#tried being together and are still really close
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jesuistrestriste · 1 day ago
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cw (18+): sub!art, afab + femme!character, age gap, crying/dacryphilia, art being a sad and lonely hot guy in his forties, tashi and art never really got together, creampie
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dilf!art getting with a pretty young thing from down the block. . .
he always admired her effortless confidence and the way her body moved when she walked down the street to the corner store every weekend.
always watched her return from his brownstone apartment window; a pack of cinnamon gum and a case of peach seltzer in her hands.
she’s beautiful and bouncy and everything he didn’t get to have in his youth when he was too sucked into tennis to let himself live a little. he lost tashi to patrick. that was that. and he never tried dating again until about ten or so years ago.
they were all flings that crashed and burned their way through his thirties. meaningless moments where all he was left with was a wet dick and a heaviness in his chest. he hated it. he was done with it.
until her.
she was different.
she sparked a conversation with him one day when they ran into each other outside his doorstep. she was cracking jokes that only made her seem more intriguing because art didn’t understand the social context behind them— he was no longer hip and cool, he’d accepted it. but that, combined with the pop of her hip she did when she was making him laugh (not to mention the way she smacked her gum + batted her lashes when she smiled; all pearly whites) made him feel like even more of a creep.
but now she’s bouncing on his cock and gazing down at him while he gasps and squirms like a livewire underneath her.
they’ve only really known each other for a week and a half.
“say thank you, Artie,” she purrs, her hand tracing the spattered flush on his chest, “say it.”
he bucks his hips up as much as he can to meet her movements, and bites his lip hard enough to taste metal when his tip bumps her cervix.
“thank you, oh my god, thank you— thank you, thank you—! ha-aah-!”
he babbles; a broken record of whines and shaky moans. his throat hurts from all of the sounds being pulled from him when the most he’s talked all month has come from just a couple of boring, remote interviews about his athletic career.
and her, of course.
god, it’s all her..
he swallows and keens, and then his eyes are watering.
and then he’s sobbing. he’s choking on his tears and yet he’s still feeling the tight coil of warmth tense further and further and further-
“don’t cry,” she whispers, leaning down to kiss the wetness from his cheeks, her hips swiveling to ride him harder just as the first slimy blurt of his orgasm spills inside, “you’re a good boy, okay? you’re perfect… a total catch…”
she smells like candy. she’s wiping his tears now.
“oh fuck, thank you-uu—hnghh!”
art lifts his hips, his face crumpling with pleasure and sadness, before he yelps and his climax wipes him out. his whole body trembles as he feels his cock pulse and coat her pussy with gooey clots of his spend. he’s practically wheezing.
he grips onto her hips fiercely; like if he doesn’t squeeze hard enough she’ll just go *poof*, and then he’ll be alone again.
“.. ungh, ‘m sorry, im cumming inside you, im cumming, im so sorry,” he whimpers, the aftershocks leaving him feeling bare and weak. stripped of all of his armor. if he even had any left to begin with.
she kisses his shoulder gently, and then she’s dipping her glossy lips down to whisper right next to his ear. her dainty necklace chills his skin when it dangles from her body and meets his collarbone. she’s so close to him.
“don’t worry, Mr. Donaldson…
you’ll be a great daddy.”
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sage-the-dragon · 16 hours ago
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(Hi, so this is in Jason’s POV with GN!reader. I hope you enjoy… this is my first time actually writing Jason so yay. Um warnings include allusion to potential suicide at the end, and reader becomes an aunt/uncle in one of the letters. Other then that it’s just Jason dealing with emotions 🙃)
The night was quiet except for the police sirens echoing throughout the city. The night was so quiet that I decided I would take off the helmet and be alone with my thoughts. A dangerous concept that I never really allowed myself to divulge into.
As I rode through the streets, letting my bike take me wherever it wanted, all my thoughts seemed to continuously circle back to them. Their laughter, their smile, all the small things that we did together before… I shook my head slightly, increasing the revs, it doesn’t matter now. They’ve moved on, they’ve forgotten me. And, it’s probably for the best.
I tried to think of anyone else, anything else. The lastest drug traffic, what black mask was up too. Anything. The hurt of being forgotten clawed at my heart, tearing its way into my chest. Tears filled my vision and I pulled off the road. Kicking the kickstand and turning off my bike, I practically through my helmet off. Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, my body ragged with emotion of my past life. My life before what he turned me into.
I looked up and around at where I was. Freezing, I saw the overgrown rusted sign reading ‘Gotham Cemetery’. Well, I suppose I couldn’t have stayed away forever. Sighing, I made the choice to visit my grave. Trudging along the unkept, loose gravel pathway, hands in my pockets and jacket zipped up, I walked towards the barren area of my grave.
I stopped in my tracks, someone was there. Was that… are they at my grave? Faint sniffles and talking could be heard, but I couldn’t make any of it out. I side stepped to a pillar of a gravestone, hiding behind it. I don’t know exactly why I did that, I suppose I wanted to see what this person was going to do without scaring them off. I watched from the distance, as the mysterious person placed something down, a hoodie concealing their features. I continued to watch them as they stood up. As they turned to walk away, a glimpse of moonlight struck their features.
“Y/N,” I whispered. They were here… they were visiting my grave. I- I wasn’t forgotten. I nearly slapped myself for even thinking that they could have forgotten me. Never cared for me. They were too kind for that, too thoughtful, too loving…
I watched as they walked away, hands in their pockets. As they exited the cemetery, I ran wandered over there.
There it is. ‘Jason Peter Todd’ ‘A Good Soldier’.
But below the ‘heartfelt’ writing, was a seemed to be fresh bunch of red roses and a sturdy looking box, a metal box that appeared to be waterproof. Looking around the grave yard for anyone, I opened the box. Inside was piles upon piles of letters. Each addressed to… me.
So of course I did the respectful thing and opened all of them. One by one. Reading all of them.
“To my dearest Jason,
I miss you so much. Not a day nor a second goes by where I do not think about you. Now does it result in my crying most of the day, yes. But I’m okay with that. If I could trade all my tears, all my book collections, all my memories before you just to bring you back to me, I would. You were are the dearest thing in the world to me, my most perfect boy, and nothing can ever change that.
I love you.
Yours forever,
Y/N”
Tears pricked my eyes as I closed the letter just to open another one.
“To my darling Jason,
I went to school today. I haven’t been for a while because of… well, your departure. But I went today! The classes were boring, English made me think of you. Our friends say I’m not my usual self, but who can blame me. I only lost you 2 months ago. The wound is still fresh. But I know you would want me to continue school, get an education in this world, to take care of my self. It will be hard, but I know it will be worth it in the end. I’m looking forward to seeing you again, someday.
I love you.
Yours forever,
Y/N”
Each letter recited their day to me. It was like I was there, having them come home to me and telling me every little thing they did that day. Like I was watching them do it. A smile was plaster on my face as tears were streaming down my face. I barely noticed except for the few drops that landed on the paper. I was so incredibly happy, yet so incredibly sad. They didn’t forget me, they love me. Anger tore through me, I can’t believe that fucker took me away from them. But I continue reading. New emotions tearing through me with each day or week that I read. New boyfriend? Instant no, turns out that they broke up after a week. Good, still single then.
A twinge of guilt hit me as I though that as I closed the letter. They should be happy. They deserve to be happy, I shouldn’t be happy that a relationship didn’t work out because it wasn’t with me.
I continued on reading all night and into the early morning.
“To the love of my life that will forever have my heart,
I became an aunt/uncle (I’m sorry I don’t know a gender neutral term 😭) today!! I have a beautiful nephew named Ben. I’m so happy, he’s so cute and already curious for the world. He reminds me of you actually. I was a crying mess when I held him in my arms for the first time. My sister is so happy but recovering from the birth. I wish you could meet him. As I wish on every single shooting star I see, somehow wishing you back into existence with me. To have everything how it should be. You and me together.
I love you.
Yours forever,
Y/N”
As the sun’s rays started to bless the dark Gotham sky, glistening on my tear streaked face and soppy grin. I came to the last letter. The letter that they just put here today, or I suppose yesterday now.
“To my precious boy,
I love you with all my heart, and I will never stop. But times are getting hard and all I want in life is to see you again. I know it’s bad. I know I should go talk to someone, but non of them understand. Except for Dick, I see him every fortnight when he comes up to Gotham from Bludhaven. I don’t long for anything on this earth anymore than I long for your arms around me again. Your scent to envelope me again. All your clothes have lost your scent, your room in the manor is losing it too.
No one understands me like you do Jay. Every new relationship that my friends nudge me towards fail because I’m looking for you. Your caring nature, your love for classic literature, your passion for fighting for those that can’t fight for themselves. I miss you too much, and I have tried so hard these past 2 years… I know you must be disappointed in me. But you’ve surely seen me struggle these past years without you.
I love you so so much, I hope you can forgive me when we meet again very soon.
Yours forever,
Y/N”
My eyes widened as I finished the letter. My brain short circuited, not computing what I just read. They were- no I can’t let that happen. I shoved the letter back into the box with the others and ran to my bike.
No one could save me. But I damn well as going to save them.
Please Y/N, I love you too. Every wish you made has come true. I’m here now, just wait a little longer. I memorised their current address from 2 of the letters they had written. I didn’t care for the road rules, the street signs, the speed limits. I was getting them before we had a reverse Romeo and Juliet.
jason todd x reader where the reader still presumes he’s dead and visits his grave every week to give him a letter because they used to communicate through letters for fun to the point where his grave has boxes of letters. meanwhile, jason thinks reader forgot about him until he visits his own grave to see reader dropping off another letter and after they leave he takes the time to read each letter they’ve left since he died and gets emotional. okay, goodnight !
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wadewnstonwilson · 3 days ago
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need you close;
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summary: when your busy schedule leaves logan feeling neglected, he craves your attention in his own way—by showing up with small, thoughtful gestures and lingering touches that hint at his pent-up need. despite his rugged exterior, logan’s vulnerability shines through as he tries to remind you he’s still there, waiting.
word count: 1k
a/n: okay so this was originally a headcanon idea but this was my most popular headcanon so I definitely wanted to post it as a one shot! always feel free to leave an ask if you guys want anymore logan themed headcanons or fics!
Logan wasn’t used to being ignored. Or at least, not by you. It had been weeks since you’d been swamped with work, and while you appreciated his support, you couldn’t help but feel the strain on your relationship. He’d never say it, not out loud at least, but Logan was needy, and he craved your attention like nothing else.
The soft scratch of a pen met your ears, but you didn’t even look up from your laptop. Logan stood by the counter, lazily scribbling something on a piece of paper. He’d been in and out of your office all day, never staying long but always making his presence known. His scent—musky, earthy, all Logan—lingered long after he’d leave. It used to comfort you, but now it only reminded you of the time you couldn’t give him.
You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Logan, I’m really busy.”
Without missing a beat, he crossed the room and placed a steaming cup of your favorite coffee on the desk. His fingers lingered, brushing against yours as he slid the cup toward you. You glanced up and caught the faintest smirk on his lips.
“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” he grumbled, leaning in closer. His warm breath fanned over your cheek, and you could feel the tension melt from your muscles, despite how desperately you needed to focus. “Been workin’ too hard.”
“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrayed you. The way his hands rested on your shoulders—rough yet tender—sent shivers down your spine. He started massaging the knots in your shoulders, his fingers kneading the tension from your overworked muscles. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this—missed him—until now.
“You need a break, darlin’,” Logan muttered, his voice low and rough, sending a familiar heat through your body. “Can’t have you burnin’ out on me.”
You chuckled, but the sound was weak. “I’ll take a break soon, I promise.”
Logan let out a soft grunt, clearly unsatisfied with your answer. But instead of arguing, he pulled back, leaving a small note on the corner of your desk before disappearing from the room. You picked it up, your heart softening at the sight of his messy handwriting: Missin’ you. Don’t forget to take a break.
For a moment, you considered following him. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But you had deadlines to meet, work piling up faster than you could keep up with. You’d make it up to him later—at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.
The next few days were more of the same. Logan was always around, but never directly demanding your attention. He’d leave notes scattered around your workspace—short, sweet messages like Thinkin’ ‘bout you or We’re overdue for some time together. He brought you food, sometimes your favorite meal, other times just a snack to keep you going. He’d make excuses to touch you, his hands lingering on your back or brushing against your arm as he walked by.
But you noticed the shift. His touches were growing more possessive, more intense, as if he was trying to remind you that he was still here, waiting for you to give him the attention he so desperately needed.
One evening, you returned home from a long day at work, exhausted and drained. You dropped your bag by the door and collapsed on the couch, barely managing to kick off your shoes. Within seconds, Logan was beside you, pulling you into his lap without a word.
“Logan, I’m—”
“Shh.” His arms wrapped around you, and you could feel the weight of his need in the way he held you, so tight you thought he might never let go. “You’re always busy, darlin’. Let me take care of you.”
The frustration in his voice was clear, but so was the affection. He wasn’t angry—he was hurt. Hurt that you hadn’t been giving him the time he needed. You felt a pang of guilt as you melted into his embrace, feeling the heat of his body against yours.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your head resting against his chest. His heart thudded steadily beneath your ear, a comforting sound that you hadn’t realized you’d missed. “I’ve been so caught up in work, I didn’t mean to—”
“Stop apologizin’,” Logan interrupted, his voice softer than before. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. “Just... don’t do it again, alright? I miss you.”
You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. Logan wasn’t the type to openly express his emotions, but the way he held you now—tight, protective, needy—said more than words ever could.
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering against your hair. “I’ve been patient,” he muttered, his voice rumbling through his chest. “But I need you. Not just here, but with me. You get what I’m sayin’?”
“I do,” you replied softly, shifting to look up at him. His eyes met yours, and you could see the raw emotion swirling in them—jealousy, frustration, but above all, love. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much.”
Logan grunted, but this time there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Guess I can forgive you, but only ‘cause I know how hard you’ve been workin’. Just don’t make a habit of it.”
You laughed, feeling the tension in your chest ease. “I’ll try not to.”
He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that made your heart race. You could feel the heat of his need, the way he poured every bit of his pent-up affection into the kiss. It was almost overwhelming, but in the best way possible.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “I’m not gonna stop remindin’ you I’m here,” he said, his voice low and rough. “You’re mine, darlin’. Don’t forget that.”
You smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. “I won’t forget.”
For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to relax completely in his arms, savoring the warmth of his touch and the strength of his embrace. Logan wasn’t one to be needy often, but when he was, it only made you fall harder for him.
And maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you needed too.
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imaginespazzi · 3 hours ago
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Part 11: Free Fall
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Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10
How many nights did you wish someone would stay? (Lie awake only hoping they're okay?)
(In which an angst writer makes her comeback in more ways than one)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint?
Words: 8.0K
TW: Swearing (that's probably it?)
A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Y'all are the sweetest people ever for being so patient with me but it's finally here! I'm hoping that I don't put y'all through this again but it is almost finals season so...fingers crossed. While you read this chapter, I'd like y'all to keep in mind how much you love me and how much y'all wanted a new chapter and of course my favorite phrase: for the plot! I tried to edit but I hate reading my own work back and so it's not as thorough as it should be and there's probably typos so lemme know. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely week my angels!
May 2025 
It’s her first ever WNBA game -Dallas Wings vs Washington Mystics- and the first thing Paige notices as she steps onto the court is that the two courtside seats right by the Mystics bench are empty. The sound of music streaming through the speakers clashes against the raucous crowds; the lights are dimmed and there’s a riveting thrum of energy swirling the arena in anticipation for a generational talent’s professional debut. Paige has spent the days leading up to her first game immersed in basketball. Since training camps, she hasn’t let herself think of anything except how to make sure the ball went through the hoops, how to make sure the person in front of her didn’t score, how to win. 
It’s easier that way. Because then she doesn’t have to think about how empty and cold her bed feels at night, doesn’t have to think about how much she craves to press call on a number she knows she should have blocked, doesn’t have to think about how the pieces of her shattered world are barely bound together by a tape of pretend. Paige can’t think of any of that and so she’s spent every second awake, clearing her head of all potential distractions and focusing on preparing for this moment. 
Except, the moment is here now. 
