#was feeling a little inspired this morning

[luvergirl-866]

i don’t see what anyone could see in anyone else (but you)

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 6.0k

c/w - fluff, they’re both annoying and sassy, p has adhd highkey (twin)

a/n - inspired by the let’s be honest p annoying a video. i just love the girlfriends but best friends first dynamic iykwim 😣. also took a lot of inspo from some tiktok lives 🩷 anyway yeah this is stupid and late for v day but better than nothing!!

It has been a good week.

On Sunday, Azzi made it a point to spend the day getting ahead on schoolwork as much as she could. Coach had been hinting at a grueling upcoming practice week and Azzi knows herself well enough to know she’d end up putting school on the back burner anyway. And that’s exactly what happened, because come Monday, every time she left a class with homework it would end up in her desk, left there to rot until basketball wasn’t her main priority anymore.

Coach hadn’t been lying—he never is about those things. Practice was torture, often running hours into the night as the girls were made to play again and again until they were good enough in Geno’s eyes. But Azzi had been one of the few on the team who loved it, feeling just as renewed as she was drained after each practice. The more exhausted she got, the longer practice went on, the better she performed. It was unusual for her and it struck up a certain confidence, creating a subtle pep in her step everywhere she went.

The only downside to the week was the lack of Paige Time. It’s been like that for quite some time now—really, ever since basketball season started. After the long summer spent basically attached at the hip, the school year was a rude awakening for them and November was even ruder. They were juggling basketball, school, marketing, and their own personal endeavors—especially Paige’s as she prepares to declare. On top of all that, finding time to love on each other has been difficult, if not impossible. Besides for a few kisses in passing and minor flirting in practice, they really only see each other at bedtime and briefly in the mornings.

Which is why, when Azzi wakes up in her girlfriend’s room, she can’t help but smile a little to herself before she’s even really awake. Because it’s Saturday, and the sun is shining through the curtains, and most importantly, they have nowhere to be today.

She can feel Paige’s presence behind her, and can hear the TikToks playing on her phone, signaling she’s already awake. Actually, TikTok might’ve been what woke Azzi in the first place. Now that she’s really waking up, she realizes that Paige has her phone speakers turned up way too high, and a pang of sleepy irritability goes through her. “Babe,” she mumbles into her pillow, “turn that down.”

Thankfully, the tinny noises stop, but they’re quickly replaced by the familiar teasing tone in her girlfriend’s voice. “Look who’s finally awake.”

“What time is it?” Azzi yawns, eyes still closed.

“9:30,” Paige replies.

At that, Azzi snuggles further into the blankets, the scent of Paige enveloping her. “Not even that early,” she says. “Might go back to sleep.”

“Can I wake you up at ten?” Paige asks. “I’m bored.”

“Yes,” Azzi concedes, used to Paige’s neediness, “you can wake me up at ten.”

“Aight,” Paige says, sounding pleased with herself.

Azzi shifts, feeling a little lonely what with Paige all the way on her side of the bed. They’ve had a whole conversation at this point, yet she’s still yet to receive a good morning kiss. It’s off-putting, to be honest. She expects Paige, ever the affectionate one in their relationship, to sidle up beside her now that she’s semi-awake.

Instead, to her shock, the TikTok sounds start back up again. And they’re just as loud as before.

“Paige,” Azzi exclaims, finally cracking her eyes open, turning over her shoulder to find Paige propped up against the headboard, staring calmly at her.

“Hm?” she asks.

Azzi sighs. She hates having to ask for the things she wants. Usually, Paige just magically knows and provides it for her. She must be too busy on stupid TikTok to remember she has a girlfriend who needs attending to.

In lieu of asking straight-up, Azzi reaches back, grasping for Paige’s thigh and looking up at her with big brown eyes.

Immediately, Paige tosses her phone to the side, chuckling. “Mm. Sorry, princess.” Sliding down under the covers, she situates herself closer until she’s hovering above her, close enough to drop a chaste kiss on her lips. “You wanna cuddle?”

“Obviously,” Azzi mutters, reaching up for one more kiss before turning back over, sighing when Paige snuggles up behind her.

“You gotta little attitude this morning,” Paige helpfully observes, nuzzling into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi closes her eyes, trying to let sleep call to her as it was just a minute ago. “Just miss you,” she says, a little vulnerable in the way she says it—and maybe that’s also due to the minimal clothes they’re wearing, the skin-on-skin contact always making her feel safe and comforted and exposed all at once.

Paige tuts sympathetically, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I know, baby.” There’s a beat of silence as they shift, Paige’s hand running over her stomach, trailing up to one of her breasts. “Missed you, too.”

As much as the touch turns Azzi on, it’s less the sexuality of it and more the sheer domesticity; the way they know each other’s bodies well enough to be comfortable with wandering hands that aren’t meant to lead anywhere. She breathes deep as Paige holds her gently, then clasps a hand over her’s, keeping her in place.

It’s only another minute before she’s drifting off again, Paige’s even breaths in her ear lulling her to sleep.

It’s peaceful—maybe the most relaxed she’s been all week. But as she lays there, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, Paige’s breathing changes just a split second before she’s speaking too loudly in Azzi’s ear, “I’m hungry.”

Azzi startles a little at the sudden interruption. Her eyes fly open, though only to shoot a glare at her girlfriend. “Paige!”

“What? I am.” Paige frowns, pulling away to sit up and rub her stomach forlornly. “You took too long to wake up.”

Azzi sighs, rolling over onto her back. “I thought you were gonna let me sleep until ten.”

Paige shrugs at that, making big puppy eyes at her, and Azzi resigns to the fact that she will not be getting any more sleep this morning.

“Fine,” she grumbles, sitting up with some effort. “But I’m gonna shower first.”

She stands up, Paige’s eyes tracking her from where she sits on the bed. She whistles lowly as Azzi makes her way to the closet, likely due to the fact that she’s only wearing a pair of sheer panties. Azzi rolls her eyes, pulling on a pair of clothes for the walk down the hall.

Paige, of course, trails her to the bathroom, situating herself on the floor while Azzi starts the water. She watches intently as Azzi undresses, and Azzi catches her pout just as she’s stepping inside.

“What?” Azzi asks when she sees her expression.

“Can I come in with you?” Paige asks.

The offer is tempting, but Azzi is still sore from last night and in all honestly, she’s not in the mood after Paige rudely woke her this morning. “No. I’m only gonna be like five minutes.”

“I can help you.”

“I think I got it,” Azzi laughs, pouring soap onto her washcloth—something she is perfectly capable of doing by herself.

Paige stands up, walking over to Azzi’s phone on the counter. “Okay, then lemme play your music.”

Azzi doesn’t really have time to protest before Bossman Dlow is blasting far too loud over the speakers, and Paige picks up a hairbrush, admiring herself in the mirror as she sings. Azzi rolls her eyes, refocusing her efforts on cleaning up.

Paige looks over and catches the unamused look on her face. “Oh, sorry,” she says sincerely, picking up another hairbrush and holding it out. “You wanted a mic too?”

Azzi sighs. She gets the feeling she’ll be doing a lot of that today.

————————————

It’s not until awhile later that they finally get to the kitchen—mostly due to the fact that Paige kept showing her videos and making commentary while she tried to do her hair, causing the whole endeavor to take a lot longer than it should’ve. Ironically, Paige is the one whining about this by the time they’re finally ready.

“Bro, now I’m really hungry,” she says, continuing to rub her belly a bit like a pregnant lady—which makes Azzi giggle—as she heads to the fridge.

“What should we have, mama?” she asks. Then, as Azzi’s thinking about it, she says, “You’re right, pancakes sound good.”

Azzi hefts herself onto the counter. “Never said that.”

“You took too long to answer,” Paige replies simply. She roots through the fridge for another minute before sighing, turning around to face her. “Do we need milk to make pancakes?”

“Do you have pancake mix?”

“Um…” Paige walks to the pantry at this, taking another minute to search that before once again sighing dramatically. “No.”

“Then, yes. We need milk.”

“Why, though?” Paige asks, frowning. “Shouldn’t water work the same?”

Azzi scrunches her nose up at the thought of water pancakes. “Ew. No.”

Paige shakes her head at her. “Okay, Miss Picky.”

“I know you’re not talking.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Azzi hops off the counter, patting Paige’s chest as she walks past her to the entryway, searching for Paige’s keys. “C’mon, we can go grab some real quick.”

Azzi finds the keys and holds them out expectantly, unsurprised when Paige takes them without hesitation. “I guess. But no fucking around.”

They leave the apartment, and Azzi raises a brow as she watches Paige lock up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Paige says, taking her hand and beginning to walk, “we get in, get the milk, and go.”

Azzi swings their hands mindlessly between them. “If I’m remembering right, you’re the one who’s currently unmedicated.”

“Yeah, and I’m chill,” Paige says, pressing the button for the elevator. “My doctors just want my money or sum’, I’m fine without that dumb shit.”

“Paige, you woke me up five times last night because you had things to tell me and didn’t wanna forget.”

“Valid reason to wake you up.” Paige shoves Azzi inside the elevator, and once she follows, Azzi pushes her right back.

“I’m just saying. You’re easily distracted.”

“Nah.”

“We were making out for like an hour yesterday and you interrupted it to tell me a story.”

“It was a funny story,” Paige explains, taking her hand once again when the elevator doors open and dragging her out.

“Debatable,” Azzi quips, even though it was kinda a good story.

“And it’s not like we didn’t continue kissing after that. I just gave us a lil intermission.”

“You never needed intermissions while you were on your meds.”

They’re in the parking lot now, and Paige unlocks her car, nudging Azzi towards it. “Just get in the car.”

“Bossy,” Azzi mumbles.

Believe it or not, the two of them do have days where they don’t fight, argue, or even sass each other. Those days, however, come far and few between—making fun of each other is their love language and thus little spats happen more often than not. And with today being the first day in awhile that they’ve spent together—not to mention Paige’s apparent decision to be more irritating than usual—it’s no surprise that they spend the car ride fighting over music.

By the time they get to the grocery store, Paige is hyperfocused on making sure Azzi stays on track. When Azzi falls behind to smell a candle, she sighs and tugs her away by the wrist: “Bro, why are we going at grandma pace.”

Ironically, Paige, like the hypocrite she is, also finds an abandoned cart in the refrigerated section. Azzi is grabbing milk when Paige bumps her with the cart, getting her attention. When Azzi looks at her, Paige simply says, “Babe, watch,” and proceeds to hop on the cart and ride it down the aisle with the vigor of a small child.

Once the milk is secured, Azzi decides she deserves some remuneration for the taxing work of going out in public with her girlfriend. Stopping Paige on their way to checkout, Azzi looks up at her with big, brown eyes and says, “Can we stop in the books? Just really quick.”

Paige avoids her gaze. “Nah, I wanna leave.”

“Aw,” Azzi coos, running a hand down Paige’s arm somewhat seductively, “please, Paigey? I need new books.”

Still, Paige refuses to make eye contact as she says, “Aren’t you working on, like, two right now?”

Azzi doesn’t usually get this much pushback from her. She wonders exactly why Paige woke up and decided to annoy her today. Still, she knows Paige can’t say no to her. Placing her hand on Paige’s cheek, she turns her face, forcing her to look at her: the slight pout of her lips, the way her eyes widen enough to be convincing. “C’mon, baby,” she says. “I promise I’ll be fast.”

That’s the breaking point. With a sigh, Paige nods, allowing herself to be excitedly led to the book section.

Azzi decides that she’s no longer annoyed with Paige as she searches through the books, reading over the synopses of every one that looks interesting. She’s desperate for something new, even though Paige is right—she already has plenty.

Paige stays miraculously quiet for a solid five minutes, allowing Azzi to take her time and even browsing through a few books of her own.

Those five minutes, however, are as long as she gets before she happens to pick up a romance novel. Paige glances at her in that moment and she barely has time to hide the cover before Paige is gagging, most likely at the straight couple pictured embracing on the front of it. “That’s so gross.”

Azzi puts the book back on the shelf. “It’s no different than when we kiss.”

“Lowkey super offensive thing to say,” Paige replies. Azzi rolls her eyes, watching as Paige reaches down to grab a large book with colorful dragons on the cover. “This looks way cooler.”

Azzi takes a few steps closer to read the bold lettering on the cover, and then snorts. “Paige, that is a coloring book.”

By the time they get back home, Azzi has officially rescinded her earlier decision—she is definitely still annoyed with Paige.

—————————————

When they return to the dorms, despite Azzi’s oddly low patience for Paige’s annoying nature today, she still wants nothing more than to cozy up in bed with her and read her new book. They make the pancakes first, Paige doing nothing to help her case by arguing about how exactly to make pancakes. Once the two of them—plus half the team, who heard from Jana in the group chat that there would be pancakes—are fed, Azzi is ready to retreat back into Paige’s room.

However, most of the team is still there, and Paige’s oblivious ass is refusing to take Azzi’s hints, too busy chatting with their friends.

She’s tried everything: muttering to Paige that she’s tired (“I see a lil’ napski in our future,” is what Paige responds with), sitting herself on Paige’s lap in an unusual display of affection (“We run out of chairs or sum’?” Paige asks), and even aggressively cleaning everybody’s dishes (“I can do that, mama, you go hang,” Paige says, taking over).

At this point, it’s all she can do not to just yell at her girlfriend. She sits on the couch, listening a little sleepily as KK tells her some crazy story. The team is far too raucous for noon on a Saturday, probably in part to the ridiculous amounts of whipped cream and syrup they all used on their pancakes. In the kitchen, Aubrey and Paige start wrestling, and KK stops yapping to go join them. She jumps on Paige’s back, knocking her over and losing her balance in the process until they’re a heap on the floor. Aubrey steps on their backs, flexing, and the girls cheer rowdily.

Azzi is overstimulated.

Refraining from covering her ears, Azzi stands, giving up on the Paige aspect of her afternoon plans. She’s not sure she even wants Paige—who is hysterically laughing as she gets up from the floor—to be with her anymore. It’d be like forcing a hyper dog to cuddle. She’d probably end up getting bitten.

She’s hoping nobody will notice her slipping away, but Kayla does, tugging on a curl as she heads to the hallway. “Where ya going, babe?”

“Paige’s room,” Azzi says simply.

“She’s gonna notice you’re gone.”

Azzi glances at the scene behind them. Someone’s turned on ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ and Ice has now joined the kitchen boxing match. Paige just barely ducks a fist to the face before barreling into Ice’s stomach, once again ending up on the floor, giggling deliriously. The other girls have mostly lost interest at this point, which is fair—this isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Azzi turns back to Kayla. “I doubt it.”

“Give her five minutes,” Kayla insists.

“She’s too busy being a little boy.” Azzi rolls her eyes, patting Kayla affectionately as she walks past.

In Paige’s room, she breathes a sigh of relief, the closed door offering some solace from the noise outside. Even better, Paige’s airpods sit on her bedside table; Azzi takes them and connects them to her phone, turning on the noise-cancelling setting. Pleased with the results, she settles into her side of the bed, picking up her book and beginning to read.

She gets maybe two pages in before a tap on the shoulder scares the shit out of her.

Jumping, she whirls around, to find Paige standing beside the bed with a sheepish smile on her face.

Azzi takes out an airpod. “Paige, what?”

Her tone comes out more exasperated than she means to and feels a little guilty about the confused look she gets in return. “I noticed you left. Kay told me you were in here.”

“Yeah, just reading.”

“I see,” Paige replies. She hovers awkwardly, then says, “why didn’t you bring me with you?”

Despite her irritability, affection blossoms in Azzi’s chest at her girlfriend’s clinginess, her need to be around her 24/7 if they’re together. And Azzi reminds herself that this is the first day they’ve really had with each other in a while, and Paige is missing her too. Gently, she says, “I tried, but it seemed like you were having too much fun.”

“I mean, I was having fun,” Paige says. “But I’d rather hang out with you than fuck around with those dumbasses.”

“You’re as much of a dumbass as they are,” Azzi quips. “Actually, they probably learned it from you.”

“Like father, like sons,” Paige nods solemnly. Then, unceremoniously, she throws herself on top of Azzi, nearly knocking the wind out of her and crushing her book between them.

“Ow, Paige!” she says, freeing her hands and book as Paige wriggles like a happy little worm on top of her.

“I missed you,” Paige mumbles into her neck.

“We’ve been together all day.”

“You left me alone out there.”

“I’ve been in here for like five minutes.”

Paige lifts her head to pout at her. “Five minutes too long.”

Unable to help herself, she leans forward, kissing the pout off Paige’s lips. When she pulls back, Paige chases after her, trying to deepen the kiss, but Azzi pushes at her chest. “I still wanna read my book.”

“Okay,” Paige says.

“I wanna snuggle with you,” Azzi continues. “But only if you let me read.“

“Okay,” she repeats. She’s staring at Azzi’s lips, though, which doesn’t spark a lot of confidence that she’s actually listening.

“Which means,” Azzi emphasizes, getting Paige’s eyes to snap back up to her’s, “no talking, no showing me TikToks. And no distracting me with sex.”

Paige pouts again at that, batting her eyelashes stupidly. “What, you mean I can’t eat you out while you’re reading?” Azzi flicks her forehead, and she snickers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Joking. I’ll be good, don’t worry.”

Azzi actually believes her, crazy enough. It’s mostly due to the fact that she and Paige have been together for nearly seven years, so she has her pretty house-trained at this point.

Satisfied, she flashes a smile, picking her book back up. Paige scoots down the length of her body until she’s settled between Azzi’s legs, head resting comfortably on the soft expanse of her tummy. Once they’re situated, Azzi frees up a hand to scratch Paige’s scalp, which’ll keep her happy for a while.

They sit like that for around thirty minutes. The noise of their teammates has died down enough to know that some of them have left, though it’s obvious by the extra chatter that a handful is still hanging around. Paige actually falls asleep within the first ten minutes, which Azzi guesses is probably why she gets so much quiet time.

It still doesn’t feel like enough, though, when a knock sounds at the door. “Y’all decent?”

Azzi glances down at Paige—still fast asleep—and quietly calls out, “We’re good.”

The door swings open and Jana steps inside, followed closely by Ayanna. “We’re going to Chick-Fil-A,” Yanna says, “you wanna come?”

“No, that’s okay.” Azzi pats Paige’s head in a silent explanation. “I’m nap-trapped.”

“Aww, parents.” Jana pulls her phone out, taking a hilariously unflattering close-up of Paige practically drooling on Azzi’s stomach. Azzi giggles as Jana shows her the picture, and she’s distracted enough that there’s nothing she can do when Yanna approaches and jostles Paige awake.

“No, wait—!” Azzi exclaims, reaching out to try and stop her, but it’s too late: the damage is already done. Paige cracks her eyes open with a little groan.

Ayanna scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. Azzi glares at her, then strokes Paige’s hair, trying to coax her back to sleep. “It’s ok, P.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, lifting her head to blink sleepily at them. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“My bad,” Yanna says guiltily. “We just thought you might wanna get Chick-Fil-A with us.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Paige nuzzles back into Azzi’s tummy, surprisingly chill considering she hates being woken from her naps. “Thanks though.”

“Uh-huh,” Jana replies, already heading out the room while she smiles at her phone—Azzi assumes she’s uploading that picture to her close friends.

“Sorry,” Yanna says once again, more to Azzi than anything, before following.

Paige yawns, her warm breath fanning over Azzi’s stomach. As she cuddles back in, Azzi thinks maybe she’ll go back to sleep. She holds onto that hope and resumes her book, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair gently.

This time, it doesn’t work. Which is evident based on the way she lifts herself up on her elbows, giving herself just enough room to press a few kisses around Azzi’s stomach. At first, Azzi tries to ignore it, hoping maybe it’s a casual gesture.

But it’s not long before the kisses slow down as she takes more time on each one, mouth opening so that it leaves the skin of her tummy just a little wet. Of course, it’s out of Azzi’s control the way her thighs tense up, blood rushing straight to her core as her body reacts to her girlfriend’s touch.

