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applepixls · 11 days ago

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Anyone else thinking about how odd the hermitcraft economy is?

in season 9 they had a minor economic recession after the diamond ore war because there were far too many diamonds in circulation making them (hypothetically) worth less than normal and ren stepped in as the king and did what has been done in the midst of a lot of irl economic depressions; he created a government so they could employ the policy of Keynesian economics (basically more gov't intervention to stabilize the economy, it mostly worked in 1930's japan!), he took control of diamonds and even introduced a new currency, royal emeralds (much like Germany after WW1! they had some hyperinflation because of the war reparations they had to pay and the gov't not understanding that printing more money makes the money worth less resulting in the mark [currency] being so worthless they started burning it because they couldn't afford wood for fires. a new gov't came into power and they replaced the mark with rentenmarks which did a lot of fixificating for the economy). Ren's gov't also introduced a lot of gov't funded projects like the quests (the irl equivalent for this would be Roosevelt's New Deal which introduced policies/projects called the Alphabet Agencies (among other things) such as the AAA, CCC, TVA (do you see why they're called the alphabet agencies?) that would adjust the value of grain so farmers could start earning money for produce again and create work that would support a growing economy, projects like building roads and bridges)

so basically, all the policies ren's government introduced were very logically sound and worked in real life to fix the economy (except that irl the Great Depression only fully ended because WW2 started-), the issue is that hermitcraft is not real life and hermits do not behave like real people, they behave like hermits.

lets start with the hermitcraft economy. unlike the real economy, hermits rarely adjust prices according to how many diamonds are "in circulation". i say this despite the fact grian in a recent-ish episode says that "everything costs more this season because diamonds are more common". that can't be true because the caves and cliffs update literally made diamonds more difficult to acquire. I will circle back to this point made by grian later

hermits not adjusting prices by server-wide abundance of diamonds (because they cant really know how much anyone has, much less the total amount of diamonds in circulation, they just know who has a lot and who is broke) means that more diamonds doesn't make them worth less like it did with German marks, it just means hermits have more expendable currency and can spend more money and less time gathering materials for projects. It is also notable that diamonds are constantly being added and taken out of circulation because they're an actual useful currency rather than real life currencies which are symbolic slips of paper. diamonds can be used for armour and tools and it can be acquired by mining. so because of how hermits spend money, taking diamonds out of the economy in s9 did nothing but make them poor and angry at the government. the hermitcraft economy is actually stronger with more diamonds in circulation and is worsened by gov't intervention.

so already the use of real life strategies is utterly useless in hermitcraft economy but there are a few other reasons as well

the hermits tendency to resist government as well as the flawed and greedy government itself are a couple but also the fact that all the hermits are self employed (in real life but also in universe). they own and stock their own shops meaning all profits are more or less direct; its not passed through hands of big corporations so the person producing the product gets mere cents. the hermits are essentially small business owners (which becomes a bit of a problem come season 10 but we're still talking about season 9). The important part is the self employment. the season 9 gov't introduces the quests which mimic and echo real life government funded projects but because they're all employed and the quests gave small amounts of diamonds back, they did very little for the hermits

I'm sure theres more to say but i think its time to move on to the very interesting season 10 economy

if you've missed it you must be living under a rock but hermits are all using permits this season meaning only one shop in the shopping district is selling any given item/material and as a result of this prices have gone sky high. at one point a single stack of mangrove logs cost 7 diamonds when in previous seasons you could get at least 1 stack of wood for 1 diamond if not more

So what is causing this economic depression and hyperinflation?

well, circling back to the point grian made about resources costing more because of abundance of diamonds, I would think it actually costs more because of the permits.

grian thinks the diamond prices are fair because he has middle of the road permits (and is one of the hermits who designed their shopping district, permit and economic system this season so he's biased), there is enough demand to keep him afloat when he's stocked but its nothing people are clamouring for and buying him out. on the other hand, joel made a lot of shops that no one shops at because his objectively weighted permits have not been selling as well as they anticipated when making the permits (also some people like etho and pearl have additional income from their not as fabulous permits because they've made a pay to play game to go with it) and finally there are hermits like mumbo whose gold, iron and item frame shops were constantly getting bought out so he was frustrated with trying to restock despite getting lots of profit

(another interesting dynamic to think about is permits like cleo's book permit which lost value as the season went on because everyone needed books early on but now that they're all playing late game Minecraft, everyone is pretty stocked up and buying from cleo less often)

Basically, grian is satisfied with the pricing because he's middle class and couldn't afford it if they were more expensive but appreciates not being constantly out of stock, joel is unsatisfied because he is lower class and never has enough expendable currency to fund his projects because materials are too expensive and his permits aren't worth enough to sell them for more, and mumbo is unsatisfied because he is higher class and is constantly out of stock because his materials sell out too often and he wants to sell them for more to stay in stock more (classic supply and demand, he doesn't want to stock them as often making the supply lower and the demand proportionally higher making them worth more and therefore more expensive)

the reason i say the permits are to blame for the high prices is because they cause the responsibility of constantly stocking something to fall on one person (in past seasons, if one persons sandstone shop was out of stock you could go check someone else's sandstone shop). the threat of taking the permit away if they arent stocked along with the difficulty of constantly stocking some of these materials raises the cost.

a great example of this is skizzleman because his mangrove and cherry wood shop was one of the first shops to be built in the shopping district, meaning he somewhat set the prices this season. now, mangrove and cherry are both difficult trees to harvest because of their unconventional shapes and the fact that they are more recent additions (and skizz's stubborn desire to design his own farms...) so because of the time required to gather them the prices already were hitched up. add that to the fact that they are trying to constantly be in stock and therefore low prices that allow hermits to completely buy out the shops are unfavourable, and you get sky rocket-ing prices. (it is also difficult because skizz had no prior experience with hermitcraft pricing)

in conclusion... hermitcraft needs a laissez-faire economy (f. a. hayek) to function and not go into economic depression. Between the nature of the diamond currency, hermits' tendency to rebel against governments, the way they use the concept of supply and demand to price their goods, and the restrictions permits put on supplying products, hermits have proven that extensive structure and government intervention have not improved economic wellbeing the way that it does in real life

thus, hermits do not behave like regular humans, they operate on fae laws of its funny so lets do it and therefore must be governed as such (aka not governed), thank you for coming to my ted talk

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horrorhorizon · 8 months ago

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Palestine fundraisers masterpost

Every foundraiser has been verified or is highly likey ledgidaminant. I have been collecting these for a long time and in the start I did not track who verified what. This post is constanly being updated. please check notes for the most recent version

Search #fr on my blog for all fundraisers

If you want only vetted fundraisers search #vetted and #vetted by association

All fundraisers I reblog or ledgit or likely ledgit. Please take the time to look through the tag, share, follow, and most of all donate!

Thank you

The longer fundraisers are active, the more money needed, as cost of living is extremely high with no avaible work. It is normal that goal gets increased with time!

Website with vetted fundraisers Easy to use and simple. Just share the site whenever someone asks for GFMs for Palestine.

The Al-Mawasi community clinic in Gaza

Operation olive branch

Providing water

esims needed!

crips for esims I volunteer for them, we are in a big need of funds right now!

Care for Gaza

Palestine activists legal funds

Muhammad Al-Habil low on founds, elderly, children, multiple members in need of medical care

Siraj's Family low on founds, children (fundraiser unavaible. if this is your fundraiser please contact me)

Iyad sobhe low on founds, elderly (fundraiser unavaible. if this is your fundraiser please contact me)

Ruba Abushaban low on founds, elderly, medical care needed (fundraiser unavaible. if this is your fundraiser please contact me)

Fadi Al-Sharif infant child

Tabseem AbuJamie extremely low on founds, children, medical care needed

Hala's family low on founds, toddler (fundraiser unavaible. if this is your fundraiser please contact me)

Hani Alhajjar 2 toddlers close to goal!

Mariam Radi 3 children under 6

Nour Krayyem low on founds, 9 children, 20 family members killed

Asaad Herzallah low on founds, a child

Hussam Aburamadan low on founds, many children, newborn, elderly vetted link

Mohmmed Alshaer low on founds, multiple children under 10. (Currently not accepting donations. I do not now why 17-09-2024. if this is your fundraiser please contact me)

Jumana Elhalless family now seeking aid for other members

Ahmed Hassan completed!

Hala Jad children, close to goal!

Said Tanani completed!

Halla Morshed' family low on founds, child

Helping the People of Gaza - Mutual Aid Fund provides displaced families with essential supplies, in need of constant donations vetted by el shab hussien

Maha Abu Shammalah completed!

Yousef Alswaisi Doctor who has been volunteering to aid

HELP GAZA'S CHILDREN! DONATE TODAY! see also Help Gaza Children under reading and actions listed in original post in need of constant donations

Dr.Ebraheem elderly, in need of medical aid

Zinh Aldahdoh completed!

Donia Tanani close to goal, child

Ahmed and his family completed!

Help Walid and family escape the horrors of Gaza! original goal completed and now aiding others and asking or cost of living in egypt due to not being allowed to work

Alaa Amsse 2 sick children, very low on funds, pregnant mother vetted by @/ibtisams!

Shehab family 5 children, elderly vetted by @/el-shab-hussein

Nada Saftaw children vetted by @/el-shab-hussein

Fadi Zakout seperated family, low on funds, children in need of emidate medical care vetted @/90-ghost

Abdallah Alanqar 4 children, one newborn, vetted @/sar-soor and @/nabulsi

Samer Abu Ras 3 children, low on funds vetted @/ibtisams

Amal Ashour infant under 2 vetted number 175

Samira Al-hapil Very low on founds, 4 young children vetted by @/90-ghost

Tahani Shorbajee low on funds, children vetted by @/el-shab-hussein

Mahmoud Qassas MEDICAL EMERGANCY, 3 childeren under 7

Mohammed Almanasra 3 children under 7, multiple family members martered, beloved pet cat, medical needs, #192 on the Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List

Bilal salah many children and infants under 8, including newborns, close to goal, Bilal is outside of Gaza and is going through emence struggles while having to worry about his family in Gaza #132 in the Spreadsheet

Reema Samara EXTREMLY low on funds, 5 year old, many family members martered, injuries vetted Gaza evacuation funds

Muna Abo Hamda child vetted el shab hussein

#fr #vetted #free palestine #free gaza #palestine #gaza #i stand with palestine #free gaza 🇵🇸#free palestine 🇵🇸#from the river to the sea 🇵🇸#fundraising #foundraising #mutal aid #fundraisers #donations #gofundme #please donate if you can #vetted by association

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swordsandholly · 10 months ago

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Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

1K notes · View notes

ybklix · 10 months ago

Text

𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲

dear lord, when i get to heaven, please let me bring my man (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ fr omg

★ pairing: idol!lee felix x fem!reader

✦summary: You got your dream job on one of the most important day for fashion industry, everything seems like a fairy tale, until you meet one of the people you are working for, which complicates your thoughts, a guy with an angelic face, however he is for you the devil wearing custom couture Tommy Hilfiger.

✭ content - tags - warnings: smut / one night stand / use of “y/n”/ handjob / oral sex / soft degrading / dom felix / semi public sex / unprotected sex / etc lol

word count: 5.1k

(masterlist)

♡ notes: 2024 felix at the met gala ♡

a/n: had to write smth ab my man looking this good on a big day, oopsies / all fiction, don't really know how's behind scenes lol / i'm watching the series so i'm romanticizing the carrie type of writing, enjoy!

There’s an old saying… “what happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas”, and for the New Yorkers with enough amount of luck, the equivalent of that would be: “what happens in the Met Gala, stays in the Met gala.”

You either had to be a celebrity with high status, or a very wealthy person… or sometimes, just part of the staff; yes you were in last link, but you were still happy.

There you were, on the first Monday of May, standing outside of the iconic decorated stairs of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, on the also iconic, 5th avenue of East side of Manhattan. Living your dream, because this year, you were inside, and not anymore as a viewer.

Life was going great for you, you’ll graduate from college exactly in nine days, and you were booked as a tour guide in the Met Gala a month ago. It was your dream job, even though you majored in journalism, working for Vogue was always your dream to be, you’ve been applying for the Met ever since you turned eighteen, and finally there you were wearing a vintage YSL black dress, from a vintage store in Soho, whose rent costs more than you apartment’s, with some Manolo shoes, living your little Carrie Bradshaw fantasy. But that didn’t matter, yeah, she was a woman with a steady job and you only a freshly graduated who expected to get hired as soon as you get your diploma.

They prepared you the whole past month, and you picked up your ID last week; this was going to look wonderful in your resume. You loved fashion, arts, writing, you didn’t care there was another 500 people doing exactly the same as you, you were there, living inside your bubble of the gossip girl and devil wears Prada vibes.

A lot of people hated New York; but you never could, you had a nice apartment on west side of Manhattan and an incredible fashion taste. You had to work as a staff for one the most emerging kpop groups, Stray Kids, or at least that’s what you read about online, you did your research: eight male members, only two of them fluent in English and the rest of them just shy to speak it out loud… you weren’t that unfamiliar at all, you recognized kpop is one of the greatest genres these days, but you were twenty one and going through your finals as the provided you that information, so you followed their social medias, caught up a little in their updates, learned their names and faces —which was very important—, but couldn’t fully concentrate in how handsome they were or at least get yourself a little of fangirlism. Once again, you were sinking in the lasts and very important moments of college.

So the thing was simple, they usually bring their own people around but for this event was the exception, once they stepped on the radar of these popular stairs, they were under the Met Gala staff, that’s when you get in.

You were waiting for them standing among the group of people who would be working the same as you, all with their dress code in black-only etiquette, to go unnoticed. It was your first Met Gala, although you didn't want to flatter yourself either in such a big way, but you had chosen a sexy dress with your back uncovered, you wanted simplicity, but not too much. The heels were starting to bother you a bit until, as fate would have it, a stout black man in charge of monitoring, with headphones on his bald head and clipboard in his hand shouted in a strong New York accent to the group of people you were in.

“The following celebrities are Stray Kids, I repeat so you can listen in the back, Stray Kids is coming! Their team step up to lead them in.”

Nerves got the better of you, it was your turn; you had seen your other ‘colleagues’ guide their respective assigned celebrities, so now it was your time. You hurried to the entrance, along with another girl and two other men. The large black van pulled up to sidewalk and finally, just as you had researched, eight pretty East Asian looking men exited one by one.

You tried to identify the one you had previously studied as their leader and one of the English speakers, until he finally emerged just to one side of you.

“It's this way, boys” your coworker, who was a little ahead of you, led the way.

The eight of them walked a bit and met their designer, the legitimate Tommy Hilfiger, while among the chaos of noise and nerves you tried to identify each one you were working for; they were all wearing long coats but you could distinguish that it was just to hide their real attire.

But apparently you were not the only one nervous, it was also their first Met Gala, an incredibly big event, a bit out of what they knew, in one of the countries where the music market was of utmost importance to consider and succeed, each one of them recognized that this was an important day and simply one more step in their artistic career. They were all nervous and excited; but even so you noticed a somewhat monotonous expression on each of them, you thought it was just nerves. You got a good look at them all as they talked to their designer in charge and noticed how each one had their own charm, they were attractive and smelled quite nice. You thought about how much fun this job is for you, being around celebrities.

“And y/n, right?” he came up to you, the man who had previously been giving directions to your boys.