And all Paige can fixate on is the empty courtside seats. 
The memories come back to her in waves; the two of them in those seats, pressed together -as close as it could be acceptable for their façade of best friends to be- as they weaved dreams of it being their turn on the professional stage. If she listens closely, Paige swears that amidst the chaos, she can still hear the echo of a promise that had once been made casually in conversation. 
“When you play here for the first time, I’ll be right here cheering you on. Every single time.”
Another broken promise. 
The truth is that the last few weeks as much as it’s felt like Paige is walking on a carpet of roses, there have been countless sharp thorns woven through the petals. She’s tried to avoid them -focusing on what she had, instead of what she’d lost- but they’d found a way to perforate through her skin anyways. And Paige knows she’s bleeding but she can’t scream, so she swallows the pain away instead. Memories of the past are piercing her feet and it feels like she’s leaving a trail of it feels incomplete without you behind her as she navigates the journey through her present, stepping towards a future that would be nothing like the one she’d imagined when she’d been a naive girl sitting in those courtside seats. 
The courtside seats that are empty tonight. 
Really it’s exactly what she should’ve expected. And there’s something so final about this moment, like the last flicker of a candle that had burned in secret. Paige hadn’t even realized she was still holding out for something but as she drags her eyes away from the seats and towards her father and brother who are practically vibrating with pride, she can feel the tautness of the string that she’d held onto. Because she hasn't told them; hasn’t told anybody about the breakup. 
Something about vocalizing it had felt just a little too real and Paige had evaded any potential situation that would warrant her having to reveal the tirth. But it hits her now, looking at those damn empty seats that should've been -in another life would’ve been- filled by her other family, that the words she’d been too scared to say out loud -for fear of them being enshrined into reality- had already probably been spoken into existence by someone else. And it hits Paige now, that maybe she’s desperately holding onto a rope that has already been let go of. 
“You good Bueckers?” she whirls around to find Arike looking at her, eyebrows raised in concern. 
“I’m fine,” Paige lies; she’s gotten so incredibly good at that, “just thinking a lot of thoughts.”
Arike nods in understanding, “fair enough. But you got this dude,” she reaches out a hand to squeeze her rookie’s shoulder, “whatever you’re thinking, when you get on that court, none of it’s gonna matter. All that matters for 40 minutes is the game and that we come out of it with a win. You gonna help us win Paige?”
“That’s the fucking plan,” Paige smirks, earning her a matching one from Arike before the shooting guard saunters onto the court, ready for tip-off.
All that matters is the game. 
Paige sucks in a deep breath, letting herself look over at the courtside seats one more time. This is her reality now. There’s no point in waiting for a regretful phone call or a surprise midnight knock on her door because it’s not going to happen. She feels a sense of hollowed acceptance as she finally turns away from the seats, plastering on a confident smile as she takes her place in the Dallas Wings starting five. And Paige is faced with the same truth that she’d learned at a far too young age; that people would leave her but the game never would. 
***
Dallas wins the game by 17 points. Paige’s statline is 21 points, 6 rebounds and 8 assists with 2 steals and a block. It’s a respectable statement from the rookie and her teammates are overjoyed. She’s surrounded by them as they celebrate winning their first game of the season and there’s a sense of hopeful excitement about how the rest of the season could go. Her eyes go over the top of them to find the cute Dallas local reporter that Paige had befriended shooting her a congratulatory wink and she blushes a little bit, looking away bashfully. In the distance, Paige can make out a small crowd of people decked in custom Wings #5 jersey, whistling in excitement. Despite the home fans, their celebration still echoes around the stadium and the loudest cheer comes from her brother who stands next to her father, both of them beaming with pride. And It’s almost enough to prevent her eyes from wandering back to the empty courtside seats. Almost. 
***
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. With the quick transition from the college season into the draft, Paige hadn’t had found time to go home inbetween. And so when the Wings had been making hotel arrangements for DC, she’d opted to stay with her dad and Drew in Maryland instead. But as she stands in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at a wall filled with pictures that are an ode to the past - collages that are practically a shrine to her broken relationship- Paige finds herself longing for the cold, unfeeling exterior of a foreign hotel room. 
Paige’s life can be split into two parts. There’s the Before Azzi and then there’s the With Azzi. And the truth is that there isn’t much from the Before Azzi left in Paige’s life. Every inch of her current life has been touched by the brunette, illuminated by her presence and now, it’s tainted by her absence. Especially in Maryland. Since she’d met the Virginia native, the DMV area had always been synonymous with the Fudds for Paige and she can’t remember a time when she’d been here -when she’d been in this bedroom- and not had plans to see them- to see Azzi. 
She takes a hesitant step inside, eyes gliding over each photograph and it’s like she’s being transported through time. The memories are as vivid as ever, bursting with color as they ellipse her mind. Paige can picture every moment like she’d lived it yesterday. She can still hear their laughter echoing through the air, can feel the softness of their hands -their bodies- brushing against each other, can still taste the lingering sweetness of their lips meeting halfway as they breathed silent promises against each other’s skin. 
A silent sob wracks through Paige’s body as she brushes her fingers over the most recent image of them from December -the last photograph she’d had time to print out. It’s one that Drew had taken of them in the kitchen- Paige propped up on the counter and Azzi in between her legs, one hand on the counter with the other resting right against Paige’s heart. Neither of them had even noticed the little boy, too wrapped up in each other; they were in their own world like they often had been. Azzi’s head is thrown back in laughter -probably at some ridiculous joke her girlfriend had cracked- and Paige has that goofy - just for Azzi- grin on her face as she gazes at the brunette with nothing but adoration. 
The picture is from barely six months ago but they look so young to Paige, so innocent, so naive, so fucking happy, so completely unaware that in a couple of months, one hesitantly spoken word would dissolve that happiness into a puddle of rubble. 
No. 
She thinks that one simple word is destined to echo through her ears, like that unpleasant screech of nails scratching against a chalkboard, for as long as she still has the ability to hear. Paige hadn’t even really heard it at first; it had been said so softly, so quietly, so brokenly and she’d barely seen Azzi’s lips move. For the briefest moment she’d tricked her mind into believing it was just the sound of the wind around them. But then there it was again. 
Louder. 
Stronger. 
No.
Paige’s hands instinctively clasp around her ears, fingers tangling tightly through her blond hair, because she can still fucking hear it. Here in this bedroom, where every corner still holds a little part of Azzi -holds a little part of them- the sting of rejection is louder than it’s been since it had first hit. Because it’s not just the pictures. It’s all the little pieces of them they’d left scattered over Christmas break, thinking they’d come back to it together.
 It’s a set of Azzi’s earrings -one Paige vaguely remembers picking out for her when they’d gone shopping a couple of weeks before- placed delicately on Paige’s dresser. It’s the pink sweater -that neither of them are sure who it originally belongs to but like most of their clothes, is basically a shared item at this point- haphazardly thrown over a chair. It’s that stupid book they’d started reading together -Paige lying across her girlfriend’s lap, toying with her curls as Azzi read the story out loud- still lying on the nightstand, waiting to be finished. 
Despite being alone in her room, Paige finds herself rapidly shaking her head. Because she can’t do this. Can’t spend a night in this room that had barely ever been just hers, had always felt more like theirs. She can’t sleep on that bed, no when her last memory of it is being tangled in the sheets with Azzi on a cold wintry morning, their legs intertwined with each other as they’d giggled to themselves in between languid lazy kisses. And maybe it’s pathetic of her but she can’t find it in herself to unmake the bed, not when her last memory of the two of them in this room is her leaning against the wall, shamelessly checking out her girlfriend as Azzi neatly made the bed, chiding Paige for the nth time on the importance of tidiness. 
“When are you gonna learn how to make your bed,” Azzi had sighed. 
Grinning, Paige had wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind, slotting her face into the crevice of Azzi’s neck and brushing her lips against the patch of skin, “I know how to make my bed. I just never have to because I’ll always have you to do it for me.”
Except for the last few weeks, Paige has had to make her own bed and she fucking hates it. 
Breathing sharply, Paige slowly backs out of her bedroom, gently pulling the door shut. She leans her forehead against the cool mahogany frame, trying to calm herself down. There’s been a nonstop dull ache in her chest since that night but tonight feels different, like the cold hands of the past have managed to dig under her ribcage and squeeze her heart  -something sharp digging into her arteries- so hard that it hurts just to exist. Paige gives herself a couple more seconds, creating half-moons as she digs her nails into her palms, before she finally pulls away from the door, heading towards her brother’s room down the hall. 
“You know you really should start knocking before you come into my room,” Drew says with a mock annoyance that’s betrayed by his large grin, as Paige slips into his room, “I’m almost a teenager.”
Despite the heaviness that’s still lingering between her lungs, Paige suddenly finds it a lot easier to breathe. Her little brother’s bedroom is dark, save for red LED lights and dim glow of the TV. Drew is reclined on his bed, gripping a white gaming controller between his hands. 
“You’re always gonna be a baby to me Drewski,” she teases, stepping towards him to ruffle his hair, laughing when he ducks her hand and shoots her an irritated glare in response. 
“Not the hair,” he whines and then groans as his eyes flicker back to the screen, towards the game he'd been playing, “damnit Paigey you just got me killed.”
“Hey hey hey, don’t blame me for your incompetence,” Paige chides. 
Drew rolls his eyes, before reaching over to hand over the other controller, “you wanna play?”
Paige shakes her head, gently pushing his hand away, “nah I just-” she chews at her bottom lip, shuffling her feet with uncharacteristic nervousness, “I was just uh- just wondering if I could stay in here tonight? We could have a sleepover? Like old times? Just you and me.”
It’s heartwarming the way her little bother’s eyes light up -like he’s still the little boy that used to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, not almost a teenager who’ll eventually be taller than her- as he nods excitedly, scooching over to give his older sister space on his bed. Paige crawls gingerly onto the bed, hesitating for a second, before she lays her head on her brother’s lap, curling into herself. Drew is warm and inviting and familiar and for a second she almost forgets that serrated pain shooting through her nerves. But then it all comes rushing back and Paige has to swallow harshly to keep herself from giving into the fresh new set of tears that are re-emerging on her waterline. 
“Paigey,” Drew whispers softly as he runs his finger through her delicate blonde hair, clearly sensing something’s wrong, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine Drew,” she means to keep her voice strong but it comes out as broken as she feels. 
“Paigey,” the little boy’s voice is more worried now, “should I call Azzi?” 
This time the whimper escapes before Paige can stop it as she tightly closes her eyes. She knows her brother means well; know that Drew doesn’t really remember Paige without Azzi- doesn’t remember a time before his sister knew how to heal without the brunette’s touch. He’d watched Paige celebrate all her victories with Azzi and he’d seen the same hold his sister in all her tragedies, putting her back together every time she broke with promises of you’ll have always have me. From the moment Drew was old enough to understand his sister’s feelings, he was also perceptive enough to understand that Azzi was always what she needed, no matter how she was feeling. And it’s still true, Paige thinks; she wants nothing more than to say yes, wants nothing more than for Drew to call Azzi, so Paige can tell her how much she fucking misses her- how much she fucking needs her. 
Perhaps it's pride or maybe it’s fear, but Paige doesn’t say what she wants. Instead she vigorously shakes her head in her brother’s lap, “n-no it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s late and Azzi’s busy-”
“Azzi’s never too busy for you,” Drew says indignantly, “I’m gonna call her.”
“Drew stop,” Paige’s voice is much firmer this time as she wraps a strong arm around her little brother’s knee, stopping him from moving, “we’re not calling Azzi.”
She could tell him now. After all, she’s going to have to when he inevitably asks why he hasn’t seen Azzi -why he hasn’t seen the girl who’s been a part of his life for more than half of it- in so long. But even though the words sit scratchily on the tip of her tongue, she still isn’t quite ready to spit them out; isn’t quite ready to confront reality. 
“Why not,” petulance coats Drew’s tone. 
“Because I’m fine and I don’t need- I don’t want to talk to her,” Paige lies. 
The little boy scoffs, “you always want to talk to her.”
He doesn’t know the way that simple sentence turns the cracked pieces of Paige’s heart into dust as she tightens her grips on his leg, “Drew please- please just let it go.”
“Why,” Drew argues stubbornly, “why can’t we call her.”
“We just-” Paige’s voice breaks, as she scrambles to wipe her tears before they can wet her little brother’s shirt, “we just can’t okay?”
And there must be something in her voice -the anguish that no amount of trying is able to hide- that Drew pieces together to understand that this isn’t a battle he can win, no matter how much he and Paige might both want him to. The young boy slowly droops his body back to its reclining position, his fingers returning back to Paige’s hair as he begins to stroke her head again. 
“It’s gonna be okay Paigey,” he whispers with all the hopeful innocence of a blissfully naive little boy, “everything gonna be okay.”
And god does Paige want to believe him. But the courtside seats were empty tonight. And she’s in the DMV with no plans to see the Fudds- to see Azzi. And she’ll never know the ending to that stupid book on her bedside table. 
She wants to believe Drew but Paige isn’t sure how anything’s ever going to be okay again. 
***
May 2033 
It should be a joyful moment -the three most important people in her life congregating together- but instead as Paige quietly observes the scene in her living room -Drew silently seething, Azzi fidgeting nervously with her thumbs and Stephie babbling away amidst it all- she feels suffocated by this heavy gray cloud of apprehension lingering above her head. If she’s honest with herself, she’s been on edge for a couple of days now, since training camp had begun to be precise. Since she’d moved to the Bay Area, everything else in Paige’s world had been eclipsed by Azzi and Stephie. The mother-daughter duo were all-consuming and if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been more than happy to let her thoughts -and her heart- be consumed by nothing but the two of them. 
It had been so easy to forget everything else and the tentative verbal three-way deal she technically had with the Valkyries and the Liberty had pretty much ceased to exist in her thoughts. That is until Angie Davis -the lynchpin in this agreement- had been selected, just as everyone had predicted, to the Valkyries. The Stanford PG had shown up to training camp with a shy smile and an eagerness to learn that all the rest of the vets on the team had warmly embraced. But all Paige saw in the girl was the ticking time bomb of a decision she’d forgotten she’d have to make. And it isn’t just the reminder of the decision that has Paige feeling at unease; it’s why she has to make this decision in the first place, the reason behind why she’d agreed to this deal in the first play, why she’d been so adamant for Talia to make sure she didn’t get stuck here. 
Eight years ago, Azzi Fudd had broken her heart and Paige has spent every moment since, trying to collect the shattered pieces and reassemble them. 
And the last thing Paige had wanted to do was give Azzi the hammer to smash her barely fixed heart again. 
That’s what it had felt like when Talia had first brought up the Valkyries offer. It wasn’t that she and Azzi hadn’t been in each other’s orbit the last couple of years -it was impossible not to- but since the breakup, they’d never been around each other long enough, never quite been in the right situations, for that opportunity to present itself again. But Paige had known that if she came to the Valkyries, it would be an inevitability. That belief had only been strengthened the day she’d visited the Bay Area. She’d been adamant from the second she’d gotten on the flight that she couldn’t be persuaded to join Golden State, no matter how much she respected the organization and how well she’d fit into their system; no matter how much she adored the city and its love for her favorite sport.
But then she’d met a little girl who had an identical smile to the one that had held her captive since she was fifteen and barely knew what love was. And if Stephie with her doe-eyed wisdom that Paige would look great in purple wasn’t enough, then there was Azzi. Paige had expected Azzi to tell her to decline the offer. In a way that’s what she wanted; the masochistic need to feel the sting of that rejection again so she wouldn’t be tempted to burn herself in the fire again. But the brunette had done the opposite and Paige had known by just how quick her resolve had succumbed, that she’d been right to fear the inevitability. And it was that fear that had prompted the verbal agreement with the Liberty; an escape plan she’d forgotten she’d devised. 
Because escaping had been the last thing on Paige’s mind the last few weeks. 
All of Paige’s fears and apprehension had seemed to take a backseat the moment Azzi had smiled -hesitant but real- and said she was ready to try, the moment Stephie’s tiny hands had fit perfectly into her own. 
