as fate would have it, somehow from where she’s parked, Azzi has a perfect view of Anya, infamous Mommy and Mama.
They’re sickeningly cute.
And Azzi fucking hates them.
It’s unfair of her to feel this way; she knows that. But watching them lead the life she’d always imagined for herself, is more difficult now than it ever has been when Azzi had seen them before in passing. Back then, it was just a dull ache of something she craved but knew she’d turned away herself. But now- now she’s had a taste of that life; had gotten to live it out -even if just for a second- with the girl she’d always dreamed of living it with. Until one night and a series of revelations had snatched it all away, and now Azzi’s left with nothing but the bitter feeling of waiting to see if she’ll get that back forever or if it had really only ever been meant to be a fleeting moment in her life.
A sigh of longing escapes her as she watches Anya go rushing into her mothers’ arms, the two of them catching her in perfect sync. She has the resentful urge to scoff at the scene. It’s all so goddamn dramatic for three people who see each other every day. Except Azzi’s mind is filled with memories that are almost exact replicas of the scene in front of her; just with different faces.
“Hi Mama,” it isn’t until the backdoor opens and Stephie’s voice fills the car that Azzi finally tears her eyes away from Anya’s family.
“Hey baby,” she choruses back, turning around in her seat to make sure her daughter is buckling herself in correctly, “how was your day?”
“It was okay,” Stephie shrugs and Azzi feels her heart plummet at how nonchalant the little girl sounds. She misses the sound of her daughter ranting about just how booooring school is, and thinks she wouldn’t even try to reprimand her if Stephie deemed school useless like she used to. Azzi just wants her ball of sunshine, talks-a-mile-per-minute child back because this meek, quiet little girl in the back feels like a shell of who Stephie used to be.
“You excited for Mama’s game tonight?” Azzi presses as she starts to back out of the parking lot, almost relieved when it seems to cause Stephie to sit up a little straighter.
“You’re- you’re playing the Liberty right?” the little girl asks quietly, “that’s- that’s where Miss Buecks wanna go? New York?”
Azzi freezes at the question, trying to keep her hands steady on the wheel as she hums in agreement.
“They’re a good team right? Lots of champ-ships and stuff?” Stephie continues.
“Yeah,” Azzi clears her throat, “it’s uh- it’s definitely gonna be a good game.”
“Anya’s Grammy and Grandpa live in New York. Not the city-city but close to it,” Stephie says after a moment, “Anya says New York’s really nice. She’s been there lots and lots of times to see her Grammy and Grandpa forChristmas. And she- she says when she went, it snowed lots and lots.”
Despite herself Azzi smiles as her mind drifts to memories of cold Northeast winters. For the most part, they had been filled with dreary chills and darky rainy days. But then amidst it all, there had been a couple rare days of snow and when she’d been at UConn, her teammates had taken full advantage. And just like most of her memories of those years, Paige is front and center of these ones too. The blonde had never been nearly as enamored with the snow as Azzi was, and she definitely wasn’t enamored by it at seven in the morning when the brunette would wake her up squealing that it had in fact snowed and the world around them was white. Despite her grumbling, Paige had still let Azzi bundle the both of them up in winter clothes and drag her outside. And her faux irritated expression hds slowly morphed into one of admiration as she’d flicked the snow off the younger girl’s eyelashes, pulling her closer by her scarf because Azzi I’m so cold, you have to kiss me to keep me warm baby.
“We don’t get snow here,” Stephie says thoughtfully, unaware of the path down memory lane her mother had just taken.
“No, no we don’t,” Azzi says, almost wistfully.
“It would- it would be nice to live somewhere with lots of snow,” Stephie ponders out loud and her mother’s eyes widen as she starts to understand where this is going, “like- like in New York.”
“We could- we could have snowball fight and make snowmen like Mr. Olaf and snow angels and everything else you do in snow,” the little girl’s voice gets increasingly more and more high-pitched in excitement, “it would be so fun Mama.”
“Steph-”
“And Anya said that- that- that- she’d even visit me like she visits her Grammy and Grandpa. She promised Mama, she promised she’d come see me if I lived in New York-”
“Honey no,” Azzi cuts her daughter off heartbrokenly, “we are not going to live in New York.
“But Mama, Miss Buecks-”
“Stephie stop-”
“No Mama listen,” Stephie protests indignantly, “Mama what if- what if Miss Buecks really needs to be in New York. What if it’s impo-tant. And that’s- that’s why she can’t stay here. With us. Not cause she doesn’t want to but cause she can’t. But Mama just because Miss Buecks can’t say doesn’t mean we can’t go Mama.”
“Sweetheart-”
“And you- you just said the Liberty is a good team and you’re such a good player Mama. I think you’d be good on their team too. And I- I really, really like the Valk-ries and I would really miss Aunty J and Aunty Tessie and Aunty Joy but if you- if you and Miss Buecks played for the Liberty- I know I’d like them too. And I’m sure Nana and Pops and Uncle Jon and Uncle Jose and Aunty Tully would come visit us lots and lots and I wouldn’t even miss them lots cause they’d visit so much. I just know it. It could work Mama- I know it could.”
“Stephanie,” Azzi's voice is louder than she’d meant it to be as she pulls onto their street, “sweetheart, we are not moving to New York.”
“But Mama-” the little girl whines.
“No Stephie. That’s just-” Azzi swallows the sob stuck in her throat, “that’s now how the world works.”
“But what if I want it to work that way?” Stephie asks softly with all the innocence of a five-year old as she meets her mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Oh baby,” Azzi’s so caught up in her daughter’s earnest wishful thinking that she doesn’t even notice there’s another oh-so-familiar car parked in her driveway until she almost crashes into it.
“That’s Miss Buecks car,” Stephie whispers softly, craning her neck to get a better view. Her eyes widen in tandem with her mother’s as they both catch sight of the same thing at the same time.
It’s Paige.
Paige, whose eyes are sunken in and red-rimmed. Paige, whose hair is tossed back into a messy bun -looking like it’s been in that same one for days- with little loose strands falling out of it. Paige, whose entire body is hunched over as she sits on their front porch, holding a grey hoodie close to her chest. Paige, whose hands are fidgeting with themselves because she can never sit still, especially when she’s nervous. Paige, who looks up just as Azzi parks her car -whose staring at the both of them like they’re still her everything. Paige, who despite it all, still looks like the most beautiful woman in the world.
Paige, who’s here.
It’s Stephie who recovers from the shock of seeing Paige first, the click of her seatbelt being unclasped pulling Azzi out of her own trance. The little girl pushes her door open, getting out of her car seat with quickness as she stumbles out of the car.
“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out immediately but Stephie isn't listening, already rushing up the pathway as Paige -her expression hopeful- stands up at the sight of the child running towards.
It isn’t until Stephie hesitates, coming to a halt just a couple of meters away from Paige, that Azzi draws in a deep breath and gets out of the car herself. Unlike her daughter, her steps are much slower, her movement hesitant and guarded. She knows this is it; knows that this is when all that waiting she’s done in the past few weeks will finally be over, that Paige is either here to fulfill a dream or to start a nightmare.
Azzi walks up the pathway until she’s right behind Stephie, one of her hands instinctively reaching out to hold her daughter’s shoulder, conveying two messages. One to Stephie, a promise that no matter what happens now, she’ll still always have Azzi. The other to Paige is an unspoken message from a protective mother, silently begging her that if she is here to break their hearts, to break Stephie’s gently.
“Hi,” Paige’s voice is croaky when she speaks, her eyes flickering nervously between the mother and daughter in front of her.
Azzi clears her throat, willing herself to reply, “hey,” she pauses, continuing only when the older woman keeps her own mouth shut, shuffling her feet nervously, “do you- do you want to come in?”
“Yes,” Paige says, her cheeks reddening at how quickly the word leaves her mouth and that almost makes Azzi smile.
She nods at the older woman, her hand travelling from Stephie’s shoulder to instead hold her hand as they walk up the steps together. Azzi’s shoulder brushes against Paige’s as she moves past the blonde to open her door and electricity courses through her veins. From the way Paige gasps, the brunette is sure she must’ve felt it too. It crackles in the air as Azzi unlocks the door, her brain feeling foggy at the mere feeling of having Paige so close after so long.
The three of them walk quietly towards the living room, Stephie’s hands still clasped in Azzi’s and Paige following closely behind them. The little girl’s grip is tight and despite how young she is, Azzi knows just how perceptive Stephie is. She’s just as aware of this moment as the adults are, realizes it just as much as they do, that they’ve reached a crossroad and the path they take -a path determined by whatever Paige chooses- will shape their future together or apart.
“I um- I- well- the thing is- I-,” Paige breaks the silence first, stuttering over her words before letting out a soft sigh She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, there are little droplets of water on the edges of her eyelashes.
“I really missed you guys,” she confesses in a whisper, her voice breaking throughout.
There’s a second of silence as her words linger in the air and Azzi feels Stephie’s hand slip away from her own and the little girl almost stumbles over her own feet as she races towards Paige, the older woman’s arms immediately opening to catch her and as she kneels down to pull Stephie into her her chest. It’s like the blonde’s confession had broken a dam, and the water that came rushing through it, had washed away the last little bit of pretence of nonchalance that Stephie had been holding onto.
For the last few weeks, every time Azzi’s little girl had seen Paige, be it when she accompanied her mother to a practice or when she was on the sidelines at a game, Stephie had ignored the blonde, maintaining the same angry façade as the one she’d had the morning after that night. But Azzi had seen that resolve weaken over time; had seen Stephie’s eyes linger just a little bit longer on Miss Buecks with that familiar look of yearning. And Azzi had known that resolve was almost completely gone, in the car, when Stephie had all but begged her to consider moving to New York if that was the only way they were going to be able to keep Paige in their lives.
She feels her own set of tears prickling in her eyes as she takes in the scene in front of her. Stephie’s face is pressed into Paige’s neck, the blonde has one arm wrapped around the little girl’s waist and the other other gently brushing through her hair. Their grip on each other is tight with barely any space for air between them, tears freely streaming down both of their faces.
“I missed you too Miss Buecks,” Stephie sobs and Azzi notices the way Paige’s hold on her tightens at the familiar nickname, “missed you so much.”
“Me too Stephie-bean,” Paige affirms as she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, cupping it in her hands, “I’m so sorry sweetheart. So, so, sorry. I missed you so, so, so, so much,” she says, punctuating each word with a kiss to Stephie’s face in between.
“Miss Buecks,” Stephie looks down nervously, her fingers playing with the collar of Paige’s t-shirt, “can me and Mama come to New York with you?”
“Stephie!” Azzi exclaims as Paige’s eyes widen.
“Wh-what?” the blonde asks softly as she searches the little girl’s face in confusion.
“I don’t want you to go,” Stephie says quietly, “but if you have to- then can we come with you?”
“Oh sweetheart,” there’s disbelief in Paige’s tone, something almost akin to awe as she tilts Stephie’s chin to make the little girl look back at her.
“My friend Anya says New York’s nice,” Stephie rambles, repeating what she’d been telling her mother in the car, “and-and-and she says there’s lots and lots of snow and I told Mama that I think it will be nice to live in lots and lots of snow. Mama hasn’t said yest,” the little girl briefly looks back at Azzi with a sheepish look on her face before turning back to Paige, “but I know- I know we could cov-ince her because Miss Buecks, Mama’s missed you so, so, so much too.”
“Has she?” Paige asks, her eyes flickering to Azzi who’s trying desperately to keep her face neutral as she keeps her own gaze firmly fixated on a picture of her daughter on top of the mantle.
“She has,” Stephie confirms, before using a finger against the older woman’s cheek to get her to return her attention back to her, “so can we come with you? Please.”
Paige slowly tucks a strand of hair behind the child’s ears as she shakes her head, “no.”
“N-no?” Stephie’s bottom lip trembles at the rejection, “why not? Why can’t we go to New York with you?”
“Because nobody’s going to New York, Stephie-bean,” Paige says firmly and Azzi’s eyes shoot towards the blonde, her lips parting slightly as she processes the meaning behind her words, her heart beginning to race with anticipation.
“Nobody?” Stephie repeats as a question, her little voice filled with hope.
Instead of answering, Paige grabs the grey hoodie she’d brought with her that had fallen to the ground. She gently un-scrunches it, holding out the sleeve of it for Stephie to look at. Azzi cranes her head curiously to get a better look of it, squinting her eyes when she notices something written in washed-out black ink.
“You probably don’t remember this because you were a lot littler when it happened,” there’s a teasing smile of Paige’s face as she uses the incorrect word, “but the first time you ever spoke to me properly, you told me, that your Mama says that one day, you’re gonna be an even better basketball player than she is.”
Stephie beams, “Mama says I’m gonna be the best in the world today.”
Paige chuckles, “I believe it and I believed it then too. That’s why,” she points down at the hoodie, her fingers brushing over the material so delicately, like it’s one of her most treasured possessions, “that’s why I had you sign my hoodie.”
“You asked for my auto-graph?” Stephie’s eyes glint and perhaps she doesn’t quite remember what Paige is talking about exactly, but Azzi can tell that it’s stirred up recollections of something.
“Yeah- yeah I did. And you said, ‘silly Miss Buecks, I’m not famous’ and I said, ‘but if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, you will be. Just like me and your Mama.’ And I meant it. You’re gonna be so- so great one day sweetheart. I know you are,” Paige says with conviction as her thumbs lightly caressing Stephie’s cheeks, “and I- I wanna be right here every step of the way, I wanna be right here to watch you grow up and become the great player -the great woman- that you’re destined to be.”
“You mean it?” Stephie asks, her eyes shining with a fresh new set of tears.
Paige nods, delicately wiping her thumbs under the little girl’s lower eyelid, “I do. I wanna be here, with you and- and your Mama,” she raises her head toward Azzi, mustering a watery smile, “I want to stay. Forever. If you’ll have me.”
Azzi lets out a staggered breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as her eyes remain locked with Paige’s. And suddenly, after eight years spent feeling unfulfilled -eight years spent with this constant sense of being incomplete-, hearing Paige finally say she wants to stay forever, feels a little bit like as if that missing part of Azzi has finally returned back to where it rightfully belongs.
A loud squeal echoes throughout the living room as Stephie leaps back into Paige’s arms, a large smile stretching the length of her whole face as she buries her face back into the crevice between the blonde’s shoulder and her neck.
“Yes, yes, yes,” the little girl chirps excitedly, “of course we’ll have you. Of course, of course, of course,” Stephie says in delight before she turns herself slightly in Paige’s grapes, arms still around the other woman’s neck as she looks imploringly at Azzi, “right Mama?”
Azzi doesn’t say anything, pursing her lips as she tears her gaze away from the two people in front of her.
“Mama?” Stephie presses.
“Give me a second Stephie-bean,” Paige whispers to the little girl, bumping her head against her temple.
From the corner of her eyes, Azzi watches as the blonde disentangles herself from Stephie, before slowly getting to her feet and walking towards the younger woman.