You nodded, confused, he went on to say:

“I’m informed that you will be going into the museum with them, you can take the lead” he said in a strangely kind tone.

You smiled at him, you had forgotten the last time you met a nice New Yorker. It was when you realized it was time, you took a breath with your cheeks and released them, once you saw they finished their little talk, you took a step so everyone could see you and introduced yourself; it was part of your job and you had been trained for it. You started with a “hi, guys”, told them your name and added that you would accompany them to the exhibit. You looked forward to going in there.

You got the attention of all eight of them, after all they were still men, foreign men excited for a new experience. Once you turned around as you led the way you questioned if wearing that open back dress was the best choice, you hadn't really intended it that way; you also didn't expect them all to be 100 times more attractive in person, the pictures you saw on the internet didn't do them justice.

All the members of Stray Kids were with their respective emotions on edge, but especially one of them didn't know how to control himself. Felix, who at all times kept a serious countenance was more than excited and his body was reacting to it, betraying him, he was aroused. He wasn't exactly in the mood for sex, but somehow he felt uncomfortably hard. He was simply an excited little Asian boy with a not-so-little problem. An erection in his pants.

Felix had the experience at these kinds of fashion events, but simply something about this city drove him incredibly crazy. Somehow he was thirsty for sex… but he didn't feel like he was at this very moment. He had to put on his best show and control his body, he slyly checked his pants and it was a relief that the design was perfectly loose so it couldn't be noticed. But it all got worse when he saw his pretty young guide and staff for tonight, with her pretty makeup and perfect hair done, with her back uncovered.

Felix read her name on her ID hanging on her body and checked slyly if anyone else of his friends and colleagues thought the same as him… he could notice it in the look of his friend Bang Chan, however Felix noticed the little importance that Chan himself gave her and continued treating her with kindness and courtesy, who from time to time gave her a certain look was his other friend Seungmin, who was the master of disguise, but not for Felix, not after knowing him so long and living with him.

But that was just the thrill of the moment, as Felix took full control of his body as he approached his final stretch, an interview and then the longed-for Met Gala stairs. Like a pro idol, he knew how to handle it, and everyone had a spectacular and memorable entrance.

You saw them from afar, Bang Chan had introduced you to each one of them and thanked you for accompanying them even though you hadn’t start yet, you thought he was an unreal man, in fact all eight of them were, their perfectly manicured faces and the subtlety of their make-up were to you so…. You were speechless; but if you had to choose one, putting yourself in the shoes of millions of girls around the world even of your age discovering an attractive boy band, maybe among them all… it would be the only blond guy with long hair. You thought between sighs how cute he was, you were down bad when it came to cute boys, also the long-haired ones.

You remembered his name, Felix; a little strange, it sounded like an old name but somehow it fit him so well, you thought; now you were not only fulfilling your dream job, you would be together with eight handsome men, you almost wanted to let out a little giggle, but it was time to monitor how well they took the pictures of your “bosses” as they posed on the carpet.

You waited a moment more before finally entering, it seemed like hours, until finally the doors opened for you and there suddenly you felt your heart burst, not even Felix's pretty face could have impacted you so much, the exhibition of unique pieces in the haute couture of fashion history.

“You can start to separate and see freely” you mentioned to them.

You saw them, they looked totally lost.

“Mm, I don't think so, we like to stay together” Chan answered with a nervous smile.

“Well, if you like, we can start here…” you spoke.

You didn't want to keep them tied up nor did you want to feel like a big deal, you were only going to accompany them and follow their instructions, however they seemed to follow yours; you gave yourself the task of showing them every corner and giving them a little summary of what each exhibit meant, however you couldn't help hiding your excitement, your eyes shone with care and all eight noticed your adorable expression, even those who couldn't fully understand you because of the language barrier, your expressions spoke for themselves. And Felix couldn't take his eyes off you the whole tour.

Felix didn't understand what was wrong with him, whether it was the excitement of the foreigner, the significant change of time zone, his pretty part of the assigned staff, or the incredible urge to have sex. He wasn't normally like that… well, at least not in places like these. He left the dirty thoughts for later when he was in the quiet of solitude. But just now he had those thoughts of how hot it must be to be fucking someone while wearing that perfectly tailored suit, making a mess among all the tidiness that went with it all.

He wasn't like that… but the more he thought about it, the more he was tempted, he thought it would be the only time he would see you, that you had to be professional and not at all indiscreet, that it would only be one night. He was becoming more and more convinced, what was wrong with him? He was handsome, young, successful and very well endowed, he only needed to show his gifts to someone. Felix thought if that someone could be you; this was not Felix who thinks dating and love were important, suddenly something came over him, like a haughty alter ego blinded by his dazzling fame, ready to just have sex.

The main event started, the dinner and the show, you had gotten a table, only confirmed by the exclusively selected staff in perhaps, one of the worst areas, still you were in, from going to see the Met outside on the street, to being seated next to a bunch of celebrities in the same room; you were so happy you could die the next day thinking you made it.

But once the show was over, little by little so was your spark, it was time to go back to your reality and take a cab home; the folks at that table were mentioning something about an after party, among them and a bunch more… but you didn't want the smell of celebrities and fame to leave your pores and get lost in some stranger's apartment.

You were about to check out when a short woman rushes up to you asking if there was any Stray Kids staff at the table.

“Here, me!” you showed her your ID quizzically. “What's going on?”

“What are you doing here? They're escorting you to the after party.”

Puzzled, you mumbled a “what?” and followed her hurried pace as she was leaving.

“After party, with who?”

The woman stopped in her tracks and turned to look at you.

“Well, who are you working for.”

Impossible, you thought. You were supposed to check out and you weren't allowed to go outside the museum, they couldn't just invite you like that, could they? Why would they? Besides you were working for the museum, not for them. Sadly, you had to make it clear to them.

You walked towards them who were already at the main exit leaving with other celebrities, you got up the courage and approached them.

“Nice to meet you guys, but I think it was a misunderstanding, I can't accompany you, I work for the museum… they didn't give me directions to follow you.”

“And what time do you leave?” Chan asked you with a hoarse voice and eyes fixed on you.

“Just now…” you added awkwardly, not knowing what to say as the eight men stared at you.

“Perfect” Chan said in a thick accent with a smile.

“Now you work for us, let's go to the after party” spoke in a cold, distant and arrogant tone the pretty blond boy who had caught your attention.

You had not heard him speak, not until now. You were too surprised by the contrast of his angelic face and his incredibly thick voice.

You were able to register your exit and hurriedly kept up with the boys.

“We liked the way you explained the exhibition, we will have you as translator now” Chan told you as he quickened his pace leaving you behind.

It didn't make the slightest sense what he just said. You don't even speak Korean.

You sighed and could not deny the excitement of living another adventure, it was not like they were forcing you, you were now going to go to the legendary Met Gala after party.

You got into a dark van along with more of their staff and in the minutes of traffic you were finally there. You couldn't believe it, for a moment you stopped thinking that things made sense.

Luckily you were not alone, but accompanied by another girl in the staff, all looked great but it was evident that no one wanted to socialize with you and it was difficult for you to do so; so you felt uncomfortable and out of place, questioning if you should really be there.

After a few minutes you noticed that Felix stood up from his seat, taking the button of his suit and slyly approached you.

“Can you come with me?” he whispered in your ear with his deep voice.

You froze, and followed him without thinking too much, something wasn't right when it came to him…. besides, you thought you had to follow his instructions.

Felix went to a private bathroom, you wanted to think that maybe he wanted you to take care of his coat… if not, why else would he ask you to accompany him; he entered quickly, in a suspicious way and then came out quickly looking around frantically, until he pulled you by the arm and took you with him to that small elegant bathroom, locking the door. You couldn't process the speed of the actions and suddenly, you saw his piercing gaze in front of yours.

What was going on?

Felix had enough, watching you flirtatiously talking to Chan, sweet talking all his friends, there was nothing else to explain but that he was horny and wanted to have you right now. You weren't stupid, you noticed his looks but wanted to ignore them, but it turns out that wasn't what he wanted.

So there you were, inwardly struggling whether to play along with whatever he intended to do or put your ethics above… you analyzed him, he looked so good with his long hair and white suit, you'd probably never see him again, you wanted to bite your lip just thinking about how dangerous and fast-paced some kind of sex like that would be, on the sly. But you couldn't make up your mind, this was about Conde Nast, your dream, not easy access to fuck.

Felix noticed too the early darkness in your gaze, reflecting lust, he was already hard from just thinking about your ass slapping his pelvis as he thrust his cock in and out your pussy mercilessly. You so wet, making a mess, the two of you indulging in passion while a bunch of people decide to party outside.

“I don't normally do this but… I may only see you once in my life…”

Felix said in a voice thicker than what you had heard and came dangerously close to you, who were glued to the door, perplexed.

“Felix…” you wanted to think clearly but his full lips in a perfect heart shape were distracting you.

“If you want to fuck me… you have to promise me to never tell anyone.”

Felix whispered plaintiff in your left ear, losing himself in the scent of you hair. You couldn't take it anymore, if he kept talking, you might cum at any moment.

You understood the situation of things and the importance of his comment, after all he was still a global superstar. But not telling would not only be a beautiful secret to take to your grave and something fun to remember, but it would also be beneficial for you, because under no circumstances should a female employee have sex with her assigned celebrity. You would be banned from all of Manhattan or the city if possible, public enemy number one.

He moved closer to your ear, thinly brushing his lips on it and making you lose control little by little by his approach. You closed your eyes, completely lost, fuck it, you would fuck him and never see him again, at least not this intimacy.

“Why would I fuck and tell...?” you whispered completely lost in desire.

He chuckled, and finally grabbed you by the waist. Felix sought your lips and you kissed slowly, deeply and passionately, the kiss was so strong that you felt the pressure of his upturned nose on your face. You knew it was so wrong at any angle analyzed… but it felt so right, his lips were soft and he moved them with agility, your hands were still glued to the wall in surprise, but gradually you relaxed and managed to hold on to the ends of his jacket.

Felix also relaxed and his right hand moved down to your naked back and slowly and nimbly he moved his hand in until he squeezed and caressed your ass, his actions surprised you that you almost moaned at the touch, separating you a little from the kiss.

He pulled a few inches away from your lips and, as he ran his hand all around your ass, he looked you over with a look of superiority.

“You're such a slut, only wearing a fucking thong, almost like you were ready for me” he said with a husky voice.

This time you felt his noticeable bulge brush against your belly and his soft touch made you wetter and wetter.

“Get on your knees, beautiful.”

He ordered and you obeyed. Felix was sick of feeling horny, he wanted a quick fix, to strip the tight garments off his cock and be attended to urgently, once he had enough of his own, he was going to take over pleasuring you fully.

Your breath was getting shorter and shorter and you felt his member on the fabric, you thought about how good he looked from below and in all possible angles, then you pulled down his pants, ready to give him the best blowjob ever —or at least you hoped so—, you couldn't resist, you simply pulled down his underwear too, finding his throbbing and delicious cock so needy, its tip was bright pink and poor Felix was already showing signs of small droplets of pre-seminal fluid, and to think he had a fine and angelic face…. You had never felt so hungry and desirous, you were totally possessed; you wanted it in your hands, in your mouth, pounding your face, pounding your cervix… so you felt it, that firm hard manly hunk, at the mercy of your hands, feeling every texture of his skin.

Felix gasped, lifting his buttoned shirt a little, revealing a bit of his smooth but working abdomen. You took some of his fluid and spread it all over his length, lubricating it, it felt so good, but you were also so needy and desperate, and the thin fabric covering your intimate area didn't help at all, you felt the garment getting smaller and smaller, you felt your wet pussy growing and throbbing causing a delicious friction; but you thought you had to be more careful, your whole outfit was black, one stain of semen or fluids and you had to pay for the dress.

You moved a little away from him, hoping that no droplets of him fell on your attire, still you held his erection tightly with your left hand, making frantic movements, back and forth.

He was ecstatic, it was all he needed, to be sexually attended to; the New York air suited Felix Lee wonderfully, and the New York girl… he thought… she was out of this world, her hands felt fantastic on his hard manhood. He wanted to cum roughly, but he wanted to do it dirty in his employee's mouth and pretty face… he would never act like the beastly thing he was doing in Seoul, but new place, try new things.

So between sighs and gasps, he lowered his gaze and tried to communicate with her.

“Use your pretty mouth.”

You never thought he was going to ask, you didn't hesitate for a second, and the grotesque sound of your saliva dripping on his cock were heavenly; his sex was hot and smooth, the texture felt so good inside your cheeks but once again, you are desperate for him to take you and start moving your guts.

Within minutes, Felix cum in your mouth amid moans and groans, and the softest but most effective hair pulls, to make you go exquisitely deeper. You never thought he was so vocal, with a voice like that, you were in heaven; and it took you only a few seconds to drink his cum, as a reward.

“I think we need to get rid of that dress” he said trying to catch his breath. “I'll buy you 3 more, no worries.”

He took you by the chin, inviting you to stand up and helped you take off the dress, you were so excited that your vision was blurred and you couldn't think clearly… what was his next move….

You were amazed at how incredibly hard and standing still he was even after he had just cum, you thought, after all kpop idols did have it all, great stage presence, big penis, music talent, and for sex too.

He sat you on the small counter, him facing the mirror, the stone was cold and you were finally, almost, completely naked in front of him, wearing only your thin thong. Felix wasted no time and positioned himself between your legs, kissing you deeply and desperately as you carefully felt the tip of his penis brush your wet center each time they came closer, he moved his kisses down, to your neck, massaged your breasts and kissed and sucked them mercilessly, you wanted to scream with excitement but you were acutely aware that there were people outside, never mind the noise of the party. Once on your chest, he turned his angelic face up, with a dark mischievous look and that's when you felt his thumb caress your clit.

You moaned in relief, finally your exhausted pussy was going to be given attention. His movements were slow until each time he increased the acceleration, you couldn't help but writhe in pleasure and when your body contracted ready to climax, Felix introduced his fingers inside you, he felt the softness of your insides so lubricated and ready to feel his erection beating you frantically.

“Look at me” he asked once he saw that your attention was focused for a few seconds on his right hand playing with your pussy.

“Uh-mm” you murmured, nodding softly, almost in moans.

You weren't thinking clearly but decided to hold back the urge to cum just to feel his fingers inside you for a few more moments. You looked into his big dark eyes; you felt that he looked more calm and serious with that gaze locked on you and his innocent freckled look, unlike you that your eyes was totally submissive and you were almost about to cry with pleasure, oh and Felix loved that, all that mess because of him.

“I'm going to cum, Fe…” you moaned.

But you couldn't even speak, he accelerated his movements and your belly contracted so pleasantly bringing you to your first orgasm.

“I'm not done yet; let me clean up that mess you made.”

And without warning, Felix leaned down, gripping your thighs tightly, two of his fingers still freshly wet from my fluids, marked on your thigh; Felix ran his hot tongue across your cunt, licking all your cum.

He began to eat your pussy carefully, almost accomplishing step by step and you loved the delicacy of what he was doing, you were seeing stars, you didn't want this to ever end, you wanted him on you all the time. You took advantage and also took hold of his tightly tied hair. He did it so well that you had to cum a second time.

And finally, the act you both had been waiting for since he locked the door; Felix had saved the urge and was once again swollen and throbbing, screaming for attention and action. He cleaned the edges of his mouth in a attractive manner.