Paige curls her fingers around the hem of her top, lips following her hands as they bunch the fabric up to give herself more space, stopping underneath her breasts. She looks up at Azzi, whose gaze is now focused intently on the top of her girlfriend’s head, and flashes a devious little smile before licking a stripe between her ribcage.

Azzi tosses the book to the side, not even bothering to mark her page, freeing her hands so she can use them to pull her girlfriend up by the shoulders, meeting her in the middle for a kiss that’s nowhere near chaste.

Paige is still lying heavily atop her, their chests pressed close together, but it’s still second nature the way Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s waist in an attempt to get her closer. Paige grins against her mouth at the feeling, their hips coming flush together which makes Azzi gasp despite herself.

“Mm,” Paige hums, beginning a slow, wet trail of kisses down her jawline. “Missed you, baby.”

Azzi can’t help but laugh at that. “We just had sex last night.”

“‘S been way too long since then,” Paige mutters into the crook of her neck. Her teeth graze gently over the sensitive skin and Azzi grips her tighter, thinking she might actually agree with Paige for the first time today.

Paige is obviously building her up, apparently horny after her power nap, and Azzi doesn’t plan on stopping her. This is usually how it goes, anyway, Paige being the initiator nine out of ten times. As Paige pushes her top up above her tits, she knows she has no problem with that.

Her hands are a little cold against Azzi’s warm flesh, nipples pebbled from the temperature change mixed with her arousal. Paige just begins to tweak one of them, making Azzi moan softly—her nipples have always been sensitive—when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

The two of them groan, Paige’s forehead falling against her shoulder.

“Y’all decent?” It is, once again, Jana.

Paige lifts her head, pausing to glance down at her hands where they palm Azzi’s bare tits, and keeping her gaze there as she says, “Not really.”

“Already?” Jana calls, sounding somewhere between amused and disgusted. “You’ve been alone for like five minutes!”

“What do you want, Jana?” Azzi asks before Paige can let out the cocky response she definitely wants to say. Her voice is a little breathy, thanks to Paige absentmindedly rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and she hopes Jana doesn’t notice.

“We’re not going out anymore. Too much work. I was gonna ask if you wanna watch a movie with us, but…”

“No,” Paige and Azzi yell at the same time.

“Okay, damn,” Jana sighs. “Just being polite. Don’t get pregnant in there.”

Her footsteps trail off, and they make eye contact and laugh, Paige leaning forward to press an amused kiss to her lips. “We have trifling teammates.”

“Don’t talk about our kids like that,” Azzi says.

“They’re some bad ass kids.” Paige gives her another kiss. This time, it’s Azzi who gives chase when she pulls away, but Paige sighs, and to Azzi’s disappointment, pulls her shirt back down.

Azzi pouts, arms traveling up to loop around the back of her neck. “Why’d you stop?”

“They’re still here,” Paige replies. “I’on want them to hear us.”

“They won’t,” Azzi insists. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, you won’t,” Paige snorts. She kisses Azzi tenderly on the cheek. “Sorry, mama.”

As Paige scoots back down to her original spot, Azzi crosses her arms, feeling a little like a defiant child as she says, “You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I know, baby.” Paige nuzzles against Azzi’s navel, doing nothing to help the heat between her legs. “When Jana and Allie are asleep tonight, I’ll get you right, I promise.”

Azzi huffs.

Paige chuckles softly at her, only making her more annoyed. “Thought you wanted to read your book, hm?”

“That was before you touched my tits,” Azzi replies.

Paige lays her head down. “Poor Azzi-Wazzi,” she tuts with faux sympathy.

“You’re a dick,” Azzi mumbles, picking up her book more out of spite than anything, sure she won’t be able to focus on it. She tries valiantly, though.

Her efforts are interrupted at the feeling of fingers dancing across her stomach.

Peering over her book, Azzi sees Paige walking her pointer and middle finger across the length of her tummy, an amused smile on her face as she watches herself. “‘I’m Azzi Fudd’,” she says, voice quiet and high-pitched, “‘and I have a big ol’ head’.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath to calm herself, Azzi returns to her book, pointedly ignoring her.

“‘Babe, do these pants make me look big?’” Paige continues, jumping her hand-Azzi around dramatically as she badly impersonates her.

“No, you look good,” she replies in her normal voice.

“‘You’re supposed to say that,’” Hand-Azzi whines. “‘Tell me for real’.”

“I’m not lying, I love those pants.”

“‘Babe, stop lying to me!’”

Paige sighs dramatically, as if she were actually arguing with somebody else. “I’m not.”

“‘Yes you are. And you’re probably cheating too.’”

“Baby, you know I’d never—“

Slamming her book down, Azzi grabs Paige’s hand, stilling her excessive finger movements. “Paige!”

Paige laughs, probably at herself, sitting up and stretching out. “What?”

“You are stupid,” Azzi replies a little vehemently. With Paige no longer on top of her, she gathers her things and gets out of bed, officially done.

“Where you goin’, mami?” Paige asks, getting up to follow.

Azzi holds a hand up. “I’m going to sit on the couch, so I can read.”

“You’ve been reading for so long,” Paige groans.

Azzi rolls her eyes, turning away and leaving the room.

Paige trails behind her. “They’re watching a movie in there.”

“Okay, then I’ll watch with them.”

“Cool. Wanna sit with me?”

“No,” Azzi says.

Paige grabs her by the waist, holding her against her front, leaning around to kiss her cheek. “C’mon, baby, you know I was just playin’.”

“Okay, and I don’t wanna be played with.” Azzi pulls out of her grasp, shooting a glare over her shoulder.

Paige raises an eyebrow. “Aight, sassy.”

Azzi doesn’t dignify that with a response. She just heads to the living room, flopping down beside Ice to join the movie. She’s relieved (and maybe a little disappointed) when Paige doesn’t follow her.

—————————————

Paige has left her alone for a good amount of time, maybe an hour. Azzi has KK to thank for that: the two of them have been fucking around, playing Fort, and making TiKToks while Azzi enjoys her peace and quiet. She stays in Paige’s apartment, knowing she’s still going to bed with her tonight. Just as long as Paige continues to keep her distance for awhile.

She’s lying on the couch, book held above her, glasses perched over her nose as she reads. The movie ended a while ago, and Morgan and Sarah still linger around, hanging with Jana, and Allie’s in her room. She sort of hopes they don’t hang around too long. As much as she loves her kids, they’re a lot.

Still, it’s manageable. That is, until Paige and KK come barreling into the room, laughing their asses off. Azzi squeezes her eyes shut, hoping they’re going to pass her, but to her dismay, they stop right in front of the couch.

“Babe,” Paige says.

“Yes,” Azzi monotones.

“We need your opinion.” KK cackles as Paige promptly turns around before starting to twerk—or at least, something that looks like it could be twerking—right in front of Azzi’s poor face. “It’s moving, right? There’s motion?”

On any other day, Azzi might sugarcoat it to be nice, but today she just says, “There is absolutely not motion.”

KK clutches her stomach, laughing so hard she almost wheezes.

Paige whips around, hands on her chest. If there were pearls there, she’d be clutching them. “Babe!”

“I told you!” KK yells, pushing Paige out of the way. Azzi groans as she, too, turns around and begins shaking ass. It is admittedly better than Paige’s attempt. “What about me?”

“Mm, it’s a little better.”

“You gotta teach us,” KK says, tugging at Azzi’s hand.

“Ooh, yeah, teach us,” Paige agrees, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m a visual learner, by the way.”

Azzi scoffs. As if. She pulls herself free from KK’s grasp, then stands. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” they both frown.

“Because I’m trying to relax and y’all are being weird,” she quips.

“Why don’t you come hang with us?” Paige offers, a little more gently, obviously realizing Azzi is actually a little annoyed.

“No, thanks,” Azzi says. “I’m already overstimulated enough just from listening to you guys.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows. “Where you going, then?”

Azzi sighs, glancing at the door, then to her girlfriend, then back again. “I think I’m gonna head to my room, Paige.”

KK gasps. “Oh, mom and dad fighting?”

“We are not,” Paige insists. Then she turns to Azzi with an exaggerated sad face. “Are we?”

“No,” Azzi says, which is true. They’re not fighting; she just needs a break. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Why’re you leaving?” Paige asks, stepping toward her.

“I just…I’m a little grumpy today. Not as patient as usual. I need a few minutes.”

Paige frowns, but KK, never one to read a social situation, laughs. “She really said she has a low Paige threshold,” she giggles, pushing Paige’s shoulder.

“We barely saw each other this week,” Paige says, ignoring KK as she reaches out to hold Azzi’s hands. “We’ve already been apart today.”

“I know, honey,” Azzi says. She decides against pointing out that all in all, they’ve only been apart for around an hour total this entire day. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“Like, soon, right?” Paige says, giving her big puppy eyes that she’s never been able to resist.

“Yes, soon,” she promises. She leans forward for a kiss, KK averting her gaze with an eye roll. “Play Fort with KK or something. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t,” Paige insists, sounding genuinely worried.

“You will. We have tomorrow, too, remember?” With one last kiss, Azzi releases her hands, grabbing her things to go downstairs. She just barely catches KK making fun of Paige for being a simp before she gets out the door.

————————————

“Open the doooor.”

“Az, c’mon, bro, lemme in!”

“Bitch, you’ve had plenty alone time, pleaseeee.”

Azzi stands by the door, laughing silently at her girlfriend’s pleading—which has been going on, unanswered on her part, for about five minutes now—until her face drops at the last sentence. “What did you just call me?”

There’s a distinctly panicked silence before Paige starts backtracking. “I mean, my beautiful wife who I love and respect. For real, let me in. We can be alone together!”

“Very poetic,” Azzi remarks.

Paige groans, and there’s a thunk that sounds a lot like a forehead hitting a door. “Dawg.”

Once again, Azzi goes quiet, and she can tell the exact moment Paige realizes this because there’s another thunk.

“Azzi, please, babe.”

Still, she doesn’t respond, and that’s when the singing starts.

“Pleaseeee, open the dooorrr,” she sings quite horribly. Azzi quiets her giggle behind a hand.

“Pleaseeee,” she continues, completely off-key. Sza level, my ass.

“No, Paige.”

“Baby, please! It’s almost dinner time.”

“For who? It’s barely four.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then, “Azzi, I’m gonna cry. Please.”

Obviously, Paige is bullshitting her. She’s not going to cry. But still, Azzi’s never been able to be stern with Paige. (And Paige calling her her wife earlier certainly helped matters.)

As soon as she cracks the door open, Paige is trying to barge through, but Azzi stops her with a foot in the door. “Hold on.”

Paige, obediently, stops.

“I’m still a little grumpy,” Azzi admits.

Paige nods. “Okay.”

“So…be gentle, okay? I don’t like being mad at you.”

“I don’t like you being at me,” Paige agrees.

“We’re in agreement, then.”

“A hundred percent.” Paige pushes at the door. “Now, can I come in, please?”

Azzi opens the door all the way, allowing herself to be tackled onto the bed in a very non-gentle way, but still, she laughs. Even when she needs space from Paige, even when she chooses it—she still just ends up missing her the whole time.

“Hey,” Paige says once she’s effectively pinned her to the bed. “Noticed your dorm’s empty.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I can finish what I started earlier,” Paige offers, suggestive smile on her face before she says, “unless you don’t want that, obviously.”

Azzi’s pulling her down before she can finish her sentence.

(“We’re getting a sweet treat later,” she says a little while later.

“Okay, princess,” Paige says, situating herself between her legs. “Whatever you want.” And then, she drops a kiss on the inside of her thigh before spreading her open, dipping her head down, and going beautifully quiet for the first time all day. They stay in bed for quite some time.)

When Azzi starts her period the next day, she proudly says to herself, “I knew I wasn’t going crazy.”

[guksfairy]

YOUNG NIGHTS AND OLD HABITS | JJK

wc: 1.9k

Happy Valentine’s Day my loves !! I wasn’t going to post today but my faves had a comeback and I got some inspiration. Enjoy !

Though the skies were dark and the only things illuminating were city buildings, the night was still somewhat young.

You and your husband had just gotten home from your annual Valentine’s day dinner. Jungkook always does his best to take you to a new restaurant every year so as to enjoy the night like it’s your first date.

Truly, it was always a magical night. You remember your very first one back when you were still only dating in college.

Jungkook was nervous to ask you to spend the day with him given that you two had only been dating for about two weeks. But Valentine’s Day was for couples and you were dating, right?

Given that you two, at the time, were broke college students who spent most of their money on essentials and food, there was little money to splurge on the day.

Jungkook did his best though. He got some of his friends to set up a table and fairy lights on a private area on campus. Even got your cousin to help out and pretend to be the waitress at a fancy restaurant.

He spent most of his money on the decorations and the food and only failed to realize he had little to no money for your gift just 2 hours before the date.

He scrambled around his dorm trying to find any change, literally anything. Namjoon walked in on Jungkook flipping his mattress over and getting excited to see a coin.

“…you okay?” Namjoon slowly closed the door and startled Jungkook for a moment before he replied.

“Hyung I’m screwed. I spent almost all my money on the lights, flowers, and food that I completely forgot to buy Y/N a gift,” Jungkook placed his mattress gently back onto the bed frame and threw himself on it.

“Woah. How’d you forget something that important,” the older chuckled and threw his backpack on the floor without a care in the world.

“Screwing up our first Valentine’s Day together isn’t what I was going for,” Jungkook huffs and Namjoon feels for him.

If he had a girlfriend and didn’t get her anything he’d probably stress too.

“What if you make her something?”

“Joon I’m shit at crafts. Remember when I had to make that 3D exoplanet system for Dr.Yoon’s class. It was basically falling apart as I walked to class with it,” Jungkook recalls placing his model next to your perfectly built one and you telling him it looked great.

He knew you were trying to make him feel better. It only made him like you more.

“So go for something simple,”

“Like?” Jungkook asks for suggestions and an idea immediately pops into Namjoon’s head.

“Do you recall back in high school when Mr.Jung would make us start our mornings writing letters to our past and future selves?” Jungkook wasn’t sure where Namjoon was going with this but he still nodded.

“Write her a love letter,”

That’s…not a terrible idea. It’s better than nothing.

Jungkook quickly scrambles from his bed, grabbing his school backpack and taking out a piece of paper and pens.

After about an entire hour of just writing and rewriting his feelings for you, he was done. He felt accomplished and a little shy. What if he was too vulnerable and you thought it was weird? What if you thought a letter was a cheap gift? What if you thought he got lazy??

The time was 7:45 and Jungkook didn’t have much time to overthink it. He folded the letter before putting it in an envelope and sealing it with clear tape.

He got dressed and received a text from his friends telling him that everything was set up and ready to go. All Jungkook had to do was pick you up from your dorm and walk to the designated spot.

With one last look in the mirror and a thumbs up from Namjoon, Jungkook grabs the letter on the desk and places it in his pocket for safe keeping.

He walked across campus to your dorm and felt like he fell in love with you all over again. You were wearing light makeup and something simple but to Jungkook, you looked so gorgeous. Jungkook was sure no other human being in the world held a candle to your beauty.

You exchanged a hug and a kiss on the cheek before walking with Jungkook as he lead you both to your little date.

You remembered how you felt seeing the scene for the first time. It was, again, simple but it was so sweet. You almost felt like tearing up.

The night was filled with tons of laughter and hand holding across the table as your cousin served entrees and main courses from the Italian restaurant off campus that you mentioned to Jungkook you loved.

Finally the night was coming to an end and now it was just the two of you. You watched Jungkook squirm around his seat for a moment before placing your hand on top of his to watch him visibly relax.

“Everything okay?”

“Uh…I have to confess something,” you hear Jungkook’s voice lower in volume but allow him to continue, “I didn’t get you a present-I know! I’m sorry it’s just that I spent so much time thinking about this date that it slipped my mind. But I made you something,” Jungkook grabbed the envelope from his pocket and placed it directly in the middle of the table.

He watched you stare at the paper for a moment and thought he fucked up. You didn’t move to grab it.

You hated it. You probably think he doesn’t even like y-

“Jungkook,” your voice just above a whisper takes him out of his insecure trance.

“You’re not going to believe this,” you reach inside your shirt and visibly into your bra before slipping out a paper of your own. Jungkook tries to ignore his flushed state as he watches you place yours on top of his.

“I wrote you a love letter,”

Soulmates. Jungkook was going to marry you. This was no coincidence. This was fate.

That night, you and Jungkook quietly read your letters in front of each other and shared your first kiss as a couple. You still remember how hard you two were smiling and simply couldn’t stop. The night was finished with love affirmations and lots of physical touches.

Similar to tonight.

You closed the curtains to you and Jungkook’s shared penthouse and watched the view of the city slowly disappear behind the cloth.

“What time is it?” You hear Jungkook walk behind you and wrap his arms around your waist.

“11:40?” You assume. It was rather late when you left the restaurant so you wouldn’t be too far off. Jungkook hums in acknowledgment and rests his chin on your shoulder, slowly closing his eyes.

He was a bit tired from tonight and you rocked him and yourself in a gentle rhythm.

“That waiter definitely had a crush on you,” Jungkook mumbled and you laughed.

“Jungkook I thought we said we’d stop talking about that kid,” you giggle as you reply thinking back to the young waiter that wouldn’t stop prioritizing you over your husband’s requests. At one point he served you wine and completely forgot about Jungkook’s glass.

“I don’t blame him though. You looked beautiful tonight,” Jungkook kissed your exposed shoulder and lets go before walking away.

“I have one more present for you honey,” Jungkook says picking through his blazer that he took off earlier.

“Jungkook. The necklace was enough,” you say touching the expensive piece of jewelry hanging around your neck.

“This might be worth more,” Jungkook finally finds it and slips it out.

It’s an envelope decorated with hand drawn hearts around and you know what it is. A tradition you’ve carried for the last 7 years. Love letters every Valentine’s Day.

He holds out the item for you to take and a smile and blush reach your face. Like second nature you reach into your bra and grab the neatly folded paper.

And like clockwork, your husband flushes up like he does every year. How cute.

You exchange letters and he holds your waist to lead you both to the living room. The environment was quiet in a peaceful and comforting manner.

You take a seat and Jungkook dims the lights a little before turning on the fire place. Finally taking the seat next to you.

You smile at each other one more time before opening your individual letters and you begin to read.

To my loving Wife and Soulmate,

Do you understand, that every single time that I see you, it feels like gravity shifts. You, my love, are the center of my universe. You’ve turned such ordinary and dull moments into supernovas of pure bliss and joy. I’m endlessly grateful for every orbit we’ve shared and will continue to share.

You’re the song that’s stuck in my head, the breath of air I didn’t know I was holding, the warmth in my favorite cup of coffee, and the reason for my happiness. You are my everything.

You are the last person that I think of before falling into sweet sleep where I dream of our life and how much better it gets by the day. Every time I hold your hand, it’s my unspoken promise to never let go. To always stay by your side.

I don’t just love you, I’m rooted in you. And I swear to choose you across every lifetime, every star, and every moment.

My sweet Y/N, I love you.

Yours, forever and always, Jeon Jungkook.

By the time you finish reading the letter you’ve already let a tear drop on the paper. Jungkook shares the same expression as he turns to face you with glossy eyes and nothing but love for you.

He grabs a hold of you and places you directly on his lap.

“Are you aware of how in love with you I am?” his question is rhetorical but you still answer it.

“I have a good idea,” you smile at your husband and lean in for a gentle and innocent kiss. Your hand placed on his shoulder. It’s adorned with your wedding ring. A memory of the happiest day of your life.

The day you became Jeon Y/N.

You recall how much your friends, who had already been married for a while, had told you that the love would fade and eventually it’s like living with a roommate.

You like to think they just didn’t marry their soulmate. Because every moment you spent with Jungkook, you spent it feeling alive and happy to be in the moment.

And you couldn’t wait to tell him the last good news of the night.

There will be a third addition to the Jeon family in nine months. Something you and Jungkook had been talking about for so long. Something you knew he was hoping for.