“Az-”
“It’s been almost three weeks-”
“It’s been two weeks, six days, five hours and around fourteen minutes,” Paige shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her face, “give or take a few minutes.
Azzi continues to look away from her, trying to keep her face devoid of emotion, “still took you a really long time to decide you were gonna stay.”
“Well I’m an idiot,” Paige says matter-of-factly and Stephie snickers behind her, “you know me Az. Sometimes these things- they take me a little while to understand.”
“I told you we wouldn’t wait forever,” Azzi says softly.
“I didn’t make you wait forever,” Paige reaches out to gently grab her chin between her thumb and index, turning the brunette’s face towards her, “just needed a little bit of time.”
“You didn’t give me time,” Azzi accuses and the blonde flinches.
“I know. I- I should’ve. Should’ve don’t a lot of things differently when it comes to us but I didn’t and I- I can’t change that but Azzi, I promise, I promise I’ll do everything right this time,” keeping one hand cupped around Azzi’s cheek, Paige uses the other to guide one of the brunette’s hands to rest against her chest, “I swear.”
Azzi swallows, feeling the quick rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat under her fingertips, “how do I know you won’t run away again?”
“Because I trust you,” the blonde whispers, “I trust you to stay and I trust you not to break my heart again. And that- that doesn’t mean that I’m not scared anymore- cause I am. Not a lot but definitely still a little bit. But someone once told me that, trusting is really scary but that maybe- maybe it would be a lot less scary, if we did together.”
“They sound like a really smart person,” Azzi bites her lip, “you should probably listen to them more often.”
Paige chuckles, “well if uh- if they give me the chance, I think I’d listen to them for the rest of my life.”
Azzi shudders and she doesn’t know if it’s from the earnestness of the words spoken or the strength of the emotions in the blonde’s gaze that’s still completely transfixed on her.
“What about New York?” she asks finally.
“I called the whole thing off,” Paige states nonchalantly,“I had Talia call Jonathan Kolb last night and I explained everything to Ohemaa this morning. Everyone’s on the same page. There is no deal anymore.”
“You-” Azzi gapes at the girl in front of her, “you- you already called the whole thing off?”
“I did,” Paige confirms, not a hint of regret in her voice, “I don’t need an escape plan.”
“You called it off before even talking to me?�� Azzi asks, knitting her eyebrows together, “you didn’t even know how this was gonna go.”
“I already told you. I trust you,” Paige says simply, “I believe in us Az and I really hope you still believe in us too.”
The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Azzi’s crashing into her, the weight of her body sending the blonde staggering back a few steps before her hands steadily secure themselves around the younger woman’s waist. A slightly surprised gasp escapes Paige until the sound of it is stolen by Azzi pressing her lips against the older woman’s. Despite her initial surprise, Paige kisses Azzi back with equal fervor, both of them pouring the myriad of suppressed emotions between them the last few weeks into it. And it feels like a cliché, like coming home.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Paige breaks away first, eyes widening as she slowly turns around to look at Stephie who’s practically vibrating with happiness as she watches the two of them, “Stephie-”
“She already knows,” Azzi says with a slight grin, shaking her head fondly at just how joyful her little girl looks.
“You told her?” Paige looks between the mother and daughter.
Stephie smirks triumphantly, “I figured it out myself Miss Buecks.”
“Of course you did smarty pants,” Paige smiles at the little girl but Azzi knows her well enough -is still so in tune with every little bit of Paige despite the time apart- to see the small hint of disappointment behind it.
“I would’ve told her myself if she hadn’t,” Azzi says quietly and Paige turns back around to face her.
“What?”
“I love you,” Azzi says and she swears no three words have ever sounded as right on her lips, as those three do, “I love you,” she repeats again and she can feel Paige’s hands shaking as they instinctively tighten their grip on her waist, “I love you so much Paige Madison Bueckers and I want everybody to know it. Stephie, our families, our friends, our teammates, the whole world. I love you and I never wanna hide that. I want everybody to know that you’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.”
A strangled sob escapes Paige’s mouth as she presses her forehead against Azzi’s, “I love you too. I love you, so, so, so much. I’ve loved you since the beginning and I’m gonna love you till the very end. Forever.”
Their lips meet in a searing kiss and it’s unclear if they’re both crying more or giggling more, as they hold each other as tightly as possible. And this isn’t their first kiss, far from it- far closer to being their millionth or so- but still it feels like a fresh new start, a brand new love story but with that same old special, all-consuming, forevermore love that has always connected them to each other. The one that had never gone away, no matter how long they’d been apart.
“Ahem, ahem,” an exaggerated cough breaks them apart and the two of them turn their heads at the same time to see Stephie looking dramatically at them, her hands on her hips.
“So, Mama loves Miss Buecks and Miss Buecks loves Mama. What about Stephie?” she pouts, exaggeratedly stomping her foot.
Paige and Azzi both laugh, removing themselves from each other just enough to crouch down and open their arms out for Stephie, beckoning for her to join their embrace. The little girl’s attempt at a sour expression is immediately replaced by a cheerful grin as she runs into their arms, tiny hands somehow managing to wrap around both of their necks.
“You know we love you the most Stephie,” Paige whispers into the little girl’s hair, who lets out a content sigh as she burrows herself further into the two women’s arms.
Azzi hums in agreement, closing her eyes as she leans her head against her daughter’s, feeling Paige’s fingers intertwine with her behind Stephie’s back. And then it’s quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the three of them breathing and their hearts beating together in sync. Azzi feels at peace, her mind completely calm, no longer overthinking anything.
Because now she finally has everything.
Paige, Stephie, and the promise of a world the three of them can build together, it’s everything.
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Hi I love ur girl dad lando fics sm they're adorable I was wondering if u could write smth where lando and readers girls invite their friends for a sleepover (like a crossover with carlos,charles, Oscar and max F's kids) cuz they're besties and reader and lando putting in lots of effort for the girls and making it a fun time for them and overall fluff and comedy pls xx
Hope u have a grt day and feel free to ignore this request if u don't want to write it xx 🫶🏼
so so sorry this took me so long to get around to, but thank you for your request! as a quick refresher since it's been ages since i've written for this little universe, we've got estelle and delilah norris, adrien leclerc, teo sainz, maeve and clara piastri, and some new additions—luca and lina fewtrell! hope you enjoy x
feel free to request more :)
“If someone told me I'd be in my thirties blowing up air mattresses for a bunch of children instead of going for a night out, I’d call them mental.”
“And yet, here you are.”
Here Lando is indeed, sitting in the middle of the living room floor, blowing up the third of eight child sized air mattresses for the girls’ sleepover tonight. Mattresses one and two have been cast off to the side, ready to go. You’re watching him moan and groan from the kitchen while you prep snacks and drinks for the kids.
Estelle and Delilah had begged you to have a sleepover with their friends this weekend, and with all of them actually in Monaco for once, how could you refuse?
“Y’know, you’re making terrible time on those mattresses,” You tease, turning towards the fridge to grab those little smoothie drinks the girls love. You’re all stocked up on their favorite foods, you’ve got their favorite movies queued on the television, and you’re pretty much prepared for anything a group of excited kids would want.
All you want is for everything to go well tonight, because your girls are your world.
You’re swept off your feet before you can throw another smart remark Lando’s way, drawn into his chest as his fingers dig into your sides, making you nearly shriek with laughter. You manage to push him away, but not before he’s rendered you breathless with his tickling.
“When are all the little rascals coming over?”
You slide your hands up his chest to link around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the curls at his nape. “Should be soon. Carlos is picking up Adrien on his way to bring Teo here, Lily and Oscar are dropping off the twins after gymnastics, and Pietra said she’ll be sending Max over with Luca and Lina pretty soon.”
“Pietra’s not coming round?”
“Pietra’s eight months pregnant on bed rest, my love. Have you forgotten, or has all that blowing made you lightheaded?”
Lando rolls his eyes, squeezing your hip. “Ha ha, very funny, you.”
“You love me.”
“Duh. Wouldn’t have let you rope me into this circus otherwise,” He teases.
“Don’t act like it hasn’t been your life’s dream to host a sleepover with eight kids hopped up on sugar and sweets.”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
There’s an undertone there, something more serious in his words that makes you smile warmly.
Lando has always been a family guy. His loved ones are his world, and the little family you’ve been able to create with each other despite all the challenges is one of the few things that take precedence over racing. You still remember the day you told him you were pregnant with Estelle. How he’d gone completely misty eyed and nearly tackled you in a hug before you’d even finished uttering the words.
He’s told you before, getting to be a father, getting to have a family, it’s a gift he’d never be able to thank you enough for.
You pull him in closer to kiss him, taking advantage of the girls being busy in their room to have a little time alone to love on your husband.
“Daddy!!!” Estelle’s loud shriek has you both pulling away from each other in a snap. Lando deflates against you, groaning quietly.
“Yes, lovebug?” He calls, angling his head towards the direction of her voice.
“I can’t find my race car pajamas!”
“That’s ‘cause they’re in the laundry! You got ice cream on them last night, remember?”
You dig a sharp elbow into Lando’s side, eliciting a high pitched yelp and an incredulous look aimed your way. You raise a brow at your husband. “You gave them ice cream last night?”
“Shit. Erm, no, ‘course I didn’t,” He says unconvincingly, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t do that, would I? Definitely did not give them—”
“Daddy!” Estelle screeches again, the end of the word long and drawn out.
“Wow, would you listen to that? I reckon I should go see what I can do for that darling daughter of ours!” He’s wriggled himself free before you can blink, pressing the hastiest of pecks to the corner of your mouth quickly before speeding off to Estelle’s rescue (and away from the trouble he’d been about to get in).
You laugh and shake your head, because he's just the same as when you’d first had the privilege of loving him all those years ago. He was younger then, more boyish, maybe even a little naive, but that was who you fell in love with. In some ways, he's the same. In other ways, he's grown tenfold.
Either way, changed or not, you've loved him all this time and will continue to, even after you inevitably become old and grey together. It won't happen for a long time, but you're looking forward to growing old with Lando.
—
“My back is killing me,” He grumbles later in the night, as he pads gingerly across the room over to his side of the bed. It’s nearly midnight and all the kids had gone off to bed a few hours ago after a fully action packed evening, so now it’s your turn to wind down.
The days when you’d stumble home hand in hand, drunk and giggling in the wee hours of the morning are nothing but a distant memory. Now, you can barely stay up past twelve most nights. Right now, you’re both exhausted. But the kids had a blast, and that makes everything worth it.
You giggle at his over exaggerated steps. “C’mere, I’ll massage you.” That makes him perk up, smirking at you like the massage will lead to other things. “Don’t even think about it, mister. Try again another day when we’re not hosting all of our friends’ kids.”
“Am I able to get that rain check in writing, or…”
“Uncle Lando?” A small voice from the hallway draws both of your attention. Max’s son, Luca, is peering at the two of you, half shrouded in the darkness of the hallway.
“Luca! What’re you doing up, buddy?” Lando asks, beckoning him into the room. The boy pads in hesitantly, looking worried.
You pat the covers as a sign for him to take a seat and he does, rubbing at his shoulder the same way his dad always does when something is bothering him. Sometimes you can’t believe how similar Luca is to Max.
“I couldn’t—I can’t sleep,” He mumbles, little brows furrowed. “I miss my mum.”
“Oh, honey,” You soothe, scooting closer to put your hand over his smaller one. The seven year old’s bottom lip trembles a touch.
“You know, there was one time your dad and I had to stay in the same hotel room, and he couldn't sleep either because he missed your mum,” Lando mentions, voice light, like he's recalling something casual.
“You and dad had a sleepover?”
Lando looks very much like he wants to explain that no, he and Max, two grown men, did not have a sleepover, but at your subtle shake of the head, doesn't. He nods instead, patting the boy on the back. “Yeah, mate, we had a sleepover. Anyways, your dad just couldn’t fall asleep for hours, and d’you wanna know what eventually did help him?”
“What, Uncle Lando?”
“We gave your mum a call, and they talked for a bit, and afterwards, he was able to fall asleep right quick. Shall we do that? Give your parents a ring?”
Luca nods quickly, sniffling. Lando smiles warmly as he reaches over to swipe his phone off the bedside table. You watch as he shows the boy what to do instead of just ringing Max himself.
Suddenly you're hit with an overwhelming feeling of what Lando would be like if the two of you ever had a son. You’d had the conversation many times before, whether or not you wanted to have a third child. The timing had just never been right.
Raising two kids under two whilst Lando was away racing most of the time had been rough enough, but the girls were nearly eight now. And sure, his career is still going strong at the moment, but you've got years of experience under your belt now.
You wouldn't say no to another kid if Lando felt the same way, especially if it ended up being a boy. Make no mistake, you were a girl mom through and through, but the thought of having a little mini Lando running around with his big sisters made your heart swell.
“Mate, shouldn’t you be—Luca! Hey, big guy!” Max answers on the third ring, teasing demeanor morphing straight into parental as soon as he catches a glimpse of his son on the other side of the screen rather than Lando. “What’s up? You having fun with your friends?”
“Yeah, yeah. Um, is…” Luca hesitates, casting a nervous glance at Lando, who only nods encouragingly. It seems to help, because he turns his attention back, sounding much more firm when he speaks again. “Can I talk to mum?”
“Can you talk to mum? Of course you can! Let me go find her. You know your mum, always wandering around these days,” Max jokes, winking. Luca giggles quietly. He already looks like he's feeling much better. “Oi, P! There’s someone special who wants to talk to you.”
Luca chats with Pietra for a little bit, and you can tell just how much that little boy loves and adores his mother. He’s beaming happily when the call ends, a far cry from the timidness he’d come in with earlier.
“All good now, mate? You’ll try and get some sleep tonight?” Lando asks, clapping Luca on the shoulder gently.
“Yep! Thanks, Uncle Lando!” He runs off without another word after that.
“Well, I think we handled that pretty well, don’t you think?” Lando hums, tossing his phone back on the bedside table. “Hello? Darling?”
“What would you think about having another baby?” You blurt.
“Another—babe, what? Where is this coming from?” He splutters, looking utterly bewildered. His eyes go wide a split second later. “Wait, you’re not—are you?”
“No, no, I’m not—I just—fuck, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to ask so bluntly like that, I was trying to ease into the conversation.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s…yeah. Sorry, you just caught me off guard is all.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I didn’t know you were thinking about it. Last I recall we were on the same page about stopping at two. Did something change, or…?”
“I don’t know. I guess I was just thinking about, y’know, what if we wind up having a boy? A mini Lando, running around with his big sisters one day?”
Lando opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut before inhaling a sharp breath and trying again. “I love our little family more than anything.”
“I do too.”
“Are we really ready to have three kids?”
“I think we are. We managed eight of them pretty well tonight.” You shrug, sliding a reassuring hand over Lando’s. “Plus, there’s more than enough love to go around, don’t you think?”