“Shit, I don't have a condom” he said in annoyance.

“It's okay, I'd never have your baby anyway.”

Felix smiled and you watched his erection in front of your pussy, until he gently pushed it in, until you closed your eyes once again in pleasure.

“I'm going to cum inside you and make sure your pussy misses every part of me.”

Felix whispered hotly in your right ear as you pressed your bodies closer and closer together, until you ended up with your legs wrapped around his waist, crushing bit of his outfit, and your hands on his shoulders. And then, he rammed you fast and as delicious as no one else had ever done, you moaned softly to avoid any strange noises from outside. It was incredible, you thought, his rhythm was strong and constant and when you began to lubricate his penis more indicating your soon orgasm, Felix separated from you and in quick movements he changed your position, lowered you from the counter, turned your body and introduced his penis making you stand still and making you both see yourselves in the mirror.

You couldn't be happier, you loved the fiction of his shirts stuck to your body of the clothes he still had on, and he began to pound more frantically and wildly, giving way to the sound of your skins colliding and your fluids combining. Felix held you tightly by the waist as he pulled your body away and closer, controlling it in his own way, you wanted to help him, moving your ass a little but his grip was too strong. You were with your back arched, holding tightly to the sink, giving choked moans as you felt his strong thrusts. Watching him fuck you in the mirror was fucking hot, he looked so attractive with his half-open mouth letting out soft moans and his concentrated countenance, frowning and his eyes locked on your ass, then on you.

Felix grabbed your hair in his fist and pulled it to pull you closer to him and glued you to his body, just when you thought it couldn't get any better, his thrusts were deeper that way and you were touching the edge.

“Do you like the way I fuck you, little slut, huh?”

You tried to nod between gripping your hair.

“Say it.”

“Yes-yes, Felix, ahh it feels good.”

“You feel good too, sweetheart, you're doing a great job.”

His dirty talk close to your ear were just more elements to make you cum faster and faster and each time you were more and more surprised, as his pace increased, finally making you climax, for the third time.

Felix smiled in victory as he felt your pussy muscles first tighten and then relax releasing more of your luscious fluids, wetting and hugging his hard cock, Felix continued another small moment, until he cum gloriously inside you and a little more above your ass.

You were perplexed. The sexual connection had been real. You both tried to catch your breath, he helped you put your dress back on and as you changed, Felix felt a little bad about just using you for his carnal desires, for you honestly it had been just a good fuck and you had your feet on the ground being aware that someone like him and you could never be together.

“So… Are you officially working on something related for Vogue?”

You smiled, as you tried to touch up your makeup, it was a bit badly retouched.

“No, it's my dream, they just hired me as a one-off for this year.”

“Maybe you should learn Korean and move there, Vogue Korea is still Vogue, isn't it?” he mentioned flirtatiously.

You chuckled again, that implied many things and at the same time none for you.

“Go out first, y/n, then I'll go out. I'll transfer you for the dresses outside, I don't even have my phone here” he said, finally in his deep voice calmer, almost looking tender, in his thick accent.

You smiled and looked at him one last time, before finally leaving for the party. Leaving you wanting more, but also with nothing more than just sex in the city.

#lee felix smut #skz smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #felix x reader #felix x you #lee felix x reader #kpop smut #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids #skz #skz felix #felix hard thoughts #𐙚wen writes♡₊˚⊹

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ailoda · 2 months ago

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updated: 17.02.25

ᯓ★ mob!au

Run For Your Life (❤✘): he was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. (@sinner-as-saint) (warning: stalking tendencies)

Passionfruit (❤✘): you spend a well deserved lazy day with your mafia husband and son… plus Bucky getting a little handsy. (@kurogxrix)

Look Don't Touch (❤): you accidentally walk onto your husband and his men during a meeting, clad in nothing else but a tight-fitting top and a baby in your arms. The sight is enough to send the many men drooling, but Bucky reminds them that you’re only his to look at, and will always be. (@kurogxrix)

The Alchemy (❤❅✘): about a decade ago you left your home and ran away, looking for a fresh start after having had your heart broken by the boy you loved. Now you’re back and turns out Bucky Barnes – the same man who once broke your heart – is adamant on tormenting you some more. But why? Why does he want you back at all cost when he was the one who once pushed you away and crushed your heart like it meant nothing to him? What secrets has he been keeping for almost a decade? Most importantly, what truly happened that night he broke your heart? (@sinner-as-saint) (warning: forced marriage/marriage of convenience, possessive behaviours)

4 Minutes (✘): you and Bucky had limited time to spend intimately during the past few days, leaving you both extremely sexually frustrated. When your son’s occupation offers you 4 minutes of free time, Bucky’s damn adamant on making your legs shake in less than 3. (@kurogxrix)

Protector (❤✧): ironically, the man with blood on his hands and a permanent target on his back was the one you’d never felt safer with. (@cherryrogers) (warning: mild violence, assault, stalking, mentions of illness, death)

Honey, There Is No Right Way (❤❅✘): when you agree to be the feared mobster Bucky Barnes’ sugar baby, you expect to get enough money to pay your bills. what you don’t expect is to fall head over heels for him. (@bonky-n-steeb)

A Love For The (P)ages (❤): Bucky might be the baddest mob boss in the city but he’s the softest and sweetest husband in the Universe. (@jobean12-blog)

Stealing Hearts (❤❅✘): his mansion was highly secured, and yet, breaking in and trying to steal from him was rather easy for a skilled thief like yourself. Key word: trying. Of course you got caught by his men. And the mob boss was known to be ruthless, cold, merciless – the list of his villainy was endless – so you thought he’d end you the moment he laid eyes on a thief like you. However, he didn’t. Instead, he made you an unusual offer. One you couldn’t resist. (@sinner-as-saint)

Come Home (❤✘): Bucky comes home to find you and your son asleep in your bed and his heart damn near explodes with how much he loves his family. And after putting your baby to sleep, Bucky proceeds to show you just how grateful he is to have you and how much he loves you… (@sinner-as-saint)

I Am Your Fall (❤❅✘): you’re hiding from your past, in Madripoor. You did nothing wrong, other than mix dangerous business with a lot of pleasure. You couldn’t go home because… he would find you, and Madripoor was the only place he didn’t do business, or had any allies or friends. But little did you know that the mob boss had finally found you, after obsessively looking for you ever since you left, and left him in pieces. He didn’t want revenge, he just wanted the one thing he had hopelessly fallen in love with; who also happened to be the one who had betrayed him and hurt him more than anyone or any bullet ever did before - you. (@sinner-as-saint)

Fallin' For Ya (❤): Bucky finds himself standing in front of your door with a bouquet of roses, wondering when he’s ever allowed his stone-cold mafia heart to fall in love with you. (@kurogxrix)

Yours To Wield (❤❅✘): with the enemy threatening to obliterate your family, you’re left with no choice but to take the hit just so he would spare your loved ones. Belonging to a mafia family requires sacrifices to be made at every step, and in order to save your family you make the ultimate one - you offer yourself up to the enemy. Bucky Barnes isn’t a man one negotiates with, he owns this city and whatever he says is considered law. But when you come to him with an irresistible offer, he bends his own rules for you. What starts out as an agreement becomes so much more, and the two of you find love where it wasn’t supposed to be. But rare are the love stories which don’t include some sort of war. (@sinner-as-saint)

Lover Boy (❅✘): it's the Bridgerton carriage scene, but make it mob!Bucky. (@cryptidcasanova)

Starting Over (❤❅): when Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending. (@sashaisready)

Guard Dog (❤❅): Bucky doesn't take too kindly to people hurting his wife. (@auroralwriting)

Adore Her, Dior Her (❤): what good is having all that money if he can't spend it on the woman he loves? (@queers-gambit)

Ending, Beginning (❤❅): after months of physical therapies, Y/N was finally back in town and ready to jump right back into business as usual. Bucky, however, disagreed; he didn’t want her anywhere near the club anymore. (@leascorner)

The Threat of Intimacy (❅✘✧): a beautiful bride marrying the man of your dreams. But when faced with what comes after the vows and first dance as Mr. and Mrs Barnes, you suggest that a particular arrangement be made. (@darkdemeter)

Bad Romance (❤❅✘): in Brooklyn, everyone knows the unwritten rule: you don’t cross James Barnes. When you return after nearly half a decade, things are anything but the same. After the murder of your Uncle, you begin to learn that no one is who they say they are, and that you may have accidentally given your heart to a mobster; The White Wolf of Brooklyn. More dangerous than that, he’s given you his. (@samthemarvelfan)

Promises (❤❅): when your parents are murdered in cold blood, you turn to the most feared man on the east coast for answers. (@preciousbarnes) (warning: graphic depictions of murder)

Suite Spades (✘): at the club where you danced it wasn’t unusual for you to have regulars, they were normally gross married men but there was one regular that stood out from the rest, your favorite. a grumpy ‘business’ man with a black metal arm. (@lostalioth)

new! My Devotion (❅✘✧): the one where Bucky doesn’t take your breakup well. (@cryptidcasanova)

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b1rds3ye · 2 years ago

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Mask On

How the boys react to their new ally who is more adamant on wearing their mask than Ghost himself.

Characters: Captain John Price, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

GN!Reader w/ no physical descriptions (except shorter than Ghost)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 3.1 (~0.8 each)

Warning: Canon-Typical Violence, Mentions of Reader potentially having insecurities, Not Proof Read

A/N: You know what maybe I want to be the badass masked character 😤

Captain John Price

The captain is thorough, and he immediately knew something was up when he looked up your file only to be greeted with no photo. He’s honestly a little peeved that his rank doesn’t grant him this confidential information, he’s known Simon before he took up the mask so this is the first time he’s genuinely had a faceless ally

But ultimately, as long as he can trust that you’ll be following orders, he doesn’t care if you have a mask or not. But his concern is only that for a fellow soldier

It takes a little longer for him to warm up to you - facial expressions tell a lot about someone’s character. He’s a bit prickly around you, he learns about you indirectly with how you interact with the rest of the 141

But over time there’s a shift. He can’t pinpoint when exactly but the sight of your mask relaxes him. After days separated on a mission, high stakes and adrenaline has Price snapping his head at the faintest of foreign sounds. But upon the familiar sight of your signature mask, he feels at ease

Price is fiercely protective of you and your mask. He likens it to his hat, only far more important - that mask is part of your identity and he knows just how important a soldier’s psyche is. If the enemy manages to take off your mask, he’ll stop at nothing to get it back on your behalf, even if you reluctantly tell him to abandon it

If he can’t salvage your mask, Price has now made it a habit to carry a balaclava for you in one of his pockets. If that’s not available, he’ll even offer you his hat, tipping it down far enough to obscure your eyes

Off duty he finds himself staring at your visage more these days. Looking at how the mask curves over your features, or the small slivers of skin that reveal themselves. He catches himself before you notice but he’s still disappointed in himself, he feels like a Victorian-era prude hyperventilating at the sight of an ankle

“Looking fresh, sergeant.”

You let out an audible chortle at Price’s words. The last mission was a success but at great costs, one of them being your mask damaged beyond repair during melee combat. Your face still wasn’t revealed, but slashes against fabric embedded with dirt and ash have made your signature mask look unrecognisable. Immediately upon returning to base and after debriefing, you were out of commission until you could don a new mask.

Price would be lying if said he didn’t miss your presence for the last few days, hiding away from the rest of the soldiers in base. He has no doubt you’ve still maintained your training and visiting the infirmary for mandatory checkups, but he’s gotten far too used to you being at his beck and call. The famed sight of your mask is no longer in his periphery, giving a nod of approval (not that he ever needed your approval, but he does enjoy your attention).

And now here you are with a new mask, the highlights glowing under the overhead lights and the darks swallowing up the lightwaves like an animal starved. Your updated look had you noticeably confident, shoulders square and head tall.

“Thanks, Captain.”

He can hear your smile and he ends up sitting next to you. Did he need to sit so close? No, but he acts as though his thigh brushing against yours was pure coincidence.

“What are you going to do with the old one?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, giving a light pat to a pocket in your cargo pants that your past mask currently resides in. “I know there’s a lot of memories in this… it’s my first mask… but I don’t know what to do with it.”

“I’ll keep it.”

You look at him. Price now has the uncanny ability to read your mood purely through your body language. From the speed at which you turn your head, the inclination of the neck, how your shoulders slant, he’s surprised that such a vicious soldier can act so endearingly in these moments.

“For what?”

“Safekeeping,” he says simply. “I’m proud of my soldiers, sergeant - want to remember their accomplishments.”

You shrug in agreement and fish your mask out of your pocket. You don’t need to know how much Price truly values you, how having your mask will be like having a part of you by his side to motivate him when he’s working alone.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’ve got a mask? Cool, so does he. Simon really doesn’t care when he first met you. He offers a simple nod of acknowledgement to you and then it’s all mission talk. If anything, the mask makes him respect you more, like him it’s always the masked ones who’ve seen shit and can get shit done

Even before you two became friends, you two were often paired together for operations. Perhaps it was just assumed the two masked people were on the same wavelength and to be fair, they were right. It didn’t take long for Ghost to admire your prowess on the battlefield

However as the two of you start to get closer, Simon gets a bit of a eureka moment. So this is how all his allies feel when trying to get along with a masked figure, unable to see any of their expressions. Oh how the tables have turned. It’s not daunting for him, more just amusing

He knows the struggles of having a mask so he helps out where he can. He reminds you if it’s been some time since you last washed your mask (advice he does not follow himself) and he’ll offer you some of his obsidian powder he uses to obscure any uncovered patches of skin

Price often has the two of you accompany him for interrogations, he calls it “mask pressure”. There’s nothing more terrifying to a target than having two imposing faceless figures standing on either side of them, unreadable and unpredictable

It’s clear you don’t want to show your face to anyone and Simon doesn’t question it. His natural curiosity is not worth your discomfort and he makes that abundantly clear. If on the rare occasion you catch him without a mask, he’ll sometimes put it back on so that you don’t have to be the only one with their face covered

If your mask is ever compromised, Simon covers you with his hulking figure. No one dares get on the bad side of Ghost who shoots the most terrifying glares towards anyone looking in his - and consequently your - way. He stands in front of you, back rigid and shoulders square, his posture only slacking if he feels you hold onto his back, seeking comfort

A few weeks ago, when left in a briefing, you finally noticed Simon was staring at you from across the room. He had been staring for a good while now, but you - ever the diligent soldier - were distracted discussing tactics with a corporal. So there he was, standing and observing in the corner of the room - his “observing” being drinking the sight of you. And that was when he noticed, among all the glory that was you, that your mask was slightly off alignment. Cue his eyes being trained on your head for you to get the idea that something was wrong.

When your head stayed still - probably challenging his gaze - he tried to change tactics. He added the occasional upward jerk of the head - miming an attempt to shake the mask back in place - but your head only tilted in confusion. You still could not figure out what he was doing.

Eventually he gave up and walked up to you. He lifted a tentative hand, silently asking for permission and you nodded. He pinched at the fabric on the side of your face.

“Your mask’s slippin’,” he said gruffly. It wasn’t the end of the world, only a small adjustment that only someone as observant as him could notice. Still, he felt satisfied at your heavy exhale, you must’ve noticed it’s a little easier to breathe with everything in alignment now.

“Thanks.”