But she can feel it all coming back now, bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over like lava, wiping out this paradise she’s been in with Stephie and Azzi. It had started with the reminder of the Liberty deal but it’s Drew’s presence -his scowl directed at Azzi that feels like one of a brother still betrayed on his sister’s behalf- that had heightened it. Her little brother’s anger, and the genuine hurt that lingers behind it, feels like a dark reminder of Paige’s own heartbreak. 
Suddenly she feels like she’s 23, playing her first WNBA game and instead of celebrating a solid debut, she’s sobbing in her little brother’s lap over the girl who had walked away. 
“Miss Buecks,” Paige looks down to find Stephie crawling into her lap, “are we ready to order the pizza now?”
The little girl’s arms wrapping around her neck eases some of Paige’s discomfort as she smiles down at Stephie. 
“I’ve been ready for ages. You were the one yapping away,” she teases. 
Stephie pouts, “I don’t yap,” she turns her body towards Azzi, “Mama I don’t yap do I?”
Azzi’s own tense body seems to relax a little as she smirks at the two of them, “you definitely yap Stephie-”
“Mama,” Stephie protests, looking betrayed. 
“But not nearly as much as your Miss Buecks yaps,” Azzi’s eyes twinkle with mirth as Paige splutters, jaw dropping open with mock offense, “between the two of you, it’s a miracle my poor ears haven’t fallen off.”
“Just for that I’m not adding veggies to the pizza,” Paige sticks her tongue out, causing Stephie to giggle and Azzi to roll her eyes at the display of immaturity. 
Paige slips out her phone, pulling up their usual pizza place on doordash and quickly plugs in her memorized orders for everyone in the room as Stephie gets herself comfortable on the blonde’s lap. The five-year old leans her head back against Paige’s chest, who instinctively wraps her free hand around Stephie’s waist, keeping her securely in place. 
“So uncle Drew,” Stephie says with a grin, slightly leaning forward as she addresses the man sitting rigidly on the edge of the sofa, “did Miss Buecks yap a lot when she was younger too.”
“Be careful how you answer that,” Paige warns with a good natured glare in her brother’s direction, trying to lighten his mood. 
It works to an extent as a small smirk slips onto the edges of Drew’s lip, “oh she was a chronic yapper.”
“What does che-ronic mean?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose in confusion.
Drew laughs, eyes glittering with mischief, “it means she didn’t know when to shut up.”
“Drew Thomas,” Paige guffaws, “you’re supposed to be my little brother, protecting your older sister’s honor and all of that.”
“Hey,” Drew raises his hand in surrender, “my older sister taught me to never lie, especially not to children.”
“Did you really talk that much?” Stephie asks, turning to Paige with wide eyes. 
“Don’t listen to him Stephie-bean,” the blonde says, brushing her hands through Stephie’s curls, “it’s all bullsh-”
“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately as the older woman bites her lip to stop the curse word from escaping. 
“Bullsharks,” Paige amends, “fake news. False advertising. I was a calm and quiet kid for sure.”
Drew snorts, leaning back into the sofa and Paige lets out a soft sigh of relief at seeing her brother relax. Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, feeling a sense of calmness when she sees the younger girl’s nervous fidgeting has stilled and there’s a tentative smile on her face. 
 “You weren’t calm or quiet,” he says pointedly. 
“Was too,” Paige argues stubbornly. 
“Yes you were,” Drew presses, “Stephie if you don’t believe me, ask your Mama,” he turns to Azzi, “tell her Azzi. She literally yapped your ear off into becoming your friend.”
Azzi blanches, clearly shocked at having been so cavalierly addressed, and even Paige is a little surprised by the expectant “agree with me look” that Drew is giving the brunette after having spent the last moments practically glaring at her. But really it probably shouldn’t be that surprising. Because Drew and Paige are cut from the same material and letting Azzi into the folds seems to just come naturally to both of them. And it’s so familiar to when they’d all been years and years younger -two college students and a little boy - so familiar to the countless nights spent in Minnesota and DC and Connecticut where several silly arguments like this between Paige and Drew had ultimately ended with them both turning to Azzi -the forever moderator- in hopes that she’d side with them. 
She’d always sided with Drew -much to Paige’s chagrin, though she’d been secretly enamored by the relationship between her girlfriend and her brother- and this time is no different as Azzi shakes off the shock, replacing it with a cheeky expression. 
“Didn’t shut up for 14 whole hours,” she laments, her voice filled with teasing but she smiles at the blonde as if she’s reminiscing it, reminiscing the moment that began it all for them and Paige can’t help the hopelessly sappy smile she gives her in return. 
“14 hours? You talked for 14 whole hours, Miss Buecks?” Stephie’s eyes are comically large as she echoes the number. 
“Of course not,” Paige defends, eyebrows creasing as she glares at the other two adults in the room, “this is bullying. Stephie,” she whines, nuzzling her head into the little girl’s neck, “they’re ganging up on me.”
“There there Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently as she pats at the older woman’s cheek. 
“We’re just telling the truth,” Drew shrugs. 
“Exactly,” Azzi nods solemnly, “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
She grins, reaching her hand out for a high five and Paige watches as Drew raises his own hand, ready to reciprocate. For a second it feels like everything is coming together; like the past could just stay in the past. But then he stops midair. The easy smile fades from his face and the previous tautness comes rushing back. He pulls his hand back, turning away from Azzi, who’s face slowly falls back. The lightheartedness from mere seconds ago is replaced by the tension from before and that burden of all that’s happened between us returns as a heavy weight pressed against Paige’s heart. 
“Paigey used to yap a lot,” Drew says slowly, “like I said you couldn’t get her to shut up and then one day,” he pauses, angry eyes darting towards Azzi, “one day she just got quiet- she shut up- she stopped yapping all the time.”
“Why?” Stephie asks softly, her tone a mixture of concern and genuine curiosity. 
Paige’s arm tightens around the little girl in her lap as she shoots her brother a pleading look, “Drew-”
“Because someone-” there’s so much venom in the word that it makes Azzi visibly flinch and Paige wants to soothe away the creases forming in her forehead, “someone broke her heart. And it took years- it took years to get her back to normal, to get her yapping again. To get my sister back to who she was.”
There’s pindrop silence as Drew seethes at his own words and Azzi rapidly blinks back tears, until Stephie turns around in Paige’s lap, tiny hands cupping the blonde’s face as she tries not to let her emotions show in front of the little girl. 
“Someone broke your heart?” Stephie looks so upset by the idea that Paige wants to vehemently deny it, “how could anyone break your heart Miss Buecks?”
She means well -just a child concerned for one of her favorite people- but she has no idea of the dagger she’s just twisted in her own mother’s heart as a faint whimper escapes Azzi’s lips. Paige opens and closes her mouth, hopelessly looking at the brunette who’s digging her fist into the sofa, despair embedded all over her face. 
“Stephie-” Paige tries to say. 
“Don’t worry kid,” Drew cuts in instead, his voice steady and firm, “it happened once but I won’t-” his eyes burn with fire as he looks at Azzi, “I won’t let it happen again.”
“Stephie,” Paige says quietly after a moment, her gaze transfixed on Azzi whose doing her absolute best not to let her emotions show in front of her little girl, “sweetheart how ‘bout you show Uncle Drew around the house.”
“I don’t want to see the house,” Drew says petulantly as he stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest
“Yes. You. Do.” Paige grits out, trying not to curse when her younger brother rolls his eyes at her. 
“C’mon Uncle Drew,” Stephie says cheerfully as she slips off of Paige’s lap and reaches a hand out for the man instead, “Miss Buecks has a really cool house and maybe we can go steal some of her cool clothes.”
Drew sighs but he’s not immune to Stephie’s infectious energy. A hint of a grin sneaks through the cracks as he accepts the little girl’s offer. Stephie starts to pull him towards the staircase but the perceptive girl stops for a second in front of her mother, a cautious look on her face as Azzi musters up a grin to mollify the little girl's concern and Drew adamantly averts looking at the other woman. 
“Go on bean,” Azzi urges softly, keeping her shaky voice under control, “go show him the house.”
Stephie nods before gently pressing her lips against Azzi’s cheeks, eliciting a deep breath from her mother, before she practically drags Drew towards the staircase, already speaking a mile per minute.  
There’s a pause, filled with a combination of the quiet rumble of Stephie blabbering upstairs and Azzi’s uneven breathing. Then the tears that the brunette had been trying so hard to barricade behind her eyelids starts cascading down her cheeks and Paige almost trips on her own feet as she moves towards her. She falls to her knees in front of Azzi, gently brushing her against her cheek, before wrapping her hands around her tightly formed fists. 
“Baby don’t cry. Please I hate it when you cry,” Paige whispers softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “he’s just-”
“He’s right,” Azzi cuts her off, shaking her head. 
“Az-”
“He hates me-”
“He doesn’t-”
“He does,” Azzi presses, her tears falling faster now, “and he should. Paige I did break your heart,” they both flinch at the blunt statement, “and he doesn’t trust me because of it and he hasn’t forgiven me for it. I haven’t forgiven me for it.”
“Baby,” Paige echoes again, unsure what else to say. 
“Have you forgiven me?” 
The question lingers in the air as Azzi looks expectantly at her and Paige stumbles over her words, trying to find the right ones. She doesn’t really know how to answer the questions; hadn’t been expecting to be confronted with it tonight. Paige wants to say yes; she wants to take away Azzi’s guilt so fucking bad. These last few weeks had been so perfect, Paige had convinced herself she was over what had happened almost a decade ago. But if she’s honest with herself -if she’s honest to the memories of every night she’d spent sobbing into her pillows, missing the girl in front of her and resenting her for walking away- Paige doesn’t really know if she has forgiven Azzi. 
“Paige?” Azzi ask again, her voice breaking on the one syllable. 
Paige’s face crumbles as she looks at the girl defenselessly, “ Az, I-”
The doorbell rings at the exact moment and Stephie comes excitedly barrelling down the staircase as the two women scramble away from each other, trying to compose themselves. 
“Miss Buecks, Mama,” the younger girl hollers, “pizza’s here.”
Paige looks at Azzi who’s rushing to wipe away the remnants of her tears. She opens her mouth, desperately willing herself to find something, anything that could offer the girl in front of her some comfort; that could take their relationship away from the precipice of this cliff they’ve somehow found themselves on. But the right words don’t materialize and instead Paige closes her mouth and turns away, slowly heading towards Stephie as Azzi’s question continues to wreak havoc in her mind. 
And she wishes she could rewind the clock and freeze them where they had been just a couple of hours ago, freeze them in a moment where the past hadn’t weighed so heavily on the present. But perhaps the past had always been there and they’d simply just done a marvelous job ignoring it. Except tonight, they can’t seem to ignore it anymore. 
***
Paige thinks pizza has never tasted so terrible in her life. The mood at her basically unused dining table is numbingly sober; even Stephie has stopped her chatter, the little girl clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere around her as she quietly nibbles away at her slice of pizza. It’s in stark contrast to the innumerable dinners they’d had in the last three weeks; the three of them -Paige, Azzi and Stephie in between them- at the table or the counter or sometimes even the couch, raucous with laughter and smiles. Paige doesn’t understand how moments can shift like this; how last night could have been filled with giggles and grins and tonight is filled with nothing but a silence filled with too many unspoken words.
Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, who’s making a concerted effort to keep her own everted from both Bueckers siblings. The brunette’s question from before feels like a loud horn blaring in Paige’s ears, one that she can’t seem to find the off-switch for no matter how hard she searches for it. They’re barely a couple feet apart, sitting opposite each other with Drew next to Paige and Stephie next to Azzi, but the width of the table feels like it stretches for miles. Paige misses the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against hers, misses the sly brush of their hands before their fingers would inevitably curl around each other’s underneath the table where Stephie couldn’t see. 
“Miss Buecks,” Paige swallows, trying to shake off the feeling of is this us crumbling again, as she diverts attention to Stephie who’s smiling at her with that cheeky grin that means she wants something. 
“What’s up Stephie-bean?” Paige asks and she’s convinced there’s magic in the little girl’s existence because despite the tightness she still feels in her chest, having Stephie close feels like a reason for her to breathe through it. 
“Can I have a soda?” Stephie asks, using the palm of her hands to frame her slightly tilted face as she juts out her bottom lip in a pleading. 
Paige grins, ready to concede as she often is with the little girl but Azzi speaks first, “no soda Stephie.”
Stephie pouts, “why not?”
“Because I said so,” Azzi says bluntly and Paige is taken back by the sharpness of it. 
“Mama please,” Stephie begs, “please, please, please.”
“No Stephie,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s tone but Stephie doesn’t pay much heed to it continuing to plead and the irritation on her mother’s face -clearly exacerbated by other things- gets more and more apparent. 
“Please Mama. Pizza just doesn’t go down right without soda,” the little girl argues, “can I please just have a little bit. Just a teeny tiny bit Please, please pretty please please-”
“Stephie, no” Azzi repeats, pinching the bridge of her nose as Drew and Paige exchange nervous glances. 
“Stephie, yes,” the little girl argues, stubbornly crossing her hands over her chest. 
“Ste-”
“I want soda. I want soda. Please, please, please, plea-”
“I said no Stephanie,” Azzi all but yells, startling Stephie into being quiet and making both Drew and Paige flinch. The little girl is wide-eyed for a second -not used to anything but her mother’s normally gentle way of dealing with her occasional brattiness- before her lips begin to tremble and big fat tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She scrambles out of her chair, beelining towards Paige and climbing onto her lap as she burrows her face into the blonde’s neck, wetting her shirt with tears. 
“Shhh, shhh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige whispers to the little girl, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as she strokes her hair. 
She glances at Azzi, who’s adamantly looking, her face stone cold but regret gleaming in her eyes, “Az-”
“No,” the younger woman says immediately. 
“C’mon,” Paige says exasperatedly, “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“If it’s about giving her a soda, I don’t wanna hear it,” Azzi warns, “you can’t just give into all of her demands all the time, you have to learn to say no and she needs to learn to hear it.”
“I hear you but Az it’s a Friday-”
“Paige-”
“A tiny bit of soda to start the weekend can’t hurt. In fact,” Paige smirks down at the little girl in her lap as she coaxes Stephie’s face out of her neck so she can wipe away the tears on her blotchy red face, “I think a little soda to start the weekend is probably good for you.”
She feels her heart soar when it makes Stephie giggle, letting out a couple teary hiccoughs in between as she clutches onto Paige. 
“I think so too Mama,” the little girl echoes, looking back at her mother with a timid grin. 
“Give in Azzi,” Paige matches the pleading smile on Stephie’s face as she turns her focus onto the brunette, “she deserves a little treat 
“I know what she deserves. I think I know what’s good for my daughter,” Azzi says steely and Paige feels something cold squeezing through her ribcage, “no soda Stephie. End of discussion.”
My daughter. 
The thing is Paige doesn’t even really think she has the right to be upset over Azzi’s statements. Really, it’s nothing but the truth. Stephie is Azzi’s daughter and Azzi definitely knows what’s good for her daughter. So why does it sting like this? Why does it feel like little shards of ice piercing into her heart, leaving deep gashes that have her whole body feeling like it’s freezing over? Paige knows why, knows that these past weeks had been enough to trick her mind into believing the mirage that Stephie was hers. But now Azzi’s flicked her fingers against it causing the whole fantasy to come crashing down and Paige feels herself slowly getting buried under the rubble of it. 
“Right," she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady, “she’s your daughter and you know best,” she ignores the tinge of guilt in Azzi’s eyes as she turns to Stephie who looks like she’s ready to protest again, “you heard your Mama Stephie. No soda tonight.”
“But Miss Buecks-” Stephie whines. 
“No sweetheart,” Paige says gently, shaking her head. 