That seems to solidify the decision, because he brings your joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “We got this. Let’s have another baby!”
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#dad!lando norris#dad!lando norris x reader#dad!lando norris x fem!reader#lando norris x wife!reader#ln4 x reader#lando thoughts 💭
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Close for Comfort
Summary: A new hot tub is installed at your apartment complex. You find yourself sneaking a dip at the same time as a particular BAU agent. But how much room can steaming water truly hold for two?
Pairing: Spencer Reid x F!Reader
Warnings: (18+ Content) Typical smut except heavier? and Spencer being a perv/slightly unhinged while being horny lol. Slight degrading. Descriptions of fingering, handjob, and unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before ya tap it). Public sex like damn get a room.
A/N: lord…….first ever fic. i think i might’ve blacked out with this. read my other fics here
Glistening sweat formed a thin line above your hairline, a few drops slowly running down the nape of your neck.
The heaving of your chest as you wiped the remaining sweat off your face. Still in need of a dip in the newly installed hot tub that was just emplaced at your apartment complex. Your body bruised and aching from how intense the workout you had just finished was.
A shade of purple and blue spots aligned various spots on your body. Some held a greener tint due to the start of healing. You hated the look, but nonetheless, you were one of the strongest agents on the team. Therefore, you got beat up pretty badly trying to take down different unsubs at times.
Slipping on a your favorite bikini, the fabric was snug accentuating your curves. A towel in one hand while another held a water. Closing the door to your room, making way towards the other side of the apartments. It was late at night, nearly one o’clock. You knew everyone else was bound to be asleep or at the very most, doing their own thing.
At least that’s what you hoped.
Sliding the back gate shut before passing the in-ground pool that had also been splurged on by your landlord. The cool marble of the backyard patio on your feet with every step. Only to halt at the sight of someone else in the hudson bay spa.
His chocolate brown eyes turning at the sound of your footsteps, his attention now all on you. Arms rested on the tub’s edge like an eagle spreading its wings to fly. The muscles in his biceps visible, a few veins poking out as well. Your eyes dropped down to his chest, strong pecks on full display. The dips in his broad shoulders giving away the idea that although he was lean, he was fit and worked out quite frequently.
“I thought I was the only one awake during this hour,” The sound of his velvety-voice snapped you from drinking him in. His eyes still completely on you.
Your cheeks heated up, a faint blush painting them red with embarrassment. Mentally kicking yourself for gawking at the man in front of you, not only was he your undeniably hot next-door neighbor, but your nerdy and charming co-worker at the BAU as well.
Spencer continued, “you can join me, if you want. Hot tubs like this one are made for two people. And they actually have a lot of health benefits like reducing stress, improving quality of sleep, and relieving pain….which can help with healing your bruises quickly.” The water lightly splashing around him as he talked with his hands, again over sharing.
You nodded, smiling lightly at him. Placing your towel and water bottle down before nearing towards the tub. Carefully sinking down into the water, the heat instantly burning your skin. Sighing in content. You leaned against the back wall. The scorching temperature numbing the ache in your exhausted limbs.
Opening your eyes to make instant eye contact with the man in front of you. A smirk pulled his lip, relaxing further back into the tub with a puff in the chest. Pushing his pecks further out, the defined lines of his abs peaking beneath the water.
“You still haven’t spoke a word to me. Are you enjoying yourself honey?,” He spoke after a moment of silence between you two. Nearly choking at the weak use of a pet name he used for you.
Eyes slowly dropping to admire your chest, the cups of your top pushing them slightly hire. A sight that secretly always drove Spencer nearly to the edge.
Clearing your throat at the sight of his chest slowly rising up and down with a trickle of sweat running down, “Yes, the water actually feels very nice.”
“It feels very nice,” his voice slightly mocking yours, “I like the heat…against my thighs,” His voice suggestive, dripping in lust.
Your breathe hitched at his flirty remark. Clenching your thighs together in need, forcing yourself not to drop your eyes any further. Noticing his damp curls sticking to his forehead with droplets of sweat forming. Every bone in your body fighting to run your fingers through his dark colored hair.
You guys were always close, dare to be nothing more than best friends at and outside of work — and unfortunately in this case, neighbors at the same apartment complex. Yet, the sexual tension that had been building between you two these past few weeks was inevitable. It started with lingering glances during briefings, he would look at you like he wanted to devour every inch of you. You thought you were overreacting at first until Penelope…and Derek had pointed it out. Noting that the chemistry the two of you had shared was gradually getting deeper. Spencer always yearning to be close to you, sneaking touches here and there. Whether it be a light hand on your thigh as you glanced over crime scene photos, or the way his hand would sometimes slowly travel down the curve of your back. You knew there was something there, you just weren’t sure….who would make a move first.
A deep cough snapped you out of your filthy thoughts, his thick brow quirking at you. Posing a question of ‘what are you thinking?’ yet he remained silent.
Both of you scrutinizing each other, drinking in each other’s appearance. Atmosphere around you growing thick and heavy, yet all you could do was blame it on the heat. His eyes never leaving yours as you sunk further into the water. The temperature engulfing you like a warm blanket on a cold winters night.
Shutting your eyes closed, in hopes that you’d brush away the burning heat that traveled its way to your core. Along with the dirty images that flooded your mind.
The slosh of water snapping them open, Spencer’s body now right next to yours. Stiffening at his sudden move, you turned to look at him. A smirk still plastered on his face.
“Can I help you?” You asked, a bit more blunt than you intended to.
“There’s too much clothing on,” Spencer drawled.
“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened at his reply, caught off guard by the sudden surge of confidence from the one-and-only, Spencer Reid. The man who was known
“You have too much clothing on.” His eyes slipping from your face to stare at your breasts, covered in thin fabric.
“I don’t understand how exactly that’s a problem here.”
“Oh, honey…” he breathed, twirling a piece of your hair with his finger, “I see the way that you look at me. You crave intimacy but most of all, to be touched by me.”
The air knocked from your lungs at his bold statement, your chest tightened as he exposed you. Confused on how he of all people would know about your deepest desire. To be completely and utterly fucked at the hands of Spencer Reid.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you choked.
His intense gaze burning into your side, mentally forcing yourself to look anywhere but him. You needed to get out. Yet, your legs stayed mounted to the charcoal tub.
Intoxicated by his smell, a hint of cologne and cypress with every inhale you took. A staggering breathe from how close you were to the inviting man beside you.
Lips lowered to the shell of your ear. “Oh. I think you do, my love, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” The little pet name he picked out for you easily rolling off his tongue.
Closing your thighs shut, you attempted to scoot away from him. Desperate to get out before he could tantalize you any further. Hearing the snap of his finger before the material of your top disappeared along with the bottoms.
Yelping in shock, you quickly turned around. The devious look of him amused at your embarrassment.
“Relax, my sweet girl, I prefer you this way. Naked and on display, for my pure enjoyment,” he teased. Eyeing your bare breasts, nipples hardening as a slight breeze blew by.
Bubbles arose blasting at the quick speed that projected into the water. Just your luck, the jets had turned on.
Giving you slight coverage in attempt to cover your bottom half. The fast pressure massaging your muscles as you still remained in shock over what had just occurred.
You felt completely exposed to the man in front of you who held no shame.
A few bubbles had splashed up, dripping down his chin while he waited for your next move. His eyes hunting his prey like a meal in need of devouring.
The look he sent you sending electric waves to your core. A burning sensation stirred inside of you, a temperature that even the water inside of the tub could not satisfy you. The familiar ache of yearning to be touched and pleasured by a man growing by the second.
Your next words even surprising you, a surge of confidence leaving as you spoke. “Well, come fuck me then.”
Closing the distance between you two, moving each leg to straddle his lap. His fingers sliding down to grasp the side of your hips. Grinding your cunt to ease any friction against his swim trunks. A moan leaving your lips at the rough material and growth of his erection from underneath you.
Palming his clothes length, a strangled moan could be heard against your ear. Earning a smirk from you, satisfied with the reaction he gave you. He was withering under you and you both knew it.
Slowly lifting yourself up off of him, “I’m afraid that you have too much clothing on,” you whispered. Reversing the tables and mocking him this time.
Moving a hand down to tug the waistband of his swim trunks down, setting his aching cock completely free. Taking it in your hand before slowly working in a pumping motion, up and down, gripping slightly harder every time you made it to the top. Repeating the movement hastily. Gliding a thumb over his tip, beads of his pre-cum mixed with the body of water that held you two.
The water becoming a lubricant of its own, slipping through your nimble fingers with ease. Taking note of how easily your soft touch affected him. His breathe staggering with every jerk of your hand.
Spencer’s hand tugged your own. Releasing the hold you had on his cock, it was his turn. He needed to touch you.
“Allow me,” he murmured.
His lips attaching themselves to the side of your neck, hungrily sucking the sweet spot below your ear. A mixture of sweat and salt water. Moaning in approval at the magic of his tongue.
Grazing your folds, he delicately ran his fingers through them. Even with the water that submerged you two, he could feel how slick and wet you were for him. Just from his presence alone. Teasing you with one last draw of his finger before slowly dipping one inside of you, your walls welcomed his touch. Adding another digit, pumping it and out, a moan leaving you every time in a serene of pleasure.
Digit after digit. He pumped four fingers inside of you.
Moaning with every pump of his delicate fingers, getting lost in not only his touch but the feel of his lips on your skin. The slick of his fingers sliding in and out of you. Sucking the flesh of your neck to mark up your breasts with delicate kisses.
Pulling his fingers out swiftly, you whined at the absence. Suddenly feeling empty. Chuckling at your reaction, he knew how downright bad you were for him in that moment.
He had you right where he wanted you.
“Such a needy little one, you are,” Spencer crooned at you.
The bubbles stilled around your naked bodies. Your bikini and his swim trunks long forgotten, completely chucked to the side. Both of you drenched in a mix of salt water and sweat.
“Spencer….,” you cried. Your arousal still building up inside of you, the tip of the iceberg. Yet, that wasn’t the tip that you needed.
“I need you….I need you, Spencer,” you began to beg.
Feeling utterly humiliated as you pleaded for out of all people, your fucking co-worker to fuck you. Your body craved to be full of him. To feel his cock fill you up till he fully stretched you to your limit.
Reid snickered, a sense of dominance that he never knew he had coming over him, “Look at you. Begging for my cock. Is that what you want?,” his hand grazing your jaw before gripping it slightly so you could look at him, “For me to fuck you? Fill you with every inch of me until I have you screaming, pleading so that everyone knows who you belong to.”
His mocking words fired something inside of you, arousal practically dripping as it soaked your folds. Nodding eagerly, you began to grind your hips ferociously against him. A spill of ‘yes’s’ and ‘fuck me please’ coming from you.
Pulling you up from the hips, Spencer practically drooled at the sight of the water that dripped from your breasts. His mind spiraling, completely filled with the ideas and images of him fucking you until you couldn’t walk, or even better speak.
Your focus shifted from leaving kisses on the trail of his neck to centering his cock at your entrance. Gently running his shaft along your soaked folds, earning a moan from the both of you, before slowly sinking down. His girth stretching your walls leaving you to fully adjust, taking every inch of him.
A shaky breathe left your lips, never feeling this full before. “Are you okay?,” Spencer asked sincerely. Grabbing your chin, searching for any doubt in your eyes.
He knew he was above average so he gave you a moment to take him all in. You bit your lip, nodding at him.
“I’ll be fine,” you whispered. Slipping a hand behind the nape of his neck, you steadied yourself for support. Running your fingers to through the soft, damp texture of his curls.
Beginning to bounce up and down, the water sloshed around you. Your eyes never leaving his in what is now the most intimate moment you have ever had with Spencer Reid.
“Fuuuuckk…Spence, you’re so big,” you panted.
Your praises fueling his ego, boosting him with pride.
Spencer thrusted beneath you aiding you both to reach your climax. The tip of his cock piercing your cervix with every bounce from you and thrust the he made.
His grunts and moans filling your ears, a mix of your own joining with him. If nobody could hear you before, they definitely could now. Both of you too lost in the pleasure of ravishing each other to care about all your neighbors and people down the street who could hear.
Up and down, you continued to bounce on top of him. You were never a huge fan of riding but suddenly with him, it was the best thing in the world. Your breasts at his eye level while he looked up at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and you are.
His hand fell down to circle your clit. Adding another source of stimulation to your nearing climax.
“Come on, sweet girl….don’t be shy. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, let’s put on a whole show,” he coaxed in your ear.
Quickly pulling out his dick before turning you to face the wall. You clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling the scream that had just erupted from you. The sudden change in position hitting a different angle, a different spot than before. Your chest was flushed up against the wall of the hot tub as Spencer pounded into you from behind. His attempts at getting you to be more vocal succeeding as your pleasure was heard for the whole world to witness.
Moan after moan, shout after shout, the spews of you telling him to go harder and how big his dick was, you cried after each thrust. Each one hitting harder than the last. Tears spilled out of your eyes at the brutal force that Spencer used to help you reach your climax.
Fuck, he heard you tell the girls how you liked it rough.
“You feel so good, taking all of me like this. The good girl that you are,” Spencer praised. Wrapping a fist full of your hair around his wrist. Tugging it ever so slightly which earned another moan from you in return.
Water splashed with every hurried rock of his hips against the flesh of your skin. His heavy balls slamming against your ass, destined to create even more bruising from the grip he had on you.
The sound of waves crashing around you drowned out by the heavy pants and whimpering moans that left both of you.
“My pretty girl,” you felt yourself tighten around him, “Is that right? You’re my pretty girl, you look so beautiful filled with my cock.” He moaned.
Thrust after thrust, his dick disappeared inside of you. Pulling out just before the tip only to slam right back in. It was rough and you knew tomorrow you’d wake up bed bound but damn, it was worth it. Your body jerking every time he forced himself back in while you gripped onto the ledge for dear life. His sweet praises, compliments, and slight taunts tipping you over the edge.
“F..fuck..Spence, I’m gonna…I need to cum,” you panted.
Your stomach tightened, knowing you were almost close and he was nowhere near from slowing down.
“I know, sweet girl, I can feel you,” he rasped. His own stomach coiling from the rapidity of his movements.
He placed a kiss on top of your shoulder blade. “Where…where do you want me to cum?” He panted.
Turning your head to look back at him, his dark curls framed his face. His face contorted in sweet pleasure, heavenly moans leaving his lips at the same time. Your walls clenching even harder around him at the scene of him pussy drunk over you.
“Inside. Cum…I want you to cum inside of me,” you managed to get out. Feeling drunk over his cock as well.
Spencer deeply inhaled, feeling his cock twitch aggressively as he coursed you with every thrust to cum. Screams and moans could be heard from the both of you, as his head fell onto your shoulder. Both of you chasing out a high that you had never felt before.
After performing a couple more lousy thrusts, Spencer rested his head on you. His chocolate curls laying to fall on your shoulder, feeling his chest fall up and down behind you. Your own vision falling blurry at what you could now say was the best sex of your life.