So when the clock hits 11:58, Jungkook is in tears, holding you with so much security.

He truly knows he won the lottery with you.

[unicornblossom13]

For those who have seen DCAU’s Justice League Unlimited, you may remember the episode, Grudge Match. In that, there is the iconic fight where a brainwashed Wonder Woman fought and beat up her fellow League women.

If you haven’t, here is a video of it:

Now my big smart brain was inspired by this scene to imagine one where Optimus gets placed under mind control by an enemy (Quintessons, most likely) and is made to fight his team and the Elite Guard. And when they realize what’s about to happen, they’re like; Oh, Primus.

“Anybot got a plan?” Jazz asked as they all backed away from Optimus.

“Yeah, try to stay alive.” Ratchet answered.

“Does anybot have a good plan?” Prowl questioned, preparing to fight.

As much as they tried to overwhelm the Prime, things were not looking good for the Autobots.

“We’re getting out afts creamed out here.” Bumblebee remarked as Optimus slammed the combined Jettwins into the ground.

“We need a new strategy.” Ratchet said. “Sentinel! Keep him busy.”

“What now?” the Prime blinked before he was shoved forward. Next thing he knew, a fist landed right against his face.

With Optimus distracted, the others decided they needed to call in reinforcements. Decepticon reinforcements, to be exact. When they finally get there, Starscream just scoffs, thinking that it’s no big deal.

“I mean, how hard can it be to take down one little-“

And then his head is kicked off from behind.

Blitzwing and Lugnut give it a shot, but they don’t fare much better against Optimus. Their only hope now is Megatron, who can, thankfully, keep up with the brainwashed Prime.

During the course of the fight, the Decepticon warlord is high key turned on by the possibility of the Autobot actually killing him. The others notice and are all; “Are you for real?”.

Eventually, Megatron is able to incapacitate Optimus long enough for the rest to free him from his mind control, defeat the Quintessons, and the day is saved. Optimus feels guilty about the whole thing, but the other Autobots assure him it’s not his fault. Megatron, however, says if he wants to make it up to him, that can be arranged in private. Optimus, though not surprised, isn’t particularly against the idea.

No one sees them again for the rest of the day, or the next morning.

Oh, and no one bothered to retrieve Starscream’s head and put it back on his body. So he’s just been laying there the whole time.

(I might make a fic of this one day. Until then, this is just a fun little prompt I thought of)

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ together; alternate version (정윤호 ♡ j.yh)

yunho's been away for tour, only this time, when he comes home you have very different news to share.

style: bullet drabble (alternative sequel to losing time) pairing: non idol!yunho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k tags/warnings: fluff, light angst, all things pregnancy and babies, light smut with breeding kink/preg kink (yunho is v happy she's pregnant essentially lmao) notes: this was fully inspired by an anon in my inbox who asked what would have happened in my short fic together if the news reader had to share was a pregnancy and how would yunho react to that. i don't take fic requests, but i love babyfic and this just turned into a little bullet and drabble fic i thought i would share with everyone.

[masterlist]

at the end of losing time, yunho leaves for tour and it’s a long one. a full two, two and a half months abroad in europe while you’re left at home in a different time zone missing him terribly. 

you find out the truth while he’s away, only a few weeks into tour when you start getting sick. it’s not something you can just spring on him while he’s on tour, it would distract him, it would stress him out, and frankly you just don’t know what to do. what decision to make. 

you know how you feel about yunho, and you knows how he feels about you….  but this type of news always changes everything. 

so you keep it to yourself, and you do your best to make it through. 

only when yunho does return.... you’re showing. it's not a lot, just the beginning stages of a curve at three months, but it's starting to be apparent if you’re wearing fitted clothing and it's not something you would be able to keep from him if he touched you. 

so when he comes home, finally, and texts you, asking if he can send a car to bring you to the studio, you want to say yes so badly but you can’t. 

this isn't a conversation you can have in front of anyone else so you say no. and you’re honestly terrified, so you lie, just a little white lie. you tell him you can't come and that you’re not feeling well, you’ll see him another day soon.

anxiety is fully eating you up and you’re spiraling, and you don’t know it but your texts fully freaked yunho out. he's convinced that you’re going to break up with him and waited until after tour to do it, and he's sick about it.

after dance practice, he sneaks out and comes to your place.

all of a sudden hes there, he’s knocking on your door. 

you thought you had more time, you still don’t know how to tell him, what to say- but he’s there 

and -

You're a mess. Your hair is tangled from running your fingers through it again and again, and you're pretty sure this sweatshirt has a coffee stain on it, but he's here and no matter what you have to face this.

He knocks again, a soft rap on the door, "y/n, please let me in,"

"Just a second," You call back, knotting your hair back into a bun and kicking on your slippers. Your stomach rolls with nervousness, but at least, you think, it's not morning sickness.

When you finally pull open the door your hands are trembling, and Yunho's pained expression doesn't help.

"Hey," You manage.

"Hi," His eyes dart over you, a crease of concern between his brows, "can I come in?"

You move to let him in immediately, stepping back into the apartment, "Sorry, of course,"

When you shut the door tight and flip the lock, silence fills the space, but somewhere within you, you find the strength to turn around and look up at him.

He shifts from foot to foot, clearly off balance at the strange discomfort between you, and finally he sighs, "Whatever it is," he says, "I know we can work it out."

A strike of panic lances up your spine at the thought he might already know what words are sitting like lead on your tongue, but all you can manage is a soft, "What?"

"You're avoiding me," His hands flex and release, "we haven't seen each other in months, and now I'm here, and you haven't even smiled. I don't think you're sick, I think something's wrong."

"Yunho," Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears threatening your eyes already. You wanted to hold it together, but this is already too hard.

He swallows tightly and keeps talking, his own voice laced with nerves, "I know two months was a long time, and I know I haven't been the best boyfriend, I should have called more, made more time for us, but, y/n," he takes a tentative step towards you, "I love you, and I really don't want to give up on us, please, don't,"

Things slot into place at his words and you shake your head, "Who said anything about giving up on us?"

The words hang for a moment, and then he softly exhales, "You're not breaking up with me?"

"No!" Your voice squeaks as you rush to dispel that idea, "No, oh my god, not at all,"

He grins, covering his face with his broad hands and sighing, "Jesus Christ," he sighs, "I was going out of my mind,"

"No," You shake your head again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like that."

He drops his hands and you can see the tension leave his tight shoulders, "Thank god," he smiles and steps towards you.

Panic bubbles back up inside you and you raise your hand to stop him, stepping back until your hips bump into the back of the couch, "Wait,"

His expression crumbles, "What's going on?"

You just have to say it.

"Um," Your stomach flips, "I do have some news."

"News," He repeats numbly.

"Yeah," You start to cross your arms over your chest but the realization that it would pull the fabric of the sweatshirt closer to you rockets through your brain and you drop your arms helplessly by your side. You have no idea how to tell him this.

"You can tell me anything," He says softly, reading your panic in a moment, "and you know, there's nothing we can't handle together."

"Yunho," Tears start to gather, making your eyes glassy, "I don't know how to tell you this,"

"I'm here,"

The panicked, terrified, anxious part of your brain scoffs, for now. You look away from him immediately, eyes glued to the floor. If this is how you lose him, then you guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

You take a steadying breath and jump, "I have something to tell you," you knot your fingers together, "and I didn't know how to tell you while you were away. I was afraid of distracting you or trying to figure this out while you weren't, you know, here,"

"Okay," He murmurs, taking a slow step in your direction, "I'm here,"

"A week after you left," You press your eyes closed tight, tears tracking down your cheeks, "I missed my period,"

He's silent. Your stomach churns again, but you keep going, "For a little bit I just thought it was stress, or something funny, I'm not always on schedule, but, then I started getting sick," With your eyes closed and with him so quiet, you can almost pretend you're practicing this speech, one of the many times you talked it through in the shower, lying in bed, pacing laps around your apartment. "I'm so sorry," Your voice cracks, "I'm pregnant," You can't bring yourself to open your eyes. "I know I should have told you," Tears rush forward a little faster now and you take a hitched breath, "and I know you don't want this, but you deserve to know, and I... I don't, Yunho, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm s-supposed to do, and," Yunho steps forwards all at once, his hands cupping your cheeks and drawing your face upwards, "Hey, hey," he soothes, voice tender, "look at me," Your eyes finally open, meeting his gaze. You expect to find him terrified, any twenty-something guy with a delicate career would be, but all you find in his eyes is soft comfort. There's no trace of the idol in him, just your lover, your best friend. "It's okay," He wipes away your tears gently, "sweetheart, breathe," "Why aren't you angry?" Tears rush faster, your breath tight. He smiles, "I'm upset you didn't think you could tell me," he dips forwards and presses a kiss to your forehead, "but y/n, I love you, this isn't... baby, this could never be bad news." "W-what?" "The timing's terrible," He admits, "and I also have no idea what we're supposed to do, but I don't care. I love you, we'll figure this out." Of all the reactions you expected from him, this hadn't even crossed your mind. When he leans back from you a little to study your tear stained face again, he smiles, and it feels like everything about your life is about to change. Slowly, you pull his hands away from your face and take a steadying breath, "Yunho," you manage, "you're an idol, and besides, we're twenty-six, we're not even married, we're not, what the hell are we going to do with a baby," He slides his hands over yours and brings them together, lifting them so he can press his lips to the back of your knuckles, "We'll do what people do, we'll make it work." You shake your head, feeling fully unmoored, but he keeps going. "I knew you were it for me on the second date," He says and the world slows to a stop, "the only thing in the world I'm terrified of is losing you, but this? y/n, I'm in love with you. Did you think I haven't imagined what our lives would be like?" "I," You can't find the right words, but you try, "I love you," His smile widens, and he moves quickly, tugging you forwards and wrapping his arms around you properly. He's much taller, and he has to lean over you, but he wraps one arm smoothly around your lower back and your hands settle on his shoulders. He pulls you up in one smooth motion, his free hand slipping under your thighs as you wrap them around his waist to hold you tight against him. He kisses your lips, tender relief in every press of his mouth on yours and he nuzzles your nose with his, "I missed you," he breathes. "I missed you too," You confess, your body finally relaxing and melting into him, weeks and weeks of tension bleeding out of your body, "so much," He hugs you close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck, and then he freezes, "Oh my god," his hand slides over your back, landing on your waist, "you really are pregnant," You know he can feel it, the change in your body when you're pressed flush against him like this, and you nod into his neck. "H-how," His hand pushes under your sweatshirt, searching your skin, "baby, how far?" "Fourteen weeks," He sucks in a breath, dropping you gingerly back to your feet, "I can't believe you didn't tell me," For a split second you think you're finally getting the anger you anticipated, but the giddy expression on his face says otherwise.

"I've missed so much," He snakes a hand under your hoodie, and lays his palm over your slightly distended belly, "I'm... god, I can't believe this," "You're not upset?" You check softly. "No," He shakes his head, and then he tugs gently at your sweatshirt, "No, but, can you take this off, can I see?" You're nervous again, but his easy energy wraps around you like a safety blanket and you nod, swallowing back any fears and pulling off the sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but your sweat pants, and a tight tank top. His eyes zero in on the bump immediately, and the sliver of skin between your sweats and the hemline of your top. Your hands rest over your belly, a nervous, protective instinct, "I know," He blinks hard, tearing his eyes away from your changing body and up to your face. "What?" You ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "You're really pregnant," He says, his voice a little rough, and then he reaches again until his hand slides over the smooth plane of your stomach, tracing the curve, "that's my baby," "Yeah," You breathe softly. 

Tears track down his face and he laughs, reaching for you again, up into his arms and nestled against him. 

From there?

He’s kissing you and he just can’t stop. 

You’re a mess from stress and tears, and hardly feel sexy, but he doesn’t care. He’s missed you, he loves you so much and this news is unexpected and terrifying but he’s so happy he doesn’t care

So holding you in his arms still, he takes you to bed

And you’re apologetic about the mess, your bed stand is covered with water bottles and anti-nausea medication and it hits him all at once how you’ve just been holding it together by a thread 

And he pulls you into the bed - “You’ve been sick, this hasn’t been easy, has it? I could have been there for you, I wish I had been there,” 

But you assure him that you’re mostly on the other side of it, you’re only sick like once in a while now not every second of every day 

And he’s like….. we are talking about that later, but right now how are you feeling? 

And you’re good…. but god, you missed him and now you’re just so relieved

So he begs you to let him take care of you now, he’s home, he can carry that weight if you’ll let him

And teary tender kissing in bed leaves his hands wandering, noticing how much is different, losing his mind over your bump and the new fullness of your breasts

And he’s hard and you’re touch starved 

And then he’s just losing it a little - kissing your body, telling you how much he loves every inch of you, how insane it makes him that he did this to you, how you made something together

And all the tenderness to dirty talk sends your brain into overdrive. 

It’s all just desperate needy, thank god we didn’t break up i can’t believe i got you pregnant sex

Worshipping oral, lots of body kissing and feral groaning from Yunho

His absolute insanity at being inside you like this - and you’re tighter, wetter, and needier than ever, and he’s just feral for it

“You’ll be the prettiest mommy, won’t you?” 

Just heaps of breeding and preg dirty talk

“God, I hope you want a lot of kids,” 

“You look so good like this, I’ll have to knock you up again,” 

“So pretty with my baby inside you,” 

And when you’re done, you fall asleep instantly. you’ve been sleeping so much more all of a sudden, and you suppose your body needs it, but it feels like you’re finally resting for the first time in weeks

When you wake, your apartment is clean, he got take out (but he’s googling best soups for morning sickness and texting Wooyoung cooking questions), and he’s making a list of everything you’ll need. He’s already making a plan of what you’re going to do. 

So even though the tour was terrifying, he’s home, he’s got you. You’re together on this, always.

[he3ts]

FOR YOUR LOVE , masterlist

( nam gyu x reader (rockstar au), thanos x reader )

warnings: to be consistent with the plot reader is danish, smut, drugs, alcohol, explicit content, lots of music, for this story i was inspired exclusively by the discography of måneskin. i was inspired by one of their songs for this story.

plot: you and nam gyu don't get along. never. he is arrogant, prickly, always ready to challenge you with sharp jokes and fiery glances. you, you are exactly like him, a devil incarnate in a woman figure. you must be perfect, as the guitarist of saurer sarg, a rock band on the rise.

on stage you are a shadow moving between sharp riffs and fiery solos, but out of there the real show is your relationship with nam gyu, the drummer. you prick each other relentlessly, always on the edge between rivalry and something more, something neither of you has ever had the courage to really face.

then there is thanos, the charismatic frontman. when you start writing songs with him, the complicity between you becomes obvious. every note, every word seems to bring you closer and closer, and suddenly nam gyu is no longer just the guy you argue with over every musical detail-he's the one who looks at you in silence when you think you don't notice.

but success brings with it the weight of choices. the tour lengthens, tensions rise, and the distance between you becomes deeper than the music can bridge. as the band begins to crumble, you are faced with a question that is not just about the music: who are you when the lights go out? and who do you really want by your side when everything seems to fall apart?

SAURER SARG ( MEMBERS )

— the guitarist,, you

— the drummer ,, nam gyu

— the singer ,, choi su bong

— the bass player ,, se mi

DISCOGRAPHY ( SONGS )

20 years ( written by thanos )

" i'm twenty years old

and i don't give a shit, i have zero to prove to you

i'm not like you who give your soul to money

from the eyes of the pure you are only cowards "

hate ( written by thanos )

" let's spend the rest of life together tonight

life is being with you in bed, everything else is waiting

we own ourselves only the time we spend together

and to both of us so it fits "

malak ( written by thanos )

" something is moving (euphoria, i'm crazy about you)

it's us against the light (euphoria, i'm crazy about you)

the birth of another venus is you and me "

the essence of the universe ( written by se mi )

" this morning i was on my way to work

i thought i'm not like them

i am a fountain pen

ink on the skin of others, a means of making sense

to the dirt on the hands of those who dig into mental problems "

the man who loved women ( written by you )

" only you, forgetting you is hard

you were a little more

i liked the way you loved

how much of a man you are

if i'm not around

you consume me in a day

waiting for a farewell "

escort ( written by nam gyu )

" come on you are ashamed

we've been here for more than an hour, you get undressed

you don't want to throw your money away

you don't need the eyes excuse anymore

it's not a vice if i do it once in a while

do you mind if i call you once in a while?

i didn't think i liked you so much

if you keep it up I swear i'll have a heart attack "

goodbye ( written by thanos )

" i never really remember how i started

we never really stop when we start

if freedom is a teenager's mistake

to love without asking, to hate without understanding "

i want you ( written by nam gyu )

" you, i feel like you're terrorised

i have a feeling

i feel like telling you now

hey, i feel like love is good

it's such a big deal

i feel like telling you now "

FOR YOUR LOVE ( CHAPTERS )

i. years to grow

new chapters coming soon

[sacr1ficialang3l]

Can you read my mind? (I've been watching you.) 𓆩♡𓆪

DEAN WINCHESTER X CUPID!READER

SUMMARY: Dean and Sam get a little unexpected help with a weird case. 2.3k

WARNINGS: none. first meeting. fem!reader. dean being wary of the supernatural but weak to a pretty face.

NOTES: VERY late valentine's post. I was struck with inspiration at 2 in the morning. Idk if Valentines are a thing or if i made them up but whatever. This is my first time writing for supernatural and my first time writing a fanfic in years pls be nice. Enjoy<3

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You sigh as you materialize behind the brothers, making them almost jump out of their skin. “Love all over the place.”

You ignore their flabbergasted expressions as you look around the crowded plaza. It was Valentine’s day, and the whole place was decorated with pink and red hearts, the white streamers hanging from the trees moving with the breeze as couples and groups of friends walked around.

“Who are you?” You ignore the shorter one’s question as your gaze focuses on two kids sitting on a bench.

You could feel how much they liked each other, but they sat facing opposite ways, hands on laps and eyes stuck to the ground. You sigh and swiftly move your manicured hand towards them, pink nails shining under the sunlight. You can feel the brothers’ wary eyes on you, but you simply watch as the boy on the bench suddenly gets a notification on his phone.

“I just won two tickets for the My Chem show tonight.” He announces to the girl, voice incredulous. As they both start celebrating, the boy shyly looks up and invites her to go with him. She says yes, and after a few giggles and babbled words, they get up from the bench and leave.

You can’t help the little squeak that comes out of your mouth, your pastel pink wavy hair bouncing as you give a little jump. You immediately turn to the Winchester brothers, covering your mouth with your hand

“Sorry. You would think that after so many years on the job I would get used to it.” You sigh, twirling a lock of your hair with your fingers. “But sometimes it still manages to make me all giddy.”

You turn around just to find a gun being pointed towards you, barrel pressed to your stomach as green eyes bore holes into your head. Who you assumed was Dean Winchester was glaring at you, scowling, while his brother tried to block civilians from noticing the firearm in his hand.

Who would’ve thought green could be so beautiful.

You chuckle, not intimidated at all, which only made the brothers look even more confused.

“What the fuck are you?” Dean asks, the gun digging a little deeper into your skin.

“Are you Cupid?” This time it is Sam, his eyes studying your tiny pink dress, pink hair, and pink boots. But more importantly, the little bow and arrow that hung from your back.

You give the tall guy a cheeky smile.

“You must be Sam, hm? I’ve heard you’re the smart one.” You look back at Dean, delicate hand wrapping around the gun that was still being pressed against you. “Why don’t we put this away before you hurt someone.” You keep your eyes on him as you lower the gun. He lets you, a lost look on his face as to why he is letting you.

You take a step back and smile again, all rosy cheeks and fluttering eyelashes. “To answer your question, I guess you can call me a cupid, but I’m not the Cupid.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Dean’s eyes roam up and down your body.

“We’ve met Cupid before.” Comes Sam’s explanation. “So, you work for him? Are you an angel?”

You hum softly, pouty lips pursing. “I don’t work for the Cupid you met, the angel. But you humans also call my boss that.” The brothers’ expressions stay equally clueless. “I work for Eros, the-”

“Greek god of love.” You send Sam a sweet smile for his right answer.