The little girl narrows her eyes before letting out a frustrated groan as she slips off of Paige’s lap. She loudly stomps her feet, glaring at all the adults in the room before she angrily storms upstairs. It’s so unlike the usually even-keeled little girl that Paige thinks it’s probably a reaction to the tension she can sense between the adults. Her eyes drift over Drew -who’s chewing at his lips in a similar manner to how his big sister often does- before locking with Azzi’s and she feels that familiar guilt of there’s always collateral damage for our mistakes pooling at the pit of her stomach. The brunette breaks eye contact first, letting out a heavy sigh before she follows behind her daughter and Paige lets her face fall into her hands, 
It feels like everything’s in free fall, like during an earthquake when everything shakes and the books -the complicatedly tangled stories of the past and present- go flying from their shelves. Paige rubs at her eyelids, trying to make this helpless feeling go away. Her fingers are coiled tightly around a rope, just like they had been on that night eight years ago and just like that night, she can feel the tips of them starting to bleed. She can feel Drew’s gaze fixated on her; can tell he’s contemplating whether to say something or not. Swallowing, Paige pulls her face out of her palms to look at her brother, a decisively defiant expression on her face. 
“Something you wanna say?” she asks him, cocking her eyebrows as if she’s daring him to speak. 
Drew hesitates for a second before an almost identical expression crosses his face, “what the fuck are you doing Paige?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paige replies airly. 
Drew narrows his eyes at her, “seriously?”
“Seriously,” Paige shrugs. 
“This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement Paige,” Drew says, ignoring the way his sister flinches at the reminder as he drops his voice lower so they can’t be overheard, “you were supposed to be with Golden State for one season, hopefully win a championship and then you’d be off to New York at the end. That was the plan but clearly all of that has gone flying out the window. You’re getting attached to this city, this life, to them.” 
A barely believable “of course I’m not,” flutters weakly off of Paige’s lip as she blinks rapidly at the accusation. 
“Oh for fucks sake,” Drew curses, “Paige your bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in, in days. There’s almost no groceries in your fridge or your pantry. From what I saw of the garden, it’s basically been left for dead. Your closet is half empty and it sure as shit isn’t because they’re all in the laundry because as Stephie puts it, Azzi says that their laundry basket is three times heavier than it used to be with all your clothes.”
“I-I don’t-” Paige stutters, “that- that doesn’t- doesn’t mean-”
“It’s been two months -if even that- two months Paige and I think you're in even deeper now than you were the last time,” Drew spits the last two words out bitterly like their flames on the tip of his tongue and the sparks of it singe Paige’s skin. 
“That’s not- I’m not-” she tries to justify but it sounds hollow to her own ears. 
“You are,” Drew says exasperatedly, “what are you gonna do when she walks away again? When she lets you go again, what are you gonna do Paige?”
Her little brother isn’t cruel but Paige swears she’s never heard anything more aimed to hurt than these perfectly directed arrows he’s launching straight at her heart. The defense of she’s not going to leave me stays stuck in her throats, battling against the harsh thoughts of she already has that are taunting her. 
“She- I- you- this- I don’t- you can’t-” Paige doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say; she feels like a fish spluttering outside of the water, desperate to breathe air that seems to kill her the more she inhales it. 
Drew looks away, his face crumpling slightly, a mixture of sadness and guilt gleaming in his eyes, and Paige can tell that he hates himself a little for being the one to cause her this torment, the one to make her face the darkest possibility of her reality. 
“I was there Paige,” he says softly, “I was the one who watched you break in ways that I didn’t even think you were breakable,” his voice snaps, “and I was the one who watched how hard you had to work to put yourself back together. I don’t wanna see any of that again.”
“Drew,” Paige whispers. 
“And it wasn’t just her,” Drew continues, “you lost her family too.”
Paige gulps at the reminder, “they were still there. They came to games. They were at my wedding.”
Drew shakes his head, “but it wasn’t the same and you know it. You lost her and you lost them and this time,” he bites his lip, like he wishes the next words weren’t sitting on his vocal chords, waiting to spill out, “this time, if you lose her, you’ll lose a lot more.”
“What do you-” Paige heistates, unsure if she even wants to ask, “what do you mean?”
Her little brother pauses, mouth opening and closing like it’s painful to speak, before his eyes drift towards the stairs and Paige feels her heart sinking even before Drew says the words she knows he’s about to say. 
“You’ll lose her daughter. You’ll lose Stephie.”
“No,” the whispered syllable is out before Paige can even stop it, “no, no, no, no-”
“Paige-”
“Stop it Drew,” the blonde says louder than she wanted to as she clutches at her heart, trying to keep it whole as the tears overflow over her waterline. 
“Stop what Paige? Stop saying things you already know deep down but are choosing to ignore? Is that what you want me to stop doing?” Drew asks harshly. 
“Drew-”
“There’s a reason you didn’t want to commit to the Valkyries and you know it. There’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season.” her younger brother says firmly. 
“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know.”
Drew’s eyes soften, “stick to plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”
Paige bites her lip so hard, she can taste that morbid taste of iron on her lips as she opens her mouth to say something. She’s not sure if it’s to argue with Drew or to agree and she doesn’t get a chance to find out. Instead there’s a sharp intake of breath and then a quiet, timid voice laced with accusation and Paige feels the blood drain out of her body as she slowly turns around to find Stephie and Azzi -their faces ashen with identical expressions of betrayal- staring at her. 
“Miss Buecks, you’re moving to New York?”
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seitmai · 11 hours ago
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“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”
They are very eager, maybe a little too much to "get" a little sister 🫣
His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin. “Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?
Someone had to tell them lol
“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end. “Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”
This is not going well🥴
You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.
😬😬😬
He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car. “Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”
Puhh he really just sees or hearswhat he wants to see or hear 🥴
“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.” The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?” “I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”
He knows exactly how to push her buttons
A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?” “I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?” He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”
Geez, what a request to end the day 🫣
Hold You Tight: Part 9
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Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.
Part 8 | Series Masterlist | Part 10
Chapter Summary: Bucky takes you home, but will he keep his hands to himself?
Chapter Word Count: Over 3.7k
Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, tension, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.
A/N: More Hold You Tight and thank you for your patience! Hope you lovelies continue to enjoy. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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You thought you heard the men wish you well once more when Bucky led you out of the office. You weren’t completely sure since you tried to block everything out, but attempting to disassociate wouldn’t exactly do you any good. The night wasn’t over yet and you had to stay sharp. You didn’t know what Bucky had planned for when he got you home. Were you prepared at all?
Not in the least.
You half expected to walk back through the front of the club to leave, but Ray directed you to a door near the back once he gave Bucky a nod. The car was waiting in the alley and you took a moment to glance up at the sky. You could only make out one star and you wished in that moment you could grow wings and fly away. But when did wishing upon a star do you any good?
“Let’s get you back to your place,” Bucky said, helping you into the car.
You had to give him credit for trying to keep up his end of the bargain by getting you home on time. Your body refused to relax though once he sat beside you and took your hand. Was he trying to get you accustomed to his touch? Make you crave him? It bothered you that in spite of your determination he drew you in to a certain degree. But you wouldn’t let him take you to bed tonight. You weren’t ready to cross that inevitable line.
Maybe, just maybe, if your performance in bed disappointed him, he’d get bored and walk away. The thought almost made you laugh. That wasn’t happening. If anything, he’d probably love teaching you how to be his perfect lover.
“I think tonight went well,” Bucky smiled.
“Which part exactly?” You mumbled, pulling your hand away. The part where he forced you to go, how his men all but admitted they knew Bucky stalked you, or how they beat the hell out of a man?
“Just the night in general. I knew everyone would love you, but I really think Thor wants to be your big brother now,” Bucky replied. You wanted it so badly to be endearing, but Thor was dangerous. He mentioned a father-in-law. How exactly did he find his wife? And bringing up the flower donations to the hospital. Bucky seemed upset. Why? “Which he’ll have to fight Steve for.”
“Fighting. You guys seem to excel in that arena,” you said, remembering how they all took turns beating up John. “But I guess Steve does have a bit of that ‘big brother’ vibe, helping you take total control of my life and whatnot.”
“Not total control. I’m still letting you work, but maybe I can buy the shop.” He chuckled at your thunderous expression. The light threat had you seeing red. “I probably shouldn't joke about that, should I?”
“Letting me work? Like it’s your decision? And don’t you dare buy the shop.” You pushed at him to keep from slapping him when he chuckled again. Not with enough force to get him far away from you, but you needed some sort of space in the vehicle. He also needed a good hit over the head. “You’re a bully, do you know that? So are your friends.”
His laughter died off quickly when he reached out and gently took your hand again, prying your fingers away from your palm. You didn’t notice it stung from your nails until he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. “You think we’re bullies?” He asked against your skin.
“Yes. Besides nearly beating that jerk to death, you do realize that you use force and threats to dominate and intimidate. That’s a form of bullying, Bucky,” you said. Was he deliberately being obtuse or was he lost in his delusion that this was all normal?
“I wouldn’t say we’re bullies. I call it protecting and keeping what’s mine,” he said. There was no shame on his end.
“Right. Because I’m a possession and not a person,” you said, your face scrunching up as you tried not to cry. You needed rest. If part of Bucky’s plan was to wear you down by overwhelming you, mission accomplished. “I’m so tired. I just want to go to bed.”
“You’re a person, not a possession, Kotyonok. And not just a person, a good person who gives so much of herself to others. And probably one of the only people who rightfully calls me out on my shit.” His response drew you up short. “Outside of my friends, no one else does that.”
“Maybe because they’re afraid of you and what you can do,” you said after a moment. Fear could make anyone say what they thought people wanted to hear. “Either that or they want your approval,” you added, which you could also understand to a point. People wanted a sense of belonging, especially with those who had influence and power.
“Maybe they are afraid,” he agreed, brushing his lips against your palm again with a sigh. “What is it about me that scares you most?”
“I’m not really sure exactly,” you admitted. There was so much about the situation that terrified you. What he was capable of. How he inserted himself into various aspects of your life and so quickly. How far he was willing to go to keep you. “But I think it’s your conviction. That you’re so sure that I’m your other half and no one can convince you otherwise, not even me.”
You could scream until your lungs gave out that you didn’t belong with him and you knew in your heart he’d argue until his last breath that you did. He was steadfast in that belief that you were soulmates. That conviction was so strong that what you really feared was that he would somehow convince you that he was right: that you belonged together.
Those steel blue eyes of his met yours and mesmerized you for a heartbeat before you looked away. “Love is scary. It’s natural to be afraid of it.” His lips brushed your ear, making you shiver. “But giving someone the most fragile parts of yourself is one of the bravest things a person can do.”
There was truth in his words, but it felt like he moved another chess piece into place. He was trying to disarm you and you couldn’t let him. “Who painted that black dahlia in your office?” You asked suddenly, feeling him move back enough that you could turn your head toward him. “And why display that flower?” You didn’t believe for a second that he chose it for aesthetic purposes.
“Beautiful, isn't it? Steve painted it,” he replied with an odd mixture of affection and bitterness. “It’s for my parents.”
“Steve is a gifted artist.” You hoped your voice stayed even enough that Bucky wouldn’t get jealous of you complimenting another man’s talent. “I don't know if the symbolism of flowers mean anything to you, but the black dahlia-”
“Betrayal. Sadness. Darkness,” he ticked off, his voice cold enough that another shiver moved through your body. “It was the last flower my dad ever got my mom and it serves as a reminder.”
You swallowed as warning bells sounded in your mind to tread carefully. “And what's that?”
He moved close, your eyes shutting as his hand wrapped around the nape of your neck. “That I'll never do to you what he did to her.”
There was suppressed rage within him. Sorrow. It rolled off him in waves strong enough that they could drown you. He said earlier that his dad got what he deserved. What had he done to his mom?
“You’re in pain,” you whispered. He was hurting and you logically shouldn’t care. So why did you want to know the cause of that hurt? “You have to tell me why.”
It wasn’t for you to use to your advantage. You weren’t sure if you could manipulate someone else. If you knew what happened though, it would at least give you more answers to who Bucky was and why he was the way he was. It could help you gain some sort of understanding.
“I’m not in pain when I’m with you,” he whispered, bringing your hand on his chest. Was he relying on you to chase away whatever haunted him? “Later. I’ve overwhelmed you enough for one evening.”
You let out a breath. You swore he was doing this on purpose, giving you just enough information that you’d wait around until he gave you more. “I can’t argue with you there,” you said, his heart racing under your touch. “Just answer one thing for me, please.”
“What’s that?”
“Marc from the bookstore,” you began, the man’s kind face shimmering in your mind. “Did anything happen to him?”
“I’d question another man being on your mind, but I know you’re just concerned about his well-being.” An easy smile crossed Bucky’s face as you bit your tongue. You could think about anyone you wanted to. “I can’t speak for him right this second, but he was perfectly fine when you and I left. He was just having a chat with one of my associates.”
You exhaled, thankful Marc wasn't hurt. “What kind of chat?” You asked. He was a nice guy, though he did seem to know a bit about Bucky. What exactly was he involved in?
“He just got a warning to be careful about what he does or doesn’t say to his customers.” You tensed before he kissed your forehead. Did he know about the conversation you two had? “And I don’t think the two of you should be alone with each other in the bookstore going forward.”
Just when Bucky had you feeling some sort of sympathy for him moments ago he shocked you right out of it. “Another decision that isn’t yours to make,” you stated, the car coming to a stop. “And you really don’t have to walk me up. I think we’ve had enough of each other’s company tonight.”
“I said I’m tucking you into bed and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” The smile he gave you was nothing short of cocky when he added, “And you owe me a photo. I’m going to get it.”
He was a dog with a bone. He wouldn’t let that go. “Why don’t you just take a photo of me giving you the finger?” You suggested as he helped you out of the car.
“Only if you do it with a smile. I’ll even set it as the background on my phone,” he winked. Your reluctance and defiance of him didn’t phase him in the slightest. “And if you give me the finger, I’ll take it as an invitation that you want to fuck me.”
“Let’s go, please.”
You said nothing else as you went into the building, your anxiety mounting by the second. The slow rise of the elevator didn’t help, Bucky’s hip pressed against yours like he couldn’t stand to have space between you. You figure he’d shove you against the wall and claim your mouth, but he didn’t make a move. It impressed you that he behaved until you got to your floor. It didn’t stop your hand from shaking when you got your keys out.
“Still don’t want to say good night now?”
“I don’t want to say good night at all,” he answered, following you into the apartment and turning on the light. The welcoming feeling you expected when you got home wasn't there. There was a chill in the usual warmth.
“Well, you’ll have to sooner or later,” you said, swallowing when you faced Bucky. He shut the door and watched intently as you set your keys and bag down. You were quiet as you stared back, tension thick as you tried to predict what he was going to do. Once again, he managed to hold all the power in your home.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” He asked, heat and hunger in his stare as he slowly advanced.
Your throat went dry as you stepped back. “You have.”
“So beautiful and so good.” You made another move to retreat when he stepped forward, his manner confident and compelling as he reached out and prevented you from moving back further. “It’s driving me crazy not having you yet.”
“Please, you don’t…” you trailed off when he sank to his knees, unexpected heat flowing from your core. He guided one of your hands to his shoulder to brace yourself, his eyes soft as he helped remove one of your shoes. You found it difficult to breathe as he removed the other, his hand brushing your ankle with infinite tenderness. Like it was an honor to touch and be on his knees for you.
“I know the first time I taste you I’ll never want to stop. I’ll have to wake up every day between your thighs. Fall asleep that way, too.” His hand slid up your calf and his eyes darkened when your other hand found its way to his thick locks. Wetness gathered between your legs when his touch moved to your thigh. “Your pussy is hungry for me, isn’t it? My fingers, my tongue, my cock. I’ll feed her well.”
His voice was like velvet. Seductive. Aching. “Bucky…” Your breath rushed out swiftly when he kissed your mound through your clothes, tormenting you with arousal you didn’t ask for. It frightened you.
“I can smell you,” he murmured, nosing along where his lips had been before he sat back. “Smell so fucking good.”
Moving your shoes out of the way, he rose to his full height again as you willed your legs not to shake. You weren’t used to anyone looking at you, let alone speak to you, the way he did. Stark desire. Possessiveness. His form of love. Your heart pounded and you refused to answer him or glance down. If you looked at the front of his pants…
He took your hand and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom. Your heart pounded with mounting speed, your heels digging into the floor. “You still haven't kissed me,” you blurted out, hoping it would prevent him from taking you to bed. Or would he take that as an invitation to kiss your lips?