Today, Simon finds your gaze trained on him, head following whenever he moves across the room. You used to stare when you first met, you probably found him intimidating and he doesn’t blame you. He thought you’d be over that though, you two were closer than that. At least he hoped.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He eventually asks and that spurs you into action.

Standing in front of him, you reach up, your hand grabbing the top half of the skull that overlays his balaclava. Your thumb lightly hooks into the skull’s eye socket - a little close to Simon’s actual eye but he trusts you. He feels you tug upwards, and Simon now realises that the skull had been sinking down his face, the peripheral around his brow no longer obscured. He’ll need to reapply the glue for the mask later.

“We really need a hand sign for this,” you mutter.

And so you two make one. It’s discreet, a closed fist with a thumb poking out, dragged from the jawline up to the hairline. The rest of the 141 just look at the two of you in confusion whenever you use it though, your little secret.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Johnny’s generally a good judge of character. Although it’s a little uncanny being unable to see your features, he’s used to it because of Simon. One conversation is all he needs to reach a conclusion as to what type of person you are and now he treats you as if you’re good friends

Yes, he is curious about what you look like under the mask. He used to make comments about it occasionally until he caught you on a bad day

“C’mon Sarge, just a peek.” “Not happening, Johnny.” “What, you ugly?” “… that’s not for you to speculate, MacTavish.” “Shit, sorry. I- I’d never think that of you, or care. I know you’re a looker.”

And Johnny stands by his statement. Even if he’s never seen your face he quickly developed a little crush on you. How you conduct yourself in battle has him watching you with stars in his eyes and he just knows you’ll take his breath away if you ever show your face

When Johnny’s bored, he likes doodling your mask and potential alternative designs in his journal which he’ll show you sometimes. He’s not an artist but he gets the idea across. He’s created a “happy” design, an “angry” one, and the “when I see Soap” design which is just your standard mask with a whole lot of shoddily drawn love hearts on it (you haven't seen that design yet)

He’s genuinely surprised at how determined you are at keeping your mask on in all circumstances - you’re worse than Simon at this point - but he’ll never ask because he doesn’t want to potentially open up old wounds. Despite his curiosity for what you could look like, Johnny will never invade your privacy and ensures no one else does either. If you’re in your room he’ll knock once, twice, thrice, until he’s absolutely sure you’re ready for him to enter

If something goes wrong and your mask falls off he’s looking away and shoving everyone else to look away as well. He’s like a guard dog, shouting and name-shaming anyone who dares look in your direction. No one except other members of the 141 will be able to approach you until you’re covered

Was it smart to have you and Soap - combined to be the most disruptive and obnoxious soldiers on the field - alone to handle a stealth mission that was off the books? No, but you sure as hell weren’t going to disappoint Price or Laswell. The objective was clear and the rules of engagement were even clearer; under no circumstance can the enemy know you’re from 141.

“We’re gonna need to cover our faces,” Johnny mutters absentmindedly beside you. You pull your binoculars down to send him an incredulous look and he chuckles. “I need to cover my face.”

“You got a mask?”

There’s a pause and Johnny’s looking at you, eyes glinting in that familiar mischief. That was never good news.

“You bet.”

You offer a tentative nod of encouragement before lifting your binoculars back up to observe the target site. You hear the repeated shuffles of fabric against fabric and clothes sliding against skin. It’s prolonged, you swear it’s enough time for Johnny to change his entire uniform. His breaths become muted, mouth now covered until it eventually falls to complete silence. It’s unnerving, the designated demolitions expert is not known for his silence, and you have to look back at him yet again.

Of course you expected Johnny to be wearing a mask, but it was the mask itself that took you by surprise.

“Is that… mine?”

“Was yours.”

You squint and somewhere in the depths of your mind, you vaguely recall Soap asking if he could have one of your spare masks back at the base. You humoured him, and said your wardrobe was his.

That was your first mistake.

You figured he was just going to take the piss, wear your mask to scare some privates around the base. You didn’t think he’d actually wear it on a mission. It was unexpected, but it felt like an honour. How he was so willing to identify with you in some of the most dangerous of situations.

But your silence has Johnny getting fidgety. He’s already reaching up to pull the mask off.

“I have a normal balaclava. If you don’t like this I can-”

“Wear it.”

You can’t see Johnny’s face but you see him pull his head back in surprise. Then he smiles, one so wide, expanding his cheeks you can see it stretch your mask. In that moment you’re glad your mask obscures your features as you feel yourself grin at his own joy.

“We’re a team, aye?”

“You bet.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Kyle’s may be close to Simon but he's not entirely used to masked allies. When you first arrived he shot Captain Price a cautious look, a silent conversation between them finished by Price’s definitive nod. Eventually he relents and puts up with you

Subconsciously, without seeing your face he ends up reducing you to a weapon. He respects you like a soldier, a robot. His language is restrained, only issuing orders and you recite them back

It’s only when another soldier cracks a joke on the mission and you laugh does it flick a switch in Kyle’s mind. You weren’t all orders, you weren’t a machine, you were a human (with a damn nice voice might he add). He feels terrible for reducing you to a tool simply because he can’t see your face but he’ll make up for it now

He becomes a bit of a menace in the sparse quiet moments of a mission. He makes the occasional one liner about how you wear the mask so others aren’t distracted by your good looks, but then changes the topic so quickly you’re not even sure he said it

Yes, Kyle’s a little obsessed with your voice. He can’t see you and he doesn’t have the experience like Price or Simon to read body language accurately. Instead, he can read your mood near perfectly with the inflections in your voice (which is arguably more impressive). While he doesn’t want you to ever be upset or angry, sometimes how you taunt the enemy has a shiver running down his spine

Because your mouth is blocked by a mask, many allies don’t offer you food or drinks. Not Kyle though, if he’s grabbed refreshments, he always ensures he has extra for you. At first he just gives them to you and then leaves. But when you said it was okay for him to stay - trusting him enough to just look away when you lift you mask - Kyle’s heart soared

If anything happens to reveal your face, Kyle is immediately by your side. He pulls you close to provide comfort, while also guiding your head into his neck or shoulder to block anyone from seeing you. Another member of the 141 will find a solution to cover your face, you are Kyle’s first priority and he’ll gladly hold you all day

After a long mission, you and Kyle are finally safe upon reaching exfil. Sitting on a helicopter Kyle slumps against his seat, and you do the same beside him. Although he could finally relax, he feels absolutely filthy, swamped in his own sweat under multiple layers. Dirt and mud caked his boots and crept all the way up to his thighs. Some even sneaked up into under his tactical vest.

He spares a look and sometimes he thinks you can’t possibly be human. The heat is suffocating enough without a mask, Kyle has long forgone his signature cap to let his head breathe. If your body language was any indicator, you weren’t handling the sweltering heat of the helicopter engine or Al Mazrah’s temperament. Your chest notably heaving under the weight of your tactical gear, breaths so laboured it sent the fabric around your mouth pulling and billowing with each inhale and exhale.

There isn’t much Kyle can do for comfort, but he tries. He shifts a little closer to you. Your head shifts to look at him, the movement was far too slow, like your head was too heavy and his heart tugs a little.

With one hand, Kyle gently tilts your face up to him. With the other he lightly pinches the fabric of your mask at the junction between your jawline and ear. Teasing it between his fingers, when he pulls his hand away there’s gunk on his fingertips. Dust, dirt and as he squints at your mask he realises that some of the stains are likely the dried blood of an unidentified enemy.

The hand he’s resting on your chin is about to pull away until he notices how you’re resting your head on it. He can’t see your face but he has no doubt that your eyes are near shut, almost drifting off to dreamland. He occupies himself by gently brushing away loose debris off your mask which has you relaxing further into his touch.

“We gotta wash this,” he murmurs defeatedly.

“... yeah, we do,” you grumble, voice thick with fatigue. Kyle does not stop his ministrations - even pulling some fluff off of the cotton of your mask. It does little to actually clean your mask - at this rate it’s going to need pure bleach to clean it - but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when you trust him this much, leaning into his touch, entrusting him to be the respite from your mission.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod x you #task force 141 x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/#/*cod x masked reader*/

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cuppajj · 9 months ago

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Beast Ancients AU FAQ

I’ve seen a lot of asks in my inbox that are identical to each other, so I decided to put em all in one post and then some. This’ll be updated the more I develop the AU and the more info we get.

As a disclaimer, I am very new to CRK (as of December 2023) and I haven’t gotten to all the game or story modes yet (notably odyssey), so things are definitely bound to change + be elaborated on more! Anyway without further ado:

General

What are the Beast Ancients’ themes?

Vanilla is Penance, Lily is Sovereignty, Dragonberry is Pride, Cacao is Solitude, and Cheese is Conquest. I tried to keep them within the realm of their original meanings

Essentially my philosophy is: Penance is the acknowledgment (truth) that sins such as deceit exist in the world and must be cleansed. Sovereignty is an extreme form of freedom where one can have all the agency they wish, but can be just as silent about their presence/power as well. Pride is a byproduct of passion or sloth, boiling down to the adamancy of the subject. Solitude is a choice made with both resolution and apathy in various degrees, and lastly Conquest promises an abundant future at the cost of untold destruction.

If the ancients are bad, are the beasts good?

No, the old Beasts are still a threat. With a total of ten beasts to worry about, the situation on Earthbread is very dire. However, there is still hope left, and hope can go a long way.

Is there a new set of ancient heroes with soul jams?

No, and there likely won’t be. The Neo Beasts and first Beasts still have their respective soul jam halves, and both want each other’s.

Where’s Gingerbrave and his party?

Likely the Crème Republic, which becomes a refuge for many cookies after the rise of the neo beasts. They’re at the front of the resistance movement, working with Clotted Cream Cookie to plan how the beasts will be taken down.

What do the Neo Beasts think of their past selves?

Generally they see themselves as improved or improving. The only one who doesn’t feel that way is Frigid Cacao, who doesn’t reflect on himself that often.

Did they all corrupt at the same time?

Still working on that part. The timeline for beast ancients is a WIP, but for now, it’s likely that while they didn’t corrupt at once, they corrupted pretty close to one another. Cheese was likely first, followed by Lily. Vanilla was among the last to fall and evidently had it the worst.

Do the Neo Beasts still have kingdoms? How is life like there?

Answered here

What are the cookies of darkness doing?

As of writing (5/31/24) we don’t have a lot of info on the cookies of darkness in beast yeast, but at the very least I can say Dark Enchantress cookie may or may not know about Midnight Lily’s plan to destroy her.

How would legendaries react?

I admittedly don’t know everything about the legendaries to say yet, but they’re all alarmed to some degree. I can flesh them out the more I learn about them

Individual Neo Beast questions under cut!

Saint Vanilla Cookie

How do his powers work?

Answered here

Does he know he’s killing cookies?

Nope, he doesn’t see it as that and it would pain him to. He sees purification as a form of transition or ascension in itself, to put it simply; he might even envy those he turns to stardust, knowing his own tainted soul will be so much harder to liberate.

Why is he constantly crying?

He’s just like that. He’s just that big of an empath.

Has his relationship with Lily changed?

Saint Vanilla still cares very much about Lily, and may even be more open about his feelings towards her; but he admits the only reason why she’s still alive is because she convinced him to leave her for last. Lily very well knows that Vanilla, in his mind, wants to purify her more than anyone else. Vanilla often pities her choice to stew in her tainted soul, but he respects her decision… at least the alternative is that they’ll someday be the only two cookies on Earthbread.

What happened to Black Raisin?

As the very first to witness his rise, she inadvertently became his very first martyr.

Where’s Custard Cookie III?

With his relatives in the Crème Republic, alongside the rest of Gingerbrave’s party. The kid has a hard time wrapping his head around what happened to Pure Vanilla, and it may be a blessing that he’s been largely focused on worrying about the well being of his uncle, Clotted Cream Cookie. As the head of the resistance, he’s been working tirelessly… is this what a king goes through too?

Shadow Milk’s opinion on Saint?

To put it simply, he starts out thinking that a confused Vanilla will be easy to manipulate, but he soon finds out that Saint Vanilla is way smarter and more aware than made out to be. He knows Shadow Milk is with him, and he wants to purge him from his soul; but that is a process that may be harder than anything else. So in the meantime, Shadow Milk can watch as he continues on his path of Penance towards ascension, fighting back the resistance he creates before it can truly harm him. Essentially, Saint Vanilla isn’t trapped with Shadow Milk, Shadow Milk is trapped with Saint Vanilla.

Dragonberry Cookie

Is the skull on her head real?

Yes! It comes from a nondescript monster.

If Pitaya is imprisoned, where is Snapdragon?

With Tarte Tatin and/or Royal Margarine. Dragon City likely got taken over by Dragonberry’s kingdom, but they noped out of there as it happened. The two of them might’ve been the first few to recognize Hollyberry’s spiral into corruption and where it was headed

How is her family doing?

Alright for the most part, but they can feel Dragonberry’s influence in every aspect of their life now. While Royal and Jungleberry are technically still the king and queen, it’s only a figurehead role as Dragonberry is the true ruler. She still cares about her family very much, but she’s controlling and good at keeping them under her thumb. Dragonberry’s granddaughter Princess Cookie is the only one who objects this new way of life, and runs away from the palace.

How would the other dragons react?

The other dragons aren’t canon to CRK so they’re not canon to the au by extension, but just for this question, they’d be different levels of alarmed or concerned save for maybe Longan. I could see Ananas wanting a word with Dragonberry in particular esp since they’re both prideful cookies

Frigid Cacao Cookie

Does he ever go outside?

Very rarely, but it’s usually to observe the licorice sea or meet with the few denizens he has left.

Where is Dark Choco?

Still working on this part (waiting for Apathy pt 2 to come out so I have a better idea), but he’s likely alone by himself. He heard wind of his father’s corruption though and took it less well than he thought he would. Perhaps he’ll run into someone who feels the same?

Is his permafrost truly permanent or can the frozen citizens be thawed?

Technically yes, the permafrost can be thawed, but it’s a meticulous process since Cacao’s ice isn’t normal ice. It’s a cure that Crunchy Chip is looking for to save Caramel Arrow.

How does the licorice sea work for him and how did he come to tame it?

I can’t say how yet outside of the fact that it was a definitely cool and heroic thing for Dark Cacao to do, on the scale of taming the Black and White dragons. The sea, arguably a sentient monster in itself, and all of the creatures within it came to follow Cacao and Cacao only. Now it almost acts like an extension of himself: the beast can make the sea do whatever he wants, like acting as his shield, arms, or barrier, and the licorice horrors will vehemently defend him. There are tons of monsters roaming his frozen kingdom now.

Mystic Flour’s opinion on Cacao?

Working on it, but to some degree she knows Cacao is much stronger than he looks. She might see his apparent apathy for his frozen kingdom with fondness though.

Celestial Cheese Cookie

Is the Golden City still running or did she leave it to die?

It may still be running but in a scaled-down beta form. Cheese learned to accept the fact that what she’d built was entirely fake, but she didn’t move on from regaining what was lost. Her virtual Golden City serves as a blueprint for the kingdom she wants on Earthbread, and then some; with nothing in the barren desert to grow her kingdom, her brightened eyes turn elsewhere towards civilizations that could be brought into the fold. Such is the beginning of the Beast of Conquest’s terror.

She does sometimes visit her golden city, only sometimes. It doesn’t look the same; it’s not a paradise for her to escape to, but it is a promise of what she will have someday. This time, it will be no mirage, and there will be no one to threaten its destruction ever again.