A mixture of both of your cum slowly slid down your leg, his length still buried deep inside of you.
“That was….,” he breathed.
“Amazing,” you finished the sentence for him.
Earning a laugh from the both of you. Spencer slowly pulled out of you causing you to wince, “I’m sorry,” he kissed your forehead.
You turned around placing yourself back on his lap, moving to snake your hands around his neck. “It’s okay, I like this side of you,” you smiled at him.
Both of you exhausted yet still relishing in the presence of each other. His hands rubbing in a circular motion on your hips.
“You know I’ve thought about this for so long,” Reid admitted.
“What? Fucking me in a hot tub outside of our apartment complex,” you teased. Splashing him lightly with the water, watching it glisten and hit his chest.
“No,” he laughed, shaking his head as he continued to stare at you. A look that he had never given you before.
“Turning our friendship into something more than just being friends. You know since we first joined the BAU, I always had this thing for you. Everything about you was just so…so magnetic and captivating. There was just somethin-“
You cut him off, babbling and over explaining being a bad yet adorable habit of his. Closing the small gap that was between you, connecting your lips with his as you finally gave him a true and passionate kiss.
Leaning back you took him all in, “It’s a date. Tomorrow, we can head to the coffee shop that you love down the street before work.” This would be the start of something new.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x y/n#dr reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x you#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x f!reader
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my keys hit the floor with a dulled clang. The thing had come back.
on and off for about two weeks, the thing had shown up in various places around Gerald's property. Sometimes it moved while Gerald watched. Sometimes it stayed still. Sometimes it was looking at Gerald, sometimes not. But it was always silent, and it had never brought a bag of doughnuts before.
"did you... take this from someone?"
Silence.
Gerald, knowing by now the creature wasnt too interested in hurting him but feeling anxious all the same, shuffled towards the bag, careful to keep himself faced so he could bolt the other way.
When he met the bag, it was behind him. he fumbled to reach around himself while the thing just stared with its two tiny beads that must have been eyes.
After finding a grip on the bag and swinging it around to his front, he peered inside for just an instant. he let persistence of vision tell him what was inside, but when his brain just said 'regular doughnuts' in response, he had to look back down.
The smell hit him that exact moment. They were fresh, and Very good-looking.
"I-is this for me? Are you-" he pointed at the thing for emphasis, "giving this-" then the bag, "to me?" then he pointed at himself.
Silence. No movement.
He put the bag down carefully on the counter and after several moments where nothing happened at all, he began inching back out of the kitchen. He noticed his keys and knelt to grab them. Then after many agonizing moments, he stood in the doorway feeling something slowly approaching safety.
Then too loudly, he declared "IM GOING TO LEAVE."
Silence.
"If it isnt too much to ask, I would very much like to have my house empty when I come back. Ive had a long day of work, you see. I would like to sleep. Alone. In an empty house."
Silence.
He scuttered through his living room and out the front door, and he must have gone back five times to lock and unlock the door, one time even leaving it ajar. He didnt know how else to encourage the thing to leave. Eventually, he decided to leave it unlocked and just barely ajar.
The drive to the store felt like a slow unwinding of tension. He knew he'd have to wait several hours for it to leave. Waiting and hoping usually ended up being sufficient. When he got to the convenience store, he could tell the attendant noticed he was shaken. He gave the girl a quick nod and a smile. She looked at him with minor disdain and confusion. Typical teenagers, he assured himself.
He focused on what treats he'd get himself to reward himself for being so brave. You have to do that, he told himself. Otherwise the world is just one sadness after another until you're dead. He eventually decided on a couple candy bars, a thing of good beef jerky, and a chocolate milk.
Just as he was grabbing the milk, he heard a door far on the other side of the store slam. He jumped, but figured he'd about it ask when he got up to the counter. Sure enough, the counter was completely vacant when he got up there. He looked around after a few moments, imagining that the teen had probably gone to restock something. He looked at her security camera screen to help himself out, but as he was doing so, his mind's eye noticed something over the top of the screen.
He focused in, and found himself starring out the windows of the store directly at where he'd parked his car. There the thing stood next to the passenger side of the car's hood. And on the hood; that same bag of doughnuts.
Doesn’t even have hands to wash
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{ 10 } Don't belong here. ✧. ┊ s.jinwoo x isekai!fem!reader. notes: angst.
As a fan of Solo leveling, you can't help but wish that you could go to Jinwoo's world and have a love story with him.
You've read hundreds of Jinwoo x reader stories and wondered when you'd get to do that.
And maybe the heavens didn't disappoint your wish, you got the chance to go to Jinwoo's world.
You're in a dream, you think. Because as soon as you lay down and closed your eyes to sleep, you arrived here, a pitch-black space. An entity that calls itself the Architect asks if you want to come help Jinwoo overcome his difficulties.
You immediately agree and then the world spins.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
ANNOUNCEMENT:
WELCOME TO THE WORLD OF SOLO LEVELING.
YOU ARE CHOSEN TO BE JINWOO'S GUARDIAN ANGEL
[ ACCEPT ] [ DECLINE ]
You are taken to a strange room and a message board appears in front of you. You feel your cheeks heat up and a thrill rushes through your body.
You click accept and then another message appears.
SYSTEM:
YOU HAVE ACCEPTED THE GUARDIAN ANGEL JOB.
TASK: ASSIST THE PLAYER IN COMPLETING QUESTS. THE PLAYER IS YOUR NEIGHBOR, HE IS ONLY LEVEL 2, SUPPORT HIM.
Jinwoo is your neightbor!? Feel like a dream come true!
You quickly accept the mission and can't stop dreaming about the time after.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
You made some cakes and went to Jinwoo's house, announcing that you were the new neighbor and asked his family to help more.
Standing in front of Jinwoo, you had to hold back from screaming and hugging him. He was so handsome! Much more handsome than in the pictures! Your heart was racing.
You quickly became friends with Jinah and Jinwoo. Then gradually became close friends. You were there for him through his toughest times, comforting him when he was feeling miserable. Helping him take care of Jinah when he was away and even paying his rent. Your concern touched Jinwoo's heart. The best part was that Jinwoo confessed to you and the two of you became lovers. You also met the shadow soldiers.
So your dream came true. You didn't expect this day to come to you. You were so happy!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
But things have been strange lately.
You know that a big battle is coming, and Jinwoo is getting busier and busier. But these days, he always leaves early and comes home late, and you two rarely talk to each other. Your relationship is gradually becoming cold.
You notice that Jinwoo is getting closer and closer to Cha Haein, he talks to her more than you - his girlfriend. That makes you very sad and upset. Then the two of you have a big fight.
"Can you not be unreasonably jealous? She and I are just colleagues and we are protecting this world together!"
"You don't understand! I'm your girlfriend! But you talk to her more than me. Don't you think about how I feel?"
"So how do you think I feel? You just get jealous and yell at me. Can you help me? I'm tired from work and now I have to deal with your anger."
"If I'm such a nuisance to you, why don't you just break up with me!?"
"Fine! She's better than you, you're useless!"
He got angry and walked out and slammed the door, leaving you with a jumble of emotions. You collapsed on the floor and burst into tears.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
He texted you an apology afterwards and you forgave him.
But he still didn't come home for weeks.
You could only hide in your house and hold on to your sadness. One day you watched the news on TV and saw Jinwoo standing next to Haein, his arm around her shoulder, looking very intimate.
You were angry and wanted to call Jinwoo to question him, but then you held back.
They really looked...like a perfect match. A handsome man and a beautiful woman, both of them were S-rank hunters, unlike you, you were just a normal person.
Moreover, the way he looked at her was very different from the way he looked at you. It looked full of light and joy.
Tears streamed down your cheeks.
Suddenly the system screen appeared before your eyes.
SYSTEM:
GUARDIAN ANGEL'S MISSION HAS BEEN COMPLETED. DO YOU WANT TO RETURN TO YOUR WORLD?
[ ACCEPT ] [ DECLINE ]
You jumped up.
"Wait, why do I have to go back? What do you mean mission accomplished?"
SYSTEM:
YOU HAVE HELPED THE PLAYER LEVEL UP SIGNIFICANTLY. NOW THAT THE PLAYER HAS FOUND HIS DESTINED PERSON, YOUR JOB IS DONE.
"What do you mean by destined person? I'm Jinwoo's lover!"
SYSTEM:
- [NAME] YOU SHOULD REMEMBER YOU DO NOT BELONG TO THIS WORLD. THE STORY WILL NOT CHANGE SIGNIFICANTLY, YOUR MISSION IS ONLY TO HELP THE PLAYER LEVEL UP FASTER.
- NOW THE PLAYER HAS FOUND THE DESTINY PERSON, YOU SHOULD GO BACK.
Reality hits you hard in the head. That's right. You're just an outsider. In the story, the person who accompanies Jinwoo to the end of his life is Cha Haein. You…are nothing.
You burst out laughing, tears streaming down your cheeks.
You don't belong here, Jinwoo isn't for you, you're just a nuisance to him.
You looked at Jinwoo's image on the TV screen. You smiled gently, your eyes lingering.
"I return the person I love the most to her, I wish the person I love a peaceful life.."
You returned to the system screen, before clicking accept, you requested.
"Before I go, please erase everyone's memories of me here, so that I can leave peacefully without any lingering memories."
[ … ]
[ OKAY ].
A golden light enveloped you, a few seconds later, everything returned to normal. From now on, the world of Solo Leveling no longer had anyone named [Name], and no one remembered [Name] anymore.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
In a hotel room somewhere in the United States, Jinwoo woke up, his heart pounding. Anxiety enveloped him, his heart ached and there was a void. He felt like he had just lost something very important.
He touched his cheek, feeling it wet. Had he just cried?
The shadow soldiers seemed to sense the unstable emotions of their master, Beru, appearing.
"My Liege, did something happen?"
Jinwoo shook his head and lay back down on the bed.
What you didn't know was that the system had lost control of Jinwoo. So, everyone else might have lost their memories of you, but Jinwoo and his shadow soldiers didn't.
Jinwoo opened his phone, the lock screen was a picture of you and him taking a selfie with a silly cat ear filter. He smiled and told himself, he would come back to you soon and apologize properly to you. He missed you so much. He will come back with fresh flowers and your favorite things, and you two will be happy again.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
"What do you mean? You don't know anyone named [Name]? Jinah, she's my girlfriend, she's my neighbor, and we're even really close!?"
"Oppa, what's wrong with you? I really don't know anyone named [Name], or are you secretly in love and mistaken!?"
Jinwoo looked at Jinah with an expression of disbelief. He had just returned not long ago and immediately went to look for you, but when he arrived at your apartment, you were not there, instead there was another stranger.
He called you, but only received a message that the phone number did not exist. He felt worried and immediately went to look for Jinah. He also ordered his soldiers to disperse and look for you.
But the strange thing was that it seemed that besides him, no one remembered you. Every trace of you disappeared as if you had never existed. As if you were just a dream that he imagined.
Jinwoo's eyes burned, his throat tightened, and his heart clenched. He should have known something bad had happened since that night. And now you were gone, the person he loved was gone.
Jinwoo punched the wall hard. His eyes were filled with anger.
“Search again. Bring back the living, and find the dead!”
He ordered his soldiers again. The shadow soldiers could only look at him with pity but obeyed his orders. They knew they couldn’t say anything to him right now, they wanted to say that you really disappeared, if you were still here they would definitely have found you.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Jinwoo sat down on the floor of his room. His hands covered his face and his eyes were red, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He still couldn't find you. He felt hopeless. Where were you? Where was his angel?
He was angry at you for disappearing without a word. He was angry at you for leaving him in pain like this.
But he was more angry at himself. He shouldn't have said those words. He should have apologized properly from the beginning. No. He shouldn't have said those words from the beginning, he shouldn't have let his anger take over him like that. He felt regretful, if he hadn't said those words, if he had stayed away from Cha Haein, if he had understood your feelings, would you not have left?
He was afraid, afraid that you were just someone he imagined, but the memories seemed so real, and the picture of the two of you was still in his phone.
Where are you? He misses you so much.
"Come back please...I love you, don't leave me, [Name]...I'm sorry.."
But it's too late...
Part 2?
Lol don't know if I should write part 2. Maybe yes maybe no.
#dream.✧˖*°࿐#leona.star#solo leveling#sung jin woo#sung jinwoo x reader#solo leveling x reader#sung jinwoo#sungjinwoo#sung jinwoo x y/n#sung jinwoo x you
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blood of a prey ⸻ Fushiguro Toji.
cw: mention of animal blood, fem oriented reader, penetrative sex, ambiguous anatomy, she/her pronouns, outdoor sex, just sweet mutual pining and fluffy smut, kind of your forbidden love, third person pronouns.
Emperor Toji often hunted alone. Be it that he didn't really grow up with a herd of people following him around praising his inadequate skills and pandering to him, or maybe because he was too used to scavenging and gathering some food for himself as well as the kids he grew up with, all by himself. It was always a competition, finder’s keepers. So it was easier to hunt by himself.
But after one point in his life, he never denied the company of one person, in fact it was mandatory to have you—his grand chancellor—with him at all times. Especially when he's out on a hunt to amuse himself. He never understood why the royals did that but as the current ruling emperor of the region he understands the need to go out deep into the woods with none but his wisest and most trusted.
So here he was galloping into the woods on his black horse, around the area where one would often sight a boar. With you on his tow, on a contrasting white horse. You two have always been two different pieces of the puzzle who complete each other, and the entire picture.
Toji spots a boar in the distance sipping on some water from a pond, and he tugs on his reins to get his horse to run faster. You notice him quickening his pace and match his movements by tightening the grip on your horse's reins. By the time you catch up to him he has already struck down the boar with his arrow from about 20 feet away. If that is not impressive I do not know what is.
“That was an incredible target, your majesty.” you say with a calm demeanor. You were never known for your affective responses, though you have come to realize more emotions in the years you have known the current majesty himself. You have lost your temper on him about countless times, spent nights with anguish— drowning in worries about the kingdom and him. You have also found a reservoir in your physical pleasure and needs. You have noticed a little ball of tension forming in your abdomen and chest over miniscule actions performed by the emperor.
Sometimes Toji would be aware of it. Other times it would a the most predictable course of action for him to comprehend what the he is making you feel— my goodness, viz; how right now he jumped off his horse which he stopped by the, now fallen boar, and goes up to it to pick it up on his shoulder, and getting some blood smeared across his face in that process.
“Do you think we should go over the slum reform plans once more tonight? I was not really satisfied with what was presented to us. Hmm?” He continues their conversation before the boar sighting, as if this was the most normal course of happenings.
And yet stood there eyes a little wide, mouth open agape, shivers running on your skin, and a familiar unidentifiable knot is back in the pits of your stomach with the accompanying tightening around your thorax. It was as if you could not take your eyes off his green irises or the animal blood smeared across his cheeks. It really contrasted, yet simplified who he was— a brutish man with no regards for the royalty he possessed, but only what he could make of it.