“And desire, yes!”

“So you’re a Goddess.” Dean affirms more than asks, and when you turn back to face him you are struck with his beauty once again. Both brothers were drop-dead gorgeous, but something about the sharpness in the older one’s features made you want to ask if he was in any way related to Lady Aphrodite.

“Oh, no. Gods no.” You shake your head, making the multiple silver jewelry in your ears clink. “We work for Eros. Think about us like a version of Artemis’ hunters.”

“Yeah, because that gives me so much clarity.” Dean’s voice was breathtakingly deep, it reminded you of being in Lord Ares’ presence. (Happened once, never again.)

“Gods are incredibly powerful, but they often need help from mortals to do certain deeds. Artemis’ hunters, Hecate’s priests and priestess, so on and so forth.” You explain quickly. Sam seemed to understand you perfectly, Dean still looked a bit like he wanted to shoot you. “We don’t have an official name like that, but you can call us Valentines.”

“So you, what? Go around making people fall in love?” He asks with skepticism. You sigh. Everyone always had the same wrong idea.

“We don’t make people fall in love, we simply… present them with opportunities.” You chuckle and turn to look around the plaza, teeth biting down on your lower lip as you try to look for an example. You find a blond guy who was messing around with his friends near an ice cream shop. Right behind him, a girl in roller skates was moving his way.

“See those two?” I ask the brothers, pointing towards the pair. “If I didn’t intervene, they would never cross paths. But their auras, they are compatible, and they’re both lonely.” You squint, concentrating. Aura reading wasn’t as easy as fake witches made it seem. “But if I just…” Once again, you move your hand delicately towards them.

Suddenly, Blond Boy's friend's milkshake falls to the ground. It causes Blond Boy to take several steps back, getting right in Roller Skates Girl’s way. She immediately tries to stop, but it makes her lose her balance. Blond Boy’s hands are instantly on her waist, preventing her from falling on her back. They look at each other, eyes lingering, and your job is done.

You turn to the Winchesters with a satisfied smile, your flowy skirt dancing around you as you twirl, and they just stare back at you with wide eyes.

“I can’t tell how I feel about it.” Declares Sam, making you snicker.

“If it makes you feel better, I can assure you I can only influence circumstances.” You sigh, looking back at the two lovebirds. They’re already exchanging numbers. “Whatever happens from here on out is in their hands.”

That seems to do the trick, at least for the younger brother. Dean still looked like he was going to reach for his gun anytime soon. You sigh again.

“Look, I am not here to cause trouble.” You raise your hands in surrender, bracelets sliding down your wrists. “I came to talk.”

“Why would you want to talk to us?” You start to walk down the plaza, a little skip to your step. You stop right on the edge of the plaza where you could look down at the sea, waves hitting against the asphalt in a calming manner. Both brothers share a confused look before following you.

“You two are here for a hunt, right?” You ask walking down the edge of the shoreline, go-go boots click-clacking against the cobblestone. “The deaths that have been happening? People killing people they love?”

“What do you know about it?” You turn around at Dean’s accusatory tone. His gun was back in his hand, and it makes you roll your eyes. His eyebrows raise in surprise.

Looks like there was an edge in between all that sugar-covered whimsy after all.

“You know, everyone says you are distrustful, but damn.” You tsk. Why was it always the cute ones that had the biggest attitude problems? “I wasn’t going to intervene, but when I found out that the Winchesters were in my zone, I had to do something. You two are kind of famous for wiping out any supernatural beings you come in contact with.” You continue to walk down the shoreline. When you get to a light pole, you twirl around it until you’re facing the brothers again. “Any other day, I would’ve just hidden until you finished your job, but it is Valentine’s. The boss likes us to be extra active today.”

It looked like Dean wants to retort, but Sam interrupts him. “What do you know about the case?”

Your smile fades a little, and you let go of the light pole, your shiny eyes dropping to the floor.

“You’re looking for an Anti-Valentine, or that’s what we call them.” Your cheeks blush with shame. “They’re like us, Eros’ followers, but they…”

“Turn evil?” Dean guesses sarcastically, and you nod.

“Why would they want people to kill who they love?” Asks Sam, crossing his arms. “I mean, you look like you love love.”

That makes you giggle. “It is… hard. To do this job.” You lean back into the light pole, looking out at the sea. “There’s only so many times you can make two people who are perfect for each other meet, only for them to cheat or hurt each other before you start to have doubts.” You bite your lip, doe eyes glossing with sadness.

“And that makes them turn evil?”

“Well, most Valentines have had doubts at some point in our lives. But Anti-Valentines, they start to think humans don’t deserve love. They start getting angry and hateful, and it starts to poison them.” You swallow harshly, looking down at the floor before your eyes meet Dean’s green one, and the heavy weight on your chest turns a little lighter. Huh. “Valentines can’t manipulate mortal’s emotions, but Anti-Valentines… They've learned how to blind humans with anger. I think you humans may call it a rage blackout or something.”

The brothers seem to be processing your words. Dean studies you slowly while Sam looks like he’s racking his brain for any information on Valentines. If you hadn’t been so sad, you would totally be flirting with Dean right now. Yes, Eros was the God of love, but everyone seemed to forget he was also the God of desire. You could be a hell of a vixen when you were in the mood.

“So, how do we kill it?” Asks Dean, always ready to fight. It was hot.

“That’s the problem.” You sigh for what felt like the millionth time in the last hour, twirling around the light pole once again, cheeky smile returning to your face. “If I tell you how to kill them, I tell you how to kill me.”

Dean’s eyebrow raises, but his mouth twitches into a half-smirk. He looks you up and down one more time before his tongue runs over his lower lip, earning an incredulous huff from Sam.

“So, what’s the deal?”

“I’ll tell you how to find the Anti-Valentine and how to kill it, and you promise not to come for me after.”

“You got yourself a deal, sweetheart.”

𓆩♡𓆪

Dean was soaked in black blood when you appeared in front of him again.

Sam and he had just finally killed the Anti-Valentine, after being thrown against walls and dodging heart-pointed arrows for what felt like hours. Looks like those little bows aren't only for the aesthetic.

So while Sam and Dean looked a little worse for wear as they tried to catch their breath, there you were, in the middle of a filthy warehouse looking like a literal goddess. Pastel pink hair perfectly styled, shiny lips and shiny eyeshadow, your pink boots not getting dirty at all even as you walked through the dirt on the ground. The worst part was how you were pink everywhere. He wasn’t talking about only your clothes and hair. Your cheeks, your knees, your elbows. The palm of your hands and your pouty lips. Made him wonder, just how many other places were pink too.

“Nice to see you two are as good as they say.” You walk close to where the brothers are leaning against a wall. They were covered in blood and grim, slight cuts all over from when they weren’t quick enough while avoiding the Anti-Valentine’s arrows.

You stand right in front of Dean, and there is a halo of light around you. You were literally glowing. You were just so glad the Anti-Valentine had been taken care of. You would’ve done something about it before the Winchesters got into town, but Valentines couldn’t attack other Valentines, even if they were evil.

“Happy to meet your expectations, sweetheart.” Dean grunts, hand pressing to his side where there was a long gash.

You extend your hand towards him with a grin, palm up and ring-clad fingers waving. “My blade, please and thank you.”

You had given the brothers your celestial bronze dagger to use against the Anti-Valentine with the promise that they would give it back.

“What if we ever need to kill another one of these, hm?” It is impressive how Dean managed to look so hot when he was slowly bleeding out from his side. “Or another Greek creature.”

You smirk, and with a little jump you land in front of him. You lean in, biting your full lower lip and blinking up at Dean, long eyelashes fluttering. “Then I guess you’ll have to give me a call, sweetheart.”

You softly press a hand to Dean’s chest, making his breath hitch. You subtly wrap your hand around your dagger in his jacket’s pocket. When his eyes drop down to your lips, you press your hand harder against his torso. Gods, he was firm.

In less than a second, all injuries in Dean’s body were cured. Even the gash on his side. He looks up at you in surprise, and you swiftly take a step back, dagger in hand. You let out a dreamy giggle, taking a step towards Sam and pressing a finger to the tip of his nose, making a little “boop” sound and curing him instantly too.

You take another little jump back, facing both brothers as you brush your hair behind your shoulder and dangle the dagger between your slender fingers. With one last giggle, you wink at Dean.

“See you later, boys.”

You disappear in a cloud of pastel pink smoke, leaving behind a smell of caramel and red velvet cake.

And you knew you were gonna see them again. After all, you had a soft spot for pretty things.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

part one - two - three - four -five

i saw you in a dream (bucky barnes x reader)

tags/warnings: plot with porn, fluff, a little angst, there is some mild amnesia, major plot twist, first person (bucky's) pov, inspired by this song

blurb: In this life and every life; waking and dreaming; this I swear.

These are the words inscribed on Bucky's wedding ring. A wedding ring that he doesn't remember ever having. It's not a vow he made-- not that he remembers, anyway-- but it might just be one that he decides to keep anyway.

ao3 here

The sunlight is warm on my skin. It’s morning— late morning, by the angle of the sunlight, but still morning— and I feel my lover’s hand brush the hair from my face. My eyes are not yet open, but I can feel her gaze, her breath, even her smile behind the darkness of my closed eyelids. The mattress dips with her heated weight next to me, a familiar feeling that warms me from the inside out.

“Sergeant Barnes,” she lilts softly, her smile dancing in the sound of her words. “It’s time for breakfast. If you’d like to be up sometime before noon, now’s your chance.”

There’s only one thing that bothers me.

It shouldn’t be morning. It should be afternoon at the earliest. Last I remember, I was fighting— what’s new? I’m always fighting— and it was important this time. It was a fight for not only our lives but every life, an earth-shattering, world-ending battle for the future of humanity. I should be there fighting still. 

And besides, I have no lover. I don’t even know what gave me the idea that I did. 

I know enough of espionage to know when something is too good to be true. So, instead of revealing my wakefulness, I lie very still. I mimic the deep breathing of sleep and wait for her next move. 

“Bucky,” she beckons, her hand on my chest. “Bucky, I know you’re awake. Those breathing tricks don’t work on me anymore, you know that.”

Panic flares in my chest, but I force myself to stay still. How? I think. How does she know?

Her hand is warm against my chest, right over my heart. My overactive imagination envisions that warm hand burrowing, boring a hole through my chest plate and into my heart, crushing it in her grip—

“Oh well,” she sighs, her voice full of Loki’s own mischief. “I guess I’ll have to persuade you that waking is better than dreaming.”

Her hand moves. It travels down the center of my chest— my bare chest, I notice— her fingers lightly caressing through the hair at my stomach, travelling lower and lower until—

I snatch her hand away just before she reaches the waistband of my boxers. My eyes snap open, and with the silence of an assassin, I roll on top of her, capturing both of her hands at the wrist and pinning her legs with my own. She giggles— giggles!— the whole while, right up until the moment she sees my face. Trapped beneath me with nowhere to go, she stares up at me, smiling at first, then wide-eyed and sober. 

“Bucky? Honey?”

There is fear in her voice. It lands sourly on my ears, and I foolishly want to see her smiling again. I shake my head, trying to clear it. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and I’m shocked to note that the fear I’d heard is gone, replaced by a soft concern that’s echoed in the softening of her eyes. 

“Who are you?” I demand. 

“What? What do you mean, who am I?”

I tighten my grip on her wrists and force them to the bed.

“Answer the question.”

“Bucky, you’re scaring me,” she says, and her hands begin to tremble. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you don’t tell me who the hell you are.”

Her expression hardens. 

“I,” she says with surprising indignation, “am your wife. And I’m starting to get real goddamn offended that my husband is threatening me in our marriage bed. I suggest you get a grip, James Buchanan Barnes, before I start to take it personal.”

I blink owlishly at her.

Wife?

Her hands are still shaking, but I can tell she’s getting angrier by the second. Intellectually, I know that I have her pinned and that there’s no way she can hurt me. Emotionally? I feel about thirty seconds away from experiencing a category four storm of righteous wifely fury that I know I shouldn’t fear, but fear anyway. 

 “Well?” she demands. “Are you going to let me up so we can talk this through like adults or are you going to continue trying to assault me?”

I don’t release her immediately, but I do take a look around me. The bedroom is neatly organized and done up in shades of slate blue and wheat gold. The big window to my right is open, allowing the breeze to tango with the sheer white and gold curtains that hand from a sturdy gold rod. On the walls are photos of my friends— Steve, Shuri, T’challa, and others— and on the nightstand next to the bed, there is a photo of a bride and a groom holding hands in front of a place I recognize. It is a secluded place along a Wakandan lakeside, with grass so green it looks like shattered emeralds and water so blue that it seems only melted, watery sky.

That place— it is my favorite place in all the wide world. If I were ever to be married anywhere, that would be the place I would choose to be married at. 

The woman beneath me— my wife— follows my gaze, and I can feel her muscles relax, softening in my grip.

“Wakanda,” she murmurs. “Do you remember that, our wedding day? The grass stains on my dress, the way Steve cried and T’challa got so drunk that he tripped over his own feet at the reception while trying to Cupid Shuffle? Surely you do— Tony Stark laughed so hard he threw up.”

“No,” I tell her truthfully before I can think to stop myself. “What’s a Cupid Shuffle?”

I look back down at her, and her expression goes all pinched.

“I think we might better call Steve,” she says gently, brows creased in concern. “You love the Cupid Shuffle.”

***

According to Steve, I do not love the Cupid shuffle. Quite the opposite, in fact. I detest the song so much that my wife— who I still don’t remember— had apparently been trying to shock me out of my state of amnesia by claiming I did. When that didn’t work, she brought me here, to S.W.O.R.D.’s headquarters— whatever the fuck that is. 

Out of curiosity, I ask Steve to show me this Cupid Shuffle, and he’s absolutely right. I hate the song, and the dance looks stupid. The idea of T’challa falling over trying to do it is so cringe that my bones feel nauseous just thinking about it. 

“He did, though,” Steve reiterates, the shit-eating grin on his face no less bright for the ugly blue fluorescent lighting of the infirmary. He just loves it when he knows a reference before I do. “The night you were married, we were all so happy that nothing was embarrassing. Maybe I’m a sap, but… it felt a little like magic.”

Married. So even Steve seems to think I am, but I don’t feel very married. Even as I look around at the stoic, sterile infirmary around me, I feel like there is a battlefield I should be on, a war I should be fighting.

My inner turmoil must be apparent on my face, because Steve moves closer, speaks softer.

“Believe me,” Steve says, putting a big hand on my shoulder. “You love her, Buck. No matter how many years you’ve lost, you’ll remember it in your bones if you give her a chance.”

The crazy thing is, I believe him. 

She’s sitting on the other side of the glass window that separates us, chatting with Pepper Potts. Miss Potts, Steve told me, is now Mrs. Stark, and when I’d asked him why she felt okay associating with us after all that happened, he’d told me that they’d all made up a long time ago. Even now, I’m relieved for that; as grateful as I am that Steve chose me over his Avenger friends, I have always questioned whether or not I was worth the trade. To know that all is set to right between the two sides is comforting.

My wife laughs at something Pepper says, grasps her hand with a smile. As I study her, I come to an obvious realization.

“She’s beautiful,” I tell Steve. “That’s got to count for something, I guess.”

If I’m being honest, it counts for a lot, but I don’t want to seem shallow. Even at this distance, her smile is charming; I remember being up close and personal with that smile this morning, and I know that her eyes have that shine to them that says she’s as sweet as she is mischievous. Her nose is a graceful outward slope against her profile, and her lips, while predisposed to pouting, seem soft, well-shaped, and supple. And as for the rest of her… 

I try hard not to think about the way she’d pulled off the oversized— the me sized— t-shirt that she was wearing to change into something decent to wear. At the sight of her bare skin, I had been possessed of a strange and terrible urge to lick her from head to fucking toe before she managed to put real clothes on and show me where my clothes were. I shudder at the memory.

“I told you,” Steve says, “You love her. Only love can make a man look so green about the gills. You had the same look on your wedding day.”

I really, really can’t think about that right now. 

“So… we really beat Thanos?”

“Yep. Five years ago. We all did the whole Avengers thing and, you know, assembled.” Steve shrugged. “It was a close call, but between all of us we managed to cut off Thanos’s hand before he could use the glove and his head before he could do any more damage. The old one-two, as it were.”

I don’t remember that at all. I tell him what I last recall— fighting Thanos in the Wakandan jungle, a mad melee for our lives. 

“That’s about how it happened,” Steve nods, “except Tony was there, fighting with us. Don’t you remember him?”

I shake my head. I don’t remember, but battles are like that sometimes. Things get confused, chaotic— I might have been so busy fighting for my life that I just didn’t notice him swooping in to assist. I relate this to Steve, and he nods thoughtfully. 

“It may be. In any case, I think I know why your memory is spotty. Who knows what’s gonna come back on the scans they took, but, I’ve gotta be honest”— Steve’s ears turn pink, so I know he’s really embarrassed— “You and I were training yesterday, testing out the new battle simulator here at S.W.O.R.D., and uh��� I hit you in the head pretty hard with the shield.”

He looks away, shamefaced.

“I’m sorry, Buck.”

It is a terrible and unnatural thing to see Captain fucking America wilt like an overwatered magnolia. I take my oldest and dearest friend by the arm and tell him exactly what he needs to hear.

“Steve. Do not ever be sorry for anything that happens to me because of you. No, no, no, don’t look at me like that— every day that I’m alive and in my right mind is a day I borrowed from you. You should have killed me when I came off the ice with a mission to kill you.”

“I would never,” he protests.

“My point exactly. I don’t deserve you, Steve.”

“But you do.” His expression is pained. “You do, and you deserve this life you’ve made for yourself too, and I’m the reason you don’t remember it.”

Oh, boy. Thick as ever, that skull of his.

“The only reason I have this life is because you risked yours to give it to me, so cut the shit.” I think for a moment, then add, “Besides, we don’t actually know if you hitting me caused any memory loss. My skull is pretty thick, I’m sure it’s been through worse. It could be that so much time on ice, all the deprogramming, and stuff… it could just be that my brain has been through too much.”

It’s a sobering thought. We sit together in silence for a moment, letting that one sink in.

“In any case,” Steve says, “the scans won’t be back for a few days. What do you plan to do in the meantime?”

I don’t know. I’m a stranger in a strange land.

“Would it be bad to just… pretend nothing happened? If I already have a house, I could just… stay there with…”

It occurs to me that I don’t know my wife’s name.

“With (Y/N)?”

I nod.

“Yeah. With her. I mean, if she doesn’t mind.”

I feel myself flush. She might mind after this morning… I seem to remember pissing her off. Hurting her. Scaring her. I wouldn’t want me in my house if I was in her shoes.

“I’m sure she won’t. It might be… upsetting to her because you don’t remember, but she’s tough. More than that, Buck, you should know she takes her vows very seriously. When she said for better or for worse, she meant it. This is nowhere near the ‘worse’ she would endure for you. She loves you.”

“I’m starting to get that,” I say as I make awkward eye contact with her through the glass. “I could get used to it, I think. Being loved by somebody like her.”

“Take it from me,” Steve grins, “you’ll never get used to her.”

I’ve known Steve for many, many years, but I still can’t parse the meaning of that mischievous look in his eyes. 

I am so, so out of my depth here— but that has ever and always been so. I was out of my depth as a kid in a war, then again as a man trapped inside an assassin, and again as a human soldier in a war of heroes, aliens, and other magical freaks of nature. I can navigate my way out of this one just as well as the others, I tell myself. It’s only a matter of compartmentalization. 

“Ready to get going?”

My old friend holds a hand out to me. With a bravery I do not feel, I take his hand and let him help me down from the exam table.

“Ready as I’m gonna be.”

“You got this, soldier.”

“Sure, Steve. Whatever you say.”