Midnight Lily Cookie

What is her opinion on dark enchantress cookie?

DE is the source of insecurity for Lily, who regards herself as the weakest among all the beasts. Because she’s half of a complete whole, who was already half of another whole, she is passionate about reuniting her souls. While she is focused on expanding the influence of the faerie kingdom, her true goal is to track down Dark Enchantress Cookie and destroy her; but she knows she will need more help than just herself, and has considered asking for help from other vengeful allies.

Does she still guard the silver tree?

Yes, she still fiercely honors Elder Faerie’s wishes.

Have her relationships with the other neo beasts changed?

Ish, most notably her and Celestial Cheese are a little more on speaking terms; but they’re connecting through their potential partnership as Lily hopes she can help her take down Dark Enchantress. In return, she might help her expand her kingdom and take down Burning Spice.

If more FAQs come up, I will make a part two. Thank you for your interest!

#beast ancients au #pure vanilla cookie #hollyberry cookie #dark cacao cookie #golden cheese cookie #white lily cookie #crk #crk au #cookie run kingdom au

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sexybritishllama · 1 year ago

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strap in folks it's time for another neopets drama update

some background reading before we begin: back when neopets wanted to introduce customisation (i.e. dressing up your pet) in 2007, they decided to 'convert' all existing pet art to align with a rigid body structure, rather than all having unique poses. it was just not feasible to create new pieces of art for hundreds of different pet poses every single time they released a new clothing them

customisation had been highly requested up until this point. however, the conversion was NOT popular. in some cases, particularly for basic colours, the change wasn't huge, but in other cases.... uh....

you get the idea. the more expensive colours like plushie, faerie, grey, royal and darigan got the worst of it because they had the more unique poses pre-conversion, and therefore it was largely agreed that the change to the stiff 'samey', frankly kinda goofy converted look did not look great

most users did not get a choice in having their neopet converted and it was done automatically, but if you had one of these colours where the change was huge, you were given the choice of converting or retaining the old pose (but not having the option to customise your pet). those pets that retained the old, pre-conversion poses are therefore referred to as 'unconverted', or UC for short

once a pet is converted, there's no returning to UC. you also couldn't create UC pets anymore, making UCs a limited resource that would only increase in value with time, particularly as people abandon their pets, leave the site, get frozen, etc.

i could write an entire dissertation on the drama that UC pets have caused for the pet trading economy, the neopet account black market, and general retention of the userbase, but to sum it up, people REALLY want UC pets. they are the single most coveted status symbol on the site

we skip forward now to 2023

the neopets team are planning to introduce UC pets back to the site, so that people will be able to create their own UC pets again for the first time post-converstion (legally at least)

they drip feed bits of information over the year about what this will look like. the main points are

changing a pet to UC will be done via some kind of item bought with neocash, the premium currency on neopets that you need to spend real money to get

putting this item on your pet will give it the UC art style appearance

so. not much really known. but expected release is set for january 2024

yesterday, they hosted an AMA focusing on the new UC pet system and how this was going to work. noticeably absent is any explanation of how much this is actually going to cost and whether it is going to involve any kind of gatcha mechanic, so that's causing our first lot of concern

second lot of drama is that the new UCs aren't actually going to be COMPLETELY the same as the old art, as they're making some small changes for style consistency, see below (old on top, new below):

the biggest drama, however, comes from how they're dealing with the 'original' UC pets. ALL pets will be getting forcibly converted on the 23rd, with anyone who has a pet that is already an original UC immediately receiving the UC neocash item. there's mention of possibly some kind of trophy or badge recognition for particularly old pets, but it's vague, and generally seems like it won't be possible to distinguish between the original UCs and these new ones

the people who already have OCs are not happy about this

people are allegedly pounding their pets, cancelling their premium, and quitting the site in protest. the boards are flooded with people complaining about the changes and laughing at the downfall of the 'neo-elite' in equal measure

it's t-minus 5 days until the second great conversion goes live. let's all pray for our souls

#eloise talks #neopets #neotag #this isnt even going into peoples displeasure at the fact you dont even need to be the og colour to make it oc #i.e. from what we can gather you can have a red kacheek #apply this nc uc item #and then it can look like an uc faerie kacheek?#AND the drama over this now destroying the uc market and possibly requiring people to get gift boxes for trading #i can keep going

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revelboo · 3 months ago

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went through all of "everything is alright" and I'm far too attached to it already (and also heartbroken as of the current chapter 💔💔), thank you for the amazing writing and quick updates!!

(also you made me finally purchase some of the blokees I had my eye on🫶)

Thank you for reading my nonsense! The Blokees figures are some of my favorites- I love little figures

Everything is Alright Pt 80

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Everything.” One little word that sends cracks running through him, lets the ice seep in. The numb anger. Because he knows the things he’s done to further the Decepticon cause. Some of them of his own volition to enhance his position, others under Megatron’s name. Your eyes looking up at him, hurt and almost pleading with him to deny it. To tell you it’s all a lie, because you don’t want to know the truth of him. That he did the hard things, he did what was necessary. You hadn’t resisted when he’d picked you up. Maybe as broken as he feels. No matter how much he’d wanted to shield you from the reality of this war, to let it be something you don’t need to think too much on, there’s no hiding it anymore.

• “Now you know,” he growls, rasping voice colder than you’ve ever heard it. Wishing he’d denied it even if it was a lie. You’re not a child, it’s not like you don’t understand that they’re at war, but some of those things were just cruel. Violence for the sheer delight of causing pain and you don’t want that to be who he really is. Don’t want to love someone who could do that. Want to pretend that it’s still alright. That it’s just you and him learning each other, growing closer without reality slipping in. Because right now, your heart is breaking.

�� Watching you hurts, because Soundwave can feel that despair, that aching sting of grief. And he doesn’t know how to fix this. If it even can be fixed. As Starscream turns to leave with you, he reaches out, catches his arm. “Wait,” he says. Wanting to take you, keep you with him, because right now he doesn’t trust the Seeker’s mindset at all. And Starscream rounds on him, denta bared and a cannon in his face. Realizes that the SIC has nothing left to lose, optics furious with hate. So it’s a surprise when Starscream lowers his arm and walks past. As if he’s not even worth the bother. Taking you away as his spark aches, because this isn’t what he wanted at all.

• It’s oddly freeing realizing it’s all gone, everything taken away from him. You’re still there in his hand, but that trust is broken. And he just wants to scream, to destroy something. Because having you with him and so distant and quiet is worse than just losing you. Wonders if you’ll be able to bear looking at him anymore. If you’ll speak to him or just hide from him. See only a monster. Entering his quarters, he looks down at you, meeting your eyes. Megatron said the words, but this is the culmination of a lifetime of his decisions. “Talk to me, please.” Those soft words make his spark ache. Cut through the indifference he wants to protect himself with. “Star?”

• “Do you want me to deny everything?” He asks. And you really do, but you just shake your head. “I made mistakes. I was cruel and ambitious,” he says slowly, a servo sliding against your hip as he keeps you trapped in his hand, standing in the middle of his habsuite. Like he’s afraid to put you down in case you try to get away. “And I’m not entirely sure I can be anything else at this point.” Jaw working like the admission cost him something, you close your eyes. But… That’s not exactly true is it? He’s been changing, softening every day. Those big hands capable of violence, but never towards you. If he’s been monstrous in his past, that’s not the him you know. Even if those horrors laid out for you can still hurt you, they’re not him anymore. Right? Because you need to believe that or you’ll come apart completely.

• “I want to hear it all from you. The truth, good and bad,” you whisper, a tear sliding down your cheek. Not pushing him away or abandoning him. Not yet and he doesn’t know what to make of you. You already know. Megatron would have told you in grisly detail, so why ask for more pain? Are you trying to understand him? Making an effort to reach out to him still? Servo sliding over your cheek to wipe away the tear, you touch his hand. Remembering your hesitant admission that you liked him what feels like forever ago. He’d never told you how he felt about you in return, though. Not really. Unable to bring himself to admit that he needs you beside him, to make himself vulnerable that way with words. That he can’t sleep without you there, that you’re everything now, his world narrowed down to you, tied to the beat of your heart, to your smiles. It’s why he’d bonded you to him without asking, because he needed you and he was afraid of being denied so he’d taken. Optics shuttering, he sits on the berth with you. And slowly, hesitantly, he begins to speak. To get all the awfulness out.

• It’s funny. Breaking the Seeker’s little pet didn’t give him the satisfaction Megatron expected. Only left him more exhausted than before. Sitting on the edge of his berth, he keeps picturing your eyes leaking. Your pain. And it doesn’t matter. You’re just a human, you’re nothing. But he keeps thinking about it all the same. Telling himself that he doesn’t care. That you’re one more casualty of the war and that those ghosts don’t bother him.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #idw starscream #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #idw soundwave #idw megatron

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 6 months ago

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Force in Nature | Platonic Yandere Trey Clover x Toddler Reader

Part 2

Being a child, in your experience sucked. Even with a developing mind there were constant reminders of all your faults. Short, weak, disadvantaged and constantly at the whim of adults. Most children wouldn’t mind so much, considering that the adults in their life mean well but not you. Never you.

“(Y/n) don’t give those fat brats anymore then that. They’re already eating us out of house and home.”

The drivel of your mother rings like a bell in your head. Always chastizing, always negative. It had gotten better now that she had found your father but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. In her mind she figured his children were the only obstacle left between her ‘happily ever after’ with your father.

“Ace! Deuce! Did you break into this pantry again?!”

It didn’t help that the twins were rambunctious spitfires that were prone to trouble anyway. Which meant they were often forced to reach out their hands to suffer the wrath of the ruler. Their father was a popular man, often more focused on updating the town’s bulletin boards than disciplining his children but it was clear he loved them.

But love was never enough to save the duo from your mother’s accusations.

At least once a day, your mother would report the twins for doing or saying something awful. It would always lead to an exhausted sigh before stomping over to the children to give another lecture and dish out some chore as punishment.

“This so unfair, we didn’t even do anything this time.”

“Well I know I didn’t. Maybe you did something Ace.”

“What!? How dare you blame me! Don’t you believe me, (Y/n)?”

You usually were a witness to their innocence, often spending your time with them anyway. But for whatever reason not being able to speak meant your written testimonies were invalid. No matter how many times you wrote in you’re book and presented it to your father it never seemed to work.

“You’re so sweet (Y/n). Trying to save your big brothers; you know that lying doesn’t help their case anymore.”

It was fine when it was only that. Baseless accusations and then the punishment of simple chores. Every now and then a prank in return for their suffering but then the chilly warning of Autmn came around. While the likeness that the snow would pile too high was low, the scarcity of food was a guarantee. Already aware of the set portions you’d receive suddenly decreasing and the way your father didn’t dare eat with you all any more spoke volumes.Unfortunately your mother wasn’t all too fond of cutting material costs.

“Cater I’m telling you, we’ll never get to eat if we have those kids in the house.”

“But love (Y/n) would never survive the trip into town.”

“Not them you idiot! They hardly eat more than a rat! It’s those boys of yours! They’re so big they ought to be hunting for their own by now.”

“The boys…not them they are still children too.”

“Stop whining. I’m going to take them out tomorrow, to learn how to hunt.”

“You?! But you’ve never—”

“Shut-up! Maybe then I can get those kids to do something worth the wasted meal.”

Reporting to your brothers the plan for the day felt like being the espionage detail for a secret operation. It made you proud when they used their information to concoct their own plan. They deduced that she planned to ‘lose’ them during her hunting lesson. Thus Deuce’s genius-plan to leave stones leading to the house was born. It was a shame that this plan didn’t involve you in any way but you were happy to see Deuce leaving stones behind as your mother led him into the forest.

Trying to comfort your father for a decision he didn’t protest felt odd. Of course, you wouldn’t understand the emotional struggle of his love life and the love of his trouble-causing twins. You are a kid, you aren’t supposed to know. Still, you let him hold you, mumbling curses to himself about cowardice as your mother opened the door. She huffed and puffed about him not greeting her before going off to prepare dinner.

Unable to resist the urge you settled on the chair beneath the window. Watching the opening into the forest being led to by the stones. Sure enough, before the sun had set and the fourth time your mother had called you for dinner they were there. Appearing slightly dirty but determined they came just in time, much to your mother’s dismay.

Of course, what followed was a new plan for tomorrow.

“I’ll take them deeper in! And I’ll make sure to kick all those pebbles away”

“Please let’s just–”

“Starve!? We’ll barely have enough for dinner tomorrow! They must go!”

“But it’s so cruel.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

The silence from your father was telling and like before you reported to your brothers. They took your notes with just as much urgency as the last, instead trading their stones for crumbs from the sliver of bread they’d be given for lunch. At the time it sounded like a great idea.

But as the sun set and the critters of the forest picked at the crumbs left behind, it dawned on you.

This was a terrible idea.

With a quickly scribbled note left on the window sill, you took a ball of yarn tying it to the bush near the forest opening. Following the disappearing trail of critters, you were walking in the direction your brothers went finding that it stopped in a clearing. From there the moon could no longer illuminate the crumbs still left and the critters weren’t leading you accurately anymore.

It was getting colder. The woolen sweater and mitts are your only comfort. With a rumbly tummy and the heaviness on your eyelids increasing, you settled into the dirt. Promising you’ll find your brothers when you wake, staving off the fear from your shrunken spool of wool.

When the sun rose again you woke with renewed vigor. The pain of hunger leaving you for the time being you set your gaze to the ground. Of course, the crumbs were gone but vague indents in the dirt gave you enough of a guide. During your tracking you start the game of letting your smaller shoes take a fraction of their tracks following along as you replay a song your father would sing.

Eventually, the tracks stopped at a paved pathway, it smelled sweet like a candy you’d seen the twins eat. It made you curious but you trusted your judgment to ignore your hungry thoughts. The tracks didn’t continue past the pavement and knowing your brothers they’d certainly gave the brightly colored path a try.

The grumbling desires of your stomach weren’t spoiling your resolve— or that’s what you were telling yourself. Going down the hill the path led over it’s destination led you to a place you swore shouldn’t have existed. In a clearing, the candied path led to a gingerbread house, decorated with various frosting, gumdrops, and red vines. The fence around it was peppermint canes surrounding the sugary house invitingly. A perfect garnishment for an already delectable house. Your stomach agreeing you found yourself closing in on the gingerbread foundation perfectly level with your small mouth.

Before you could dive in, you stopped. Thinking back to nicer days in the forest you remembered thanking the squirrels buried in the trees surrounding your cottage. Instead of burrowing inside your warm, inviting home they kept to their holes in the nearby trees. Of course, your young mindset wouldn’t have comprehended why animals that wanted to survive avoided the cottage. But that was beside the point.

Your manners for the owner of the candy house would not be affected. Even though your stomach churned almost painfully at your denial. To make it easier you turned away from it crouching down to hold the grumbling organ. Repeating that you could eat when you returned with your brothers to share—no matter how little was left.

“You are allowed to eat you know.”

The sultry voice of a man stopped your internal thoughts, peeking your head over your shoulder to look at the interruption. In the doorway of the house was a tall and handsome man, he reminded you of the young bachelor in town. Wearing a tight black long-armed shirt lined with rhinestones, your mother would envy. The dangling sparkles matched his pants which were long and wide at the ankles. His attire was interesting because you’d never seen it before, the man’s face was just as alarming. Hair as green as the surrounding trees was flowing to his waist contrasting his black outfit in a ragged but neat look. It was like a halo of green against his pale skin, golden eyes, and pink lips.