“Y/n?” He calls your name out to pull you out of that unresponsive trance.
“Yes, your majesty?” You respond a second too late from your usual reactivity, getting out of your trance with a final gulp to swallow down the desires ascending.
“Well like I was saying, I did not like foreign minister's proposal,I mean I never found the guy to be that interested in any internal affairs to begin with.” He moves to put the dead boar on the back of his horse, with ease of one of his hands, and the other going to rub off the blood on his face with the hilt of his hand, then pushing back his hair— which only just smeared the blood further across his face, all around the scar at the right corner of his lips .
You were back in your trance watching him move around effortlessly while his eyes landed on a singular firefly flying over both your heads. The sun had already set, it wouldn't be difficult to notice a firefly in the orange to dark transitioning dusky sky— what was scarce was the firefly itself. It has been a while since anyone has sighted a firefly roaming around. So he puts the boar on his horse's back and ties both of your rides to the nearest tree then grabs a hold of your hand to pull you towards the direction of the firefly’s path.
“Those are-” you find yourself in awe of the sight before you. Hundreds, nay, thousands of fireflies gathered in a sparkle.
“Fireflies huh.” He quipped beside you, his face breaking into a smile at the sight of a sparkle.
“It has been a while since I last saw so many fireflies together.” He somberly says, with his eyes still trained on the fireflies.
“In fact, it has been a fat while since I last saw even one firefly, I used to catch them all the time you know.” he looks over at you now, though you have never been one to speak without reason, you've never held back from speaking freely in his presence —even at times when you try to hold back, you've never been able to. And when he looks at you, thinking you might be in awe of the sight to look away and reply to him, he finds your eyes in fact, halted, in his direction.
“What is it? Are you alright? It has been a while since we ate, hasn't it? And it's nighttime already, are you cold or-” he never finished that sentence— as you leaned in towards him, your eyes looking into his eyes, a little glazed and unfocused even.
He was probably expecting a kiss, at most, but he never in his life would have guessed what you did next— you held the clean side of his face with one hand, placed the other on his collar and pulled him in. Then close the gap between you two to only just graze your lips against him, to move up to his cheeks and give the blood smeared across his face a big stripe of lick. Followed by a few kitten licks to clean it all up.
And all he could do, shut up and adhere, for once.
The sparkle of fireflies swarmed the pond. The luminescent bugs mingled and brightened the forest along with the stars and the moon.
All the while the ruler of the lands encompassing the forest and the vast beyond, had his most entrusted advisor— who is second to none but him — sat atop his lap, letting him indulge his nation’s grand chancellor as he pleased. With his lips engulfing the broad expanse of her decolletage and going back and forth between her lips and the span of her neck. Minding not to leave any visible marks, to not have his grand chancellor later present him with an agitated lecture. As much as he may enjoy the sight of that, he will refrain for now.
“Your majesty- please move along, more.” the advisor pleads.
“Goodness doll, have some patients.” he simply smirks beneath her as he replies.
“I have had enough.” she deadpans, determined and starts moving her hips, to create friction where they are connected.
Toji winces at the stretch around his cock, unable to hold back the moan and the urge to ram himself upwards. He let her momentarily take the lead of the course. It is only when she collapses on his clothed chest, well barely really— he was adorned in breezy black cotton button up shirt, showing off the huge expanse of his chest and collar bones— they were both still fully clothed, with the exception of his pantaloons being tucked down to accommodate his penis, while the advisor’s bottom half of the garments were all gone— the buttons were ripped off her trousers, her vest long gone into pieces of shreds, the poor button down shit hanging onto her shoulder by one remaining buttoned hole in the middle of her shirt.
She throws her head back at a particular stretch down there and, the emperor finally loses it all, seeing his auxiliary fall apart on his cock barely holding oneself up by digging her nails into his bare shoulder— he tightens the grip around her waist and buttocks, letting himself mark her, only where no one but he can see. And he gives into his bodily and romantic desires, as he plunges himself deeper.
“I - I sometimes look at you. And, and i just come over with- ” she sighs then continues. “ with these desires. Desires which are not explicable, and it tightens up my thorax and gut” she stops to heave out a moan and continues this time with her forehead on his, looking back into each other’s pupils. “Your, majesty.” she whispers.
“Yes doll” he looks into her eyes as if she holds the key to all the answers in the universe, and to him, the minister might as well.
“Those are the times when you feel, more than ever, out of my grasp. Do you ever feel similarly?” with those last questions she gives up, and gives into her own pleasures aided by him.
“I never feel that.” he gives out a dry response. Making her turn her head to the side on his shoulder, to observe his face, eyes glazed, both arms limp to her side.
“Because there is no moment I am not consumed by your existence, never, since the day you told me you belong to me over the throne. I know you by your scent alone. ” he confided into the crook of her neck, holding onto her limp body while he chased his own pleasure.
“And there is no moment where I do not feel, as if you are slipping out of my fingers, despite your claims.” he confesses as he releases within your core. These fleeting moments are where he feels as if you are never quite in his grasp, at least not in a manner he would prefer.
a/n: dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/omi-resources. header from jjk manga. i keep writing about blood dude wtf is going awnnn. have fun reading<3 i edited as much as i could last night so there still might be mistakes sowwy :(
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DEATHBED | PART TWO
( HE'S NO DEADBEAT : NANAMI KENTO ) nanami believed he raised his son well, only for him to turn into a deadbeat right in front of his eyes. don't worry, he'll make it up to you. | watch time: 3.8k words.
── gilf!nanami & fem-bodied!reader, she/her pronouns, single mother!reader, adopted grandfather!nanami, deadbeat!yuuji itadori, high age gap, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, multiple (2) orgasms, creampie, pussyjob, etc.
note. i am going so feral over my own series. like,,, i want to gnaw on the skin of gilf nanami so bad !
“I just don’t understand,” Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he throws his head back in the stress of all this. “You told me a couple of months ago that you love the girl. Now, you’re going back on your word the moment the child’s born? This is not the man I raised you to be.”
“Yeah, well,” Yuuji mumbles on the other line. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, but I just— I don’t think I’m cut out to be a father. I didn’t— I didn’t—”
“You didn’t realize how much responsibility it would be?” Nanami finishes for him. “How old are you again? I thought we were over this conversation the moment you left for college.”
“Why are you giving me so much shit?” Yuuji groans, voice getting more agitated the more his adopted father continues to chastise him. “(Y/N) and I had already had a discussion about things and I would financially provide for the child. That should be enough.”
“That should be enough?” Nanami scoffed, baffled by the words of the pink-haired fool on the other line. He could tell that Yuuji was still naive and idiotic to think that money would be the only thing that you needed to provide for a child all on your own. “What about doctor appointments? Emergencies at school and (Y/N) having to call off work to get them— did you consider instances like that? One person isn’t supposed to juggle the job of two.”
“I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine,” Yuuji hums. “You’ve done it with me—”
Nanami couldn’t take anymore of it, pulling the phone from his ears and immediately clicking on the red button to end the call. With a sigh, he brings himself out of the kitchen and towards the leather recliner that’s starting to fade. The burnt umber starting to dull in its color and having more of an orange hue to it. Relaxing in the seat as he leans back, he shuts his eyes. Over the years, he’s finally gotten a chance to relax. Slaving away in an office for hours and hours nearly everyday and coming home to provide for a young Yuuji, it’s brought a toll on his body. Gradually letting himself go, his stomach has grown a bit more pudge to it and the blond of his hair has completely dissipated to white.
When Yuuji had found you, bringing you home to meet his father, he was happy for his son. You were such a sweet person who managed to handle Yuuji’s outgoing nature. You were someone who could provide him stability, something that Yuuji was in dire need of. However, Nanami should’ve seen this coming when the two of you had been together for ten years and he never mentioned the idea of dropping down to one knee.
“Fuck,” Nanami curses as he rubs circles into the temples of his forehead. He thought that at some point Yuuji would get it. That he’s no longer a child and has responsibilities to tend to. But instead, he’s still running from adulthood instead of embracing it, coming to terms with it, and stop solely feeding into his inner child. Though it could be a gruesome thing, aging did have its perks. It was sad to see that his son didn’t seem to find that within you and his son.
He wondered how you were doing. How you truly were doing. Reaching for his phone, he had never called you so periodically before. However, when he heard that you were pregnant, he wanted to be a present grandfather. But when he heard how Yuuji had broken your heart after so many years together, he felt ashamed to have ties with the younger lad.
Last contacted: Two Weeks Ago.
With a heavy sigh, he presses the call button and waits. He’s expecting you to decline the call but after four rings, your voice— soft— sounds from the other line. “Hello? Nanami?”
“Hello, (Y/N). How’ve you been?”
—
You’re a very eclectic person. That’s what Nanami has learned about you from over the years. When you and Yuuji moved in together, you had taken over all aspects of interior design, having a more maximalist approach to things as countertops were littered with drinkets and pieces that were so vibrant and full of color. He couldn’t tell what your style was— bohemian chic with a mixture of rustic and historical? You mismatched a lot of things, but they always seemed to be coordinated in some sort of way. In the end, your home was an organized chaos that he’s come to admire.
However, as he sits down on your couch, half of those decoratives and staples to your home are gone. Packed away in boxes as you’re ready to raise a child. Conversations between the two of you were short and brief, that light in your eye that he’s so accustomed to is starting to blow out and he can’t help but feel guilty for the role he has to play in this.
“How’ve you been holding up, (Y/N)?” He asks out of the blue. “And be truthful with me. Don’t worry about me relaying the message back to Yuuji because I’m not— if that’s what you’re worried about.”
For the first time in the two hours he’s been here, you chuckle. The newborn laying on your chest as you rock your little boy to sleep, you shake your head as the corner of your lips rise. “I’m not worried about that, trust me. I’m just trying to think about that as much as possible, to be honest. It’s been a rough couple of days. With postpartum and everything, it’s taking a toll on me while I’m trying to keep it together.”
“Has he been sleeping well?” Nanami gestures to the baby. “If you need any help with him, you know I’ll be here as much as I possibly can.”
“You know,” you hum. “He’s really not that bad. I don’t want to jinx it, but he’s been good at night. The days, too. He’s been easy so far.”
“Probably because he can detect what you’re going through,” he lets out the comment absentmindedly before clearing his throat. “It’s good that he’s not giving you much trouble though. All you need is easy right now.”
By the fourth hour, Nanami removed himself from your home. Seeing him out, you were about to shut the door when he stopped abruptly. “And I mean it, (Y/N). Call me if you ever need help. Don’t try to do everything on your own. I’ll be there for you as much as I possibly can.”
Your eyes glisten with tears as you nod. “Thanks, Nanami. I really appreciate that.”
—
Nanami had taken the initiative to do what Yuuji couldn’t. Making regular visits to you to spend time with you and help with the baby as much as he can. Months passed by and gradually you were forgetting about Yuuji. Even with Nanami in your presence, you no longer cared about the guy you had been with for ten years as the older man seemed to be filling this void inside of you as you didn’t feel alone. And when Yuuji would call, you’d always keep conversation short as your voice gained a bit more pep and you were able to get more decent amounts of sleep.
There was something stirring inside of you when Nanami was around. It was like he made the sun shine brighter.
Was this right— to be on the verge of developing plausible feelings for your son’s grandfather, your ex’s father? Adopted father, your brain corrected. Nonetheless, Nanami raised Yuuji as if he was his own. Were you just trying to fill that hollow void inside of you that was yearning for connection?
You loved Yuuji. He was childish and didn’t want to hold any responsibility, oftentimes making you do the brunt of things. Truthfully, you shouldn’t have stayed so long. But, you loved him. His childishness made you smile, his want for fun made the days go faster. However, you ended up getting the short end of the stick because of his ways. But still, you loved Yuuji.
Nanami was a tie to Yuuji. And whatever that was going on in your mind was still tied down to Yuuji.
The pipe was running for far too long that it called for Nanami’s attention. Stepping inside of the kitchen, he stands behind you and reaches to turn off the pipe. He looks down at you when you jump, your back hitting into his chest. Making eye contact, you smile sheepishly as he looks down at you in concern. “What’s wrong?”
He doesn’t ask if there’s something wrong, he knows that something is. And in the whirlwind of your mind, you blurt, “I think it’s best if you go now.”
The immediate switch up is perplexing, catching Nanami off guard as he instinctively takes a step back. “Huh— did I do something wrong?”
“No, but— but I think it’s best if you stop your little visits,” you continue on, turning your back away from him as you grab the sponge, squirting soap on it.
“(Y/N), talk to me.”
“I don’t think I want to talk anymore.”
“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk anymore, you’re going to,” he pulls at your wrist, dragging you away from the sink. “Tell me what’s with the abrupt decisions?”
“I—I—” you groan in frustration, flinging yourself against Nanami as you pull him in for a kiss. It lasts for only a second before he’s pushing you off of him, trying to collect his thoughts and understand what just happened. Your face heats up feeling like a complete fool.
“I’m so sorry. I just— This is why you need to—” However, before you can even finish your sentence, he’s pulling you back into his embrace. The warmth of his body makes you melt as you taste his lips, fingers scrunching in the baby blue t-shirt hanging off his body. The tension from inside of you is relieved as your hand goes to drape around his neck as you let out the slightest of moans. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva following.
Nanami’s brown eyes stare into you, no longer filled with the youth of his younger days like how you’ve seen in his photo albums. However, you can see how they brighten up with you in his hold. In a low and raspy voice, “If this was what you were scared about, I would’ve assured you a long time ago that you’re safe with me.”
He plants another wet and chaste kiss on your lips, adding, “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to take care of you for the rest of the years I have.”
With your son fast asleep, the two of you become so enamoured in each other’s lust that reality slips past. Nanami’s veiny hands grip onto your hips with purpose and pull you closer into him. From the time he’s been spending with you, you’ve made him realize how much he’s missed out on companionship. How he had been so occupied with work and providing for Yuuji that he never took the chance to really connect with anyone. Aside from the occasional women and a few sporadic dates, his life was one of loneliness. Your lips are soft and full of life, transporting him back to his late twenties— blond hair and unblemished skin, green-tinted spectacles that hid his beautiful coffee-toned eyes. He was stressed out then, but imagine if he had found someone like you back then? Closer in age and held the same stupor that would make him realize his mistakes much sooner, he wouldn’t have ended up in the predicament he is in now. Kissing on a girl that’s nearly half his age, the mother of his grandson. He should feel ashamed of himself— disgusted— but his body craves this. Craves you.
You manage to guide him to your bedroom without his knowing, his mind so preoccupied that the moment you gently shut the door, he’s disoriented. The two of you have moved so seamlessly in the heat of things that it makes this all too real. But still, even when you’re sitting on the edge of the bed and he’s climbing over your body, he can’t stop himself. Lust-blown eyes that gaze into yours, he breathes heavily. “You’d willingly love an old man like me?”