We walk together to rejoin my wife and Pepper Potts— Stark, I remind myself. My wife stands, and by the way her brows forcibly smooth and a smile thinly blankets her former worried frown, it’s clear that she’s troubled. Pepper stands next to her and squeezes her shoulder in a silent gesture of support. 

“Well, I don’t know about everyone else,” says (Y/N), “but I’m starving. Anyone down for brunch?”

Steve shrugs. 

“I could eat. Pep?”

“I’m famished. I skipped breakfast to get Morgan to school on time, and it’s nearly lunch now.”

All eyes turn to me. I’ve never thought of myself as bashful, but being the center of attention at this present moment feels very similar to having my bare ass cheeks sitting on hot asphalt.

“Brunch is good. Where to?”

“Bagels on 32nd?” (Y/N) suggests.

“Fine by me.”

“Nothing better.”

Jesus fuck— they’re all looking at me again. If I could melt into a puddle, I would.

A small, soft hand reaches out to mine. My wife looks at me with a fondness that makes my chest ache. I hadn’t thought my discomfort to be so transparent, but it’s clear that she’s trying to comfort me. My heart lurches in my chest, but my body relaxes ever-so-slightly as she squeezes my hand. 

“Bagels it is,” I manage, and then we all set off to walk together for a couple blocks. 

On the brief walk, Steve and Pepper walk ahead of us, chatting about Morgan— who I surmise is Stark’s daughter— and (Y/N) and I hang back. She’s quiet, reserved, and perhaps a bit nervous, but half a block into our walk, she turns to me and says,

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.” She looks up at me sheepishly. “You just seemed a bit frazzled, and I wanted— well, what I mean is, I just did what I would normally do, but I realize that things with us— well, things in general, but also with us— are not exactly normal right now, so in hindsight I could have just made it all worse instead of helping you feel, uh, less frazzled, so I’m really sorry if—”

I stop her there. The rambling is cute, but I’m starting to get the feeling that she’s going to work herself into hysterics if I let her keep going.

“I didn’t mind. Your normal— our normal— is good, I think.” 

She shuts up then. I can feel her eyes burning holes into my face, but I dare not look down to meet her gaze. 

We walk a ways further, and I ask her about the bagel place, what she usually gets, what the options are. She tells me her order, then hesitates. Sensing this hesitation, I make a guess at what she’s thinking and ask what my usual order is. She relaxes a bit, then tells me, and it seems right— both the order and the conversation.

“Now, there is some lore about this bagel place that I should probably mention.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Her tone is light, but she seems terribly interested in the brick wall of the building next to us. “Mrs. Dolores Finch is a regular there. I don’t suppose you remember Dolores?”

“Nope.”

“Ah. Well, she’s taken quite a shine to you— well, to both of us, really. She was quite taken with you when you rescued her cat out of a tree next to the cafe— the cat had slipped its harness, though how that fat furball managed to do that is beyond me— and once she got over her phase of trying to split us up and pair you with her granddaughter, she became… tolerable.”

She finally risks a sideways glance at me, gauging my reaction, then refocuses her eyes ahead of us.

“She will try to pinch your bum, though. I’ll do my best to run interference, but she’s surprisingly agile for someone her age.”

I try to imagine such a scene— a game of keep-away with my ass as the prize— and fail spectacularly.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be on guard for bum pinches.”

The rest of the way to the bagel place, we walk in silence, and I worry quietly about being ass-ambushed. I know there’s no reason to get so worked up, but the thing about being a soldier and an assassin is that a high-functioning anxiety disorder will keep a fella alive more often than it kills him. And sometimes, like it or not, the thing your brain deems anxiety-worthy is an old lady and her cat. 

Can’t win ‘em all, I suppose.

We stop in front of an old brick building. It’s rustic and charming on the outside, and on the inside it’s full of soft golden light and old— like, really old, like me old— jazz music playing out of a Bluetooth speaker on a nearby shelf.

My wife elbows me gently as we approach a table, and her mouth molds itself into a smile.

“Good morning, Dolores,” she says with more fondness than I had anticipated. “How are you today?”

Dolores is a short old woman with gray hair covering what once was all auburn tresses. I can tell this because unruly bits of it peek out from beneath her frankly outrageous hat. The hat is giant, roughly the size of a large serving dish, and features what I can only assume is not one, not two, but three taxidermied cardinals on it. At her feet, the biggest, orange-ist cat I’ve ever seen is sprawled out in a patch of sunlight streaming in from the window, trying his damndest to wriggle out of his neon green reflective cat harness. 

“Oh, my bones ache, but what else is new,” says Dolores with a put-upon sigh. When she looks past (Y/N) and and makes eye contact with me, her eyes light up with a nefarious grin that I’ve only ever seen on evil megalomaniacs right before pressing a big, red button. “Oh, and you’ve brought my darling boy to me! How wonderful! Oh my days, you won’t believe all the things that have fallen into disrepair around the house, why only this morning the garden hose—”

“Dolores,” (Y/N) smoothly interjects, placing a hand on Dolores’s shoulder. “Bucky isn’t feeling well these days. We just came to grab a quick bite and go home. I hope that’s alright.”

Dolores frowns. Her brown eyes go impossibly sad, and she leans closer to my wife to murmur,

“Is it… y’know… the war?”

It doesn’t take much to imagine which war she means— certainly not the war I was actually in. But still, given my metal arm and general disposition, it’s a valid assumption for her to have made. Despite my age, I haven’t gone very far from that army boy, lost, alone, and scared as hell.

(Y/N) looks back at me, then murmurs,

“Something like that.”

Dolores nods to herself.

“Well. Nothing to do for it but weather it, dearie. My own husband George, God rest his soul, was in the Air Force in 1939 when the war started, and honey when he came back, it was rough going, I tell you, really rough.”

With a start, I realize that Dolores is probably not too far in age from myself. 

“But you’re a strong girl,” she continued, “and he’s a good man.”

Her eyes move to me, and then she says,

“And Bucky, my dear— let this sweet woman take care of you. Oh, I know it’s hard, but you’ll get through it. Lean on her when you can’t stand on your own, and if she can’t hold you up anymore, just sit down and ride it out together.”

She holds out a hand to me, and I take it. Her skin is old and frail, but softly textured to the touch. 

“There you are, dear. I do wish you well. I really do. I’ll let you go.”

I nod. My wife gives our goodbyes, and just as I turn to follow her in the direction of our friends, I feel a pinch on my left ass cheek to rival the very wrath of God.

I whirl around, but Dolores is sipping her coffee, as innocent as a rattlesnake in a rose bush.

“Sorry,” (Y/N) says once we’re out of earshot, clearly embarrassed. “I really thought she was gonna let you have that one.”

“You were right,” I tell her with a wry grin. “She really is agile for her age.”

We rejoin Steve and Pepper, who rib me about Dolores’s antics before we all tuck into our food. The bagel I ordered— a recommendation from my wife— is spectacular, and it’s gone before anyone else’s is even halfway eaten. We sit and chat for a rather long while, and I find it surprisingly easy to be genuine with these people. They seem to understand me as well as they understand each other. It’s such a pleasant experience that I’m almost sad when we all have to leave.

“Will you all come over for dinner soon?” Pepper asks us, tucking her chair back under the table. “Tony’s been rotting in the garage for too long and could use the company.”

“We’ll be there,” Steve says with his signature boy-scout smile, and I nod in agreement.

“I’ll text you later and schedule, then. We all good to go?”

We all agree and say our goodbyes, and then we head out into the late afternoon sunshine. Pepper and Steve turn back to the direction of S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. (Y/N) and I set off in a different direction. She takes us through a path that is unfamiliar to me, but clearly well-trodden by her; within a few minutes, we arrive at the same place I’d started this Freaky Friday-esque day. 

Our home.

It’s smaller on the outside than it seemed on the inside. The exterior is a creamy white stucco, and the roofing is the color of freshly-turned clay. The lawn is small but well-manicured, and a small rock structure bubbles with water— a fountain, I realize.

It’s like something out of a dream. Even when my hand touches the handle of our door, the whole place just doesn’t feel real.

Once inside, I begin to take notice of the layout, the design of the home. The hardwood floors are a gorgeous cherry shade; as we move to the living room, though, most of that hardwood is covered and protected by a Turkish rug that I know must have cost thousands of dollars.

So, I think, not only are we a happy couple, my wife and I, but we’re also well-off.

Looking around at all the photos, artwork, and knickknacks makes my head spin with the sheer amount of information that my mind is trying to absorb. In the living room, there is a photo of me with Tony Stark, standing in his garage and holding something with my metal hand that would obviously be too hot to hold otherwise; an eyeball that I can only hope is glass sits on a shelf next to a picture of a raccoon— Rocket, I recall— and a note that reads, just in case. There are dozens of these things in my immediate line of sight. I can hardly breathe for taking in every detail.

As I observe my surroundings, it becomes painfully clear that I have happened upon a world where I am not used, not tolerated, but cherished

In this world, it seems that I am very rich indeed.

But I cannot fathom this world, not right now. It is all too much at once. I feel awkward once more— ashamed, almost, and most certainly out of place. 

“I need to go for a walk.”

The words are out of my mouth before I’ve thought them through, but the truth of the statement I have made is not mitigated by its impulsivity. I know myself enough to know when I need space— and right now, when my old, brainwashed life seems preferable to having to face my own reality not as a voyeur, but as an active participant, I know it’s time to gain some fucking perspective.

I look at my wife, who has, in the meantime, curled up on the couch and begun to read. She looks back at me and says with utmost gentleness,

“I know. Take as long as you need. Don’t forget your phone in case you want to crash at Steve’s or— or something.”

There’s no confusion or concern in her voice— so I surmise that this has happened before. I had wondered why she hadn’t spoken at all or invited me to sit. In retrospect, it seems that she had expected this eventuality. Like she knows me well enough to know that I would need space to process this. 

It is a terrible thing to be known so intimately by someone that you don’t know at all. With just this one exchange, my wife has managed to make me feel both an aching fondness and a terrible inadequacy. 

I don’t know her the way that she knows me. I certainly don’t know what she needs right now. But, judging by the sadness in her eyes, it’s not me deciding to fuck off for a while. A sacrifice, then— her comfort for mine.

I won’t forget it, and I am grateful for it… but I just can’t look at her any longer.

“Thanks.”

I do take my phone— which I barely know how to operate, dammit— and set out for a brisk walk around the neighborhood. The activity does wonders for my building headache. Despite my wife’s warning, I don’t anticipate being out more than half an hour. In the end, though, she’s right. I don’t even think to turn back until the sun is setting and I’m still miles from where I started. By the time I return, the stars are up and the moon is out, but as I open the front door to my home, I find that I’m much more centered.

Sure, I’m out of my depth— but I’ve always been out of my depth. Sure, I’ve lost some memories— but how much different is that really from having lost so many years to the ice? The end result is the same: I have to move forward with the time that I do have. 

And as for my wife…

Some version of me loved this woman enough to promise my life to her; some version of me loves her so much that Steve insists that I always will love her. I trust my own judgement, and I trust Steve’s. To see the evidence of that good judgement, all I have to do is look around at photographs on the walls, in my phone, and around the house. In nearly every photo, I am smiling. It is so clear that in this life that I have forgotten, I have been loved and treasured and accepted beyond anything I could have imagined for myself. It would be an injustice for me to turn away from it. It would be an act of such unimaginable ingratitude that the thought of leaving disgusts me.

The living room is dark except for a single lamp. My wife is stretched out beneath the light of that lamp, a hardback book nudging into her sternum as she holds it tightly in her sleep. She is so beautiful like this that I imagine her to be an angel, glowing and golden. The only thing that mars the illusion is the presence of tear-tracks, little stains that cut jagged lines down either of her cherubic cheeks. 

I pry the book gently from her hands. There is a mark against her chest where the corner had dug into her soft flesh, and I wish that there was something I could do to soothe that skin, to make it as if nothing had marred it. Instead, I find pillows and a blanket and cover her, adjusting her body so that she won’t have a crick in her neck from sleeping awkwardly. That done, I step back and admire my handiwork.

Oh yes. Much better.

Now, she looks much more human— but also much more comfortable. I’ll take that over otherworldly beauty any day of the week.

I turn towards the bedroom I woke up in this morning. My stomach growls, but I ignore it. Food can wait. I’m exhausted.

I strip down to my boxers, face-plant, and sleep, dreamless, for nine solid, delightful hours.

[silenzahra]

☀ Clear morning: a Mareach short story ☀

💝💞💘 Happy Valentine's Day! 💘💞💝

This is a very short Mareach story that was inspired by the song that you'll find below. I highly recommend to check it out before or while reading, be it just the translation or the entire song, as hopefully it'll enrich the reading experience ❤️🩷

Hope it's okay that I tag some Mareach lovers that I think might enjoy this, needless to say you're free to ignore it if you're not interested, of course! @vulpixfairy1985 @smokszyvverstar @bberetd @itsavee4117 @pepperycar @peaches2217 @roscolate @stripetkattelalala54-gf @eleventhhourfactor @c-lavanda @doodleydoo101 @multicolour-ink @akiiame-blog @elitadream @dragon-fly34 @pinkcreamypeach

Translation available here.

Hope whoever gives this a chance will enjoy it! 💖💖💖

PS: In case you're also into some Luaisy sweetness, you may want to check out my very first Luaisy fic which was posted exactly one year ago today 🎂🥳

☀ Clear morning ☀

Dawn has yet to crack when Mario reaches the bridge leading to Princess Peach's castle.

He hears the gentle chirping of birds all around him, waking up and preparing for the new day ahead. He observes the dew-covered flowers that adorn both sides of the bridge, waiting for the sun to finally rise to shine in all its splendor and welcome the spring. The sky, like an immense curtain behind the castle, is slowly clearing up, daybreak approaching with each passing second.

And Mario, standing in front of the bridge, but not yet wanting to cross it, stands, his gaze fixed on the balcony above the main door of the castle.

The balcony of the princess, on which the majestic stained-glass window that represents her beauty and delicately captures her purity stands out.

Mario swallows, anticipation devouring him from the inside. He puts a hand to his chest as he notices that his heart is dashing, as if it had turned into a hummingbird. A nervous giggle escapes him, unable to believe that he’s doing this, that he ran away from home in the middle of the night and raced toward the castle in the hope of witnessing something that he’s not entirely certain will happen.

Even so, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Just in case. If it finally happens, he doesn't want to risk missing it.

Still, he feels bad about Luigi. The day before, his brother welcomed him back with immense joy after his umpteenth adventure rescuing Princess Peach from King Koopa's clutches. He showered him with attention and food while Mario couldn't stop thinking about the princess, about her safety, about how she might be feeling after Bowser had captured her in her own home. He was barely able to listen to Luigi, which he feels very guilty about, but he just couldn't get her out of his mind.

She’s taken over his soul to such an extent that she’s even crept into his dreams.

Mario can’t remember the details clearly, but he has etched in his memory the image of Peach, as beautiful and radiant as ever, leaning out on her balcony and waving to him as the sun rises over the horizon, her hair flowing in the morning breeze.

It was such a vivid, magical dream, and at the same time so reassuring after having rescued her, that when Mario woke up, he knew immediately what he had to do.

In a way, Peach is his muse. The one who, while he slept, showed him a vision and inspired him with that crazy plan that Mario set in motion without wasting a moment. He didn't care in the slightest that it was still the middle of the night when he left the house, although he is concerned that Luigi, who must be about to wake up now that dawn is approaching, will be scared when he discovers that his not-at-all-early-riser older brother has not only gotten up before him, but has also left the house excessively early. And without having breakfast.

But Mario can't pay attention to his growling stomach at the moment, and he trusts Luigi will understand when he explains his dream to him. He just hopes his little brother won’t worry too much.

The sound of birdsong, which has become louder, makes him turn his head for a moment towards the nearest tree. Mario smiles when he notices a small white bird, with a tiny pink crest, flying out from the branches and fluttering around his head for a second, making him chuckle. The plumber follows it with his gaze...

... And his heart skips a beat.

Just like in his dream, the first ray of sunlight shines directly on Princess Peach's balcony, causing the white stone to gleam with an almost blinding brilliance and drawing colorful sparkles from the stained-glass window, which only serves to enhance its magnificence.

But what takes Mario's breath away is to behold the person represented in that window. The very owner of that balcony, of that castle, of his rampant heart.

Contrary to what he expected given the early hour, Princess Peach has left her chambers. Silently, Mario watches her smile as the little bird flutters around her, and the sound of her laughter, soft and cheerful like the most delicate glass bell, floods his ears and sinks to the depths of his soul. Mario wants to bottle up that sound, take it home with him, listen to it all the time, when he wakes up in the morning and when he goes to bed at night. He could never have enough of Peach's laughter, not even if he lived a thousand lives.

Nor could he have enough of the heavenly image before his eyes, which he wants to capture in his memory forever: his beloved princess, leaning out on her balcony, her figure trimmed against the stained glass behind her and the rising sun making her shine and stand out even more. Her dazzling golden hair dances in the wind, and her elegant pink dress appears somewhat lighter in the dawn light, which brings out sparkles in the turquoise brooch on her chest and in the earrings that adorn her ears. The little bird on her finger, whose melodious song makes her smile, is an addition that only serves to further enhance the vision that Mario has dreamed of.

And yet, the plumber feels as if he were still inside that dream. As if he hadn’t managed to wake up completely, or as if he had fallen back to sleep as soon as he opened his eyes. This is much better than all those times when he’s even daydreamed about her, imagining that she’s in front of him and that he can look her in the face, as happens whenever his eyes, by accident or not, linger too long on the picture of the princess that hangs above the stairs in the house that he shares with his brother.

All that, those visions, those dreams… only take place in his fanciful mind.

But this… this is real. This he can see with his own eyes. And it’s much bigger and more magnificent than his imagination could ever conjure up.

He feels small, like the hummingbird that has nested in his chest. He feels tiny, like a mere mortal kneeling at the feet of the most radiant and majestic goddess. He feels undeserving of contemplating such beauty, for who is he, but a small, humble man who interrupts the peace of the queen of his soul?

The rising sun bathes Princess Peach in its golden light, and Mario wonders if this is the sun's way of declaring her, the most dazzling of all creatures, as its equal.

Certainly, Mario feels that his whole life revolves around her, that he orbits around her like a planet, that his heart would stop if her light were to be extinguished one day. He gasps as he stares at her ecstatically in the bright morning light, realizing that Peach has been slipping into his soul little by little, with every intense gaze, every kind word, every shy smile, every moment when she has taken his hand or kissed his nose or cheek in gratitude. Mario treasures each and every one of those moments in his heart, which she has undoubtedly taken over.

And he wouldn't want it any other way.

Suddenly, the little bird flaps its wings, and Peach extends her arm to encourage it to take flight. The bird heads towards the sun, which has almost fully risen, and as she follows it with her gaze, the princess suddenly notices the presence of the plumber at the foot of her balcony. Mario jumps, his face suddenly reddening, and wonders what he should do, how he should act. He tries to smile, but all he can manage is a grimace that must look ridiculous, which is in keeping with how he feels inside. What did he expect to achieve, standing there like a fool in front of the home of such a deity? Only to give the impression of a pathetic stalker, of course...

However, all his doubts are silenced when he notices how Peach's lips widen and the sparkle of joy that blossoms in her sapphire eyes, as well as a soft blush that covers her cheeks and makes them seem even more adorable and pure. Since she still had her arm raised, the princess begins to wave it gently in his direction, not without a certain shyness, but also clearly happy and pleased to see him.

And so, in a matter of a second, Mario feels, once again, trapped in a dreamlike fantasy from which he never wants to wake up.

Somehow, his arm moves. Somehow, his smile becomes more stable and confident. Somehow, his eyes connect with Peach's despite the distance between them. Somehow, he manages to return the greeting to the light of his life on this clear morning.

His day couldn't have started better.

[take-everything-you-can]

NO LOVE LOST

Pt.1 .. Pt.2

What happens when Steve finally meets his match... and what happens when she wants absolutely nothing to do with men?

Oh my god I posted this without thanking my queens wtf @andvys and @ghost-proofbaby , @keeryhours thank you for always helping me through any questions and giving me just the inspiration to go for it always !!