“You look hungry, why don’t you take a bite?”

The way he said it was hypnotic. An inviting and comfortable thrum of a voice that started to pinprick into your morale. You shook your head as if that would expel the greedy thoughts threatening to take hold. You hurriedly pulled out your notepad writing as neatly as you could. Holding up your notepad, you hoped he could read.

'It’s your house…that’d be mean.'

He leaned in to see what you wrote, retreating back to the arch of the gingerbread door.

“I was the one who chose a candy house. It just comes with the territory.”

He flashed a smile, white as milk. You licked your teeth beneath your mouth, feeling the plaque build-up that you’re sure makes your teeth yellow. Thinking of brushing, your memories trickled the moments you’d had with your brothers. The excitement that came with using your toothpaste for anything but. It reminded you of your real objective.

'Have you seen my brothers?'

The man tilts his head. You proceed to draw them to the best of your ability; trying to use the charcoal to detail the colors of their hair, and their height compared to your own. It’s hard to tell if he knows anything as his small smile hasn’t waivered. But as you scribble and point you worried he’d stopped listening.

“How about you come inside, have a bite, and I can help you find your brothers. That sound like a plan?”

You nodded. Standing up, you rushed to his side to grab his extended hand letting him lead you inside.

'My name’s (Y/n), what’s you’re name?'

“Trey. You can call me: Trey."

'Nice to meet you, Trey!'

“Likewise.”

______________________________________________________________

Trey Clover loved to eat children. It was in his nature to come from a long line of baking witches. It wasn’t a trade secret that children extend your life and beauty; the real secret was how to craft the potions with the children to make delicious desserts. Forest animals and pesky adults were fine ingredients but nothing was more fulfilling than a child’s soul. They were also much nicer to have as victims. They cried sure but they were dumber, more gullible, and so much easier to fatten up. But for all the children he’d consumed over the past century, there was something Trey could definitively say was the truth.

That Trey Clover loved children. His family ruled him as demented for such a thought but it was the truth. For all the fulfillment he’d have after his rejuvenating meals, there was still a resounding sorrow that nothing he could make would overshadow. Nothing but the shining presence of another child.

Trey rationalized that he wasn’t crazy, humans had pet pigs all the time. He’s no different in that way. That every now and then the thought of keeping one crossed his mind, diminished at the thought of one thing or another. Whether it was a spark of brattiness that was hidden behind a sunny demeanor or just the undisciplined actions of a bully in the making. It reminded him why he’d never let himself feel too bad as he tossed their belongings into the basement after a satisfying meal. He figured it was natural selection. Like any other predator, he looked for the weakest, the slowest in the pack to pick off and sustain him for another ten years.

But he’d begun to waiver with such an innocent soul in his grasp.

“How was that? Was it good?”

'But my brothers–'

He'd close the pad before the question was asked.

“Your head is so warm, I think you’re coming down with a fever.”

Cradling the young child, he settled to swaying them to sleep. His usual victims were not so young, often much older and more defiant. That is why it was such a treat to have a well-mannered impressionable little toddler to care for. With a resolve to their mission that was unavoidable, it still was nothing against the bedtime routine he’d been taught long before. He couldn’t remember if it was his mother or one that he’d eaten but she detailed the way to care for small children with such pride. In his heart of hearts, he’d admit to having eaten her out of envy. But now she proved more useful than her bones as he ran a bath for the yawning toddler.

Distracting them with talks of nothing as he gently wiped the grime off their little body. He had to refrain from frowning at the signs of a rash on their back. He was blankly staring at the untreated patch, cursing the adults who’d allow a sick toddler to run through the woods. But from their other children’s stories, they weren’t all that good to begin with.

The sound of a sneeze reminded him of his task.

“Bless you. After your bath I’m just rub a little ointment on your back before you settle down okay?”

They tiredly nodded, Trey resisted the urge to coo.

“You’re doing a good job staying awake. Let’s finish up before you fall asleep, okay?”

His parents were completely right about him. What sane witch would have a room decorated for a toddler already made, already infused with sleeping herbs that’d erase the thoughts of the past?

“Goodnight, my sugar cube.”

The notepad had been abandoned long ago. The urge to burn it was growing.

“Tomorrow we can look for your brother.”

The demanding sign of '2 brothers', made him laugh. Not after today you wouldn't.

“Maybe one day sugar cube, sleep tight.”

Kissing (Y/n)’s head and waving as he closed the door, Trey was elated. It was difficult to wipe the smile off his face when he unlocked the basement door.

It wasn’t just as he left it per his instructions to the bratty boy. Ace was far too skinny to be worth a good meal and from what Trey could tell a decent worker under stress. Trey figured it’d be hard to break his spirit if the other boy was around. Of course there was a chance it'd return with his little one. Trey would bet on fear and duty overwhelming him and he’d fall right into place.

“I see you’re working extra hard. Good.”

______________________________________________________________

Ace stopped sweeping, his little knuckles white as he fought the urge to scream at the witch. He only wanted to see his brother. After the first night, he knew rebelling would get him nothing but trouble.

“Can I see my brother now?”

Trey hummed closing the door behind him, he didn’t bother to lock it. He knew the boy wouldn’t want to leave. He took the ring of keys from his belt twirling around his lithe finger as he stepped deeper into the basement. Ace stuck close to his side, waiting anxiously to see his brother again.

The last time he saw him, his face was wet with tears. His hands were still sticky from the treats they’d gorged on, angrily shaking the unmoving metal bars around him. Ace couldn’t sleep if he tried.

“Before we go in, you two have a younger sibling. (Y/n) was it?”

Ace’s already sped-up heart-rate, went seconds faster. The collection of little papers in his hands with a tattered cover was far too familiar.

“They sound so determined to find you two.”

“What did you do to them!?”

When Trey turned his head over his shoulder the sneer he gave, bore into Ace's soul like a needle. Flashes of the suffocating pain the night before demanding he fix his demeanor immediately.

“Quiet boy.” The command was like a heat rod, sweltering from such a short distance. He looked away from those golden eyes for his own sake. “I won’t be doing anything to them if you behave.”

The final warning hung in the air with the door now unlocked. The metal door swinging open was a cruel mirror of when they first accepted the invitation to eat some more. There were tables of sweets and pastries along the cracking walls of the room. A table with a checkered tablecloth and a painted chair were placed off to the right side of the room; waiting for someone to enjoy the decorative plating on its surface. But unlike the day they first arrived a metal cage was hanging from the ceiling and his brother Deuce was in it.

“I’m glad you ate. At least hunger won’t be the last thing on your mind.”

Trey’s off-handed comment was ignored as Ace ran to clutch at the bars separating him from Deuce. As best as they could they hugged one another, the cold and rusted bars a constant reminder of their unfortunate circumstance.

“Deuce I can’t let this happen! I have to do something!”

Deuce shook his head,” No, if you do anything bad he’ll eat you too! You’ve got to get back home and find Dad!”

Ace pulled at his orange strands, “I can’t he has (Y/n).”

Deuce’s serious face, quivered. His brave instructions became mute as he imagined their youngest sibling unknowingly falling into the same trap they did.

“You have to protect them. Please, Ace.”

The blue-haired boy couldn’t speak anymore his nose running and tears falling again. All he could do was clutch at Ace’s hands, attempting to put his forehead against the bars to feel his brother's. Ace was crying too, barely standing as he held onto his brother.

“Are you done? I’m not getting any younger over here.”

Trey's snide remark was not appreciated, nor was his giant hand pulling at the rags of his clothes, shoving him toward the oven. Ace didn’t need to ask for Trey to point at the brush and pan on the floor.

“Clean up the oven. The metal earrings from my last meal will make him taste worse.”

Ace murmured his distaste as he opened the oven door. Looking into the deep black mouth of the oven, it amazed him that whole people could fit in there.

It also gave him a devilish idea.

“Uhm I don’t know how to.”

Trey turning towards him was frightening, the black coloring around his eyes flaring with such disgust.

“Are you troubled? You just go in and sweep the ash at the floor of the oven.”

Ace pretended to look into the oven before jumping back, “Are you sure there’s not someone down here?”

The witch was prepared to punish the boy but he thought of the toddler upstairs. He had dreamed of the day, he would be called to check the closet for monsters. He figures if he’s keeping the defiant one, he should show some of the same care that he’ll be showing for (Y/n).

It’s all too easy for Trey to climb inside, having done so on his own, hundreds of times before. Crawling to the back he felt the child coming up beside him, immediately making him grab the head of the boy.

Ace felt his stomach flip. Had he figured him out?

“We can’t go in at the same time, wait ‘til I’m done.”

“O-okay.”

As instructed Ace crawled back out, watching how the witch's body fully disappeared into the oven. Once his feet passed the threshold of the oven’s opening, he didn’t hesitate to close the oven door. Jumping up to flick the lock closed, Ace ignored the angry banging as he pulled at the red-colored lever to turn on the oven.

The feeling of the heat flickering to light brought a successful comfort to the orange-headed boy. The frantic banging from within the oven was as frightening as the demonic screaming from within.

“W-wait but the keys! He still has them!”

Ace assured his brother with the jingling object in his hand. Deuce pulled him into a teary hug once he’d been freed from the metal cage. The smell of sweat and burning flesh, never being so enticing. The moment between the two stopped as the banging became more and more apparent; the lock clicking as it held the oven closed.

“Let’s get out of here before he breaks out of there.”

“I agree.”

Deuce is the first to run through the door and out the basement; likely because of his time in the metal cage. Ace on the other hand faltered, snatching an armful of the pastries lining the room. He flipped the bird at the furnace and ran to lock the door to the basement door. Before he did, he took a moment to pay his respects to those before him. Bowing his head at the rows of shoes and belongings he’d organized, he apologized again before snatching a satchel. With the final locking of the basement door, Ace lets Deuce run up the stairs to search for their little sibling.

Allowing Ace to have free reign of the upper floor that had deceived them before. He was never considered a good kid but he hardly saw the appeal when he had no qualms about breaking whatever he couldn’t take.

“It almost makes this all worth it!”

Deuce, on the other hand, found you easily. The room had a distinct smell that almost made him feel safe. Going out on a limb he found his baby sibling curled up underneath a fluffy blanket. He easily tucked his arms underneath to carry them, he stopped to notice the spool of wool falling from their hand. Deuce put two and two together; smiling at the sleeping toddler in his arms.

“Thanks to you, (Y/n). We’ll all get to go home.”

The trip back was like a minor stroll. The original dangers of the forest were diminished to minor nuisances in comparison to the horrors they’d endured. Of course, the two still had other things to worry about when they did return home.

“What are we supposed to do about the step-lady?”

“Hm, I don’t know maybe we should push her into the oven too.”

Ace laughed and usually, Deuce would scold him for the macabre joke. But Deuce didn’t really consider that a joke nor was he completely against it. The brothers had plenty to think about as they each took turns holding their snoozing sibling.

It’s probably best they didn’t look back at the candy house.

For they might be filled with dread at force they awakened.

350 notes · View notes

imaginespazzi · 8 months ago

Text

Part 2: And Even Now

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Because I'll never let this go (but I can't find the words to tell you)

(In which a deadline-averse writer actually lives up to a weekly deadline)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, A little bit of fluff I guess?

Words: 6.9K (back to my usual)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Happy Monday! Nobody get used to me actually updating on a proper weekly basis because really, let's be honest you're all lowkey shocked I'm actually living up to this too but we'll see how long I can make it last. As you read, let's just all remember my favorite three words: For. The. Plot! Editing and I continue to be sworn enemies so you'll definitely find typos along the way and feel free to point them out so that I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful rest of your week my loves <3

February 2033

Azzi’s heart is beating a million miles per minute as she gets into her car. She’s just invited Paige into her world and even if she knows that it was the right thing to do for her team, the full force of what she’s just done is starting to hit her. The plan had been the exact opposite. In fact the plan had been to avoid Paige at all costs while she was here in Oakland. Azzi had spent nearly a decade building this new world of hers that was devoid of anything Paige and it had taken Ohemaa an hour, explaining why Paige was the last domino they needed to fall to win a championship, to convince Azzi to bulldoze her own walls.

Banging her head against the steering wheel, Azzi lets out a frustrated scream. She’d been the picture of calm and composed while talking to Paige, but internally an earthquake had started rumbling within her the minute she’d finally laid eyes on the blonde. It was unfair that age seemed to have no effect on Paige, unfair that she still made Azzi’s stomach do somersaults, unfair that that stupid smirk made Azzi nostalgic for a feeling she used to call home. It’s funny really. There was a time in Azzi’s life where she didn’t know how she’d survive without seeing Paige every day. But now if the blonde does accept her offer, Azzi thinks, seeing Paige every day, might just be her poison ivy.

The sound of her car doors opening shakes Azzi out of her pity party, as she rushes to compose herself before Stephie sees her. Through the rear view mirror, she watches as her daughter happily climbs into her car seat, a giddy smile on her face. And all the stress and anxiety seems to evaporate.

“What’s got you so happy Stephie bean? What did you and Aunty Leen do?” Azzi asks, so focused on Stephie’s grin, that she misses Colleen, who’s just let herself into the passenger seat, shaking her head.

“Aunty Leen lost me,” Stephie says coyly and Azzi immediately turns to Colleen whose head whips around to look at the little girl in the back seat.

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd are you lying on my good name?” she hisses.

“Stephie,” Azzi chides, catching on quickly “did you run away from Aunty Leen again?”

“She was boring me Mama,” Stephie whines, sticking her tongue out at Colleen, “and if I didn’t run away, then I wouldn’t have met Miss Buecks.”

Oh.

She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple.

Azzi’s breath hitches in her throat. She hadn’t quite registered that Paige’s words from before meant that she must have met Stephie, too busy finding a way to get out of the gym that was starting to feel just a little too hot. It only clicks now as Stephie starts to ramble about how she’d ran into a stranger in the chill room. But it’s not the idea of Stephie and Paige meeting that sends a shiver creeping up Azzi’s spine. No, it’s that enamored smile on Stephie’s face. It’s the way Azzi’s little girl’s eyes light up just saying those two syllables Miss Buecks. Maybe it’s genetic or perhaps just a Fudd family fatal flaw but Azzi can see a fourteen year old version of herself, blooming in Stephie. She’d hidden it well, behind exasperated head shakes and exaggerated eye rolls but falling in love with Paige Bueckers had been just a little to easy back then. Apparently, it still was.

“She was really nice Mama,” Stephie gushes and Azzi’s hand tightens on the steering wheel, “is she gonna come play for your team? I told her she should.”

“So I heard,” Azzi murmurs and she can feel Colleen’s eyes immediately shifting to look at her.

“You talked to Paige?” Azzi’s best friend asks, a skeptical lilt in her voice.

Azzi shrugs, “I ran into her in the gym.”

“And what exactly were you doing in the gym?”

“Looking for Paige,” Azzi says sheepishly as Collen makes an indiscernible noise.

“Did you ask her to join your team Mama?” Stephie chimes in eagerly from the back, unaware of the way that the childlike hope in her voice is putting her mother on edge. Azzi has built an impenetrable fortress around her own heart but she’d never considered that perhaps she should have built a moat around Stephie’s too.