“Yes,” you breathe with a faint nod. “Need someone to take care of me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah?” Nanami breathes. “You’d let an old man use this beautiful body of yours— ruin it with his old cock?”
You go to cup his face, eyes gleaming when you say, “You could never do that, Kento.”
He grounds his erection into your covered heat, pressing his lips down on yours before haughtily saying, “Oh, but I want to.”
And your eyes say it all, giving him permission as you feel the fire that ignites in between your legs. Arousal continues to build up as Nanami’s breathing gets heavier. Aging lines that protrude the skin, cheeks sucked and exhausted eyes that reflect those many years of labor. You remember the words of your ex telling you about him, speaking so highly of his father and how he worked endlessly. Yuuji always said that his father needed a break, and finally does it feel like he is. Spending leisure time buried inside of your pussy.
Nanami knows he has to be careful not to strain the bones inside of his body, knowing that one bad ache can be detrimental. However, he’s eager— way too eager to have a taste. Traversing down your body, he stops himself at the hem of your shorts. One leg on the floor with the other knee pressing into the mattress of the bed, he grabs at the elastic of it and slowly drags it down. Your hips rise up from the sheets as your thighs press together before he’s flinging the two garments down to the ground. Your body was slowly getting back to what you used to recognize it for. After going through labor, your stomach had felt like it became a deflated balloon, gaining more and more stretch marks than you originally had. When you took Nanami up on his offer to help you, he encouraged you to get out of the house as much as you can. It had helped, but you were still coming to terms with the new you.
However, with every gentle touch that Nanami places on your body, it feels like nothing has changed. The way he caresses your waist, gently tugging you down to his lips. Hands pushing at the hem of your shirt and making it rise as your stomach is exposed. The gentle kiss to your left inner thigh and the soft rub to your stomach is a simple gesture that makes sparks fly. He spreads your legs slowly, but his eyes glued on yours as his hands come to travel higher up. He’s so close to you, his breath dancing over your pussy as he mumbles, moreso to himself than to you, “God, so beautiful.”
Simple gestures and simple words that give you enough validation as you say his name, Kento. Your legs tense up before relaxing, your body beginning to jitter the more he gets so transfixed with it. It’s only for the palm of his hand to stop and relax you before spreading you open even further. “Don’t get shy on me now, love. I’ll take care of you, just like you need to be.”
The first kiss to your lips is short, a simple taste test to your nectar— you’re the finest honey he’s ever tasted. Your arousal has him addicted, pressing his nose into your clit as he inhales your scent. Intoxicating and tantalizing, he finds himself getting lost in a matter of seconds. Your body shudders, making your spine arch with the way his tongue presses down into your warmth. One hand digging into your sheets while the next knots inside of his hair, pulling at the thinning strands of his scalp. However, he couldn’t care less as he finds himself impeccably lost. Your short tugs has him moaning, a sign of encouragement for you to continue those savoury sounds as his hand goes in search for the next to guide it where it belongs.
With both of your hands tangled in what used to be blond, your legs trap him inside your heat as his arms wrap around your waist. There’s an ache settling inside of his legs, but he keeps himself still as his pink tongue prods at your folds. You’re a mewling mess as your eyes are shut and basking in this bliss. Your breathing becomes heavy as you can only think of the man making you feel so good. You gnaw on your bottom lip in hopes to ground yourself as his tongue swirls against your labia, nose nuzzling into your clit as he presses the muscle deeper and deeper within you.
Wet sounds start to seep within the air as Nanami’s not caught up for breath once as you’ve got each other locked in each other’s hold. His moans are deep and from the soul, his arms tightening around your waist as he can feel it before you can. That coil deep within your body, shortly undoing and bringing you to the brink. Arousal dressing his taste buds, your juices continue to seep out as your back arches off the bed and your fingers get tighter. “K-Ken… Kento!”
“I know,” he pulls up for a first. “And I’ve got you.”
Nanami tips you over the edge, knocking you out of breath the moment he presses a finger to your clit. A high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth as you close your eyes shut and cry out in pleasure. “Kento, ohmigosh!”
You drag out a long-winded ‘oh,’ building up pride in the older man as a smirk graces his lips as he laps up your orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your upper body falls back into the sheets and your chin points to the ceiling. Your breath is ragged as you slowly fall from your high and feel the bed shuffle. A deep groan settles from off of his chest as Nanami has to take a moment to stretch out his limbs. He reaches to pull off his shirt and undo his pants, the tight-fitted boxer briefs resting on his lower half when your eyes start to flutter open once more. Chest rising and falling, you admire the chub of the man before you.
He dropped the habit of working out in his early sixties the moment he realized the amount of strain it was putting on his body. And no longer did he care for it, not bothering to wake up in the early mornings or get ready in the evenings for it. Instead, he opted in for daily walks and called it a day. But even those had become a biweekly hobby. He was no longer sharp and strong as he used to be, but the remnants of it and the roundness of his body was more comforting than ever. Eyes lingering to the bulge inside of his undergarments, you ogled at the size of it, white hairs leading down to it. Inching towards you, he brought your attention to his face. Your glossy eyes no longer transfixed on the length hiding under the elastic cloth as he inched down to you. One hand cupping your face as he breathes heavily, giving you a once over.
“My son,” he starts before clearing his throat. “My son never knew how to handle a woman like you.”
It was gradual. You didn’t know when he had managed to slip free of his underwear. “Could’ve never taken care of a woman like you.”
You didn’t know when he managed to hike your legs up over his waist, his tip kissing at your clit and making you absentmindedly shudder. “That’s why you need me.”
It isn’t until you feel the press of his cock head inching inside of your heat that you’re taken out of your trance, your mouth falling open into an ‘O’ as a whimper leaves your lips. “Only I can take care of you. Be everything my son isn’t— a man.”
“Yeah,” you agree with a meek nod, feeling the intrusion of his cock seer through you.
“Yeah?” Nanami hums, pressing deeper and deeper into you until he’s fully sheathed. His breathing staggers a bit before regaining control. “I’m the only man you need. The only man that can give you what you need, hm?”
“Yes, Kento,” you whine and whimper, feeling how he pauses to get you acclimated. “I only need you. You’re perfect for me.”
One more chaste kiss before he’s pulling out of you, the head prodding at your entrance. A thought he’s unaware he’s said out loud, And you’re perfect for me.
His length is thick and stretches open your walls, making you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt with any of your past partners. His hips don’t move with that same motion he had in his younger years. No longer languid movements, but growing rougher in age. Each thrust is calculated and hard against your pussy. His deep groans and grunts make your mind spiral and your eyes constantly flutter as each sound spills from his mouth. At some point, he comes to hold your face and does nothing else. A small and simple gesture that makes you melt into him.
Your pussy, while used, sucks him up in a tight grip that doesn’t make him want to ever leave it. He finds himself stuck at the thought of leaving the sweetness that it is, your cunt a gift to him from heavens themself. Your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into his fragile skin and sure to bruise as your legs tense up around him, his eyes flutter shut. “Gosh, it’s like your pussy was made for me to enjoy.”
And when he brings you to orgasm, you entrap him with your legs and call for his release as well. You milk of what he’s worth, letting him empty himself out into you without any concerns of the repercussions. You let out high-pitched mewls and moans when he rolls to the other side of the bed, having to take a moment to catch his breath. However, with your body running ablaze, a heat still sparked inside of you, you tiredly move yourself to hover over his frame and catch him off guard. “Wha— What are you doing?”
“I need more of you.” The tip of his cock still leaking his seed and your pussy dripping of your intermingled cum, you press your cunt against his length. Grinding yourself against his softening length in hopes to liven him up again, you watch as he chuckles exhaustedly. “A pretty thing like you will surely lead me to my deathbed.”
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I wanted to talk a bit more about my original stories this year and, maybe, who knows, finish one or two - 'cause I always wanted to do that T-T
This post reminded me of one of the stories I had I liked most and I only wrote a few couple of lost scenes here and there (plot down the cut!)
But it's called "Tea House" so far and, basically: super tall weird guy with long black hair down to his waist owns a Tea House with books and whimsical treats like the ones in the pic which he prepares every single day and as customers go in, they don't order anything because he knows what they need.
Guy has a tiny pet owl who wears huge glasses and scolds him all day 'cause he is aloof and slow and chill and she "has to keep things in order", but he's the only one who can hear the owl. He also has tons of books which anyone can read - but no one can touch the tea kettles and tea brews kept in a special place.
People aren't really sure what he is, but some think he is an entity of some sort. He seems to be completely unfazed by the world and weirdly healing to every and any ailments his clients seem to have - the power of TEA.
Things turn a little more strange one day when a woman goes in and can see other customers - from eras different from her own - and she can hear the guy's owl speaking which freaks the poor pet out. When checking on her to divine which tea she needs, the guy freezes with fear: her eyes have a dying universe in them, with void taking over.
I'm still working on it and, to be honest, I stopped writing completely. But it's close to my heart. I might pick it up someday, just because I like writing disconnected entities learning how to be human and humans who have forgotten how to feel re-learning to do that as well.
And writing this right now kinda sounds like the plot of a Ghibli movie
#polaris speaks#polaris writes#tea house#original stories#gonna keep these tags for now but yeah#you see my weird little head creates crazy stories since I was a little kid#it hasn't stopped ever since#just got weirder and weirder hahahaha#the crazy halloween fanfiction plots are only 70% of my power xD
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Simon is left to herd a drunk Nik back to the hotel room.
cw: alcohol mention, horniness.
"Do-o-on't go was-ting your emo-o-tion, lay a-all your lo-o-ve on me-e-e! Hrk, heh heh." Nik tightened his arm around Simon's shoulders as they clambered out of the taxi and Simon had to readjust quickly to avoid getting pulled back into the backseat. When he went out drinking with Johnny and Garrick, it was usually a case of scruffing them by the back of the coat and hauling them ‘round like boisterous puppies, but Nik was the same height, a few pounds heavier due to his bulk, and a damn sight more fuckin’ handsy than the two sergeants. If they got to the hotel without Nik copping a feel and Simon getting a responding boner, then the operation should be considered a success.
"Cheers, mate," Simon grunted at the cabbie, tapping his card against the outstretched machine. He paused long enough to watch the little tick flash up on the screen before shoving his wallet away. "Nik, fockin'... Put yer arm... easy, easy." Nik staggered and Simon placed a hand on his chest to keep him upright, trying not to focus on how nice his damn tits felt beneath his buttoned shirt.
They had been drinking with Mac following a long conference in Westminster. It turned out that the old man, ten years senior even to Nik, was a bad fuckin' influence because they had knocked back enough liquor between the two of them to sedate an amatuer county rugby team.
Simon and Price had sat there, watching the whole thing go down in stunned silence, clutching their pints with the same look on their faces as tourists watching a pride of lions tear apart a gazelle on the Serengeti; one part awe, one part intrigue, two parts horror. Shot after shot, pint after pint; Mac's accent becoming unintelligible and Nik slipping in and out of multiple languages like he'd completely lost track of where he was. When Nik had stood on the table to sing an off-key rendition of KISS’ ‘Made for Lovin’ You’ while pointing directly at Price, the landlord had turfed ‘em out onto the street.
The old man was taking the old-old man back to his hotel, because trying to manage Mac and Nik together was beyond the capabilities of even the greatest minds in MI6, let alone two drunk SAS officers. Divide and conquer was the order of the night.
"I still don't know what you've done-with-me... hrk, brp. A grown-up woman should never fall-so-eas-i-ly," Nik brayed, finding a hip flask from somewhere inside his bloody jacket as they ambled an uneven path to the front door. Simon promptly confiscated it, shoving it into his backpocket. Nik pouted, but soon got distracted by the star-studded sky above their heads, his expression turning wistful as he put one unsteady foot in front of the other. "'Cause everything is new, and everything is you..."
Simon managed to get them through the hotel foyer after scanning the key card, and manhandled Nik towards the lift. "You skipped a verse."
"Shtoh?" Nik hiccuped again, suddenly leaning in close and watching the side of Simon's masked face through his eyebrows. The cold tip of his nose brushed against Simon’s exposed earlobe and it sent a shiver across his shoulders, Nik’s lips and teeth so close to his hammering pulse.
Simon didn't know why he fockin' said it. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. "It's ‘I feel a kinda fear, when I don't 'ave ya near, un-sat-isfied, I skip my pride, I beg you, dear.’"
"You do not have - hrk - to beg me, lieutenant. I would drop to my knees for you at - hic - a word."
Simon shoved Nik into the lift and slapped the buttons, propping the massive arsehole against the mirror with both hands. Nik took his opportunity and placed both hands on the swell of Simon's chest with a longing little groan, palms brushing over peaked nipples as his fingertips caressed the sides. "Ty takaya goryachaya, chto u menya stoyak na stoyake."
"Nik, ya bloody pervert, ya gavaryu paruskee," Simon huffed. He didn’t push Nik’s hands away. It was too late. His jeans had pulled tight at the crotch, his hands braced on the cold glass as he leaned in so that Nik would be firmer.
Nik wriggled his eyebrows as he squeezed, ignoring the intensity of Simon's deadpan stare in favour of enjoying the feel of his body through his cotton shirt. Simon's skin exploded with goosebumps as those big hands swept over his collarbones and shoulders, before swooping down to the dips of his waist. He was thicker where Price was athletic, but damn if Nik's hands didn't made him feel... handled. When those strong fingers slid through the loops of his jeans and pulled him forward so their hips slotted together, Simon had to swallow the needy little sound building in his throat. God, fuck, Nik was hard too. It would feel so good to rut against him like a humpin’ dog—
The lift pinged and the doors slid open behind him. With great effort, he dragged Nik into the hallway towards his room. Unfortunately, Nik had decided to become even more unhelpful, one hand swooping beneath Simon's shirt to the blond scruff of his happy trail with a horny rumble that shot straight to Simon's groin, and he had to readjust so his damn chubby could find a bit of extra space down his right trouser leg.
"The things I would do to you," Nik growled into Simon's neck as Simon fumbled the key card out of his jacket.
"'Mount you just sunk I'd be surprised if you could keep it up, old man," Simon replied, shoving the door handle down with his elbow and falling across the threshold into Nik's room. In three strides, he was dumping over two hundred pounds worth of lecherous Russian onto the mattress, only for said Russian to latch on and drag him down too.
"You are so prickly, lieutenant," Nik murmured, big arms clutching Simon's face to his chest. "But such a - hrk - handsome boy."
"Nik let me ge' m' face out ya tits so I c'n get ya boots off,” Simon said, muffled by said tits and not really wanting to leave them, because Nik smelled bloody edible.