18+ minors DNI

WC: 2.9k

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem Reader ( nn- Angel)

TW: mentions of divorce, mentions of food, platonic Stobin, male masturbation.

Rolling over to see the sunrise instead of the slope of curves always made Steve feel like he was in a never-ending rut. It was the same old boring routine, the same cycle day in and day out. Today felt different. Instead of loneliness, when he rolled over, he felt a little twinge of hope. 

Hope that got him out of bed before noon and fed his brain with little what-ifs of what could happen tonight. Why? Well, today was Valentine's Day. now he knew what everyone thought what a fucking sap that this was his favorite holiday but fucking sue him. Simply put he was just a guy who loved love and wanted to give what he had and wanted someone to return the fucking favor, but no one ever got the memo. 

Every year he looked forward to the corny paper valentines that would hit the shelves in Melvald’s, the carnations people could buy for their sweetheart in high school, and now that he had become an adult he adored the way he and Robin had made it a tradition to go out. She would wear those cringy cupid wings and make him wear a headband with an arrow that looked like it had gone in one ear and out the other, but he loved it Loved going along with the bit if it made her smile. 

Tonight he was going to get drunk and take someone home, he had a plan. Buy them a drink, flirt his way into the sheets, and maybe in the morning he could look over and not feel so alone. He would pull out all his best moves, maybe even pull a few of Robin's tried and true that she swore by, anything to not go home by himself. 

Hours had passed and he had started to get a little worried since he had heard nothing from Robin about their plans so he decided to text her. 

As his phone rang Steve was tempted to let it go to voicemail but knowing Robin, he couldn’t do it, she would be beyond pissed. 

“This better be good robs.” he was quiet trying to hear her over the music in the background of wherever she was. 

“It’s not ideal but we can’t go out tonight Stevie. I’m so sorry.”  He tried to be mad he did but the wave of sadness overwhelmed him. “ I know you probably hate me right now.” 

“I don’t hate you, never could.” he cut her off quickly. He could hear the giant sigh of relief she let out. 

“look my cousin, she just got divorced and I told her she could stay with me until she got back on her feet and I promised her a night of movies and good pasta. So would you maybe be into doing that instead?” He thought about it, he didn't need Robin to go out but where was the fun in that? 

“ What movies ?” she laughed and told him to just bring his ass or he was going to be on wine duty. He laughed with her because when was he not on wine duty, he always brought extra bottles knowing if Robin said she had two she only had about half of one.

So he made his way to the store to pick up two extra bottles of the nicest wine he could find and threw a few bars of chocolate into the mix while he was at the register. 

“This all for you ? “ the cashier looked at all he had placed on the little conveyor belt and he nodded his head with a small smile. 

“ Indeed it is.” 

“ Lucky partner, I wish mine would do something like this instead I’ll probably go home to a husband that forgot.” Steve sadly gives his grievances and hands over the amount he owes, thanking the cashier for helping him. 

He felt a small glimmer of happiness that he wasn’t the only one having a shitty holiday, but he was also gutted by the fact that they at least were going to get to go home and curl up next to someone who cared enough to marry them. 

The drive wasn’t a long one but god did it feel like it. Robins' small apartment building had a few stories to it and she just so happened to live on the top floor. As he walked up the stairs and towards her door all he could hear was some low rock music floating through. Knocking Robin instantly swung the door open almost as if their platonic telepathy had notified her of his presence but that was shattered as he was shown the screen of her phone.

 “Why did you sit outside in your car for five minutes? You scared Stevie ?” He furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, 'cause you're just so scary Robs.” She gave him a small tug and pulled him into her apartment and the music he had noticed was coming from the kitchen, her small radio blasting out their parent's favorites, the classics as the station called them. 

“It smells amazing” He heard coming from the now open bathroom door, steam rolling out behind you and he found that you were only in a towel. Surprise on both of your faces as you didn’t expect Steve to be here by the time you got out of the shower and for him, well he didn’t expect you to be so drop-dead gorgeous.  Robin nudges Steve in the stomach with her elbow to get him to shut his mouth since it had slightly dropped open at the sight before him. 

“Steve this is my cousin we just call her Angel.” Steve looked at Robin with an upturned smile thinking about how cute her name was, how true it sounded. 

“It’s not my name but I had a cat named Lucifer growing up and you know Fallen Angel and all that blah blah blah.” She walks away and into Robin's guest room, steve assumes to get dressed, and turning to Robin he pushes her back for the sharp jab she had given to his ribcage. 

“You didn’t tell me she was a walking fucking dream, Buckley.” He hissed out low, scared he would be overheard. 

“Not like you have a chance, Steve, she is one my cousin, and two” she also drops down to a whisper. “ Recently divorced.” 

“So? If anything I’d say my chances are pretty fucking up there.” She just rolls her eyes and tells him she is going to take a quick shower of her own before the movie marathon she has planned out and asks him to finish up making dinner. 

He doesn’t mind, he thinks cooking is calming and honestly it turns his brain off from everything. Sometimes he would make a batch of cookies just to find peace before bed. It was soothing, the process of doing the same thing over and over again and getting the same delicious outcome.

The scent of coconut and rose, a weird mix of the two that worked well hit him, turning to find you standing at the other end of Robin's island. 

“I brought some wine for the movies. Would you like a glass?” He took a bottle out of the fridge and grabbed three glasses out of the cabinet. Pouring one for you and one for himself. He hated warm wine and so did Robin so he just put the bottle back in the fridge until she was ready for one.

“You know your way around robins huh?” You questioned, a subtle shift in your tone and Steve thinking nothing of it answered. 

“Yeah, it's like my second home honestly.” He turned back to stir the pasta Robin had set to simmer and watched as you sipped on your glass slowly.  

“Sorry that I ruined your and Robins's plans she said you guys go out every year.” Steve felt the way his shoulders tensed and shrugged.

 “It's nothing just a little tradition.” You sigh walking over to where Steve is standing next to the stove and taking a spoon to the sauce. Tasting it you look Steve in the eye and tell him the pasta needs some pepper. He takes a different spoon tastes it and agrees that it does need something but not pepper it needs something light. So instead he grabs a lemon and grates a bit of it creating the zest he wants to flourish. 

You roll your eyes walk over to where you had begun this interaction and pick your glass back up. Steve is standing wondering what exactly he could have done to upset you in the mere minutes you were alone with him and he comes up blank.

 “Do we .. is there a problem Angel?” You put a hand on your hip and smile. 

“Nope, no problem I just think it's kinda strange you are all alone on Valentine's Day.”  And he doesn't mean to, he tries to hold it back but something in your tone sounded like every single past partner's accusation of something being fundamentally wrong with him. 

“I could say the same about you but looks like we are both alone.” 

“Who's alone?” Robin pops herself back into the kitchen and grabs some plates from a cupboard behind Steve. 

“We are, all three of us so painfully single.” You say staring at Steve before taking a plate from Robin that she had filled. She laughs but deep inside it hits Steve like a car to a brick wall. Painfully single, god was he that transparent? Did he just give off that vibe? 

“I never said I was single.” You hum taking your plate to the couch and leave him and Robin in the kitchen. She is biting her lip with a sorry look in her eyes. 

“I told her we usually spend Valentine's Day looking for someone to spend breakfast with hate me all you want. “ 

“Could never “She hands him a plate and sets it down to fill up her glass. Walking over to her living room to find that you had taken his space on the couch, the one he always sat in. The one he could hear best from, see the subtitles from the distance, but you were snuggled in. You had a blanket over your lap and your plate had rested against your chest while you ate and all in his fucking spot.  So he took the other cushion a bit off from where the screen could be read clearly but he could just ask Robin to turn it up a bit more. He could do this … right? Get through one Valentine's Day that Cupid decided not to grace him on. He could turn this thing around. 

He couldn't. Working on the second bottle close to being finished with sixteen candles and a craving for cake himself Steve could confidently say he could not turn this night around. He had tried to get comfortable in his position and he just couldn’t he felt like your eyes were on him throughout the entire movie which led to him sipping his glass a bit more and now he was past the point of tipsy he was drunk, but at least he wasn't the only one. 

Every time he had gotten up to pour himself some more you and Robin would hold your glasses out for a refill and he would more than happily do that, he did, until wine turned into small sips of whatever cheap vodka Robin had in the back of her freezer. When the movie ended he carried Robin to her room since she had passed out in her large chair sometime around the wedding scenes. Deciding that he would do the best friend thing and tackle the dishes he began running the water and waiting for it to turn warm which always took forever in Robin’s apartment, he swore the heater was starting to go bad but she kept telling him that if it wasn't giving her a cold shower she didn't care. He lathered the dishes setting them on the rack when he was done rinsing them and you had appeared next to him, now dressed in a robe over the comfortable p.js you had been wearing. 

Thinking you would just say something but instead just stood there watching him. 

“Can I assist you with something.” he could hear the small huff of air that left you like you didn’t expect him to acknowledge your existence. 

“Why are you washing our dishes.” He didn’t understand but answered. 

“Well you are a guest and Robin hates a dirty sink and I honestly don’t mind doing it-”

“Well stop, you aren’t getting anything out of doing them so just stop. “ Now he was on a whole different planet because what in the fuck were you talking about. 

“Excuse me? Who said I needed to get anything just to do the dishes? I don't know who made you feel the need to use everything as a transaction but that is not how things go around here. You see it needs to be done, you do it. No, do this and you shall receive fuck you ever just done anything to be a nice person?” He could feel the heat in his cheeks with the alcohol flowing through him, his eyes staring at the room like it was on an axis, and his tone starting to rise in the audacity of wanting something out of Robin. An accusation, another from someone who this time didn’t even know him. 

“I’m so-” 

“Save it. I just want to go to bed I suggest you do the same.” 

“ Do not think for one second you are doing this for nothing.” it stops him on his way to his little makeshift bed on the couch. “ You men are all the same, even if it's not for something transactional you still end up on the side of gain Steven.” He was stuck still, not knowing how to even respond. Who had hurt you into thinking all men were the same? Maybe they were in a club with all of his exes, the ones who made him feel the same way. That all women were set on their relationship with him never going farther unless he was to act like he did in high school, unless he took on the persona of his father. He would never so here he was on Valentine's Day alone, drunk and sleeping on his best friend's couch with a person who hated all men not even a hundred feet away. Lovely. 

He didn’t know what time it was when he laid down the numbers on the box beneath Robin's television had been too blurry then, but as the hours went on the numbers seemed to brighten and they now read three a.m. tossing and turning, tired or not being able to find a comfortable position and you, your voice was running through his head over and over, telling him he was only a nice guy for profit. Who the fuck were you to judge him? You didn’t know anything about him and then it sent him on a tangent of well he didn’t know you either. He could only see what was on the surface, and although the surface was breathtaking he felt the twinge of wanting to know you deep, know the center of what made you, and change your perspective on men, or at least on him. 

The longer he thought about you the harder it was to stray away from the thoughts of your face and the way your body looked in that towel. The water dripped from your hair before you had put it up, letting the droplets fall in between-. Alright, he had to stop, he couldn't think of you that way, or could he? He listened out to see if he heard anything but all he heard was the ice dumping from the fridge and soft snores coming from down the hall. Was he really about to do this? 

His dick answered for him, half hard at the thought of just having you drop the towel was all he needed. He let his hand wander under the thin blanket that he had covering himself. Gripping his cock through his boxers and felt the weight of it and squeezed letting it fill out before he slipped his band beneath the waistband. He started stroking himself wishing it was your mouth on him and you had dropped to your knees in front of him, inviting him in with the warmth. Letting the pre he had slid down his shaft with some help but it just wasn’t enough. He brought his hand up to his mouth and spit in it imagining that it was you who had provided and he let his fist wrap around the length again. The slick wet sounds worked him up and he took and pushed his boxers out of the way with his other hand. Letting his hips buck into the pull of his dick, hissing out at the feeling of his release approaching fast. 

“Need a hand?” 

[saddeneddimple]

⊹˚₊𐙚𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑪𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔-🍓 ༘ ₊˚.

Genre: Fluff, Smut (this is 18+ content, any interaction below the age will be blocked)

~Spending a nice, quiet Valentine’s Day with your lover. Having a beautiful and romantic day with each other. Throughout the late hours, you both decided to make some chocolate covered strawberries. Leading to a delicious surprise ♡~

Paring: Switchy!Male x Switchy!Afab!Reader

(no names or specific features will be added for the sake of letting you imagine whoever you want it to be wink wink..)

Warning(s): Smut, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), love bites/hickeys, oral fixation, food-related scenario(?), nicknames (darling, my baby, pretty girl), somewhat body worshipping, oral (f receiving), face riding, blindfold/restraints, handjob, praise AND degradation, creampie, mentions of the sounds being made.

song rec (optional): ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🎧 ₊⁺

a/n: this was oddly inspired by seonghwas probable oral fixation. that video drove me INSANE. i mean shii this might as well be a seonghwa related fic. this one is also lengthy, you’ve been warned.

A small sigh escapes your lips, feeling so relaxed and joyous for today’s events. You and your lover were always the type to be more quiet or “lowkey” about your Valentine’s Day related dates. It can range from staying home, cooking dinner together as well as the beautiful gift exchanging, to going to a restaurant and going out to little shops, either window shopping or you both winding up spoiling each other. This year you both decided to stay at home, have a beautiful dinner and just enjoy each other’s company.

In the morning, he surprised you with breakfast in bed, smothering you in kisses as well as getting too excited and spoiling what gift he got you. Throughout the afternoon, you both were on the couch, cuddling as you both binge watched your favorite show, enjoying some snacks in the process.

You kept your gift as more of a surprise, staying quiet but the plan you had in mind always got you excited yet a little nervous, always thinking about how it just had to be perfect.

Throughout the evening, heading towards the later hours of the night; you both were slow dancing in the candlelit living room, giggling at small mistakes, kissing as soon as your bodies were close enough. One of his hands intertwined in yours, the other softly holding your clothed waist, swaying you so gently yet so smoothly. The way he glides in his steps, lining his movement with yours. His gentle moments of separation in order to spin you, just to pull you closer, his velvety lips meeting yours.

His wide, adoring smile never fading away. His tender eyes, a small ember glowing in reflection from the candlelight, but still capable of capturing the infatuation in his eyes. His expression equivalent as if he were looking at a gem he found from under the surface, looking at something so beautiful, so intoxicating, so precious. Holding onto you as if he never wanted to let go.

Still swaying to the music playing off the speaker, you mention what you had in mind, something that was part of your little plan on his gift, “My love, I was thinking; do you want to make some chocolate covered strawberries? I have everything for it.”

His smile still there and his eyes never escaping yours, he nods, “I would love that.”

You both finished dancing once the song came to an end, then hand-in-hand, you walk to the kitchen, your lover following behind you. You set everything to prepare for the treats, melting the chocolate chips in a bowl, washing and drying the fresh fruit, then transferring it to a separate bowl. Setting a baking tray lined with parchment paper, finally finishing it off with two cups of wine. The both of you dipped the strawberries into the liquified chocolate, evenly coating the fruit before placing it on the tray to let the chocolate harden.

A little chocolate got on your thumb. Instinctively, you place the chocolate coated finger in between your lips, cleaning off the little mess you’ve mistakenly made. That’s when you notice him, looking at you when you were cleaning your thumb, his mouth a little agape, staring when your finger landed in your mouth. You smirk at his gaze, enjoying his eyes piercing into you, scanning every inch of your skin, the imagination he follows with it possibly filthier than your actions.

“Is there something you want to say?” You ask, the smirk still etched on your glossy lips as you raise an eyebrow.

His response only being a small groan, his hand cupped your cheek gently, pulling you in for a kiss. You kiss back, inviting yourself to deepen the kiss, following with a teasing bite to his bottom lip.

His chuckle turning dark, growing aroused by your mouth alone. He makes way to the bowl with the leftover chocolate, coating the tips of his index and middle finger, reaching their way to your lips.

“Can you clean my little mess for me?” He asks in his most innocent tone, sending chills down your spine to his soft tone yet his actions are nowhere near innocent or soft.

Opening your mouth, he makes way past your lips, his milk-chocolate flavored fingers covering your tongue. You begin to softly suck on his fingers, your tongue flickering on the tips, licking off the thick, sweet liquid he smeared them with, having him bite his lip to the view beneath him. Your soft moans while sucking the chocolate clean off his fingers. You then open your mouth again, sticking your tongue out, presenting the great job you did.

“Mmm.” He moans softly, “You’re so good, darling.”

Reaching over, you grab one of the hardened chocolate-coated fruit, your hand cupped underneath it, placing it in front of him.

“Here. Tell me if it’s good.” You tell him, the strawberry making contact with his bottom lip.

He opens his mouth, softly taking in the strawberry to his delicate mouth. He bites the fruit, its juice going past his lips, slowly dripping down his chin, all the while his eyes pierced into yours, not separating for a single second.

“Is it good, baby?” You ask in a gentle tone. He nods in response as he licked some of the juice and melting chocolate from his lips. You take your thumb and softly clean the juice that dripped down, softly caressing his bottom lip in the process. You place your thumb between your lips again, licking and softly sucked the juice that was lathered on it.

He grabs another strawberry from the tray, repeating a similar action to yours. The fruit softly caressing your bottom lip, already feeling the chocolate melt a little to the contact of your warm skin.

“Open up, darling.” His tone still soft, but his eyes dark, his lust for you invading his body, his eyes now shifting between your eyes and your plush lips.

You obediently open your mouth, the strawberry gets in your mouth, biting it softly, your lips moistened from the juices and the melting chocolate. His mouth a little agape once again from the view, he watched as you bit into the fruit and looked at him with these innocent eyes, pretending you aren’t thinking the most unholy thoughts about how he is playing with your mouth, part of the gift almost getting spoiled from the arousal. A little smear of the fruits juices and the chocolate was left on your lower lip, rather than cleaning it yourself or letting him repeat your actions with cleaning it with his fingers, he decides to use his tongue to clean the little mess. He softly licks your bottom lip, picking up the little mess right before his lips meet yours, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth, tasting the sweet chocolate and soft tart strawberry.

You both give up on the fruit, his hands now meeting your waist, traveling down to your hips, his fingers tracing your curves on the way. A small gasp comes out of you, hitching your breath to the touch as chills running through your body, making your knees turn into putty.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, your bodies against each other, feeling his hot skin radiating through his clothes. You bite his lip again, breaking the kiss,

“Come with me.” You offer. He doesn’t know how fast your heart started racing, finally able to show part of the gift you’ve been waiting to give him all day.

Chuckling, he followed behind you, holding your hand as you take him to the bedroom, already set with candles, as well as soft red lights that you had from a small lamp, rose petals on the floor as well as a small box you had set up on the bed all the while you both were on the couch, and small occasional “breaks” you’d go on to set everything else up for both safety reasons and in order to time it right.

He tilts his head a little, smiling in awe to the surprise, getting a little excited.

“What is this, darling?” He chuckled out.

Without answering his question, you lead him to the bed, having him sit on the edge. You place the box on his lap.

“Go ahead.” Your hands intertwined, an excited smile on your face, while also growing nervous.

Still smiling, he furrowed his eyebrows in curiosity as he opened the box, taking out a long strip of black satin.

“Give it.” You reach out your hand.

When he gives you the piece of fabric he tilts his head, “What is it?”

Still not giving him any answers to his question, you place the fabric over his eyes, lightly tying it to the back of his head.

A chuckle comes out of him along with a growing smirk, “Oh, this is new.”

You remove your top and then softly order,

“Take off my pants.”

You get his hands and guide them to your hips in order for him to remove the article of clothing you told him to remove off you.

Biting his lip, he reaches to the waistband of your pants, his fingers softly gliding into them, gripping the fabric as he slowly pulls them down. Your fingers running through his hair as he slowly strips your pants off your fragile skin, his hands roaming around the areas that are now bare.

“Nope. Not yet.” You get his hand to move away from your skin, although it made you tremble and the wet patch on your panties grew bigger, nearly wetting your inner thighs.