“Yeah baby, I did,” Azzi admits slowly and this time Colleen lets an audible gasp, except it’s drowned out by a series of exhilarated squeals erupting from the backseat.

“MISS BUECKS IS GONNA JOIN MAMA’S TEAM,” Stephie screams, practically bouncing on her seat as she begins to repeat the phrase in a sing-song voice.

“Hold your horses, kid. She hasn’t said yes yet,” Azzi warns.

Stephie smiles secretly, “but she will Mama, I know she will.”

It makes Azzi feel lightheaded, the amount of trust Stephie seems to already have in a stranger. There’s a part of her that wants to crawl into her daughter’s mind and erase the memory of blonde hair and blue eyes because she knows, she knows better than anyone, that once you walk through that door, there is no coming back. And Paige would never willingly hurt Stephie -even after a decade apart Azzi has that much faith in the blonde- but that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t break her heart any way.

Colleen turns to Azzi, a look of unmistakable concern on her face as she makes a show of putting her hand against the darker-skinned girl’s forehead, “are you feeling okay?”

“Oh fudge off,” Azzi groans, swatting away her best friend’s hand

“Azzi let me get this straight, you’re telling me you asked your e-x-g-i-r-l-f-r-i-e-n-d to join your team?”

“Look at you spelling Col, I’m so proud of you-”

“Don’t start,” Colleen shoots her a look and Azzi sighs, “what happened to going into Ohemaa’s office and making sure that didn’t happen?”

“I did what I had to,” Azzi shrugs, “I put the team first.”

“And what about-”

“Colleen please,” Azzi begs softly, a wave of tiredness washing over her, “it’s done okay. And it might not even matter. She might not even say yes.”

Colleen opens her mouth and then sighs, seeing something in Azzi’s face that convinces her not to push. There isn’t anyone else in the world who knows Azzi better than her best friend, except maybe the woman they’re talking about. Paige would’ve pushed, she always had. Pushed and pushed until Azzi was letting herself free fall off a cliff, only harnessed by Paige’s promise to catch her before she hit the ground. And then one day Azzi had unclipped the harness, and it was their relationship that had come crashing down.

“Mama,” Stephie’s inquisitive voice calls from behind and Azzi hums in response, starting up her car, “you knew Miss Bueckers when she was littler right?”

“I knew her when she was younger,” Azzi corrects gently and knew feels like an understatement. They’d lived in each other’s skin, carving themselves onto parts of each other they hadn’t even known existed until the other had come along.

“Same thing Mama,” Stephie huffs, “was she still so pretty then?”

And as pictures of a younger Paige, beautiful and vibrant like the sun shining on the pavement after a thunderstorm, dance through her mind, Azzi can’t stop the soft smile that flitters across her face.

“She’s always been the prettiest.”

***

Paige isn’t feeling particularly talkative when her phone rings, Talia’s name flashing on the CallerID. Her senses are still drowned in all things Azzi and she’s not quite ready to be rescued from the ocean of memories that have suddenly flooded her entire being. She wants to lose herself in them, let herself be drawn back to what was. Paige has spent the better part of the last decade running away from her past but today, for the first time, all she wants is to let this slideshow of nostalgia keep on playing through her mind.

“Talia if you’re calling just to say I told you so,” Paige sneers into the phone, finally picking it up after the ringing starts to give her a mild headache. She’d texted Thalia almost immediately after speaking to Azzi, a simple i think i could make the Valks work, purposely leaving out what, or more precisely who, had convinced her.

“I would never,” Talia says with a hint of amusement, “if I started telling you I told you so after every time I was right, I fear I’d never have anything else to say to you because I am in fact, always right.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “alright then if you’re done gloating.”

“I didn’t call to gloat,” the manager’s voice is more serious now, “I called to tell you that I talked to the Liberty and they have an offer.”

“The Liberty don’t have cap space,” Paige says slowly, stomach suddenly queasy.

“They don’t have cap space this season,” Talia corrects, “but things are gonna change for them with Sabrina retiring after this season and they can move a couple of other things around to give us what we want next season.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the Valkyries don’t have to be anything more than a pit stop. I know I pressured you into this but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been trying to figure something else out for you behind the scenes.”

“And I assume you’ve talked to Ohemaa too then?”

Talia scoffs, “do I look like an amateur agent to you? Of course I have. This works for them too. If all goes to plan, they have the rights to Atlanta’s #3 pick in the draft and if the mocks have gotten it right, they’ll get Angie Davis.”

“The Stanford PG,” Paige breathes out.

“Exactly. She’ll get a year developing under you and then hopefully they won’t need you next year. And you won’t need them. Everybody wins.”

It sounds like the perfect solution. The Valkyrie’s would get what they need out of her and she’d get what she needed out of them. Then they’d part ways and Paige’s past would no longer be a factor in her present once she got to New York. One year and then everything would fall into place the way she’d wanted it to. It should fill her with excitement or relief or maybe even both but instead Paige feels nothing but unease, like she’s sealing herself to a fate of never truly having a home.

She rubs a tired hand across her face, “what if I don’t want to leave after a year?”

“Then we can talk about it in a year. You’re not signing anything other than a one-year contract with the Valkyries right now and letting both them and the Liberty know that you're keeping your options open,” Talia says, her tone perfectly business-like.

“Good,” Paige lets out a small sigh of relief at knowing she isn’t about to get herself legally bound to anything, “that’s good.”

“Why don’t you sound more happy about this Paige?” an irritated timbre slips into Talia’s words, “you were practically begging me to find you a way out of this and now that I have, it seems like you would rather I hadn’t.”

“The Valkyries are a good organization. Good front office, good GM, good coach, good facilities and you know how much I’ve always loved the Bay Area. Every time we’ve come here to play, the atmosphere has always been amazing. This place breathes basketball and I just wanna be a part of that,” and Paige means every word of it, even if there are other reasons at play.

“But you already knew all of that before you went down there Paige so cut the bullshit. Why exactly are you suddenly on board with all of this?” Talia asks, her voice hardening and Paige hates that her manager, who had really been more of a friend for the last couple of years, knows her just a little too well.

“I met someone-”

“Oh fucking hell,” Talia groans, “please tell me you’re not making career decisions with your pussy.”

“Don’t be crude Talia. After all these years, I think you’d know me better than that. I met a little girl,” an uncontrollably smitten grin flickers across Paige’s face as she thinks back to her conversation with Stephie, “and she- she made some good points about why I should be a Golden State Valkyrie. You’d be surprised how smart little kids are these days.”

Thalia’s voice is drenched in skepticism when she speaks again, “you met a little girl? Where?”

“At the Valkyries training facilities,” as soon as she says it Paige wishes she’d lied.

“What was a little girl doing at-,” another loud groan echoes through Paige’s phone and she can practically picture her agent fighting back the urge to facepalm, “please tell me you’re not talking about Azzi Fudd’s daughter.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Paige says, trying to keep her voice light.

“Jesus fucking christ Paige so you are thinking with your pussy then. You’re telling me you wanna join GSV because your ex-girlfriend’s daughter thinks you should? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”

No, Paige thinks, I want to join because my ex-girlfriend thinks I should. Except she’s pretty sure that wouldn’t go over any better with Talia. She knows it sounds insane, knows it’s a little pathetic the power Azzi still has over her, knows that it should have taken more than just Azzi’s little speech to change her adamant no into a resounding yes. But the truth is that the only good reason she’d even had to not want to go to GSV, was rooted in Azzi and once Azzi had removed that barrier, the decision had never seemed clearer.

“You said it yourself Tals. It’s been years. This isn’t about her and me. It’s about basketball and it’s about winning,” Paige says finally, even if the words don’t sit sound right as they waterfall out of her mouth.

“So this has nothing to do with Azzi Fudd?” Talia inquires.

“Nothing other than the fact that she’s the best shooting guard in the country and together we can be the best backcourt in the WNBA. Azzi Fudd,” it’s the first time Paige has said her name in a long time and it ignites a fire on the tip of her tongue “is my past and she’ll never be anything more than a future teammate, not again. Besides,” Paige’s stomach churns as the next words leave her mouth, “like you said. GSV doesn’t have to be anything more than a temporary pit stop.”

***

Putting away her weights, Azzi uses her forearm to wipe away the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She hides a smile as her eyes fall on Stephie. A look of pure concentration marks her daughter’s face as she puts her full little body into lifting a set of 2kg weights. It’s become their Sunday routine. Azzi comes to the Valkyrie’s fitness center to train and Stephie follows along, pitter pattering behind Azzi and trying to mimic every exercise her mother attempts.

“Mama,” Stephie gushes as she catches Azzi’s eyes in the mirror, “I did twenty today. I think I can do the 3kg ones next time.”

Azzi laughs, walking over and bending down to give the little girl a high-5, “oh yeah? You think you’re ready to move onto the next level.”

“Yeah I am!” Stephie cheers, trying to flex her biceps, “look how big they’re getting.”

“Oh my god baby they’re almost bigger than mine,” Azzi says dramatically, flexing her own arms right next to Stephie’s.

“Just give me a year,” Stephie promises, giggling as she wraps her arms around her mother’s neck, “I’m gonna be the strongest Fudd.”

Azzi lifts her up with ease, pressing a delicate kiss against her daughter’s hair as the little girl settles into her side, hands immediately playing with the “S” necklace around Azzi’s neck.

“When Miss Buecks joins your team, do you think she can come ex-cise with us too?” Stephie asks shyly and Azzi sighs as she grabs for her gym bag.

She should have expected the question really. In the hours that had passed since Stephie had met Paige, the older woman’s name seemed to have risen to the top of the little girl’s vocabulary. Every little thing they’d done since had been accompanied by the mention of Miss Buecks, either a plea to have Paige join them next time or Stephie gushing about how she just knew Miss Buecks would be good at this too.

“You know kid, I’m beginning to think you might like Miss Buecks more than me,” Azzi teases with a lightheartedness she doesn’t feel. But she won’t let her own discomfort bleed into Stephie’s excitement.

“Don’t be silly Mama,” Stephie pulls at Azzi’s cheeks, “you’ll always be my favoritest.”

Don’t worry Az, you’ll always be my most favorite. It’s Paige's voice that echoes through her mind, casual and carefree and so, so honest. And she needs to stop doing this, needs to stop her brain from tying her present to the threads of her past, needs to stop her heart from letting Stephie and Paige be pieces of the same puzzle. It’s a dangerous wish she’d let bloom in secret for years but not all wishes are meant to come true, some are meant to tragically wilter in the darkness until they turn into a wistful what if.

A shrill “MISS BUECKS,” breaks Azzi out of her thoughts as the child in her arms starts to wriggle out of her grasp the minute they step out of the fitness center. As soon as Stephie manages to get on the ground, she’s running before Azzi can get a word out to stop her. And all Azzi can do is watch as Paige turns around at the call of her name, neutral face breaking into a luminescent smile as she catches sight of Stephie running towards her.

“MISS BUECKS,” Stephie squeals again, tiny hands outstretched as she picks up speed.

“STEPHIE,” Paige matches the excitement in the little girl’s voice, swinging her into her arms and spinning her around before finally holding her firm against her hip.

“I missed you,” Stephie confesses, “did you miss me?”

Paige's eyes soften as she nuzzles Stephies nose, “of course I did.”

Azzi feels paralyzed as she watches the scene unfold in front of her. Stephie excitedly chatters about some random topic and Paige seems mesmerized by the most mundane stories. And Azzi’s not sure if she’s floating or sinking, but she knows if she lets them, the tears begging to be released from her eyes could flood everything around her. Her hands fist of their own accord as she takes a step towards Paige and Stephie and it’s like a nightmare and a daydream all at once.

“Mama look,” Stephie notices her first, “Miss Buecks is here.”

Paige looks over Stephie’s head and as cerulean blue eyes pierce into Azzi’s dark brown ones, she wonders if Paige is thinking of it too, of the future they used to talk about while curled up in one of their UConn dorms as their hands traced forever into each other’s palms.

“I can see that Steph,” she musters up a polite smile, “Hi Paige.”

She gets an equally polite smile back in return, “Hi Azzi.”

Her name sounds different on Paige’s lips and Azzi misses the way Paige’s eyes used to twinkle just saying it, the way her lips would curl around that one word like it carried the meaning of life itself.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie turns Paige’s face away from Azzi, hand resting against her cheek, “did you say yes to joining Mama’s team?”

Paige’s eyes flicker towards Azzi again, before coming back to rest on the hopeful little girl, “I did. I just signed the contract.”

Stephie screams, arms wrapping around Paige’s neck and Azzi expects Paige to at least flinch, but the blonde simply laughs, hugging Azzi’s little girl back with equal fervor.

“I take it you’re happy,” Paige whispers.

“I’m-,” Stephie crawls out from Paige’s neck to look at Azzi, “Mama what’s that big word you use es-est-”

“Ecstatic,” Azzi whispers, trying to pretend that Paige’s announcement hasn’t knocked the wind out of her. Hell has just become official and Azzi had personally invited it.

“I’m es-tatic that you’re joining Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I told Mama that I knew you would. I'm gonna cheer so loud for you,” Stephie says, unaware that her innocent words feel like shards of broken glass piercing at Azzi’s skin.

“That makes me ecstatic Stephie,” Paige says softly but there’s a hint of something else there that Azzi can’t quite place; the realization that she’s no longer as well-versed in the notes of Paige’s voice hits her like a hailstorm.

“Welcome to Golden State,” she manages to stutter out and Paige’s eyes drift to her before warily looking down to her outstretched hands, “I think we’ll make a good team.”

“I’m counting on it,” Paige nods as she reaches out the hand that’s not holding Stephie. And the moment they touch, it’s still electric, like lightning during the first thunderstorm after a drought. They stare at each other and Azzi wonders if Paige is thinking it too, thinking that if only they’d held on like this eight years ago when they should have. Blinking away droplets of what happened to you and me forever, Azzi reluctantly lets go of Paige’s hand, ignoring the way the feeling of it still lingers, like it’s destined to etch itself onto Azzi’s palms.

“Well Stephie bear, I think it’s time for us to go home,” she says slowly.

Stephie crinkles her nose, “we’re not going home Mama. We’re getting ice cream,” she turns to Paige with a serious expression on her face, “we always get ice cream after ex-cise. Mama says it’s good for the soul.”

“She’s right. Ice cream is good for the soul,” Paige smiles, giving Azzi a knowing look.

“OH,” Stephie shrieks, “Miss Buecks you should come with us so we can cel-bate you coming to Mama’s team.”

Azzi’s eyes widen, immediately getting ready to shut that dreadful idea down, “Miss Buecks is busy baby and she probably wants to celebrate with her own family.”

And if the word family makes Paige flinch, Azzi pretends she doesn’t notice.

“You don’t wanna cel-bate with me Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks and Azzi knows that even if Paige had intended to decline Stephie’s offer, once her daughter gives her those big sad eyes, the already people-pleasing blonde won’t say no.

“Nobody else I’d rather celebrate with,” Paige caves and Azzi sighs, switching her bag to her other shoulder. Some things would never change. Some things about Paige, she would always be able to predict.

“Yay,” Stephie cheers, finally slipping down from Paige’s lap, only so she can lace one hand in Paige’s and the other in Azzi’s, “let’s go cel-bate.”