“No, I haven't.” You tried to keep some distance between you as he went to your bed, his hand moving along the blanket. You couldn't breathe. “It scares you how much your body wants mine, doesn’t it?”
“Is that what you think?” You asked, forcing air back into your lungs. It did scare you. It also scared you that you didn’t push him away or scream when he dropped to his knees to remove your shoes. Where was your fighting instinct?
“It is what I think.” The ease in which he moved away from the bed to your dresser to find your pajamas frightened you, too. Like he belonged in your room. You thought back to the night he broke in and left your gift on your bed. How much time did he take to look around? “Like love, giving your body to someone can be scary. You have to trust that you won't get hurt when you’re physically vulnerable.”
“You swore you wouldn't hurt me,” you reminded him.
“And I won't. But you know what else I think?” His magnetic gaze stayed on you as he brought a nightgown over. “That no guy has ever really taken care of you and you’re apprehensive to let me try.”
If you were apprehensive, it was because he was a walking red flag. “What makes you…” Your words stopped when he grasped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up. Your arms instinctively went up before you realized what you were doing. Removing your shirt, you didn’t get a chance to cover your breasts before he slipped the nightgown on you.
“Your past boyfriends never did anything for you. Emotionally, physically,” he stated, sliding his hands under the nightgown to your hips. Grasping the hem of your pants, he pushed them down as far as he could. “I’ll bet they didn’t even buy you flowers and used the excuse that they didn’t because you’re a florist.”
The words were tiny cuts on old wounds, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. “And you will?”
“I will. I’ll give you the life and love you deserve, making you forget any other man out there existed before me.” His eyes raked over you as you stepped out of your pants, your panties still soaked. “But I’m not gonna fuck you.”
Exhaling slowly, relief flooded you. Though you couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t trying to take what he wanted. “You won’t?”
“Not tonight.” He shook his head even as his fingers moved along your waist. “Like I said, I’ve overwhelmed you enough. Sleeping with you might really put you over the edge.”
“Thanks.” He desired you, but continued to hold it at bay for your sake. How long would that last? “I appreciate that.”
“And we both know the moment I take you to bed, you’ll be begging for more.” His voice dropped as he toyed with the soft fabric. “And as much as I want to stay in bed with you all night and morning and give us what we both crave, I still need to get things in place at the penthouse and you need rest. You understand.”
You tried not to smile and failed. He acted as if he was doing you a favor. Cocky bastard. “I guess we’ll just have to suffer until then.” Sarcasm continued to be a good way to deflect.
He exhaled at your light teasing, his body still a bit tense. Being close to you and not having you was probably driving him mad. “Maybe we'll have to have another private call and finish what we started. Give us both some relief.” He turned you toward the door and gave you a light swat on your ass. “Go wash your face and brush your teeth before I change my mind.”
You made it to the bathroom in record time, not having to be told twice. You didn’t want to risk staying there in case he lost his resolve. Looking in the mirror as you went through the rest of your nighttime routine, you expected to look more exhausted from the whirlwind of the day. You somehow looked wide awake. Was the experience giving you thicker skin? Or did his desire for you somehow give you a bit of a twisted spark? You’d still be billing him for your future therapy bills either way.
A couple of deep breaths and you made your way back to your bedroom. You paused when you saw Bucky holding a framed photo of you and your friends, longing in his eyes when he lifted his gaze. “You look so happy,” he murmured, carefully setting the frame down on the nightstand before he pulled the blankets back for you. “Can you do me one favor and I’ll go?”
“I was happy. It was a fun day.” You slipped into bed when he gave you space to do so, but his body was still close to yours. Firm. Hard. He really could pin you down and do what he wanted if he wished. “What’s the favor?”
He tucked the blanket around you, his hair falling into his face. You almost reached up to brush it back, but refrained. Who knew what your touch would do? “Look at me like you love me. Please.”
You stiffened as you stared up at his face, your heart simultaneously racing and breaking for him. Love was something that provided a sense of connection, fulfillment. It was a way to show you that you weren’t alone in the world. You wanted to believe you were worthy of love, that you could build a life with someone. Bucky believed he was that someone.
Why?
You weren’t sure if it was his yearning gaze or if you were ready for the night to end, but your expression softened as you imagined meeting him in another life. Going on fun dates, talking about books, making each other laugh as you cooked together, snuggling under a blanket as you talked about your future. You found yourself smiling at the images that went through your mind. What could’ve been. What could be if he lessened his hold a bit on you.
He audibly exhaled when he snapped a photo on his phone, making you blink. “Thank you. Now I can look at this whenever I’m not near you and need to feel your love.”
Words escaped you, the invisible collar around your throat getting tighter. You could only nod and wonder how you kept throwing fuel on the fire of his want for you. Which one of you would burn first?
“Get some sleep. Dream sweet dreams.” You felt featherlight kisses on each eyelid when you shut them. “You know, I’ll sleep a lot easier once you’re in my bed.”
“If you get me into your bed,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him.
“Stubborn kitten.” He chuckled and gave each eyelid one more kiss. Why were his lips so soft? “Maybe I’ll stop by the shop tomorrow so I can take you to lunch. You can tell Addison all about it.”
“Maybe.” You yawned and snuggled more into your pillows. “Good night, Bucky.”
A finger moved along your cheek before it stopped abruptly. “Good night, Kotyonok.”
Bucky still hadn't kissed your mouth.
You didn’t open your eyes as he left, but you didn’t fall asleep right away either. Your body was too wound up. Too many questions went through your mind. Like what happened with his parents and how exactly he’d move you out of your place.
The man was a step ahead in everything. You’d be in his penthouse before the month was over. He’d get his way, but maybe it didn't have to be his way completely. He could give you an area in the place for you and you alone. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. After all, he did say he’d make it up to you by dragging you out tonight.
And if he cared the way he said he did, he could give you that one small thing.
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Is our poor Kotyonok starting to accept the inevitable? Will Bucky stop by the shop? And how much longer until he really takes you to bed?Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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dc-gotham-instincts-wild · 2 days ago
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DC BATFAM FANFIC IDEAS
Bruce not telling anyone in the JL his identity and one day he casually mentions something only an orphan would understand. - The JL members who are orphans understand. The others don't. - The entire JL gets concerned.
Tim's nervous (Read: really scared) around Jason. Jason does not like this and wants to fix it. Wait, why does Bruce glare daggers at Jack Drake? - Jason: I sense child neglect. Dad's already onto it, i see. Ok so how do i use this to get Tim stop fleeing the room whenever i walk in.
Sort of an AU fic where Bruce and Oliver were close friends (Read: brothers and that's what they see each other as) as kids, still as adults, and as vigilantes they work pretty well together, they recognized each other instantly even in cape, and while the the JL doesn't know their identities, each knows the other. - Also they're both autistic and somehow chaos ensues after Flash overhears them talking one day at the Watchtower and now the JL wants to know how these work so well.
Bruce was a wild child and so is Damian.
Jason adjusting to being under a roof, right after Bruce found him.
The first days of Tim's being Robin. Bruce and Dick are concerned, while, oblivious, Tim is doing things that only neglected kids do. He is surprised others care. Dick sets out to change this.
AU where Jack ends up being a crap dad. Bruce has had enough and steals legal custody. - Bruce: Well you had one chance at being a dad and you blew it. - Bruce: Tim's my kid now. - Jack can't do anything about this. To Tim, Jack is 'Father'. Bruce is 'Dad'.
Some of the villains notice that the other vigilantes and even Red Robin himself like joking that 'RR's folks don't even notice that he practically lives at our place, they won't notice him sneaking back in at 2AM'. - Until one day they joke about 'RR's dad blew it. B took legal custody'.
Flash has ADHD but tells no one. The other see the signs tho. Batman calls him out on hiding it. Why Bat? Welp, the other nominated him. GA joins his autistic buddy tho.
This isn't Batfam but Billy/Captain Marvel accidentally drops some street child stuff. The League, of course, pick it up.
Bruce has trust issues. No specific event- just it was that way after his folks died. The JL figures it out that it's not just how he is, he just generally doesn't trust people. They figure out that something happened to make him this.
The JL has to come to Gotham for a mission. They have to stakeout in a graveyard. At some point while they still have a few hours, Batman slips off. When *insert any JL member(s)* find him, he's standing above to graves. They catch him saying "Hope you're proud, Mom, Dad." - Chaos ensues from this.
Kid!Dick has a nightmare. Bruce allows his kid to spend the night with him.
Cass gets into a fight with David Cain. She is shaken. Bruce is there for her, though.
Duke has a nightmare.
Tim tries to sneak outside after having a nightmare. Bruce catches him because he's a Dad. He sensed a disturbance in the force. Anyway instead of getting mad he makes it clear who Dick learned it from and tickles Tim to bits and then carries him back to bed lol.
That's all i got for now lol. Might update it if i get more ideas.
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wandixx · 1 day ago
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Ok it closes out on me when I tried typing it the first time-
Anyway, I'm a sucker for shock value ones, just so funny to me, so how about M'gann being nervous about introducing bf danny and it happens at an inconvenient time! Could go ghost royalty, ancient of space or anything, hell ghost as dragons would be pretty funny, up to you though!
I'm not sure if I did a good job at this, but I didn't want you to wait too long and real life is keepimg me busier than expected, so for now, it's here. I may continue it one day (I also have different version of fill for this prompt, because neither idea felt right, so if you'd like to see I too, just let me know whatever way is most convenient to you)
This wasn't supposed to happen like that. M'gann didn't have a super detailed plan on how it was supposed to happen, but even her vague (thought and rethought every night) ideas were anything but this. It was supposed to be a calm, low-stakes situation. Maybe even make it look like an accidental meeting, Team in civies hanging out around Happy Harbour, bumping into Danny and then she'd just introduced him, perhaps adding ‘btw, he is my boyfriend’ almost like an afterthought. This seemed like the best possible scenario.
This was also, as expected with the way hero life is, the exact opposite of what actually happened.
Of course, it didn’t start with anything heralding the absolute disaster this day had to become. Kinda accidentally the Team stumbled upon something between a cave and a basement, and in it a group of people, who decided to perform a summoning of a genie so they could… wish for stuff. They didn’t even look like cultists or villains of any sort, just a group of random adults from seemingly very different backgrounds. M’gann had a really hard time understanding what actually brought them together other than their wishes.
Which was actually pretty useful when it came to fighting them, because nobody really cared about their fellow summoner, just trying to save their own butt. She kinda wished more of their opponents were so incompetent.
Though, she spoke too soon because in the excitement of the fight, somehow all of them didn’t realize that one or two of the summoners… actually managed to finish a summoning. It was honestly a little bit embarrassing.
But, it was too late to dwell on all that, as right above the summoning circle appeared a circle in a worryingly familiar shade of green.
Of course, this one time she didn’t have any equipment from Danny, had to be when the Team encountered a ghost.
Ghost in question was a beautiful woman, with long hair covering one of her eyes, in a blue outfit that was related to one of Earth cultures, but M’gann didn’t know which, and a bunch of bracelets on her wrists. Martian could make a hazard guess on who it was, based on the stories Danny told her.
“We don’t have time for explanations, I think I know who this is, if I’m right for the love of everything that’s dear to you, don’t say the word ‘wish’ out loud” she demanded over the Mindlink.
Before she finished, Artemis took silver tape from somewhere and slapped a piece of it over Wally’s mouth. M’gann understood the sentiment but still… it was a little bit too nuclear option.
Desiree (if it was her) didn’t attack anyone, looking a bit confused, giving Team a moment of reprieve to plan and for Kid Flash to make sure none of the summoners could make whatever wish they wanted either. Also with the use of silver tape. Djinn’s were always tricky.
M'gann used this moment of everyone getting their bearings to curse herself for not bringing any ghost weapons this time. Any other mission, Team or not, she had something on her but today? Today she had nothing.
Excluding the summoning engraved into clips holding her cape but it was kinda last resort. It wouldn't annihilate everything in one mile radius or something but she didn't want to drag Danny there if he was during a test, other ghost fight or something. She knew better than anyone that he didn’t need more distractions.
Conner crashed into a wall right next to her. Artemis seemed to lose her cool when none of her arrows seemed to reach the ghost while Robin was trying to make some counter plans with Kaldur. They couldn't do a thing to Desiree and it was a matter of seconds before she stopped entertaining them and went to the city. It… would end badly, most likely. Danny would prefer to get involved before it got that far. Yeah…
She really wished she didn’t have to call.
“I have an idea, cover for me for a minute or two”
“Bold of you to assume we can stop her from anything”
“I believe in you Wally. Just distract her”
“My water attacks seem to be effective weapon against her”
“That’s aster! What do you plan to do, M'gann?”
“Summon another ghost”
She expertly ignored yelling that followed, taking the golden clip off of her cape. She held fabric in place with absentminded use of telekinesis, while she focused on an engraved pattern. Danny's summoning circle wasn't actually too complicated or intricate but she needed to do it just right. And frankly, she just liked looking at it. Physical proof that her boyfriend would be there if she needed it. Drawn representation of who he is, the deepest and truest parts of his soul written in the language that only Universe itself could fully understand.
And it was beautiful. Absolutely incredible. Much better than Desiree's circle, thank you very much.
M’gann dropped to her knees and grabbed leftover chalk from previous summoning and crouched to quickly draw Danny's seal. She had a lot of practice from all the times she doodled it on a whim just to get something of him with her when she missed him the most. She rarely actually summoned him, again, it was difficult to align their schedules, but she was very familiar with the first step.
And it was really easy from there.
She placed the clip in the middle of the circle, shapeshifted one of her nails to get a bit of blood on the chalk and leaned back.
After a careful, deep breath, she started an incantation, putting as much power in her voice as she could.
“I call upon you guard of Amity Park, I call upon you dearest child of the Ice, I call upon you one favored by the Time, I call upon you vanquisher of the Fear, I call upon you subduer of the King, I call upon you defender and the guide, I call upon Phantom, both worlds beloved child”
Circle erupted in green light, putting a momentary pause to the fight. M’gann was still blinking spots away when a figure flung itself out of the summoning circle, right at the Desiree.
“What the fuck?!”
Only after the first punch was thrown did Danny turn back to her, with his usual, somehow both gallant and bashful smile, that without fault made her knees get a little weaker. She smiled back.
“Hello Starlight” he greeted, sounding almost casual.
“Starlight?”
“Hi Angel. Nice of you to drop by” she answered in the same manner. Wally tried to yell from behind the duck tape.
“Angel?! M'gann, who is he? Who is she?!”
“I will always come if you call” he said without any doubt, suddenly as serious as if he was sharing information that could break or make the world.
It certainly worked like that to her world. She actually melted a little on the inside.
“I know”
“Actually, that's kinda cute. I still have no idea who this is, but you go girl”
“I feel like it's not the right time Artemis”
“Not to interrupt… whatever this is, but the other ghost is escaping” Robin cut in “Also, if you want to make out afterwards, please find the room, Batman and Catwoman are traumatizing enough“
Few people snorted, while Danny blushed green. He darted back at Desiree, clearly to escape the embarrassment. M’gann stood up, totally at ease now, that he was there to take care of it.
“Will you need a hand? I don't have any tech but we have a trick or two up our sleeves!” she asked, projecting her voice so it carried through the cavernous basement without yelling.
“I'm good for now but thanks for asking!”
“M’gann, can you give us anything substantial? Who is this? How do you know him?”
“One question at the time and let's wait until he finishes, okay?“
She cut off Mindlink before anyone agreed or protested.
“Miss Martian!”
“Soup time!”
With a blast of light, Desiree got sucked in and Danny landed in front of them with a proud grin.
“My job here is done”
“It truly is. You're getting faster too”
“And thanks to who is that?”
“You”
Danny sent her both an incredulous and playful glare.
“Of course. I miraculously found a ways to not be a mess and don't crash through every wall on my way and–”
“Well, no but–”
“Let me remind you, you're not alone… also who are you dude? And where did the other lady go?” Wally asked, right after ripping the duct tape off his mouth.
“Oh, well, I'm Phantom, I usually work in Amity Park?” he said a bit unsure, as if calling him a protector was under any question. That just wouldn't do.
“He's a hero from Amity Park”
“Thanks love. It's nice to finally meet you all. M talked a lot about you!”