He whined a little to you not allowing him to touch your skin, but listened to you. After all, it was worth the small amount of patience needed.

You reach over to remove his blindfold, as soon as he was able to see you, his eyes widened, his jaw nearly on the ground as he looked at your figure.

Part of the gift was the lingerie that hid underneath your clothing. The black mixed fabric of both lace and silk covering your most precious areas. A small band of the mixed fabrics gripped your waist followed by strips of fabric going down your thighs, a lace garter hugging your soft thighs. Your panties had small invisible clips in order to easily remove them.

“Can I?” His eyes dart to yours, his question sounding more like a plead, his desperation to touch you being well-known.

Nodding in approval, he pulls you closer to him, your body between his legs. His arms wrapped around the lower half of your body, holding you as he kissed your hips, his lips trailing down your thighs. His hands touching, fondling and gripping your skin, mainly squeezing your hips and ass. Heavy breathing against your skin, kissing your body, his kisses reach to your panties, kissing your cunt over the fabric. Your body twitched to the contact as your heavy breathing began to get shaky.

“You’re so beautiful, my baby.” His kisses around your hips and softly bites to the flesh, your breathing hitched to his teeth.

You let out soft moans, enjoying and relaxing to his hands, lips, and even teeth worship you.

“God, I need you so bad, please.” The whimpering in his tone making you give into him. But not too easily.

“Lie down.” You order.

Without hesitation, he adjusts himself and lies on the bed. You crawl up to him, your body now aligned with his face, he almost instinctively removed the clips, ripping off your panties, and lowered you to his face. His tongue immediately diving in your folds, licking and softly sucking on your clit, tasting your sweet juices. Biting your lip in order to keep yourself calm, you softly moan to his tongue and started rocking your hips, grinding on his tongue, your clit grinding against his nose.

His fingers digging into the skin of your hips and thighs, moaning softly as he keeps devouring you, his tongue occasionally inserting itself inside you, quickly flicking against your soaking entrance.

Panting on top of him, your grinding quickened as you felt your core tighten, the knot getting worse as your sensitivity grows higher.

“Fuck. Fuck.” You mutter under your breath, your eyes shut as you felt his tongue form circles around your clit.

He lifts your body a little, pulling you away from his mouth.

“I want to see the rest of the gift first.” He murmured from beneath you.

A sigh comes out of you as you get off of him, sitting on your knees and reached over for the box, getting into the box to pull out the black leather and chain cuffs.

“Holy shit.” He gasped out as he watched you pull the other part of his gift.

“Take everything off.” You demand as you looked at him.

He gets up to quickly strip himself and lied back on the bed, now more against the bed frame.

“Hands up.” You tell him.

As he puts his hands up, wrists touching, you take each leather cuff and tightened it around his wrists, then chained the cuffs to a metal pole that’s part of the bed frame.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He already moaned out, without having to even touch him all that much.

Without giving anymore orders, you stick two fingers in his mouth. He furrows his eyebrows in neediness as his saliva drenched your middle and ring finger, following with him softly sucking on them.

You chuckle following a lip bite, getting immensely turned on at his submission and desperation. Taking your fingers out of his mouth, you stick the same fingers in yours, tasting a mix of him and your own juices.

“Holy fuck.” He whispered out, not only aroused but also slightly shocked at your behavior.

Leveling yourself better to his hips, you take your fingers out of his mouth and spit on his cock, the slow dribble landing on his wet tip.

With your already salivated hand and the spit on his cock, you slowly start stroking his length, making him twitch to the touch, quietly whimpering to it.

“You like that?” You ask as you start quickening the pace, spitting on his cock and hand to lubricate it more the faster you keep jerking it off.

He nods in return, throwing his head back, panting to your hand, already seeing him pull on the restraints. You chuckle at the neediness as you slowly stop stroking his throbbing cock, making him whimper and even buck his hips up, thrusting into your fist.

“Shhh it’s okay.” You reassure as you get on top of him, straddling him between your legs.

Holding his twitching cock, you grind the tip between your folds.

“Look at me.” You say as you start slowly adjusting his tip to your entrance, teasing the tip.

Looking at you, you see in his eyes the overwhelming desperation he has to be inside you.

“Good boy.” You praise as you slowly insert yourself inside him, stretching yourself as you wrapped your walls around his cock.

The both of you groan as you lower yourself, taking him deeper and deeper until you pretty much sat on him, making him let out a loud and quite a lengthy moan. Slowly grinding on him to adjust a little to his size, your hands lean on his abdomen, looking down at the view of your soft pussy that swallowed every inch of him. Once you adjusted yourself to him, you slowly start bouncing, making his moans get louder as his eyes are closed shut, pulling harder on the restraints.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.” You moan out as you bounce on him, feeling the tip hit your cervix with every little jump.

Jumping and occasionally grinding on him, you don’t notice that he keeps pulling on the restraints, his knuckles turning white from how hard his hands are balled into a fist. He keeps pulling so hard, the chain gets ripped out one of the leather cuffs, freeing him. Instinctively, his hand went to your hips, holding them still.

Before you could even process the shock of him breaking free of the cuffs, he starts thrusting as hard and as quick as he can, pounding into your cervix with each thrust, causing you to nearly scream. Tears coming out of your eyes as the grip on him tightens the longer he keeps thrusting.

“Get on the bed now.” He orders, completely dominating you.

Without question, you listen to him and get yourself off him, legs shaking as you do so. Handling you like a doll, he puts you on your hands and knees, pushing your head down to arch your back.

“You really thought you were gonna take over that easy huh?” His tone completely shifting from desperation to controlling.

Smacking your ass, “You’re so fucking dirty, my pretty girl. I love it.” He followed with another smack, making your body jolt in reaction, but giggle in an excited, bratty way, enjoying your torture.

“Come here.” He mutters out as he pulls your body closer, positioning and flicking his tip to your soaked and puffy cunt.

Slowly inserting himself again, listening to the soft squelching of your drenched pussy as he gets deeper inside you, following with really slow, deep thrusts. Groaning groggily and loud to his size, his thrusts switch to hard and fast thrusts, slamming into your cervix again, making you nearly scream his name. Your grip on the sheets now making your knuckles white. The knot on your core started tightening again, having you tighten around him.

Hardly able of forming words, you mumble out,

“I’m..I’m close.”

“Yeah?” His thrusts even harder, your cries echoing.

“Cum all over me, pretty baby. Go ahead.” His thrusts punching your cervix making you tighten even harder, your pussy soaking itself more, feeling yourself release over his cock.

Screaming his name and listening to the squelches and skin slapping turn wetter, he keeps going as hard as he has been, overstimulating your orgasm.

You reach your hand to his abdomen, attempting to push him a little from the overwhelming feeling. He pulled himself out, making you twitch and intensely shake, your juices leaking and dripping on the sheets.

He turns you to have you lie on your back, his body between your shaking legs, he reaches over to kiss you deeply, his tongue dominating your mouth.

“You okay?” He asks, his tone so gentle, opposite of his recent actions.

Out of breath, you nod in response, biting your lip.

“I want you to cum inside me.” You confess, your quivering arms wrapped around his neck.

“Yeah?” He smirked, kissing your lips and cheek softly, trailing down to your neck, kissing and biting your sensitive skin, leaving small bruised teeth marks in the process.

He starts adjusting himself again, placing your legs nearly over his shoulder. Without warning, he gets back inside you, gasping to his cock sliding inside you so easily.

In some form of mating press, he starts thrusting hard and somehow feeling deeper than how it felt previously, making you groan out his name, nails digging into his sweating back. His hands sneakily found their way to your throat, softly squeezing it the faster he pounded inside your swelling cunt.

“You’re so good, my pretty girl. Fuck, I love you.” He moaned out, looking into your glossy, teary eyes, your makeup completely smudged and ruined.

“I love you more.” You respond, looking into his dark eyes, watching the sweat drip from his forehead, his damp hair sticking to his skin.

His moans got higher the closer he got, this thrusts sloppier but still very quickly.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” He moans, eyes closing shut as his thrusts slowed and deepened, his hot load shooting inside of you, overfilling you to the brim with his warm cum.

After you both cleaned each others sweaty bodies, you both were in bed, his arm around you, pulling you to his chest.

“I haven’t shown you the last part of the gift.” You say, following a light giggle.

He furrowed his eyebrows then raised one, “What do you mean?”

Reaching into your nightstand, you collect a much smaller box wrapped in blue ribbon topped with an oversized bow, then hand it to him.

He opened it, seeing another box, that looked like it was a ring box, only confusing him further. When he opened the velvet box, a silver ring, lined with sapphires and diamonds was placed on a small satin pillow.

His widened eyes and dropped jaw made you smile wide and giggle in response.

“Look at the ring.” You say in your giddiest voice, almost shaking in excitement.

He pulls the ring out of the little pillow, looking into the band, seeing a small engraved quote.

‘My Promise to You. I love you.’

His eyes filling with tears he just smiled and hugged you tightly, your arms holding onto him tightly, your thumb caressing his back.

“Oh my god!” He giggled out as he wore the ring.

“We match now!” You giggle back, showing your promise ring he gave you, a silver band with a beautiful glistening diamond, wrapped in little sapphires, with the same quote engraved into the interior of the band.

He wore the ring, immediately cupping your cheek, pulling to the softest, warmest kiss. Tasting the salty tears that trailed to his cheek and hit his lip.

>>Happy Valentine’s Day my babies <3. I tried to make this as special as possible and added as much fluff as possible so it can get all romantic before it got slutty huehue.<<

>>I hope you enjoyed this and I hope you have an amazing Valentine’s Day!! Single pringle or with a partner. Love is love even if that type of love is self-love. You’re amazing and always remind yourself of that! And if you want a Valentine. I can be your valentine 💌 <<

taglist: @ourloveforjimin @sugawhaaa

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ ✦

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

headcannons of the jackass crew on valentines? i think johnny would be soooo romantic!

Valentine’s Day with the Jackass Guys! ♡

Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader, Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontus X Fem!Reader, Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, kissing, lingerie, PDA, cuddling, alcohol

An: Thank you for the request! I had a ton of fun coming up with these cute date ideas for the guys! Fun fact: Bam’s section is inspired by the trip to Paris he took his then girlfriend as mentioned in his book! Anyways, thank you for the request, and please keep sending them!

Johnny

Charged silence buzzed between you and Johnny as you waited at bar of that fancy restaurant everybody in LA had been fighting tooth and nail for a table at,

But from the stuffy, stuck up atmosphere and the snotty, well to do customers, one thing was becoming very apparent:

“I really don’t think this is our scene.”

Thank god you said that first. Paying for your drinks, he wrapped an arm around you with a grin,

“I’d reckon it ain’t.” Patting you on the back, Knoxville assured you as you weaved through tabled, “Ah, well don’t think I didn’t have a plan B prepared for this sorta thing!”

In actuality, he didn’t have anything resembling a backup, but it couldn’t be too hard to come up with…

Within the hour, you were back Johnny’s his place, not bothering to take off your fancy clothes as you cuddled up on the sofa.

Some romantic, French film you would’ve never guessed he’d know murmured quietly in the background as you picked through the Chinese takeout you picked up on the way home,

“I feel like I’m in a movie or somethin’…” Your flustered chuckle made that charming, Hollywood smile spread a mile across his ruggedly handsome face…

Knoxville pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Only the best ‘fr my girl…”

Bam

Now, most girls would be over the moon that their boyfriend took them to Paris for Valentine’s Day. However, keep in mind that your boyfriend was Bam Margera.

Take, for example, that morning you visited some fancy bakery. “Hey- hey, Y/N!” Turning away from some display, you just sighed as he gave you the eyebrows, giddily holding a baguette in front of his crotch.

Or when you nearly had a heart attack when your boyfriend got down on one knee and pulled out a little box in front of the Eiffel Tower. “Oh my god-“

“Wait- it’s a promise ring!” Seeing your face fall, Bam held up the silver, heartagram band and added, “See, I promise not to fuck any other chicks while we’re together.”

Way to ruin the moment…“What’re you, twelve?” You spat, to which he retorted, “Hey! I paid good, French money for this!”

But it’s not like Bam didn’t have a a single romantic bone in his body! I mean, he did take you to that fancy French lingerie store, but as you could guess, that was more fun for him than it was for you.

“Cmon, do a twirl!” He giggled as you tried on the thousandth lacy, black set he picked out in this demented Pretty Woman montage,

Thinking fast, you spun around and put on you best seductive coo, “When am I gonna actually get to buy these, babe? I’m real eager to, uh- test ‘em out…tonight.”

Of course, that’s what made him wrap it up, “Well, now youre speakin’ my language!”

Steve-O

Steve was broke. Dead broke, but he’s not the kinda guy to let that stop him from getting something for his girl!

“It’s a coupon book!” He excitedly showed you his handiwork, flipping through pages of shitty handwriting, “Y’can use ‘em whenever you want!” Oh, now you had to test that.

But you thanked your boyfriend and went about the day he had planned, making sure he was none the wiser

That is until you were halfway through your walk in the park and ripped out the ‘snuggle’ coupon. Okay, little weird, but there’s a lot worse you could ask Steve to do, so fuck it!

No blanket, no picnic basket, you were the weird cuddle couple in the park. But it wasn’t the end of the world for him

And if you thought the stares you got there were bad, you could only imagine the looks on the faces of the mall food court patrons when you tore off the slip of paper that read ‘back massage’.

“I’ll do it. No, really- I’ll do it!” Steve was testing your gall, but you didn’t back down.

You grinned, proudly wagging the paper in the air, “Coupon! No restrictions apply!”

Face down, on a table, you hid your smile as you could feel your boyfriend physically staving off the urge to say you owed him because no, you didn’t owe him jack!

He just went along with the program, an embarrassed smile creeping across his face as he worked out the sore muscles in your shoulders.

You sat up just enough to ask, “Ooh! What about couple’s portraits after this?”

Chris

This man is COMICALLY romantic like. Oh my god.

Rose petals scattered about, the room bathed in warm candlelight as the of scent of vanilla wafted through the air as cheesy, romantic RnB played softly;

Chris planned a whole ass romantic spa day for you! There he was, lying ‘paint me like one of your French girls’ style on the floor, waiting for you.

“Oh my god! I…this is so sweet!” But for a moment, you smile flickered as you looked your boyfriend up and down, “What’s with the robe?”

Grinning, Chris shot you a wink as he sat up and slinked it off one shoulder, “Well, you can’t have a couple’s spa day by yourself!”

What followed was the most confusingly sexy Magic Mike routine you could have ever conjured up! Giggles, giggles, more giggles…

But when you actually got to the spa stuff, it was a bit of a tight squeeze for the both of you to Tetris your legs together in the small tub, the mountains of bubbles not helping at all. But you made it work…

Raking his fingers through your wet hair as you laid back against his chest, Pontius explained all the fun he had on tap,

“We got mani-pedis, massages, face masks…” Chuckling low, he added, “Y’know, the homemade kind?”

You laughed, playfully shoving him away, “Ah! You are so nasty…”

Ryan

You would never expect that he’d be one for wine and paint night, but it tracked after you found out Bam billed it to him as, “that paint thing April goes to with booze”.

But, to your surprise, you started having a really fun time! I mean, after a few glasses, of course…

When you weren’t gushing over him being such a good boyfriend, you and Ryan were sneaking kisses when you didn’t think the instructor was looking. God, you felt young…

But then, in the midst of all this love, you caught something out the corner of your eye… Dropping your voice to a whisper, you asked your boyfriend, “Hey, what’re you paintin’?”

Shrugging, Dunn gestured to the abstract, pale blob (which was not what the instructor was painting) with a finger,

“Oh! That’s us. Having sex!”

He’s fucking with you. He had to be- but if you squinted and turned your head to the side…

“Ryan!” Your eyes flashed wide as you whispered yelled, hiding behind your canvas, “That is embarrassing!”

Grinning, Ryan sling an arm around your shoulders, “It shouldn’t be! You’re hot!” As sleazy as that sounded, it was a genuine compliment! At least, he intended it as one

Leaning back, he signaled with one hand, “Can this painter get another bottle’a wine?”

[stxrsniolo]

⠀⠀ ⠀✦ ⠀ :⠀⠀somnium⠀ ⠀💭 ⠀ . . .

𝐀𝐄𝐆★𝐍'𝐒 notes : dear reader, this story will unfold over approximately 15 chapters, all of which have been meticulously outlined by yours truly (aka me, yes). it’s a slow burn between the characters, filled with a little bit of everything—from scenes not suitable for sensitive audiences to purely comedic moments, and even the classic teenage drama you’d expect from characters navigating this stage of life.

𝐀𝐄𝐆★𝐍'𝐒 pairing : dreambound!matt x lucid dream!reader

chapter 06: when the night changes

the morning light seemed to have a different quality to it, brighter, more inviting, as if the sun itself was celebrating matt's newfound happiness. the dreams with heist had become a source of joy rather than confusion, her presence in his subconscious like a beacon guiding him towards a better version of himself.

he was up early, the first one in the kitchen on the second floor, the aroma of coffee already filling the air as he prepared breakfast for himself and his brothers. there was an energy to him, a vibrancy that had been missing for too long.

chris was the first to join him, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "yo, you're up early. what's the occasion?"

matt, with a grin that was more infectious than usual, flipped pancakes with the ease of someone who'd found a new rhythm in life. "no occasion, just felt like starting the day right."

nick stumbled in next, drawn by the smell of food and the unusual sight of a cheerful matt. "is this the real matt, or did you get replaced by an alien?"

laughing, matt served them plates piled high with pancakes. "nah, just feeling good, man. can't a guy be in a good mood without it being weird?"

the breakfast was filled with laughter, the kind that comes from genuine happiness. matt was talkative, engaging in conversations about everything from their next video ideas to mundane things like what they should watch on movie night. his accent, always there, seemed to carry a lighter tone today.

"should we do another challenge video? or something more chill, like a Q&A?" matt suggested, his enthusiasm contagious.

chris nodded, his mouth full, "Q&A sounds good. let's give the fans what they want."

nick chimed in, "and maybe some behind-the-scenes stuff, they love that."

after breakfast, matt decided to take on lunch too, a rare occurrence in their household where takeout or simple meals were the norm. he hummed as he chopped vegetables, the melody something he'd heard in one of his dreams with heist.

"since when do you cook like this?" chris asked, watching matt move around the kitchen with confidence.

"since i felt like doing something nice for us," matt replied, the joy in his voice unmistakable.

the lunch turned out to be one of the best they'd had in a while, and the compliments from his brothers only added to matt's good mood.

the day continued with matt feeling this surge of life, this desire to reconnect with the world. he hadn't posted on his personal social media in ages, too caught up in his own head, but today felt different. after showering, shaving, and dressing in a cool hoodie, cargo pants, and his iconic silver horse pendant necklace, he decided to take a selfie.

he posed in front of his bathroom mirror, the natural light from the window softening his features, his smile genuine. he stopped, wondering what he could add to the caption, "nah," he shrugged it off and hit post.

the response was immediate, the comments flooding in:

randomuser: matt's back! and looking better than ever!

randomuser: whoever is making you smile like that, thank you!

randomuser: 🔥🔥🔥🔥

his brothers, seeing the post, gave him knowing looks. "so, who's the inspiration behind this glow-up?" nick teased, scrolling through the comments on his own phone.

matt just laughed, shrugging it off. "just me, trying to get my life back, you know?"

but in his mind, he knew; it was heist, her laughter, her presence, her way of seeing the world had influenced him, made him want to be the best version of himself, even if just to share that with her in his dreams.

later in the day, after the shared activities, matt felt an urge to do something he hadn't done in a while - record for his individual channel, which had been largely neglected. he set up his camera in his room, the same place where he had woken up from his dreams with heist, feeling a connection to her even in this act.