Nik let out a dramatic sigh and flopped his arms out either side, and Simon slipped away to remove his boots and jacket. His hands hesitated as they rose to Nik's belt, noting that alcohol had clearly done little to dampen his spirits. Simon swallowed thickly and pulled back. “Need a slash,” he murmured as he fled into the en suite for a bit of a breather. When he released his cock from the confines of his jeans, it bobbed up eagerly towards his stomach. So much for a fuckin’ piss. Simon braced his hands against the sink and closed his eyes, willing himself to think of anything but Nik’s big hands sliding down its length as he sat across that warm stomach, feeling all that core strength and fur between his thighs, maybe that clever bloody mouth swallowing him down after he fucked Nik’s tits, and.. “Fuck sake.”
Think of Mac. Wrinkly ballsacks, false teeth, old man smell… anything.
Simon looked up quickly when he heard the sound of the minibar opening and the first notes of music from the television. “Nikolai,” he grunted in exasperation, tucking his now semi-erect dick back into his boxers as he headed back into the main room to corral the captain’s bloody boyfriend into a glass of water and a kip.
“The night is young,” Nik said as Simon approached him, thrusting a bottle of beer into his hands. “And, perhaps, I can convince you into a few more poor choices before it is over.”
Simon stared at the bottle and then Nik’s broad grin. He drew in a deep sigh and unhooked the mask from his ear. “Fine. But when Price gets ‘ere, you’re dealin’ with the bollockin’.”
“Deal.”
—
Mac had fallen asleep on the cab journey back to his hotel and Price had half carried him to his bed, staying long enough to top up a glass of water and make sure the old man didn’t suffocate face down in his sleep, before heading back to his own for what he thought would be some shut eye, maybe some sloppy head from a horny Russian if he was lucky. As he stepped out of the lift, he heard the low thump-thump of music from down the hall, and it only grew louder the closer he got to his room.
The sight that met him when he tapped the key card and opened the door would live with him as a fond memory until the end of his days. Nik and Simon were half undressed, jeans and socks on the floor, Nik’s shirt unbuttoned, as they bounced enthusiastically on the bed, sheets and pillows dishevelled. The music playing from the television was some corny pop track from 2014 — "Oh, don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me." I said, "You're holding back." She said, "Shut up and dance with me!” — and they were both crowing along to the lyrics, the remains of the mini bar toasted at the ceiling.
“Bloody muppets,” Price said through a fond chuckle as he closed the door. If they ended up in a pile of semi-naked bodies, occasionally waking to press lazy kisses to whatever patch of skin was closest, and Simon’s room next door remained empty for the night… well, brass didn’t need to know, did they?
#cod nikolai#simon ghost riley#captain john price#nikprice#ghostnikprice#cw alcohol#part dedication to the night rem and i had on both ends of ol blighty
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୨୧ 。 。 。ㅤ READY, HONEY?
𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓸 . 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒
엔하이픈 & fem!reader 12OO fluff scenarios non-idol au ; established relationship, use of pet names, physical intimacy ── LiBRARY
HEESEUNG
he is always ready before you, so he resorts to watching the tv lazily. but when you come out of the bedroom with a tentative catwalk to get his attention, he immediately looks at you with a big head-over-heels smile. you show off your outfit, indirectly asking for his approval. "you look stunning, darling"
"let me get a look at you, baby" he walks over to where you're adjusting your outfit. with a smirk he takes in your whole form, all the curves perfectly hugged by the elegant dress. he smirks, spinning you around with a hand gently holding your waist before stealing a quick kiss from your lips.
when you put on some music to help you get ready faster, he faintly hums along, mindlessly pacing around the room, sometimes stopping to look out of the window or steal glances at you from the other side of the room, completely mesmerized.
JAY
he waits for you with a serious face, but when you call for him to help you choose between two outfits, he looks like the happiest man on earth. "that one looks best, but you look breathtaking in anything, my love"
"what's wrong?" he is immediately by your side when you groan in annoyance and you complain about not being able to tie your necklace. you don't even get a chance to finish, he's already taking the small golden chain from your hands. "hold your hair up for me, pretty" he instructs softly and he quickly gets the job done, finishing with a loving kiss against your neck.
he might or might have not dozed off on the bed, a pillow on his face to block out the light right above him. you exit the bathroom, finally done, and a giggle escapes your lips as you take in his silly position. you call his name in a whisper and he jumps up, acting like he was never asleep in the first place. "oh, ready to go?"
JAKE
he passes by while you're busy putting your earrings on while leaning over the bathroom counter, a concentrated expression on your face. he gets behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, gently stroking your arms as he admires your reflection on the mirror. "beautiful" he simply says, grinning widely.
you just asked for five more minutes, but he quickly grows restless. he knows you will take more than you said, but it's okay. he paces around the house, entering rooms and trying to find something to busy himself with.
you call for him, asking to bring over your beauty case while you finish with your hair. it is left open on your bedside table, and jake picks it up curiously, eyeing the makeup products that threaten to overflow. he lingers on the bathroom door, watching with wide eyes as you skillfully go through your routine, trying to be as fast as you can. he couldn't care less that you're late, he's completely dazzled.
SUNGHOON
you were feeling guilty for making him wait, his suggestion to start getting ready earlier had been ignored but he had been right all along. you poke your head inside the living room, and he's sitting on the couch, staring at the black tv screen. "hoonie?" you call for him in a shy voice "i'm sorry i'm taking so long". his lips curl up in a reassuring smile and he pulls you down to sit on his lap. "take your time, princess" he kisses your temple, his hand resting on your hip "we have the whole night".
when he passes by the bathroom, he looks inside and his heart jumps at the sight of your cute concentrated face as you curl your hair. he fetches his phone from his pocket and quickly snaps a candid picture he will use as wallpaper from now on.
you're putting on lipstick when you feel his presence behind you. "that looks good" he says quietly and you fight the smile tugging on your lips. "stop making me smile, hoon, i'll smudge everything"
SUNOO
you were running around the house in a hurry, trying to be as fast as you could even though you were already late. sunoo sat tranquil on the couch, scrolling through his phone with a serene expression on his face, paying no mind at the time.
you were trying to apply eyeliner, but just couldn't seem to get it how you wanted. when yet another try failed, sunoo appeared, ever your guardian angel. "want help with that?" he offered kindly. you pouted, but still nodded, wanting to get it over with. he worked with careful precision, cupping your face gently with his free hand while whispering about how pretty you looked.
he took his extra time fixing his hair by the entrance mirror, going back to the bedroom to check on you once it was absolutely perfect. you were emptying your closet in a frenzy, muttering under your breath as you tried to find a good outfit. he smiled at you, totally smitten.
JUNGWON
when he realized he was already ready while you were still choosing your outfit, he decided to relax in the living room, sitting on the armchair and stretching his arms behind his head, watching you from a distance.
as you were trying to untangle the knots in your hair, you felt his arms wrapping around you in a back hug. squirming with a whine, you complained about him not letting you brush your hair. you saw him smirking from his reflection in the mirror, but he didn't complain back. instead, he took the brush from your hands and began helping you with gentle strokes.
when you take longer than expected he sneaks in the kitchen for a snack, despite having planned to eat at a fancy restaurant later. he munches on chips while he watches you applying mascara, a foolish smile on his lips like he's watching his favorite movie at the cinema.
NI-KI
you're trying clothes in front of the closet mirror when he comes in to put on his cologne. he turns his head towards you as you make a noise of approval at the new dress you have on. he pretends to exit the room nonchalantly, but instead sprays the perfume directly on you sneakily. "now you smell like me, beautiful" he smirks, stealing a kiss too.
he walks into the bathroom as you're trying to style your locks, playfully shoving you lightly to take the space in front of the mirror to fix his own hair. if he did it to annoy you or not doesn't matter, you voice a high-pitched "hey!", shoving him back to reclaim your spot.
he huffs and groans like he's dying from boredom and he has to let you know. even then, he would never rush you, and tries to entertain himself with a game on his phone. dangerous, because he quickly gets competitive, he loses track of time and suddenly he's the one kissing your hand as an apology for being late.
© ʜᴏᴏɴꜱɪᴛᴀ
#enhypen#enhypen reactions#enhypen imagines#enhypen headcanons#enhypen oneshot#enhypen x reader#enhypen x you#enhypen reaction#heeseung#enhypen jay#jay park#jake sim#enhypen jake#sunghoon#sunoo#jungwon#niki#enhypen niki#enha#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen x yn#kpop#enhypen scenarios#enha x reader#enha oneshots#enha x you#enha x yn#enha reactions#enha imagines#enha headcanons
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Off Limits
chapter one : cold hearted snake
soccer player vi x talis reader
mentions : player vi, besti ekko, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, abby tlou, ellie tlou, cheerleader reader, mention of sex, mentions of overdosing
notes: semi long chapter so get some snacks, turn your fan on and rub your feet together
"Jayce… don’t piss me off," you mumbled groggily, swatting at the air as you turned away from the light creeping in through the curtains. Your brother had this awful habit of waking you up early, and this time, it was no different. You groaned as you felt the edge of his foot on your nightstand, a clear sign that he wasn’t planning to leave until you gave him the attention he craved.
"Please, sis. Just tell me if they go good with my outfit. It's my junior year. I gotta look fresh," Jayce said, his voice high-pitched and over-the-top, just the way it always was when he was seeking validation.
You blinked open one eye, then the other, squinting up at him. The sight of his goofy grin—complete with his messy hair—did nothing to help the headache that was already forming. He was holding a pair of sneakers in one hand, his new must-have shoes for the school year.
You rubbed your eyes and sighed, giving him the most unimpressed look you could muster. "Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you said flatly, trying to roll over and go back to sleep.
But Jayce, of course, wasn’t done. He let out an exaggerated sigh and plopped down on the edge of your bed, his body taking up far too much space. "Don’t go back to sleep, c’mon! It’s your first day here at NYU. You gotta make a statement," he said, wiggling his eyebrows, clearly proud of his well-meaning, annoying attempt to motivate you.
You cracked open an eye again, giving him a deadpan stare. "I don’t want to hear it, Jayce. You’re lucky I’m even awake right now."
Jayce chuckled, nudging you lightly with his foot. "Get up, you lazy bum. I need to know if this shirt works with my new kicks or not. It’s important!"
You sighed, sitting up slowly, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. Looking at him—his eager face, his ridiculous outfit—wasn’t helping your mood. You glanced at his sneakers, then his shirt, then his whole vibe. Jayce looked like he was trying way too hard to impress everyone on his first day back. He had his typical “I’m cool” swagger on display, and you weren’t sure if you should laugh or just roll your eyes harder.
"Yeah, Jayce. You look good," you muttered, not really caring but knowing that was the answer he wanted to hear.
Jayce leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, all dramatic as he asked, "Really? I mean, really? You sure about that? ‘Cause I need you to be my fashion consultant today."
You shook your head, not even bothering to reply to his antics. You were too tired for this. But he wasn’t backing down. He was, after all, Jayce—a master at annoying people to no end.
"Don’t make me get Mom on the phone, you know she’s got the best opinions," he teased, but you could hear the hint of excitement in his voice. He wasn’t just annoying you for attention; he genuinely seemed to need your approval.
You shot him a glare. "If you don’t stop, I’ll tell Mom you’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for two days."
Jayce’s grin faltered, just for a second, before he playfully shoved your shoulder. "Low blow, sis. Low blow."
Finally, you could hear him sigh in defeat. "Fine. I’m leaving, I’m leaving. Get up, though! Or I swear, I’ll drag you out of bed myself."
You stared at him as he got up and headed toward the door, but not without another remark. "Oh, and don't even think about that raggedy bus today. We’re taking my car. And you're making a statement whether you like it or not."
The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, there was silence—glorious silence.
You glanced at the time on your phone. 5:47 AM. With a groan, you threw the covers off and rolled out of bed.
The thought of the first day at NYU made your stomach churn with nerves, but you couldn't show it. Not after all the teasing and endless talk of “making a statement” from your brother. You needed to at least pretend like you had it all together. So, with a loud sigh, you shuffled into the bathroom for a shower, hoping the cold water would wake you up enough to deal with the day ahead.
As you stood under the stream of water, you tried to clear your head. You'd never been one for drama, but here you were, starting college at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. It was supposed to be exciting. New people, new opportunities, new everything. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something much bigger than you were ready for.
Still, there was no turning back now.
You had spent your freshman and sophomore years in Italy, a place you quickly grew to love. It was a dream come true—walking cobblestone streets, sipping espresso in tiny cafes, and studying architecture and art history in a country that felt alive with culture and tradition. At first, you were nervous about being so far from home, but Italy embraced you with open arms, and soon, it felt more like home than New York ever had.
The plan had been simple: you would study abroad, and Jayce would come with you. Your mom had made it clear that he had the option to join you. “Think about it,” your mom had said, “two years of sibling bonding while experiencing a whole new world.” But, of course, Jayce had shrugged it off.
"Pass," he'd said without hesitation. "All my friends are here. Plus, who's gonna keep the soccer team alive without me?"
You’d rolled your eyes when he said it, but deep down, his refusal stung. He didn’t even consider it. And as much as you hated to admit it, part of you had wanted him there. Sure, he was annoying and constantly in your space, but he was also your big brother—the one who always knew how to make you laugh when you were stressed, the one who looked out for you when no one else did. Without him, you felt a little more alone than you were ready to admit.
But Italy had been a journey all its own. You’d found your rhythm there, made lifelong friends, and grown in ways you never expected. You learned to navigate bustling markets in Florence, spent lazy afternoons sketching by the canals in Venice, and even picked up enough Italian to argue with locals over gelato flavors. It wasn’t just a study abroad experience; it was a transformation.
Then, two years flew by faster than you thought they would. And just like that, it was time to say goodbye to everything you’d built in Italy. The narrow alleyways you knew like the back of your hand, the corner cafe where the barista always greeted you with a warm "Ciao, bella," and the friends who had become family. It wasn’t easy leaving it all behind, but the opportunity to finish your degree in New York on a full-ride scholarship was too good to pass up.
There was one silver lining to returning home: Ekko. Your best friend since middle school. He’d been the one constant in your life before you left for Italy, and as much as you loved your new friends abroad, no one quite compared to Ekko. He was like a brother to you, but cooler than Jayce ever could be—not that you’d ever tell Jayce that to his face.
Ekko was in New York with a full ride scholarship majoring in Engineering, balancing school with being on the soccer team alongside Jayce. The two of them had always been close, despite being complete opposites. Jayce was loud, confident, and always seeking the spotlight, while Ekko was more laid-back and analytical, content to let his skills speak for themselves. The idea of seeing them again—especially Ekko—was one of the few things keeping you grounded as you prepared to face New York after two years away.
After your last class wrapped up, you decided to head over to the campus coffee shop to grab something to eat. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods hit you as soon as you walked in. You ordered an iced coffee and a bagel sandwich before making your way outside, where small tables with umbrellas dotted the courtyard.
Finding an empty table near the edge of the patio, you set your things down and took a seat. The campus buzzed around you as students chatted or hurried to their next destination. Sipping your coffee, you opened your book and began reading while occasionally taking bites of your sandwich.
As you lost yourself in the story, two hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders, making you jolt and nearly drop your sandwich. Your head whipped around, your heart racing, only to be met with a familiar face—Ekko.