“Can't say same about you, sorry”
“That's fine. I know M was agonizing over how to introduce me in the best way possible. I'm really happy it's finally over,” he paused for a moment, with his brows furrowed “Did I do good? This first impression thing?”
“You're… far less imposing that I personally expected after hearing Miss Martian summoning you, but–”
“M’gann how could you hide this from us?” Conner blurted out quietly, and oh, he sounded so utterly crushed. Everyone fell silent, the playful atmosphere gone as if it had evaporated.
“I never intentionally hid it. It wasn't significant enough to mention at the start and when it became important I felt like I couldn't just drop it at you during lunch or something. I always planned to tell you, there was just never the right time nor right words. I never wanted to hide it.”
“Even just me?”
“Especially you”
“You still should've…”
“Yeah, I should. I'm sorry”
“How long ago have you met?”
“Half a year ago,” Danny said before she managed to answer “It's all kinda my fault actually. I was really set on not getting mixed up with more hero business than I had to back then. I didn't want you or Justice League finding out about me. And when I agreed, it was already really late. I'm sure she'd told you all from the get go if I let her, I'm sorry”
“Why wouldn't you want us to know about you?”
“It's… Probably not the conversation we should have right here, over gagged wannabe cultists.”
“Valid. Let's call the cops and get going. You two have much to explain”
“And you're sitting eight feet apart until you do!”
Danny leaned in to kiss her, quick and playful, before he jumped back at the demanded distance.
“Well, this still went better than at your side”
“Absolutely”
*******
Also, here is some lil arts for a longish wait, sorry again, I hope this story is yours to your expectations
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the-s1lly-corner · 2 days ago
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Wearing their jackets (slasher edition)
I need to write slasher stuff more.... I also need to watch scream like I said I would... and other films... but alas cotl rot is too strong
Characters: Jason, brahms, bubba, Thomas, Michael
Notes: reader is gn, cold weather baby!!, in Michael's bit yoy wear his coveralls because he refuses to throw a jacket over it
CWs: none
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JASON
Built like a polar bear, he's so used to the cold that he just shrugs it off as he goes into the woods to get fire wood for you
Actually offers his jacket to you until he can get a fire started to keep you warm- he doesn't want you to get sick! Don't worry about him! Especially if this is zombie Jason, the cold doesn't really.. effect his undead body that much...
Doesn't mind it if you steal his jacket from him, he takes it as you being cold- but if you explain that it's partly because you miss him he feels.. bad.. he didn't mean to take so long in the woods he promises
Even if you said it jokingly he's going to do his best to make up for his brief absence
BUBBA
let me tell you, as someone who lives in texas: the winters get brutal. Incredibly cold, he's definitely got at least one coat somewhere... and even if he only had one he would let you take it
But... please stay close to him by the heater, he knows you probably want to go do something else with him but it's truly too cold to not be able to do much else without freezing in their old house- even worse if this takes place in their new home in the second film... underground
He thinks you look really cute in his coat and he tries to let you know that- hes... a little bashful but you think it's sweet
You both probably end up cuddling into one another under the coat together
THOMAS
Once more: texas gets incredibly cold in the winter depending on the time of year and where you are. He's got a coat somewhere
Not that that he really uses it, built like a polar bear like Jason. He tolerates cold pretty well, hardly seems phased by it.. he's so laser focused on his chores and work around the house that you often find him still working outside
And he's given his coat to you because you have a lower tolerance than him... maybe you can convince him to come snuggle with you under it? Maybe? He'd hate to leave his chores unfinished but he doesn't like saying no to you
Very heavy coat, very thick
MICHAEL
Completely unphased by the cold, he also doesn't have a jacket. The best you can do is take his coveralls when you FINALLY convince him to take them off so they can be washed
Does not like sharing his things, the likelihood of him humoring you after you put them in is low. May actually take them off of you himself... not incredibly rough but there's intention to yoink them back
If you're cold then go get a blanket or you're own jacket... why steal his things without asking?
It completely flies over his head that jacket (or rather clothing) stealing is common for couples
BRAHMS
Move over give him his sweater back he's FREEZING! If he needs to he's going to wear the sweater with you in it!
HATES the cold and he's going to make it everyone else's problem, please don't let him catch a fever reader! Please!
Fire place? Lit. Blankets? Gathered. Sweaters? Worn. You're more likely to see him leave the walls during the colder months so he can snag your body heat, too
Lets it go to his head if you let slip that you stole his sweater because you missed him... hes basically hovering over now- well, more than he did before
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Halloween time stuilly:
Billy wearing fake fangs and god, they turn Stu on so bad. He want those fangs on his lips, touching his tongue, biting into his neck- and Stu can't stop thinking about what it would feel like for Billy to blow him with the fangs. Would he bleed? He hoped he would bleed. Bleed just for Billy...
The thought made him squirm. He pressed his knees together and tried to keep his cool. At that moment, Billy looked back at him, a cup of red punch in his hand, and flashed his fangs out in a smile. It was like he knew what Stu was thinking, and holy fuck, Stu hoped Billy knew- he wanted Billy to know that all he thinks about is Billy and his fangs.
Billy sent him a wink before sipping from his drink. Punch dripped down his chin, adding to the fake blood, and Stu wanted, really wanted, to mess up that damn makeup with his own lips. So that's what he did.
He stood up from the couch and darted over to Billy, interrupting Sidney from leaning in to kiss him.
"Billy-" he gasped. "I- uh-" What was he doing? Now both of them were staring at him and all he could think about was fucking Billy in front of Sidney.
Billy lip twitched. "You're sick?" he said with fake urgency. "Let's get you to the bathroom." And he hooked his arm under Stu's, flashing an apologetic look to Sidney, before "helping" Stu up the stairs.
Billy shut the door to the bathroom and locked it. Luckily, there was no puke on the floor and it only smelled slightly of piss. But the closer Stu got to hovering over Billy, pushing him back into the door, if smelled more like the shorter man; acorn scented shampoo and fruit punch on his breath.
"Fucking want you so bad," Stu muttered, pressing his body against Billy.
Billy's lip twitched again and he tilted his head. "So fucking have me."
And Stu grabbed Billy's face and started eating at his lips, licking the now-dried punch, and smearing the fake blood all over. His hands cupped Billy's face, keeping him still, unable to run away, as Stu fucked the inside of his mouth with his tongue. God, the fangs were sharp and it felt so good as he ran his tongue under them. He didn't bleed though. Not yet.
Billy pushed Stu off him. "Jeez, you really have something wrong with you: being able to kiss for a minute without breathing," he said through gasps of air.
Stu smirked, "just takes practice."
And he connected their lips again. This time the fangs did make him bleed, and not only did Stu close his eyes and melt into the stinging pain, but Billy liked it too. He welcomed the blood into his mouth with a moan.
Billy flipped them around so now Stu was squirming against the door. "I'm going to make you wish you weren't dressed as Frankenstein's monster," Billy warned.
Not because Billy was into dead guys, no. Billy liked killing people, yes, but he didn't like fucking them after. He liked knowing Stu was his Adam-- that he was Stu's god. Just like in Frankenstein. He's a gothic lit nerd *shrugs*
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panpanghost · 2 days ago
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part 2 of this thing:
Macaque heard them coming, Wukong's new friends. They were here when he first woke up, actually the strange kid was the first person he saw when he opened his eyes. The little fella looked so scared and worried about him, he even promised to find a way to save him no matter what. Such a nice kid.
But, he doesn't know who the kid is... After he left last time, Macaque asked Wukong about his identity but Wukong, strangely, just looked at him shocked and never gave him an answer, after that Macaque got the idea that he lost a part of his memories.
Macaque has been trying to get his memories back, but it's like shovelling through a mountain, he can't remember anything from the past years, he can't tell how long it's been. He tried asking Wukong about it, but, for some reason, Wukong is lying, he knows he's lying. He tells him not to think about it too much and just enjoy the present, Wukong won't answer no matter what he asks, he'd either avoid the question or lie.
But Macaque doesn't doubt Wukong, he knows he still cares about him, sure he was acting weirdly when Macaque went to sleep and shower with him, but he didn't kick him out or throw him away... he was acting strangely though... maybe... maybe they aren't that close anymore, maybe they drifted apart and haven't been together for a long time and Wukong is letting him stay because he feels bad for him-
No, no that can't be it, if it were the case then Wukong would've straight up told him to leave and he hasn't done that yet, in fact he's doing the complete opposite, he won't let Macaque leave his sight let alone the island. He's also been a lot more physical... not that Macaque is complaining about that... but still, that is not how you treat someone you want to get away from.
Maybe he can ask the kid, but would that upset Wukong? Shit... He can't stay like this.. Damn it. He'll deal with Wukong when he has to.
_"Hey Wukong, your friends are coming. Should we go greet them?" he asked playing with Wukong's hair, under the shadow of an old tree,
_"They are?!" Wukong got up from Macaque's lap dusting and putting himself together as if he was caught doing something he shouldn't. What's with him? Macaque doesn't remember Wukong being the shy type. No, Macaque is they shy one, Wukong used to have fun tormenting him in front of others.
_"Yeh, they'll be at the house any minute now."
_"Alright, thanks for telling me."
_"No problem, let's go see them, I'm actually kinda curious to know what that kid found out about the crown. All the monk said was that he felt a dark energy from it then nothing else."
_"Yeh.. about that. Why don't you just stay and rest a little more. I'll talk to them."
_"What? Why? It kind'a concerns me, don't you think I should be there?" Macaque is really starting to lose his temper,
_"Actually.." think Wukong, think! "When they first arrived here, you attacked them thinking they were enemies, and.. well... you guys don't get along that much..." would he believe that? it's not entirely a lie though..
_"oh- ok... I'll wait for you then." Macaque feels really bad, did he really attack them? but they seem so nice. It's really upsetting him, after what he'd done to them, they are still trying to help him, he should apologise, maybe make them some apology sweets, Macaque can't cook but he for sure can make killer desserts.
_"Hey, don't feel so down about it, I'll be back soon, ok?" Wukong feels a little bad for upsetting Macaque, but this is for the best, yes, it's for the best... is it?
_"ok." Macaque gave him a little smile. He should listen to Wukong, it's not like he can remember what he's apologising for. Wukong will take care of it.
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dammarchy211 · 7 hours ago
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The Think Tank Random Headcanon List
Two people asked for this so that means it happening 👍 your welcome, most if not all of these r prewar/brain tank
-this one’s pretty supported in canon but think Dala likes fashion and dressing up🫶. I love giving her a fun little outfit
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Yay
-0 had back pains pre brain tank. Also a lot of fatigue. The certified professional sleeper. When he’s working on projects in his home he tends to do it lying on the floor.
-this one’s basically canon but 8 has arithmomania. I say basically canon bc things in his house in Higgs often come in sets of 8, as well as his house being the 8th house despite there not BEING 8 houses. I think this would also extend to counting to 8 on his fingers when he’s nervous and such.
-tied in I also believe 8 has ocd. Borous has bpd.
-Dala was pretty reserved growing up, as she grew up/especially in the looped personality it she became for lack of better terms bolder and more flirty as compensation for having been so withdrawn previously.
-I am wishy washy with a lot of gender headcanons for characters, my brain kinda just goes well idk if they’re trans but they’re not Not trans. However I do feel quite definitively that Dala is nb transfem, and Mobius and 0 are trans men.
-I think all of there names have some tie to the names they had pre recursion loop. Canonically both Klein’s name and his prewar last name start with K. I think the other’s names have similar ties.
-on that note, I think Borous’s old name (/just his family in general) has Painfully Russian origins. It makes his McCarthyism thing so hilariously ironic
-I think 8 is Canadian, but he only lived there pre annexation of Canada, he was working at big MT and living at Higgs once it happened.
-0’s old last name used to be “O’something” and people still used to call him Dr. O then and he still hated it. Doomed fate
-re: Mobius being trans, i think his first name was Edward. He named himself after Dr. Morbius from the movie The Forbidden Planet
-Klein is a big wine guy, like obvious there’s wine bottles strewn about his house, but I mean like. He’s the kind of guy to just know things about every kind of wine.
-Klein is probably the best dressed after Dala, I think he just tries to be professional for the most part. 0 thinks he’s fashionable but he isn’t. Already mentioned but Mobius dresses like an old lighthouse keeper. Cableknit sweater and the works. I think he’d also like antique pipes
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I’m probably gonna alter the Klein outfit but yeah you get the idea. Doodles
-I feel SO STRONGLY ABOUT THIS. But 0 and Borous went to high school together. 0’s one line mentioning Borous in high school was just way too telling.
-Klein and Mobius need reading glasses. Dala used to need glasses, didn’t wear them throughout her childhood until like college, and then switched to contacts after college
-The think tank are all very close and got along much better prewar than they do at the time of the game. They kinda Jean-Paul Sartre No Exit’d themselves and their personalities are stuck in an endless loop. To say the least they started getting on each other’s nerves after 200 years. But this is to say they didn’t still bicker or anything prewar
-8 never really liked talking much. Possibly having selective mutism. This was mostly fine for him because pre brain tank you have facial expressions and hands and hand gestures that kinda make up for not talking at times. After the brain tanks he was kind just. Forced to talk to relay information. His speech was extremely awkward and stilted, which combined with the above head canon is why Dala made that comment about how they light him better now that his voice modulator is broken.
-they all have autism of some flavor tbh. To me. In my autistic mind.
-dead animal ment.// but I feel like Borous was that kid who like poked at dead squirrels and shit as a kid. It frames the Gabe and cyberdog thing well lol
-I’m an 8/0 head so I think they worked together a lot. Even if it’s not on the same project they would just do thinks at the same time together.
-the mentats on Klein’s bedside table are Mobius’s
-0 used to be a super big fan of House and RobCo when he was in high school. Obviously that is no longer true
-0 excels at making robots that are smaller. He doesn’t want to acknowledge this though. Muggy and his walking eyes (w/ wild wasteland) are both pretty small but they work well. The larger scale securitrons he’s tried to make obviously. Do not.
-I think the lounge music theme for the radio was a collective choice, but I feel like Dala especially likes music like that.
-Klein and Mobius used to play games like chess or checkers or card games “outside” in Higgs old person style.
-post brain tank one (woah) Klein has fleeting feelings of missing someone or something he can’t recognize. Any memories tying it to an image of a person he doesn’t quite remember. His brain just doesn’t connect that it’s Mobius and he usually just pushes the feeling down whenever it happens lol
If I think of more I’ll add them.
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the-roo-too · 1 day ago
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cosmic -> nmixx ver
one month vs one year with them
lily jin morrow | 🐨
one month: very shy around you! a blushy baby and probably very nervous to do anything because she doesn’t wanna overstep any boundaries 😭 
one year: what is a boundary? she wakes you up belting a different song every day BFR she’s still a little shy but only like when you say something very flirty or something. also BIG on pda like your hands are glued together
oh haewon | 🐻‍❄️
one month: she’s almost intimidating yk. i mean she asked you to be her gf and all but it’s like there’s this small tension between the two of you. because of that you like barely do couple stuff lol especially pda
one year: you low key miss her being a little closed off bc my girl is an oversharer 💖 good thing about that is that you’re always in on the kpop idols drama lol. pda is a ting too ☝️ unless she wants to be professional. i’m telling you her work mode in the studio? another level
seol yoona | 🐰
one month: she’s stressing around you 😥 she just wants everything to be perfect! she thinks you might leave if the beginning of the relationship is rocky :( spoiler alert you’re not going anywhere lol you’re too smitten, she’s stuck with you.
one year: much more casual about everything! last minute dates are a norm :3 but also she’s still so caring about the small details cause she wants everything to be perfect for her baby still
bae jinsol | 🐥
one month: she tries really hard to be so goofy and so chill 😭 like masking her being a little nervous about the relationship with humour you know what i mean? but im gonna say she’s big on public affection since day one 😔✊ only true one let’s be fair
one year: still goofy and chill! just now you can see her true personality. and it’s chaos honestly. but you love her chaos, just like you love her :3 but the amount of times you get in trouble with her manager because of her silly antics……..
kim jiwoo | 🐶
one month: she tries her best to be chill with you 🫶 small steps but she has to get used to having her own personal cheerleader. i’m gonna say you two go on fairly frequent dates but after one month you haven’t been introduced to her members yet
one year: so you practically live in the dorm by now. do you sleep on the couch because the unnie line wanted no funny business? yes, absolutely. but you still have your silly gf who sometimes sneaks out in the middle of the night to go cuddle with you on your couch lol
jang kyujin | 🐱
one month: you’re more like close friends than partners honestly. you hug a lot and like cuddle but nothing more really. she doesn’t wanna rush whatever is blooming between the two of you 🥹 but you met her members even before the two of you started dating, so now it’s just a matter of getting them to be chill around you
one year: much to your girlfriend’s dismay, the eldest of the group offers you adoptions papers like twice a week. you’re now part of the family. and if she was cuddly before, now she’s stuck to your side like a koala. you’re inseparable 🤞
part of [the cosmic] collection
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Stray Gods x Odypen/Odydio/Odydiopen
To Odysseus
You’ve got one big mouth on you, don’t you?