***

It’s the first time they’ve been in a car together in a decade, and still the instinct to reach out and grab Azzi’s hand as she drives, prickles against Paige’s fingertips. She tries to focus on the road ahead, tries to focus on whatever story Stephie is telling from the backseat, tries to focus on anything but the woman in the driver’s seat who used to be her passenger princess.

“You’ve turned into a pretty good driver,” she quips slowly, trying to lighten the tension between them, “I’m only just a little bit scared for my life right now.”

Azzi cracks a small smile, “are you ready to admit I’m a better driver than you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Mama’s the best driver in the world,” Stephie chimes in loyally, “was she a bad driver when she was littler?”

“Younger,” Azzi corrects immediately, “and I was always a good driver, Steph. Don’t listen to Miss Buecks.”

Paige scoffs, “don’t believe her Stephie. She once nearly killed me.”

“I did not. I can’t believe you’re lying to my child.”

“Am I?” Paige cocks her head, “so you didn’t nearly back into me that one time during Christmas?”

“That doesn’t count,” Azzi protests, “I didn’t even know you were coming to surprise me. How was I supposed to know you were going to be right outside the garage door while I was trying to pull out.”

“There are these things on your car called mirrors Azzi, think maybe you should try and use them sometimes.”

“It was dark and I was in a hurry.”

“Where could you possibly have had to go that late on Christmas?”

“I was going to surprise you,” Azzi exclaims, “but you beat me to it so,” her voice fades off as an awkward silence cuts into the easy banter. The memory of that night is clear in Paige’s mind. Christmas 2021 when they’d been teetering on the edge between something and everything. They’d decided they’d meet up the day after Christmas to exchange presents, leaving the day of it just for their families. But the whole day had passed and Paige had been consumed by nothing but missing Azzi. And as soon as night fell, her mind was made up to go see her best friend. She hadn't known just how much Azzi had missed her too. Not until now. It’s funny, Paige thinks, they’d once been the kind of people who didn’t know how to exist when they spent a day apart. Now they were the kind of people who’d fought to spend nearly a decade apart.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie cuts in again, voice inquisitive, and Paige doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of hearing the little girl call for her; it fills her with a warmth she didn’t even know she had the capacity to feel, “Mama said you’ve always been the prettiest, even when you were littler.”

Paige’s eyes dart to Azzi, a smirk playing on her lips as she watches a pink hue spread across the brunette’s cheeks, “she said that?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, hands tightening on the steering wheel as she finally maneuvers into a parking lot.

“She did,” Stephie confirms, “and she said you were really good at bask-ball and really smart. And then Aunty Leen said something in her ear and Mama got all shy.”

“Right Stephanie. I think that’s enough talk about what Mama said,” Azzi says as she finishes parking and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt, muttering something about inflated egos under her breath.

“Nah Stephie,” Paige grins as gets out of the car, “I like hearing what your Mama said about me.”

It earns her a glare from Azzi and that only makes her smile harder. Paige is no stranger to praise and compliments but it’s always meant just a little more when it came from Azzi. And she’d never admit it to anyone but every time she’d come across a clip of Azzi praising her over the last couple years, she’d let the clip loop for far longer than she should have.

“You know what Bueckers,” Azzi says, “you’re buying our ice cream.”

“That’s not fair Mama,” Stephie chides, “we’re here to cel-bate Miss Buecks. It’s her treat so you have to pay.”

“Yeah Azzi, it’s my treat so you have to pay,” Paige mimics, high-fiving a beaming Stephie.

Azzi looks between the two of them, an offended expression on her face, “my own daughter,” she gasps, “betraying me. I see how it is.”

“You’re the one who says we have to be fair,” Stephie says, nudging her mother slightly so she can clutch her hand and then turns to look up at Paige, “was Mama really pretty when she was littler?”

“Younger” Azzi corrects again, before focusing on Paige, “and you don’t have to answer that. She’s seen photos of me from before.”

“But I wanna know from Miss Buecks,” Stephie whines.

“Stephie,” Azzi warns, an edge to her voice.

“She was the most beautiful girl in the world,” Paige says softly and two sets of dark brown eyes immediately flash up to her. The California sunshine makes Azzi glow but really that’s nothing new; Azzi has always been the brightest star, at least in Paige’s galaxy, and she can’t help but let the next words slip through her lips, “she still is.”

***

Azzi thinks Paige has never really known the impact of her own words. Whether it was the missiles she fired when angry or the shower of flower petals when she was feeling complimentary. And it seems like time has done nothing to change that because Paige continues to walk towards the ice cream parlor with absolutely no recognition of how Azzi’s heart has just burst into flames.

She still is.

It shouldn’t affect her the way it does, shouldn’t elicit any reaction more than just a cocky smirk but instead those three little words seem to imprint themselves on her cochlear, ringing around her like static as she tries to keep a façade of nonchalance.

The ice cream parlor is bursting with people and it doesn’t take long before both Azzi and Paige are being asked for pictures. Protective instinct kicking in, Azzi reaches to grab for Stephie to keep her from getting lost in the crowd, only to find her already securely tucked into Paige’s side. Azzi watches as Paige interacts with the fans -she’s always been a natural at that- and somehow manages to keep Stephie entertained at the same time, conspiratorially whispering things to her in between interactions and making her giggle. It hurts and heals something inside her at the same time. The thing is, since Stephie was born, Azzi has done this whole thing alone and she’s never regretted it, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of her that hasn’t always wished for a partner, someone else who would protect her little girl with her. Like Paige is right now. But this is a mirage, a fever dream that isn’t Azzi’s to dream.

So she looks away and hides her tears behind a dazzling smile for a photo with a fan. She’s gotten incredibly good at that.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks excitedly when they finally manage to reach the counter.

“Oh um-” Paige scratches at her neck, “I like cookies and cream.”

Azzi guffaws at the lie, “your favorite flavor is cookies and cream?”

“Yes Azzi,” Paige glares, “I love cookies and cream.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow before dropping her voice down to a whisper, “why are you lying?”

Paige sighs, “I don’t want Stephie to think I’m weird.”

“Oh Paige,” Azzi can’t help but smile before turning to Stephie, “Steph what flavor are you getting?”

“Mint chocolate chip,” Stephie says excitedly, eyes fixated on the green ice cream and Paige’s mouth falls open a little bit as Azzi smirks at her.

She turns to the cashier, “we’ll have open mint chocolate chip, one strawberry and one-”

“One more mint chocolate chip please,” Paige cuts in and both Azzi and Stephie look at her.

“I thought you wanted cookies and cream Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks with a confused expression and Azzi barely manages to bite back her laugh.

“I uh-,” Paige begins sheepishly, “I didn’t know they had mint chocolate chip. That’s my most favorite.”

Stephie is contemplatively quiet for a minute before a grin breaks out on her face, “Mama did you know Miss Buecks and I have the same favorite ice-cream flavor?”

“I had absolutely no idea,” Azzi says, winking at Paige as she pays for their ice cream.

They opt to sit outside on one of the picnic benches overlooking the nearby park. Azzi is distinctly aware of how they might look to anyone walking by right now, like a family. Normally, ice cream Sundays are spent with Stephie rambling and Azzi listening but this time Stephie has someone who’s just as much of a chatterbox as she is. Paige hangs on to every word that comes out of the little girl’s mouth, answering questions and giving replies as if this is the most important conversation of her life.

“Mama and I go to Stanford games all the time,” Stephie’s saying as Azzi tries to get out of her own head and zone into the conversation instead, “I’m gonna be a- what’s it called again Mama?”

“A Cardinal,” Azzi supplies helpfully.

“I’m gonna be a Card-nal,” Stephie says and Paige gasps, turning to Azzi.

“Oh my god you’ve raised a traitor,” she moans, shaking her head.

Stephie scrunches her face, looking rather offended by that moniker, “I’m not a tray-tor.”

“Steph sweetheart look at me,” Paige says, her voice the epitome of seriousness as she holds the younger girl by her shoulders, “what are we?”

“Humans?” Stephie asks innocently and Azzi laughs.

“No Stephie we,” Paige uses her finger to point at her and Azzi, “we are Huskies. UConn Huskies. And what do we bleed?”

“Oh I know this one,” Stephie says excitedly, “we bleed blue.”

“So do you wanna be a boring old tree or do you wanna be a big, strong Husky who bleeds blue?”

“I wanna be a Husky,” Stephie cheers and Paige cheers along with her. Azzi rolls her eyes but it doesn't quite match the smile on her face. And then Stephie’s racing off to the swings, leaving Paige and Azzi alone for the first time in a long time.

“Did you just manipulate my child into wanting to go to UConn?” she nudges Paige.

“Of course not. I just made her understand what’s best for her and that’s UConn,” Paige nudges her back, “just like it was for you.”

“Yeah, it was,” Azzi says softly and they both know she means a lot more than just UConn.

“You um- you have a little bit of ice cream,” Paige points nervously to the edge of Azzi’s lip, hands reaching and then hesitating. And Azzi knows that she should at least attempt to wipe it off herself but she stays deathly still as Paige’s thumb finally makes its way to her face. It’s a featherlight touch that the blonde traces across her lips, their eyes transfixed on each other, neither of them breathing. And they’ve had far more intimate moments than this one but something about this, right here, feels apocalyptic.

“I meant what I said before,” Paige whispers, “you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world.”

She gulps before starting to move away and Azzi feels a panic course through her blood as she hurriedly grabs the blonde’s hand. And she’s not supposed to do this; she should tell Paige not to say things like that but instead she’s pulling the blonde closer, hand firmly clasped around her wrist.

“Azzi,” Paige breathes out, like she wants to stop and start something at the same time. They’ve never really known self-control when it comes to each other.

“I meant what I said to Stephie too,” Azzi whispers, “you’ve always been the prettiest.”

***

September 2029

Wings 82 Valkyries 77

Paige almost falls to her knees as the buzzer sounds around the arena. The crowd is on their feet cheering as the Dallas Wings beat the Golden State Valkyries in a hard-fought semi-finals game 5 to advance to the WNBA finals. It takes a brief second and suddenly she has teammates circling all around her as they bask in their well-earned glory.

“One more series to go. Wings in three,” Satou cheers and the whole team echoes after her. They’re not known to be the closest of teams but at this moment, they almost feel like family.

Paige is exhausted as she’s ushered to do a sideline interview and she tries really hard to keep the irritation off her face when she realizes it’s Holly Rowe. The questions are generic and some are downright annoying, but Paige’s media training has always been stellar, and despite the fatigue rolling off her body, her answers are heartfelt and charismatic. The interview can’t be longer than three minutes but it feels like a lifetime before she’s finally walking away. Focused on the ground beneath her and trying not to cave into the exhaustion on her way to the media room, Paige doesn’t notice when she goes barrelling into a firm body.

“Shit I’m so-” the words are stolen from her mouth as Tim Fudd turns around but it’s not him that attracts Paige’s attention. It’s the little girl cradled in his arms, a little girl who looks exactly like the fact that still haunts all of Paige’s memories. Tiny brown eyes stare up at her and Paige is mesmerized by this tiny creature who seems like she could captivate the whole world if she wanted to.

“Congratulations Paige,” Tim says slowly and Paige tears her eyes away from the baby to look at the man who had once been the person who made it a mission to make her laugh whenever she was on the verge of crying, “I’m really proud of you kid.”

Paige’s eyes sting and she doesn’t know if she wants to run away or beg Tim to give her one of his patented bear hugs, “thank you. It really does mean a lot. She-,” her eyes flicker back down to the little tiny bean, “she’s beautiful.”

“Yeah she is,” pride shines in Tim’s voice, “you wanna hold her?”

“Oh no it’s ok-” Paige begins but before she can finish, there’s a baby being placed in her arms and everything around her seems to come to a standstill.

“Her name’s Stephanie,” Tim says softly and Paige laughs because of course, of course Azzi would name her daughter Stephanie.

“Hi Stephanie,” Paige coos, reaching out a finger to tickle the little girl, gasping when Stephanie's small chubby hands grasp it. And then the baby giggles, smiling at Paige as if she’s given her a gift and Paige swears she’s never loved a sound more in her life.

“Can you hold her for a second while I go find Katie?” Tim asks and Paige shakes her head in panic but he’s already off before she can stop him. And then it’s just her and Stephanie, standing outside the media room. There’s people cluttering in and out of the rooms around her, the whole lobby is bustling with sounds but all Paige can focus on is the girl in her arms.

“You’re so cute,” Paige whispers in a baby voice and Stephanie giggles, “yes you are, yes you are. I wanna steal you so bad.”

“I don’t think you can win a WNBA championship from jail,” a familiar voice says from behind her and Paige feels her stomach tying itself in knots as she turns to look at Azzi, “maybe try and kidnap my child after the finals?”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips but a storm brewing in her eyes and Paige knows that if she rests a heart against the darker-skinned girl, she’ll find it beating to the same hyper rhythm as Paige’s.

“Congratulations Paige,” Azzi says softly as she takes another step towards her, “you guys deserved it.”

“Y’all made it hard as hell-I mean shit-no fuck,” Paige swears and the child in her arms giggles as a litany of curses fall from her mouth.

Azzi bites her lip, raising her eyebrows in mock exasperation, “in front of my kid? Seriously Bueckers?”

Paige winces, ready to apologize until Stephanie begins to babble “B-buecks,” she giggles, clapping her hands, unaware of how the two adults in her vicinity both freeze, “Buecks. Buecks. Buecks.”

“Yeah sweetheart,” tears prickle against Paige’s waterline, “that’s me,” she looks up at Azzi whose own eyes are watery, “she said my name.”

“Yeah,” Azzi’s voice wobbles, “yeah she did. She’s- she’s a quick learner.”

“Just like her Mama,” Paige whispers, staring at Azzi and she wants to freeze them in this moment, like a still-motion picture she can hang up on her walls and keep with her forever.

“Mama,” Stephanie burbles, eyes darting between the two women, “Mama. Buecks. Buecks. Mama.”

“You’re so smart Stephanie,” Paige whispers to the little girl, tickling her stomach. She looks up at Azzi with a smile only to find the brunette frowning at Paige’s hand. Confused Paige follows the line of sight until her own eyes catch onto the diamond that’s shining on her ring finger and she can feel her heart drop, “Az-”

“The media’s waiting for you Paige,” Azzi says, the lightness of a few seconds ago replaced with a hard edge.

“Azzi,” Paige whispers again and she doesn’t know why her tone sounds pleading, doesn’t even know what she’d pleading for but she can feel something slip away from her again.

“You probably want to go celebrate with your wife,” Azzi spits out the last word like it tastes bitter and sour at the same time, and it lands somewhere in between them, creating a wall that puts them on different sides. And Paige should let it go; she should pretend it’s just a normal sentence uttered without any malice, should pretend that she can no longer read the cadences of Azzi’s voice but instead of putting up a shield, she shoots an arrow.

“You don’t get to say it like that,” Paige hisses.

“I didn’t say it like any-”

“Yes you did and you don’t get to do that,” Paige presses, “not when you didn’t want to marry me.”

Azzi flinches. The words, soaked in mistakes of the past, hang like a dagger in between them, ready to sever the thin thread of cordiality that they have tried desperately to maintain.

“You’re right,” Azzi says finally, her voice ice cold as she reaches for Stephanie, “I didn’t want to marry you,” the dagger twists, “so how about you give me my child back and go find the woman who did.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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