“Holy—Ekko!” you exclaimed, standing up with a wide grin.
He laughed, his grin just as big as yours. “Surprise!”
Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “I missed you so much,” you said, your voice muffled against his shoulder.
“Missed you too,” Ekko said, his arms wrapping around you firmly. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you.
You twirled around dramatically, giving him a full view of your outfit. His brows shot up in surprise as he took it all in. “Damn… Italy changed you in more ways than one. What happened to my (Y/N) who wore oversized hoodies and partied like a rockstar every other weekend?”
You smirked, crossing your arms. “She’s dead, but I still love a good party,” you quipped.
Ekko leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed and a playful smirk on his face. “There’s gonna be a first-day bonfire tonight. Good music, new faces, and…” he paused for effect, “…Caitlyn Kiramman, the cheer captain, might be there. You could ask her about whether there’s a chance you’re on the team since you submitted that video for tryouts.”
Your face lit up with excitement. “You always come in clutch,” you said with a grin. “Only if you’re taking me, though.”
Ekko shook his head, his smirk turning into a sheepish grin. “Can’t. I’ve got a date for the bonfire.”
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Aw, really? Who’s the lucky girl?”
“A girl named Jinx. She’s in most of my classes. Thought she was cute, so I asked her out,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “She surprisingly said yes.”
“Surprisingly?” you teased, folding your arms and leaning toward him. “Please, Ekko, you’ve got more game than you think. Good for you, seriously.”
He chuckled, his cheeks dusted with a hint of pink. “Thanks, I guess. What about you? Got your eye on any girls here yet?”
You grinned mischievously, your voice dripping with confidence. “Always.”
Ekko leaned in slightly, his eyebrows raised. “Oh, really?” he asked teasingly.
“Yup. Vi,” you said with no hesitation. “She’s really hot—pink hair, tattoos on her back. God, I would love to take a ride on h—”
“Oh, fuck no,” Ekko interrupted, his voice sharp as his expression shifted to something between disbelief and warning.
You blinked, startled by his sudden tone. “What?!”
Ekko groaned, running a hand down his face. “She’s a player, (Y/N). I should know. She’s on the soccer team with Jayce. Don’t mess with her—you’ll get hurt. Real shit.”
You frowned, confused by his sudden seriousness. “What are you talking about? She seemed fine when I talked to her earlier.”
He pushed off the wall and crossed his arms again, his expression dark. “I’ve seen it happen. She’s got game, yeah, but not the kind you want. I don’t like the way she moves. I used to hang out with her, but I stopped for a reason. The only time I’m even around her is when Jayce is.”
You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, but maybe she’s different now.”
Ekko narrowed his eyes at you, unimpressed. “Look, I’m just saying—don’t let her mess with your head, (Y/N). You’re better than that. Just…be careful, okay?”
You rolled your eyes, though a small part of you appreciated his concern. “Fine, Dad.”
When you got home, Ekko’s warning was the last thing on your mind. Vi was texting you, and there was no way you were going to ignore her. She was too hot not to respond to. Balancing your bag on your shoulder and your coffee cup in one hand, you pushed the door shut with your foot. As soon as the door clicked behind you, you checked your phone again, a grin spreading across your face as you read her latest message.
Heading upstairs, you scrolled through the playful back-and-forth between you and Vi, feeling giddy. The attention she was giving you was addictive. You were so lost in the conversation that you didn’t notice Jayce stepping out of the bathroom until you nearly bumped into him.
He stood there with a towel slung around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the stupid grin on your face. “The fuck are you smiling about, dopey?” he teased, crossing his arms over his chest. “You look a little too gay right now.”
You rolled your eyes and brushed past him. “Ha, ha, hilarious,” you muttered, holding your phone a little closer as you tried to move toward your room.
But Jayce wasn’t going to let it go. He reached over and snatched the phone right out of your hand.
“Jayce! What the fuck!” you yelped, spinning around and reaching for it.
Jayce held it out of your reach, laughing as he glanced at the screen. But his laughter quickly died when he saw the name at the top of the conversation. His eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “You’re fucking around with Vi?” he asked, his tone dripping with judgment.
“It’s the first day, so not yet, clearly,” you snapped, grabbing your phone back with an irritated glare.
Before you could retreat to your room, Jayce stepped in front of you, blocking your path. His expression shifted to something more serious, almost protective. “Whatever you’re doing with her, stop. She’s a close friend of mine, and she gets around, (Y/N). It’ll be awkward as hell, and on top of that, I’m not trying to get embarrassed by you.”
You rolled your eyes, brushing past him. “Whatever,” you muttered dismissively, though his words stung.
Jayce didn’t move from where he stood, following you with his eyes as you turned toward the stairs. “Hey, wait. Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”
You stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, Ekko has a date, so I need a ride. Can you take me? Mom and Dad still haven’t gotten me a car yet, so I’m stuck.”
Jayce shook his head immediately, folding his arms again. “Oh, you’re not going. No way. Vi’s gonna be there, and that’s officially off fucking limits.”
Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “What? What the fuck, Jayce! I can’t even go socialize?”
Jayce gave you a hard look. “You’re not going to socialize, (Y/N). I know how you are when it comes to alcohol and…other shit. Or do I need to call Mom and tell her you need to go back to Italy after I let you relapse?”
His words hit you like a slap. Your stomach dropped as anger flared in your chest, and your eyes burned with unshed tears. “Fuck you, Jayce,” you said, your voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. “What a low blow.”
You yanked your arm out of his grip and stormed up the stairs, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you. You locked it for good measure, leaning against it as hot tears began to roll down your cheeks.
Outside the door, Jayce’s voice softened, guilt creeping into his tone. “Wait, sis… I didn’t mean it seriously,” he said, knocking lightly.
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t even look at him right now.
When it became clear you weren’t going to answer, Jayce sighed. “Let me know if you want anything to eat when I get back,” he said quietly before walking away. The sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
While you sat on your bed, still upset over the argument with Jayce, your phone buzzed. You glanced at it, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw it was a text from Vi.
Vi: Are you coming to the bonfire party? I wanna see you.
You hesitated for a moment before typing back.
You: Can’t. My brother’s not letting me go. And I don’t have a car. He was my only ride.
Her reply came almost instantly.
Vi: Well, I have a car. Give me your location and get ready. I’ll pick you up, beautiful.
A grin spread across your face despite everything, and you quickly sent her your location. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you sprang up and went straight to your closet. You scanned your options until you finally settled on a black fitted mini-dress paired with, a denim jacket draped off your shoulders, and chunky black boots. The look was edgy yet flirty—perfect for a night out.
You glanced in the mirror and realized your makeup was a mess from crying. Grabbing a makeup wipe, you cleaned up the smudges, reapplying your eyeliner and lipstick carefully. After smoothing out your hair and giving yourself one last look-over, your phone buzzed again.
“I’m parked outside the complex,” the text read.
“Shit,” you muttered, scrambling to find a cute bag. You tossed your phone, keys, wallet, and lip gloss inside, then rushed out the door.
As you left your apartment complex, you gave the doorman a quick wave. “Goodnight!” you called, like always.
“Have fun!” he replied with a knowing smile.
Outside, a sleek car idled by the curb. You spotted Vi leaning against the driver’s side, her pink hair glowing under the streetlights. She grinned when she saw you, and as soon as you slid into the passenger seat, she leaned over and kissed you.
You froze for a second, caught off guard, but then you melted into the kiss, returning it shyly. When she pulled back, her smirk was devilish.
“Nice place you live at,” she said, glancing at the complex as she started driving. “A friend of mine stays in one of these apartments. You must have a lot of money to live here.”
You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
Vi gave you a quick side glance, her smile softening. “Well, good for me. I like spoiled girls,” she teased.
As soon as you and Vi stepped onto the sandy beach where the bonfire party was in full swing, she casually draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. The heat of the fire reflected in her smirk as she held you there like she had no care in the world.
Immediately, you pulled away, glancing around to make sure no one—especially your brother—had noticed. “Stop,” you hissed, swatting at her arm. “You’re going to blow my cover. I’m not even supposed to be here, remember?”
Vi chuckled, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, clearly enjoying your paranoia. “Fine, fine,” she relented. “But text me when you’re ready to leave.”
“Where are you going?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m gonna go find Jayce and keep him occupied,” she said with a smirk, already scanning the crowd. “Don’t worry, princess. I got you.”
“Cool,” you said with a nod before slipping away from her, weaving through the bodies of drunken students and the glow of the bonfire’s flickering flames.
Your eyes darted across the party until they landed on Ekko. He was in the middle of a crowd, dancing with a girl who had strikingly light blue hair, her movements wild and carefree as they swayed to the music.
“Hey, Ekko!” you called out over the sound of the music.
Ekko turned his head at the sound of your voice, a grin forming when he spotted you pushing through the crowd toward him. “(Y/N)!” He gestured for you to come closer. “This is Jinx. Jinx, this is (Y/N), my best friend since middle school.”
You smiled, sticking out a hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Instead of shaking your hand, Jinx’s face lit up, and she immediately pulled you into a tight hug. “Sorry, but I’m a hugger, girl,” she said, squeezing you before letting go. “And middle school? That’s so adorable!”
You chuckled. “Yep. We used to do chemistry projects together in high school and blow shit up. My parents had to pay millions.”
Ekko laughed, shaking his head. “Yup, we were menaces,” he agreed, nudging you playfully.
Jinx grinned, eyes flickering between the two of you. “I like you already.”
The party was loud, the music pulsing through the air as laughter and shouts filled the night. You were mid-conversation with Jinx when suddenly, a random frat guy shoved an opened Cayman Jack into your hands. The condensation from the bottle chilled your skin as you instinctively curled your fingers around it.
“Chug, pretty thang,” he slurred, grinning like he had just offered you the holy grail.
“Oh, um… no, it’s okay. I’m taking a break from drinking,” you said, trying to hand it back to him.
Instead of taking the rejection, he popped the cap off with his thumb and shoved it back toward you, his eyes wild with excitement. “Chug!” he chanted.
At first, it was just him, but soon, others joined in, the word picking up like a wave, echoing louder and louder around you. "Chug! Chug! Chug!"
Ekko shot you a worried look, his lips parting as if he was about to intervene, but before he could, the pressure of a dozen eyes on you—waiting, watching, expecting—became too much. Without thinking, you tilted your head back and downed the entire drink, the carbonation burning your throat, the alcohol hitting your stomach like a rock.
“There, happy?” you said, shoving the now-empty can into the frat guy’s chest.
He let out a cheer, eyes gleaming with drunken satisfaction. Then, in a final act of bravado, he crushed the can against his forehead with a loud crack and stumbled off into the crowd.
Ekko’s hand was on your shoulder in an instant, his grip firm but gentle. “Fuck…” you muttered, your stomach twisting. Your fingers trembled slightly, your body already remembering the ghosts of your past. “I haven’t had a drink since I…”
Ekko rubbed your shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll get you some water.” His voice was calm, but you saw the worry in his eyes. He turned to Jinx. “Watch her for me?”
Jinx gave a quick nod, her face uncharacteristically serious.
Ekko disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there with the taste of alcohol still lingering on your tongue.
“What’s wrong?” Jinx asked, tilting her head.
“I—I just…” Your voice faltered.
Before you could finish, a voice sliced through the noise, sharp and furious.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Your stomach dropped. You turned to see Jayce standing a few feet away, his face twisted with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.
“I’m just hanging out, Jayce,” you said, trying to keep your voice even.
Jayce scoffed, stepping closer. “(Y/N), I can smell the alcohol on your breath.” His eyes darkened, his voice tight with frustration. “Shit, dude—not even a whole two weeks and you’re already relapsing?”
Your throat tightened. “I’m not relapsing. I was just pressured into taking a drink by those stupid frat boys,” you argued.
“Bullshit,” Jayce snapped.
Ekko returned just in time, a bottle of water in his hand, but he barely had time to process what was happening before Jayce was right in your face again.
You barely heard him, your mind spiraling as the weight of his words sank in.
Yes, you were an addict in high school.
After your dad’s death, you took it harder than anyone else in your family. You fell in with the wrong people, numbing the pain however you could. The night you overdosed, you had been left in an alley, a needle in your arm, your body convulsing, vomiting, barely clinging to life.
Your mother couldn’t handle it anymore.
Instead of sending you to rehab, she sent you to Italy—far away, somewhere new, somewhere she hoped you could start over. And you did. You got therapy. You worked on yourself. You fixed yourself.
But now, standing here with Jayce looking at you like you were a failure, it felt like all that progress meant nothing.
His next words shattered whatever was left of your resolve.
“Go home,” he said coldly. “I don’t care how you get home—just go.”
Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your vision blurring with tears.
Ekko’s hand found yours, squeezing it gently. “Come on. I’ll take you home.”
Jinx nodded, stepping closer. “Yeah, I’ll come too.”
You swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in your throat. “Thanks. Just—let me say goodbye to someone first.”
Ekko nodded. “Cool. We’ll wait by the car.”
He took Jinx’s hand, leading her toward the parking lot, leaving you alone in the middle of the party, feeling like the ground beneath you was slowly cracking apart.
You pushed through the crowd, weaving between sweaty, drunken bodies, the pulse of the music thrumming in your ears. The fire in the middle of the yard crackled, casting flickering orange light over the partygoers gathered around it. Your breath was shallow as you scanned the area, searching for Vi.
And then you saw her.
She was standing by the fire, her red hair illuminated by the flames, her toned arms flexing slightly as she laughed at something. But she wasn’t alone.
A girl with long blue hair stood close—too close. She traced her fingers up and down Vi’s arm, her nails dragging over the inked skin like she had every right to touch her. Vi smirked, that signature, cocky grin that made your heart race earlier in the night. But now, it only made your stomach twist.
Then, before you could even process what was happening, Vi grabbed the girl by the waist and pulled her in. Their lips crashed together in a deep, messy kiss—not just a casual peck, not like the ones you and Vi had shared. This was something more. Their bodies were flush, Vi’s hands gripping the girl’s hips, their mouths moving like they’d done this before.
You felt a lump in your throat, but not because you were heartbroken. No, this wasn’t heartbreak. It was disappointment.
Because everyone was right.
Vi was a player. A flirt. She wasn’t the kind of girl to settle down—not even for you.
Without a second thought, you turned away, pushing through the crowd with more force this time, ignoring the people who grumbled or stumbled in your wake. Vi didn’t even see you.
By the time you reached the car, Ekko and Jinx were already waiting.
“You good?” Ekko asked as you slid into the backseat.
You didn’t answer. You just stared out the window, watching as buildings and trees blurred past. The streetlights flickered across your face, casting shadows that stretched and disappeared.
You didn’t cry.
You didn’t even feel angry.
You just felt disgusted.
For the first time in two years, that familiar, suffocating feeling crept back in—the one that made your skin crawl, the one that made you want to disappear.
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