Yet it’s me who’s closing in
Think I like that mouth on you… Won’t you?
So as a Fic…I see this as many ways
These sentiments maybe when:
Odysseus courts Penelope, he smooth talks her, whatever and she says something along the line of this.
Odysseus sweet talking himself out of trouble. Pen witnesses his wit and talks to him after.
Diomedes is annoyed due to Odysseus. Odysseus says something smart. Diomedes responds with “You’ve got one big mouth on you, don’t you?” I like that with them.
Odysseus tries to encourage/annoy Diomedes. Dio isn’t in the mood for it, say’s something like, “I love that pretty voice of yours, you know that, but I need you to shut up right now?” Odysseus is flustered or whatever.
After the Odyssey, the three of them are in bed. And Odysseus is snoring like nobody’s business (ha), Diomedes is so confused how Ody’s snoring is still cute after all this time. Pen tells him to accept it. Ody starts sleep talking, Pen and Dio start responding as if Odysseus is actually talking. (Just being cute together like)
Odysseus: Pennn, you so pretttyyy
Diomedes: Yes, I can concur
Penelope: Don’t have to tell me that, I’m gorgeous.
Diomedes: Humble much?
Odysseus: Dio, you gottsome pretty (voice drops) DEAD (normal voice) eyes
Penelope:
Diomedes: …what the actual fuck?
(Muffled Laughter) Penelope: what-why did his-holy shi-(pen commences to wheeze her ass off)
Diomedes: Am I- am I supposed to be flattered? Or offended-cause could it be my eyes are both pretty and dead looking-
Penelope: (still laughing) nononono you-you gotta say it like he did, DEAD, haHAA-
Diomedes: Or my eyes look pretty-
Penelope: I’m not listening to you unless you say it properly.
Diomedes: Fine, DEAD, cus we could-
Penelope: (eyes tearing up, body shaking, back breaking laugh)
Diomedes: I’m gonna sleep in the guest room.
Penelope: No wait-
Odysseus: getcHO ASS BACK HERE NEOWWWWWW
Diomedes:
Penelope:
Diomedes: is- thefuck- is he still asleep?
Penelope: Yes, but does it really matter? Through sickness and in health and cute insults, get back here.
Diomedes: when you wake up, we are gonna have a talk.
Screaming *Odysseus: (turns his head 180 degrees like owl) I AM GOING TO EXPLAIN TO YOU ABOUT HILL AND HORSE, SHUT YOUR- inhale* EYESSSSSSSSSS
Diomedes:
Penelope:
Diomedes: Nah. Mm no. Troy was fine, this is crap.
Penelope: He said I’m pretty.
headcanon (after the Odyssey, Odysseus sleep talks/walks a lot, sometimes it’s sweet, funny, kinda creepy, other times it’s sad and heart breaking. But they got him. They hug and give Odysseus kisses when he wakes up)
Yeah. Fic writers, please write. Especially since they are planning to take Ao3 down. Why can’t they just leave the good stuff alone 😭🥲
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bloodinmymilkshake · 2 days ago
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Some Percildan headcanons
💫 Percy has constant nightmares, from which he is distracted by working at night on another crazy project, and only Vax notices his trembling hands and unfocused gaze and persuades him to sleep for at least three hours, promising to be there. Percy sleeps much longer and opens his eyes to find Vax sleeping next to him. Perhaps one of them hugged the other in their sleep, and this is very embarrassing (they are not together yet).
💫 Vax can be quite careless about his health when it comes to injuries (like “everything on me heals like on a dog”), but Percy notices blood on his clothes and treats his wounds, possibly with something like alcohol (they are in camp conditions). Perhaps one day Percy will have to stitch up Vax's wound alive, and Vax honestly tries to stoically withstand the pain, but tears appear in his eyes, and Percy gently begs him, like a child, to endure just a little.
💫 Vax tries to feed Percy whenever possible, as he notices that Percy eats infrequent snacks, especially while working. So Vax brings him a hot meal to the workroom.
💫 Percy is a non-tactile type of person and usually avoids being touched. But he never misses a chance to touch Vax, lays his head on his shoulder or plays with his hair, or warms himself against him, sitting close (Vax is very warm, and Percy is a man with eternally cold limbs). They always sleep in the same bed if there are no free beds in the place where they spend the night. Of course, Percy and Vax make excuses that friends sometimes do this, but the whole team notices that Percy allows Vax more than anyone else.
💫 Percy had never been in a relationship before. To be honest, he has no romantic or sexual experience whatsoever. During their first kiss, he doesn't know what to do with his hands and just brushes his lips against Vax's while his glasses slide askew. Vax just gently cups his face with both hands and kisses him very carefully.
💫 In the first months, Percy was afraid that their relationship was not as serious for Vax as it was for him. However, Vax himself offered to stop hiding and introduced Percy to everyone as his boyfriend.
💫 Vax is afraid to allow himself too much with Percy. Early in their relationship, Percy made it clear that he wasn't interested in sex (I'm headcanoning Percy as being on the asexual spectrum and Vax as bisexual, who has more experience with girls). Vax is not put off by this because he still loves Percy, however, very often their hugs and kisses are quite passionate and heated. One day they go a little further and Percy gets horny. Maybe he cums in his pants and just runs to the bathroom, leaving Vax to wonder what he did wrong.
💫 Sometimes Percy and Vax argue about who will be on top, not in a "I'm in charge" context, but in a "please relax, I want to please you, you deserve love and adoration" context.
💫 Percy can be very jealous, especially when it comes to Vax's exes. Sometimes Vax is really afraid that someone will get shot. Percy cools down quite easily when Vax kisses him in public or takes his hand to show that they belong together. But this doesn’t stop Percy from pressing Vax against the wall a little later, repeating “mine” many times in a hot whisper in his ear.
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cobaltperun · 2 hours ago
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Hi, I was just wondering if you could do a bottom Tara x top g!p female reader fic?!
where Tara and reader are dating but when sam finds out she forbids reader to come over to their apartment the only time they see each is in college. So T and R are texting 24/7 and one evening things get a little spicy like they start sexting ig sending stuff too each other (if you get what I mean) then Tara decides to sneak out because she's missing reader (vice versa) and goes to reader's apartment and they do it for the first time also could it be soft smut and some aftercare maybe. It's just T and R being gay af!
You don't have to do this btw thanks either way!Bye have a good day/night :)
Rule Breakers
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SMUT! Bottom Tara Carpenter x Top G!P Female Reader
Masterlist
Word count: 4.9k
“You are what?!” the scream Sam let out echoed through the apartment making absolutely everyone present, you and Tara included, flinch. This was not the reaction you hoped for, though Tara did warn you it would probably be like this. You had no idea how bad it would get.
“We are dating,” Tara repeated and you could tell by the way she reached out and grabbed your hand that she desperately needed to feel your touch to calm down. How could Sam not see that? See beyond the fact that she herself didn’t know you?
“Absolutely not! Tara you met her what? A month ago?” Sam was not accepting this at all. You could see the fury in her eyes as she looked at you as if you immediately threatened to hurt her sister. You knew what the reason was and you definitely couldn't blame her for it. But it still hurt to see she didn't trust Tara's judgment. Tara was an adult. She went through even more than Sam did and she just wanted to live her life, which included falling in love and dating, and you hoped one day moving in with you so you could build your future together.
Yeah. You were whipped.
“Four months, actually,” Tara rolled her eyes. The two of you met in college on the first day. You sat next to each other and immediately got along and fast forward three months, some time after she had opened up to you about how she was attacked and nearly killed by one of her closest friends, she just asked you out and you accepted it. You definitely developed a crush on her a lot sooner than that, and while that wasn't important at the moment you really believed Tara knew that all along. She just had a way of knowing just how you felt about her, in her own words, you were an open book in her eyes.
“That's not nearly long enough,” Sam pointed the finger at you, the fury in her eyes not fading even slightly.
“Hey, Sam wait!” Tara tried to stop her sister, but it was too late.
“Out right now. If I ever see you close to Tara things will not end well for you,” you had no doubts about just how serious Sam was and you saw Tara’s jaw dropping.
“What the fuck Sam?!” Tara screamed at her sister and quickly turned to you as you got up. “No this isn't what I want!” she jumped to her feet after you and stepped in front of you. “Hey, just listen to me, this isn't what I want,” it hurt you to see her like this, in pain and afraid, and her eyes already filling with tears.
For the first time since you came to the apartment you glared at Sam.
“Come on Sam give it girl a chance,” Chad tried to get her to see reason but a single glare shut him down.
“I will not risk Tara's safety,” Sam would not listen, in fact, she stood up as if to show you the way out. You swallowed the lump in your throat as Tara grabbed onto your hand to keep you from leaving, tears were falling down her face.
“I don't want this, please,” her hands trembled as she said that and for a moment you stopped glaring at Sam.
Your eyes softened and you gently brushed the tears off Tara’s face. “I know you,” whispered and leaned down to kiss her, Sam be damned. Tara relaxed into the kiss, realizing you weren’t going to leave her, and she kissed your back and poured all of her love into that one single kiss. When you separated you turned to Sam returning her glare without flinching for a single moment.
Sam was intimidating there was no doubt about it, but this was a lot more important. “You can try all you want, Sam, you will not scare me away. Got it? Drop the protective big sister bullshit because no one gets to make my girlfriend cry. Not even you,” the temperature in the room dropped when you said that and you could tell everyone just got on the verge of running away and you could not blame them.
Sam looked even more furious, she looked ready to spit fire and rain hell upon you, but you stood your ground. And to make your defiance even more clear you stepped around Tara and faced her sister head on with nothing blocking her path.
Sam remained silent for now, just glaring at you and you nodded, feeling like this ended about as well as it could. “Glad that's clear, I’ll see you later Sam,” you made your point clear, there was no reason to stick around because hanging out with Tara at this point, in this situation and in their apartment wouldn’t do any good for anyone, you and Tara especially.
~X~
She absolutely won the lottery. She would never try to even purchase a ticket because all her luck was just spent on getting the most amazing, badass girlfriends she could ever hope for. Did the way you talked back to Sam make her wet? Yes, yes it did.
Would she have gone to her room to handle that if everyone else still wasn’t at the apartment? Yes, she would have.
Would she do it tonight? Absolutely.
~X~
After what happened last week you and Tara kept seeing each other only at college, and that, more often than not, led to both of you just ditching the classes and getting coffee and croissants from a local bakery you both loved to visit. You did not expect that single decision to haunt you for the rest of the week. You both thought you were just that slick about it as you skipped several classes over the past week just so you spend time together and act like an actual couple instead of two people hiding from the world.
The world in this case being Tara's sister.
If Tara started failing classes because of her absence, well, that would be entirely on Sam.
~X~
Tara should have seen the trouble coming from a mile away. She just had too much fun today, walking with you in the park, grabbing breakfast, you even managed to catch a movie, and it was actually a good one! And to make things even better Tara couldn't keep her hand away from your own, constantly holding it as you went from one place to another.
And then the world just turned against her. She opened the doors and saw Sam expecting her with a stern look on her face, and arms crossed, sitting at the table in the kitchen.
She was in so much trouble.
“You were with her, weren't you?” well she couldn't exactly confess, so she would at least try to deny it. What were the chances that Sam had an actual proof Tara skipped classes with you?
“We were catching up on some lesson we missed, so classes got extended,” Tara lied a bit easier than she thought she would, but she figured the habits she picked up on while she was living with her mother were difficult to get rid of.
“Do not lie to me, Tara!” she flinched at Sam’s shout. “I went to pick you up and you weren't there. And when I asked your classmates if you even came to the classes, they told me neither of you showed up today!” Tara was caught pretty much red-handed and Sam knew it.
Tara sighed and sat down across the table. “You can't expect me to break up with her, Sam. I love her!” she was getting frustrated by Sam's behavior. Why couldn't her sister just let her go, just let her live her own life.
“Tara, you don't love her, you don't even know her properly! She could be dangerous,” this paranoia had to stop, because Sam saw everyone that tried to approach Tara as an enemy, as someone Tara needed protection from.
“Sam do you hear yourself?” Tara couldn’t deal with it anymore. “We are living with Quinn and she keeps bringing random guys to the apartment! Any one of them could be as psycho that just gets up one night and kills all three of us. You don't know those guys, yet you let Quinn bring them along!” Terra pointed out, exasperated by Sam not being able to see logic in her words, more importantly she was furious because Sam wouldn't trust her judgment.
She knew you. She had complete trust in you. And she got betrayed in a worse way than Sam did, after all while Richie was Sam’s boyfriend, Amber has been Tara’s friend for over a decade by that point.
“That isn't how Ghostface works and you know that,” Sam argued back. Ghostface this, Ghostface that. Tara was getting sick of it.
How could Sam not see it? “Ghostface isn't the only psycho, Sam! I can't live my life fearing that anyone I meet is going to turn out to be a psychotic killer. I want to live Sam, I fell in love and I want to enjoy that! I want to be with Y/N!” she desperately hoped Sam would just for once listen to her.
Yet Sam acted like a broken record. “We don't know her,” and Tara knew it wouldn’t matter how long you spent trying to get Sam’s trust. Sam would never know you ‘well enough’, Sam wouldn’t even try to get to know you.
“So what? I'm just supposed to fall in love with Chad? Because who else is left?” Tara demanded, but she might as well be talking in an entirely different language.
“This conversation is over, you’re grounded for a week,” Sam stood up and stormed into her room, leaving utterly flabbergasted Tara alone.
What a great way to spend the week off from classes.
~X~
Five days, that’s how long this torture’s been going on and Tara felt like she was about to lose her mind. And she was supposed to last an entire week?! The remaining two days felt like they would never end because each day seemed to drag out more than the previous one, even witconstant texting between the two of you. She turned in her bed for what felt like the hundredth time and her bed showed it. Messy twisted blanket, crumpled sheets, her head resting only on the corner of her pillow as she once again got on her back and stared at the ceiling. Sam was being unfair. Mindy had Anika, her and Sam were living with Quinn, who they didn’t know beforehand, and Tara was sure Sam had something going on with that Danny guy, and Chad was also occasionally flirting with girls! She was the only one who couldn’t have what she wanted.
Her phone buzzed and she immediately scrambled out of the blankets to take it. Curse her battery for needing to be charged! Tara quickly unlocked her phone and saw the message was from you.
Y/N: You need to see this!
Underneath it she saw the cutest Instagram reel of a puppy surrounded by ducklings.
Tara: 😍😍😍 They are so cute!
Your answer was immediate.
Y/N: Not as cute as certain someone, but it’ll have to do 😉
Tara fell back on her bed, a ridiculously wide smile already making its way to her face. Fuck, she missed you so much. ‘Yeah? Certain someone?’ she replied and her breath hitched when you sent her a selfie wearing a very soft looking shirt and grinning at her, and all of that could be manageable, if only Tara’s eyes didn’t immediately go to your lips and she realized it’s been way too long since she got to kiss you. She needed to feel your lips on her own, on her neck, on… fuck, what if you went lower. She bit her lower lip, studying your face, imagining your smiles, the way you looked at her.
Y/N: Tara? Baby? You’ve left me on seen for five minutes
That message temporarily snapped her out of her daydreaming. Or would it be nightdreaming? She never really thought of the logic behind the word. And she was desperately trying to ignore the desire gradually, scratch that, rapidly building inside of her.
Tara: I miss you
She finally replied and glanced back at your selfie as you typed the response.
Y/N: I kiss you too
Y/N (edited): I miss you too
Tara burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth. ‘I saw it! Can’t take it back!’ she replied only to barely hold her laughter back when you just replied with ‘Shit.’ She smiled fondly, taking pity on you.
Tara: I want to kiss you too, so, so bad. I keep thinking about it and other things all the time
There, she confessed, knowing you were still prone to getting embarrassed and all shy about how affectionate Tara could get. Randomly kissing your cheek or hugging you when she knew you least expected was easily her favorite thing to do. The clear embarrassment on your face and the hitched breath, and especially the way you would freeze for a moment kept Tara entertained.
You had your own ways to mess with her, though she suspected you weren’t doing it on purpose. You would just go ahead and pull her chair out for her to sit, or bring her favorite coffee along when you would meet up and it was really messing her up to feel so cared for after years of neglect. It was yet another reason why she was so mad at Sam because she feared she wouldn’t be able to forgive her sister if Sam’s suspicious nature chased you away.
Y/N: Other things?
Hook, line, and sinker.
Tara opened her camera and switched to video. She winked at it and then turned it lower, to her waist, making sure to capture every detail as she unbuttoned her jeans and just brushed her fingers over the zipper, taunting you. She slowly panned the camera up her body while trailing the path with her hand. “Other things,” she was well aware of the sliver of her skin the camera caught when she pushed her shirt up. “Very specific things,” she whispered as seductively as she could, which, well, she didn’t have experience with seducing people, but she knew she’d get the desired effect with you as her hand brushing between her breasts moved the shirt in a way that emphasized her cleavage. And then she returned the camera to her face to show you she was lightly biting the corner of her lower lip.
She didn’t hesitate one moment before sending it.
You saw the message immediately, yet you didn’t respond, and Tara may have been stuck between getting nervous and completely confident in her charms. Minutes later she finally saw you typing.
Y/N: Tara
She could hear the exasperation in your message, yet she just sent ‘Yes, Baby? 🥺’
Y/N: Look at you acting all innocent
Yeah, she knew she was being rather mischievous. Even more so when she just replied with: ‘But I am all innocent’ she waited a moment, imagining you rolling your eyes and not immediately noticing the word play.
Tara: All innocent and inexperienced, just waiting for you to touch me
She put her phone under her shirt and took a photo, making sure there was just enough light to tease the details of her bra and sent it to you.
Your reply made her squeeze her thighs together. You sent her another photo, this time of you in front of a mirror, your hand covering the bulge in your pants and Tara caught herself wondering, and not for the first time, how big you were.
“Don’t tease me,” she sent you a voice message, whining as she cupped her breast, as her mind created the images of you taking her, fucking her. Instead of a message you actually called her and she resisted cursing because she was about to unzip her jeans and slip her hand inside. “Hey,” she whispered, trying to figure out if she could still do it.
“I’m teasing? Do you have any idea what you did to me?” your voice sounded strained an she knew you were in just as much of a dilemma as she was, only you seemed to be stronger than her, because if she didn’t do something about the lust she felt she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.
“I know,” she admitted, biting back a moan as she slipped her hand into her jeans and teased her pussy over her panties. Fuck, she was already wet. “Y/N,” if only you were here with her, touching her, fucking her. “Are you hard?”
“What do you think?” you replied and she knew the answer. “I haven’t seen you in five days and the first thing you send me is that fucking video,” oh, you were cursing. She really got to you and you were definitely getting to her as she pushed her panties aside and slid her fingers through her wet folds.
“You started it,” Tara tried to defend herself.
“It was an innocent selfie!” you exclaimed just as she brushed the tip of her finger over her clit.
“Fuck, if we don’t stop neither of us will be innocent by tomorrow morning,” she moaned into the pillow, stuck between the urge to make herself cum and just sneak out and go to you.
“Shit, maybe we shouldn’t stop,” she could hear the faint sound of you stroking your cock and probably would have wondered if you could hear her too, but more importantly she made her decision.
“I’ll be there in ten,” she absolutely despised herself for pulling her hand out of her jeans and ending the call, but she would quickly get rid of that feeling, she just needed to get to you first.
~X~
You met in front of your apartment with Tara immediately jumping into your arms and kissing you, and you found yourself being pushed against the wall next to your doors as she deepened the kiss. “Fuck, finally,” she groaned, pressing her body against yours. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, and you felt her grinding against you, not even waiting to get inside.
The effort it took to actually slow down and take her to your bedroom should be studied, but you couldn’t let your first time be rough and quick. No, Tara deserved a lot more than that. “Easy, Tara, let’s just go inside,” you barely put your hand over your mouth to quiet the moan when she nibbled on your neck.
“I need you,” she whined, but allowed you to pull her into the apartment and toward the bedroom.
“I know, I know, I need you too,” you confessed, uncomfortably hard, and it only got worse when Tara pushed you onto the bed and straddled your lap. “But we can take as much time as we want, just take it slow and enjoy our first time instead of rushing through it.”
She felt it when she jumped into your arms, and now that she was straddling your lap. This was what she wanted for so long, yet now that she was looking at you the words you spoke echoed through her mind. Yeah, she would really enjoy that, just taking things slow for once. Slow and steady.
She leaned down, kissing you softly as she brushed her fingers over the fabric of your shirt, reaching up to your shoulders and squeezing lightly when you wrapped your arms around her. “You sure you’ll be able to hold back,” she asked when she pulled back, you were very hard after all.
You ran your fingers through her hair and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not holding anything back,” you promised and kissed her again. Your lips felt so soft, and Tara moaned, she truly missed this feeling. You slid your hand down to her neck and Tara let out a shuddering sigh as she lifted her head up and made it easier for you to kiss her neck. This was good, this was familiar. Making out with you always left her needy and this time wasn’t an exception as she felt the heat pooling in her core. “Y-Y/N,” she whimpered when you bit her neck slightly, just the way she liked it and Tara slowly began grinding on you. “Just like that,” she whispered as you dragged your tongue up her neck, soothing the burning skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” you were mesmerized by her, captivated by her beauty. Her breathy moans felt like the most beautiful melody ever created and you were the one causing them. You pulled her shirt up just enough to slip your hands underneath it. You felt the slight shiver of her body as she squirmed a bit at your touch.
“Your hands are a bit cold,” she giggled as your fingertips brushed along her sides. “Y/N, that tickles,” she smacked you slightly on the shoulder and saw the grin on your face. “Goofball,” she kissed you quickly.
“Sorry,” you muttered, only half-serious as Tara sat up and slowly, in the most tormenting, teasing way possible, took her shirt and bra off. “Fuck,” she looked gorgeous and there was no way your eyes weren’t giving your thoughts away because you couldn’t get them off her body.
Tara smiled at that, she’s shown you her scars before, so she wasn’t worried about your reaction, but this? She was definitely getting an ego boost from this reaction, and the way your cock twitched against her pussy. “You want me, Y/N? Take me,” she said it. “Do anything you want with me,” and in return she’d do anything she wanted with you and there were plenty of things she wanted, so many in fact she knew you couldn’t do it all tonight.
You cleared your throat and nodded as you sat up yourself and then flipped the two of you around so you were on top of Tara. You looked her in the eyes as you leaned down and, while cupping her breast, licked her already hard nipple. Tara took your own shirt and bra off and watched you as you sucked on her breast while she ran her fingers through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. Her other hand found your breasts and she brushed her thumb against your nipple.
Your tangled bodies moved together. Every touch of your hands left her skin burning, left her body more desperate for your touch, every single brush of your fingers drove her mad with desire. And she still didn’t take her jeans or panties off. Your hand went lower until your fingers tugged at her jeans, teasing her and making her moan. “Need you,” she whispered and felt you nodding as your unzipped her jeans and pulled them down.
“You’re soaking wet,” you grunted as you slowly rubbed her pussy over her panties. Tara dared to believe you could slip your cock inside her without any troubles with how wet she was if only you weren’t so big. You pulled your hand out of her jeans, making her immediately whine.
“Y/N, don’t tease me, please,” she begged, but luckily you just took a moment to take her jeans and panties off and strip the rest of your clothes as well.
“That’s your specialty,” you got back on top of her and pushed two fingers inside her pussy, and if she wasn’t as aroused as she was she would probably be embarrassed at how easily your fingers slipped in. Your fingers felt so good inside her as you continued kissing and caressing her body and Tara lay there, a moaning mess before your cock was even inside her. She reached down and wrapped her hand around your cock, there was precum leaking out of it as she rubbed the tip with her thumb. “Don’t, I won’t last if you do that,” you bit her shoulder a bit rougher than you intended. “I want to cum when I’m inside you,” you said while bringing her close to her orgasm.
“Me too then. Put it in me, I’m ready,” she spread her legs for you and kissed you as you blindly reached for the drawer next to your bed and grabbed the condom on top of it. If she didn’t quite literally tell you you would be having sex she would have teased you, but as it was she just wanted you to put it on and fuck her.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” you asked as you lined your cock up with the entrance to her pussy. And oh, she was ready, soaking wet, she probably wouldn’t even feel any pain. Tara nodded and kissed you once more as she hugged you tightly. She felt the tip of your cock sliding into her pussy and moaned, breaking the kiss and leaning her head back on your pillow.
“Y- Ah! Y/N!” she cried out your name, her fingertips digging into the back of your head, her back arching as you wrapped one arm around her and used the other to hold onto her hip.
“You’re taking me so well, Tara,” you whispered in her ear and finally, finally, she took all of you. She was close before, but now, feeling this full, she knew she was right on the edge.
You knew you couldn’t last for long like this. Tara’s warm, wet pussy engulfed you and you tried to focus on something else, to prolong this, but there was no way you could do that, so, you moved your hand from her hip to her clit and began rubbing as you slowly began thrusting into her, hoping you could get her to cum before you did. You would hold back until she cums, you promised that to yourself.
“I’m so close,” Tara moaned. “Look at me,” she pleaded, and you immediately complied as you looked into each other’s eyes, your bodies moving in the perfect sync as she began meeting your thrusts. Her orgasm kept building up, slow and steady, like your entire lovemaking was tonight, and with each thrust she could see you were getting close as well. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, no longer conscious of how much time you spent like that. She just knew that at one point she came, loud and hard, as your sweat covered bodies pressed together and she felt you cumming as well with a moan of your own.
She was absolutely spent. Satisfied with this being her first time. There would be other nights or days for longer lovemaking with multiple orgasms. In her head, and she truly hoped, in yours too, this was perfect.
Tara held onto you, feeling happier than she’s been in a long time. The blissful feeling consuming her entirely as you pulled your cock out and she glanced down at the filled condom. Maybe it was just her orgasm affecting her brain but she couldn’t help but think how one day, when you’re both ready, you’ll be cumming deep inside her. “Baby, Y/N,” she hummed as you caught your breath on top of her and she gently scratched the back of your head.
You lowered your head a bit and kissed her shoulder. “You were incredible,” you whispered, peppering her shoulder and the side of her neck with soft butterfly kisses. “Tara,” you whispered her name like it was your own, personal salvation. “I love you so much,” it wasn’t the first time you said those words, but it felt so good to hear them.
“I love you too, Y/N,” she tilted your chin up and kissed you on the lips, just as soft as everything tonight was. “I never thought sex would feel this good,” she admitted. There was no pain, no holding back, it consumed her entirely and all she could feel was your love for her as you took her innocence.
You chuckled. “Tell me about it,” you rolled onto your back and pulled Tara on top of you so you could rest while still holding her.
Tara had other ideas, turning both of you so you were lying on the side. “There, that’s better,” she whispered and leaned in, closing the distance between you. You would need to get up soon, clean up, take care of the mess you made, but she could bask in your warmth for a bit longer. Especially when you began rubbing her back, soothing her, keeping her feeling good. “I love how gentle and loving you were,” she whispered as she snuggled up to you, aware that, while she did absolutely enjoy the gentle sex she wasn’t opposed to getting a bit rougher sooner or later. She wanted to feel it all with you, to try everything and anything you were both comfortable with.
“It felt right,” you hummed, focusing on holding her and occasionally kissing wherever you could reach at the moment. While Tara showered you with love through words, you preferred touch, and it worked for both of you perfectly. Tara who was starved for touch, you who were starved for words of affirmation, I was a match made in heaven in her mind.
You stayed like that for some time, easily fifteen minutes, if not closer to twenty. Just cuddling and loving one another before you finally went to clean up, not leaving the shared shower until all the hot water had run out.
A/N: Well... Sam may have been a tiny bit over the top/out of character for the sake of the plot 🤣🤣
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crepesuzette2023 · 1 day ago
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Hey! I'd love to hear your thoughts (and your readers' too!) or, if you'd like, your headcanon for what John and Paul's friendship/relationship/situationship might have looked like in the 80s if John hadn’t been murdered.
The more I listen to Paul's 70s discography, the more I feel just how much he seemed to miss John, and things didn’t seem to be getting easier as the decade came to a close. We know that songs like Now and Then and Real Love offer a glimpse into John's feelings, and there was clearly a sense of him missing Paul back.
So, do you have any headcanon about what could have been between them in that decade?
This is such a fascinating ask. Thank you.
I recently listened to McCartney II again, and also to Double Fantasy and Milk and Honey. And it struck me how alive and creative both of them were—and it made me think of their planned studio/writing date in January '81, which didn't happen.
What could their relationship have looked like, if John had lived? On the creative/musical level, I'm torn. Yes, they were Lennon and McCartney, and each of them was at a peak individually—surely they would have done great things together? But then I think of John describing the "Toot & A Snore" session, and how everyone was staring at him and Paul in the studio. Yes, they could have met in secret to write—but at some point, they would have had to share their new songs with the public. And I can totally imagine a situation where the public would have said, 'no thanks,' with only us, now, realizing how good their first album together actually was…(a la Ram)...and maybe they would have stopped after that...or wait: Paul would not have let them stop. :-)
In my mind, I'm fond of the idea of them collaborating and writing together, with space for each of them to do their own thing, provided they still enjoyed it and were happy with the results. It's impossible to say if that would have been the case. But in some weird way, I can't imagine them becoming friends (and more?) again without also enjoying writing together. Given the drama that played out via the press in the 70’s, neither of them cared about endless questions about the past, or the burden of being Lennon/McCartney. So perhaps...they would have written together under a pseudonym?! All their lives? Until this very day? Love that thought. (Didn't John have a tour planned with Double Fantasy? For some reason, I'm not really thinking about them forming a band again, or touring together in a systematic way.)
As for their friendship/relationship/situationship—God Only Knows what the fic writer in me would have wanted for them! :-)
All I can say is that I can't imagine a sustained, fruitful musical/songwriting collaboration without imagining them being genuinely close again. I'm not trying to avoid the 'lovers' question; I think what I said would be true regardless of the degree of canoodling: I don't think they would have written together again without being fond of, and enjoying, each other. The fact that they apparently planned studio time together before John died, suggests that the curiosity (hope?) was there.
I don't think they would have written masterpieces on the level of the Beatles, had they started writing again. But I'm only saying that because my imagination is more limited than their talent.
I think their relationship in the late 70's is difficult to gauge, and I tend to avoid that time period, because, knowing what will happen to John, it makes me sad. Musically they were in a good place in ‘79/’80. But maybe, if they had met and tried to write again, they would have concluded that they were worlds apart, and that would have been that.
But maybe they would have started to co-headline certain festivals? And always been *aware* of each other?!
And you know what— there was a kinkmeme prompt once, or was it a prompt for the Summer of Love fic-a-thon? Where John Lennon lives, and is going to bat for Paul and Broad Street when it's panned by the critics. I know Paul wouldn't have made GMRTBS with John alive, but he would have been panned for something, and guess who would have come out in his defense? Regardless of shared credits and secret or spouse-endorsed canoodling? Jooooohhhhhnnnnn.
That's the kind of scenario that makes me happy.
I hope this is giving you something. I would love to hear your thoughts, too, @therealsaintscully!
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