"hey, everyone, it's matt," he began, his voice warm, his accent a comforting sound. "i know i've been kinda MIA for a while, but i wanted to come back with something real, something from the heart."

he adjusted his hoodie, the camera catching the glint of his silver necklace. "lately, I've been thinking a lot about mental health, about how we all deal with our own shit, ya know? and i realized, dreams - not just the ones we have at night - but the ones we chase, the ones we hold onto, they can change everything."

he spoke candidly about how his perspective had shifted, how the night had become not just a time for rest but for discovery, even if he kept the specifics of heist to himself. "i used to think sleep was just sleep, but now, i see it as a reset, a chance to wake up with new ideas, new energy. it's like, if you can dream it, you can live it, right?"

matt shared small bits of wisdom he'd gleaned from his experiences, talking about the importance of listening to oneself, of acknowledging when you need a break, or when you need to push forward. "and mental health, it's not just about being sad or happy... it's about balance, it's about knowing when to reach out, when to take time for yourself, and when to just... dream."

he ended the video with a promise to be more present, not just in his dreams but in his life. "so, thanks for sticking with me... here's to dreaming bigger, living better, and maybe, just maybe, changing the world one dream at a time. peace out."

after stopping the recording, he felt a sense of accomplishment, a feeling of having shared a piece of his soul with his audience. he now could acknowledge totally how heist had influenced this new outlook, her presence, her warmth, even if only in dreams, had given him the courage to speak about these things.

as he prepared for bed, he reflected on the day, on the video, on the selfie that had sparked so much positive feedback. "she's changed me, hasn't she?" he mused to himself, looking at the selfie on his phone. "even if it's just in dreams, she's made me want to be better."

he felt a pang of longing, wishing he could share this day with her, tell her about the video, the comments, the joy she'd inadvertently brought into his life, but for now, he was content with the happiness he felt, the shadow of her influence very much part of his reality now.

ㅤ﹙ 𝟑𝟑𝟑 ﹚ㅤּㅤㅤ˻ㅤaegan is typingㅤ˺ᅟ⠀ i appreciate the love shown through reposts, but let me be clear: my tales are not to be copied or adapted without a whisper to me first. my words are my treasure, and i guard them jealously.

my baddies: @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @blushsturns @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol

in case that you desire to be tagged in future works, here's the taglist.

[a-drifting-mannequin]

Discoveries

Fandom: Once Upon a Witchlight (Legends of Avantris)

Pairing: Gricko Grimgrin/Morning Frost; Grimmorning

(Some of our today's inspiration: @royhasissues; @crowliphale (vaguely))

Please don't read if you don't feel interested, I'm just letting anyone who reads this know where I get my ideas

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Summary: A series of stories of Gricko discovering things about Frost and how those said things affect him!

~~~~

Gricko is a druid, of course. It's obvious through his actions of making flowers bloom and trees grow, or by the way he carves little statuettes of nature's powerful spirits.

Not only that, he's sort of an expert in monsters and beasties alike. Maybe that's why he's able to take care of Hootsie so well.

While having a sufficient knowledge of many different animals, he never had questioned himself much about Frost or Kremy.

He never questioned Kremy for reasons that he had stated himself many times before. The gator is secretive about his personal life, past as well as humor, fashion sense and physical anatomy.

For Frost, however, the goblin never actually thought of asking. He had been his best friend for a long time, even before they met Kremy and Gideon. A druid and a sorcerer, walking along side together with an owl bear squeezed between them. They looked like a nice pair, and for a fact, they were.

It was around midnight, if he recalled correctly. The night was as peaceful as it could get, sleeping in the woods and all. Branches danced in the wind, dead leaves falling from its fingers as it moved.

Everyone had their own tent for that night, but because they were very near the next town, Kremy had the idea of splitting everyone into little groups. Him and Gideon, Gricko and Frost, and Torbek gets to sleep alone if he really wants to.

When it was too hot to bear being inside his bedroll, Gricko had decided to just sleep on top of it with Hootsie draped over him.

Suddenly, a flickering light of one of the lamps started to illuminate the tent he shared with Frost. Gricko had just woken up from a rather weird dream when he heard Frost mumbling some kind of chant, like a prayer.

Not feeling awake enough to make his presence known to the tabaxi, Gricko just lie there, drifting between consciousness and sleep in a comfortable manner. The chanting continue, never seem to cease while he's still awake.

Is Frost making some kind of prayer to whoever he worships? But from what he could recall correctly, Frost never had anyone to worship in the first place. Even on the path of righteousness, like he always claim to be, Frost could be a little chaotic and take Kremy's side for fun.

Feeling like he had enough strength to just take a peek at what Frost is doing, Gricko got on his elbows and peered over to Frost over Hootsie's mount of feathers.

There sat the tabaxi in all his glory. Usually he would be covered in his robes, but today seems to have a surprise in store for the goblin who was unfortunately awake at that time.

Instead of being face to face with smooth green fabric or the thin material of an undershirt, he was faced with orange fur covered in black stripes, some trailing up to his neck and around his torso. The underside of his arms is covered in white fur instead of orange like the rest of his body, the black stripes still coming around and hugging his arms.

For a tiger and sort of humanoid, Gricko could definitely say that Frost looked defined, like how Gideon would look but slimmer.

Had Frost been that hot to just strip down to his bare dignity? He only ever had seen Frost this bare when Chuckles came back and took his clothes away. He rather keep those images that had burned into his mind far away from his fantasies and dreams.

Gricko could feel blood rushing to his face and a little down further than his abdomen, but he refuse to acknowledge the feeling. He shouldn't have thoughts like this about his best friend, and watching your friend without his knowledge was and still is complete indecency, not to mention very creepy.

Now deciding that he had a good enough view and had stared a while too long, Gricko faked a groan as if he just woke up and faked struggle to get out from under his owl bear daughter.

Frost's ears perked up, immediately noticing the noise and scrambling to pull his tank top over for some decency, turning over to the struggling goblin with masked calmness.

"Oh, Gricko, I didn't realize you were awake already." Frost said calmly, though Gricko's mind says otherwise.

"Yeah, heard somethin and that kinda rouse me awake." Gricko lied, eyes trailing down the rather toned tabaxi, eyes lingering just a bit on his chest after turning over to face the wall of the tent.

Frost hummed and sighed mentally. Gricko, on the other hand, wish that he could've gotten a better view if Frost just happens to grab at the wrong shirt and didn't have time to pull it on.

The silence between them was thick and awkward, unspoken questions hung in the air, curiosity drowning Gricko and affecting his sleep. Frost didn't know what to say either, eyes focused on the flickering flame of the lamp for a while to long that dark spots started to form in the corner of his eyes.

"I knew you were awake," Frost spoke up eventually, eyes glancing behind him to see the goblin getting out from under Hootsie. There was a look of guilt and shame on his face, his cheeks dust in a light pink out of embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to, alright? I was just curious." His voice was hushed, eyes averting away from Frost's stare, hands tangling in his daughter's feathers.

In all his years, and now at this age, Gricko didn't get why he's acting like a little kid getting caught staying up late out in the garden. He felt like he was about to confess to his crush. It was a normal thing, at this point, for a grown man like him to want like how Gideon would usually be. He did it openly, too, like how Gideon often would. But in the presence of Frost, he could bear to tone it down a notch, made sure his friend was comfortable.

Frost, after all, was the youngest of the krew if Hootsie was out of the question. For a young tabaxi, he isn't like the rest. The others would be pretty open and nice, they've encountered a few already and they were very open to conversation. Not like Frost.

"If you are curious, please do ask next time." Frost offered, his voice soft and quiet, eyes searching. Gricko gave him a small nod and stared back down at his hands.

Maybe he should ask next time instead of being a creep.

~~~~

"Frost, stop stalling, we gotta go now! " Kremy shouted back at the tabaxi, a hand coming up to hold his hat down.

Frost grunted back in response, letting go of his barriers to dash and catch up with his friends. Gricko was standing right beside Gideon, eyes wild and full of worry, waiting for Kremy and Frost to catch up. No one is being left behind.

They should've never decided to do this. They should've never entertain the thought of doing it in the first place!

Gold and precious jewels shoved into bags and pockets clumsily, feet slipping against stairs and beautifully tiled floors as they desperately ran and tried to find an exit. Furious metal footsteps chased them down corridors and well furnished hallways, knocking over any type of display that might get in their way.

Gideon's hair burst into flames from adrenaline, licking up and around his horns. Any sweat that happened to form immediately evaporated into the air from his intense heat. Gricko had a burlap sack over his shoulder, carrying it in a manner similar to a flour sack, but instead of flour there were gold.

Kremy carried his own, but most of them were already carried by Gideon who oh so generously offered to carry it for his boss. In the pockets of his nice jacket were all types of rare and beautiful gemstones, add in a few more gold and all of this might seem worth it. Frost breaths were coming in short and labored, his eyes narrowed and just as intense as Kremy's, using his magic to at least crush some of the guard's minds while Kremy ran in front of them looking for a way out.

"Kremy, they're gaining on us!" Gideon shouted, huffing and trying to readjust the sacks in his arms without stopping or slowing down.

Kremy cursed quietly in front of them, then coming to a halt so abruptly that it caused everyone else behind him to either almost fall on their face or pile up on each other on the floor. Gricko was one of the many to actually fall face first, an audible wet cracking noise was heard between all of them.

"Kremy, what in the nine hells are you doing?!" Frost screamed furiously, his face betraying his sense of calmness and collective personality.

Gideon was shocked for a moment at Frost raising his voice to Kremy, kneeling down to host Gricko on his shoulder. The alligator didn't respond. He raise his cane to the wall in front of them, charging up his Eldritch Blast before the wall was blasted into millions of pieces in front of the krew.

"Now go! Don't just stand there and stare!" Kremy commanded, picking up his fair share of their stolen goods and making a run for it. Frost doesn't know how far they'll make before the guards catch up to them, but he didn't hesitate.

Picking up whatever that had fallen on the floor with mace hands, Frost dashes after the rest with his heart drumming in his ears.

An hour of running later, the group finally settled down at a clearing. The metal footsteps stopped following them, a furious voice shouting orders for them to fan out in the town instead of the forest that they ducked into.

Gideon groaned and dropped all the gold onto the forest floor, lowering Gricko down by a rock before collapsing himself. His soot smeared shirt was now covered in small patches of blood, there were tears here and there on it and on his pants.

Gricko's nose was slightly swollen and definitely broken, blood trickling down to his lips. Not much damage was done on him considering he was small enough to maneuver around easily. Kremy's suit was dirty and wrinkled, his hat partly burned in one corner due to Gideon's hair igniting so suddenly.

Frost was bent over, hands on his knees and breathing heavily. Heists usually wouldn't turn out this way, usually more quiet and less having to run for their lives. When it does happen, however, that's when they managed to escape with more goods than they could carry.

"Well, that's was a tough one fellas." Gricko said, his voice sounding weird due to his broken nose.

Pulling a bananya out his pack, Gricko started to chew away at it until all their attention was diverted to a noise coming from Frost. The tabaxi was still bent over, but his hands gripped harder at his pants and his whole posture seem to be shaking slightly.

Kremy worried that he might have pressured the calm natured sorcerer and that might have forced him into some state of shock. Gideon was just preparing himself mentally for any vile insults that Frost might throw at Kremy while Gricko didn't know what he should expect.

Eventually, Frost lift himself up from bending over with hands on his knees to reveal a bright smile built on adrenaline.

Gricko nearly dropped his bananya seeing Frost smile for one of the first times in his life. I mean, Gricko was sure that Frost smiled plenty before, just that he had never seen it or even catch a glimpse of it.

Everyone else seemed equally shocked at the sight. Soon, Frost started to chuckle quietly before bursting into a good natured laughter, his paws coming up to somewhat cover his ever growing smile.

"I- what or who are you laughing at?" Kremy questioned immediately, his clawed hand gripping the skull on his cane tighter as this might be a clone that was swapped out for the real Frost during the chase. Gideon, as protective as ever, took a step forward to put himself in front of his boss.

Gricko, with his nose now healed, slowly approaching Frost with caution that both Gideon and Kremy shared. Frost stopped laughing after a good few seconds, his laughter becoming something more similar to soft chuckles before stopping completely.

The goblin that stood beside him reached up and patted his arm twice, still very hesitant of what his next actions might be. The tabaxi looked over and smiled down softly at him, making the goblin feel something inside that he wasn't sure what to put it as. His eyes didn't seemed glazed over nor did any of his physical appearance had any fault.

"My deepest apologies, I didn't mean to burst out like that." Frost said, his calmness returning to him but the smile never seem to disappear.

Kremy sighed in relief and squeezed Gideon's arm for a bit more reassurance, earning a deep chuckle from the man beside him.

~~~~

"Yeah? You want this one girl?" Gricko said, looking down at his daughter and ruffling her feathers.

She nodded excitedly, looking at her father with puppy dog eyes just to convince him to buy it. Of course he'll buy it, Gricko would buy almost anything for Hootsie if she really wanted it. Either way, these were just a few bows and friendship bracelets so why not?

The other guys had split from him to go find their own stalls or vendors to buy from. Around the shop he was in, stores were filled with beautiful garments, some specialising in certain species while some are just for all species to buy.

Gricko was currently standing in what you could call an accessory shop. Small display case of necklaces and bracelets covered in expensive gemstones shining beautifully off the many lights that surround them.

Gricko by now has finished is shopping, mostly buying things for Hootsie while he look for things that would suit someone like him. Nothing of interest caught his eye, as he was most content in his own fashion style with not much to add to it.

"C'mon Hootsie, let's go pay for these and we can go find your uncles, yeah?" One would usually never asks a child's opinion on leaving shops or not even if the adult had decided so, but Gricko would because he wants his daughter to know she still has choices even if her father made most of them.

At the counter stood a very bored looking tabaxi. Gricko guesses that they might be a korat but he wasn't sure. There are lots of cats with grey fur anyways.

"Hello my good lady, I would like to pay for these!" Gricko greeted the tabaxi woman cheerfully, going on his tip toe in order to place the items on the counter.

She perked up and turned her attention back to her shirt customer, immediately calculating the item's prices. Though, something else caught her attention.

For a goblin, he smells awfully similar to a tabaxi. None of her kind walked in here for the past hour, and it was strange for a goblin to smell like one.

Her curiosity perked up, subtly scanning the goblin with her eyes while she pretended like she was still packaging his items. The owl bear next to the goblin seem to pick up her inspection, quickly giving her a suspicious look.

"I'm sorry, but I have to ask," She started, giving Gricko an apologetic smile. The druid just nodded, prepare to hear her question regardless of how ridiculous it is. "Did anyone ever tell ya that ya smell like a tabaxi?"

Gricko was confused at the question, tilting his head slightly to one side, both out of confusion and to look at Hootsie.

"Uh, I don't think so, ma'am." Gricko answered, giving her a skeptical look while reaching out to grab the items he purchased.

The goblin knew that some animals mark their territory with a scent that he's sure him and Gideon can't smell. They also do that to mark mates, just so others would know to not give any advances. And the only tabaxi they ever knew was Frost.

Gricko wasn't sure about what she meant by him smelling like one. For a certain fact, Frost doesn't hold hands or get close to a lot of the guys and that means him as well.

Gricko and the tabaxi woman stood and shared a moment of awkwardness, the silence stretching on more than necessary. The customers around them gave them curious glances, some whispering amongst themselves about the awkward pair at the front.

Gricko didn't know how to rescue himself from this situation. He was usually the conversation starter, but he didn't know how to completely end it.

Sometimes, it would just be Kremy and Frost pulling him and Gideon away from conversations to get back to the task at hand. But, right now, the guys were far away from him. Frost was probably doing regular shopping, Kremy and Gideon are most definitely robbing people on the other side of town, and Gricko was stuck here.

Luckily, Gricko didn't have time wait any longer for Frost bursted through the door. His face was expressionless, eyes focuses yet wandering. His eyes landed on the tabaxi lady behind the counter, and on habit, he lowered his head for a brief moment as to greet her. Hootsie let out a happy little hoot seeing her uncle and started to walk around in circles around his legs.

"Gricko, I'm sorry to disturb your conversation with this lady here but we need to go." Frost said, his face staying expressionless but his voice sounded breathless and hurried, as if someone was rushing him to get Gricko as soon as possible.

And, it was safe to assume that it had to be Kremy.

Gricko nodded, holding his stuff close to him and dashing after his mate, leaving the door of the shop swinging with repeated chimes of the bell above.

Before he went though, he saw the woman's mouth formed something similar to a quiet "oh", followed by a nod. Gricko hoped it was nothing bad.

After picking up Kremy and Gideon who were both laughing and carrying lots of jewelry and fancy clothing, they settled down in their temporary living place. Luckily, Kremy manageed to shake off most of the guards, though Frost suggested to move towns immediately after tonight.

"Hey, Kremy?" Gricko called to the gator, his voice wavering with a bit of nervousness. Or was it fear? He wasn't sure.

Said gator was cooking up a simply meal of what Frost was able to pick up at the market before he rammed into him bodily, pockets stuffed with gold and a stumbling fire genasi behind him. "You need something?" Kremy answered, sounding rather uninterested in what the goblin might ask.

"Do tabaxi scent mark like regular cats?"

The question was odd, and it didn't seem very appropriate to ask about it. I mean, scent marking is kind of private, right?

Kremy stopped storing the pot, gray eyes seeming a little distant as if he didn't heard Gricko's question correctly. The goblin patiently waits for an answer, hands reaching anything on his body to hold onto for self security.

"Yes, I'm sure they do." Kremy finally answered, voice maintaining its calmness.

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A/n: I FINALLY FINISHED THIS!! After what seems like forever, I hope you all enough this! (No, I didn't have ao3 account. Wish I did but I'm not sure what I'll do on there)

[nocturnesanomaly]

Chapter 10: Prophet Girls

(Series Masterlist: Divine Violence) (Read on Ao3) (Inspired Playlist)

Series: The Divine Violence - chapter 10: Prophet girls

Wordcount: 5,7k

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish x Gn!Reader

TW: (View masterlist for full series tw and tags) - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, Religious Trauma, PTSD, Flashbacks, Hallucinations, Anxiety, Paranoia, Disturbing themes, themes of indoctrination, themes of eating disorders

Description: You go hunting with Simon in the morning, and get invited to dinner in the evening.

A/N: Well….this chapter took a long time - Holidays took the life out of me, but I'm making my come back to my writing! - This one hasn't been read by my lovely beta reader as she's sick, I hope you get better soon love! :,( - I've proofread best I could so, I hope you have all enjoyed the chapter regardless, it's one I've been looking forward to write!

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"Relax your arm, you're holding onto it too tight" Simon gently adjusts your hold on the hunting rifle by your shoulders.

You grumble quietly, following his directions and exhaling a cloud of frosted breath. "I know what I'm doing," you shake his guiding touch off leaning further down into the snow and relaxing. There's no animal in sight yet, thank God. It's not like you'd hit it like this, all jittery.

At least that's how the suddenly very invasive man next to you so delicately put it just mere minutes ago.

You don't remember him being this pushy, or this confident really. A trait you don't appreciate so much when it comes to the correction of your apparent flaws. They only became flaws today for some reason.

"Are you sure? You seem really tense," his voice has been a constant stream of chatter in your ears this morning. When in the world did he stop being quiet again. "I mean it, you need to relax or you're going to miss it."

"I am relaxing!" you hiss out looking to where he's laying by your side.

His eyes narrow but he lets out an exhausted huff. "At least relax your trigger finger, you're going to scare away any of the animals before we even see any." He shakes his head.

Despite your protest you do as he asks and relax your body even more into the snow. A bit of it has managed to find the little exposed places of your jacket and make its way under, but you can barely feel it now.

"If you're going to be so picky, why did you even drag me out here," you ask a tad calmer resting your cheek against the cold polished side of the rifle. When he had woken you up that morning, it came as a surprise that he was only doing it to drag you out hunting at the ass crack of dawn.

You hadn't been at the liberty to decline.

"You can't keep staying in that room forever..." Simon says adjusting his position in the snow and keeping an eye on the moving bushes at the far end of your viewpoint. "You aren't coming out anymore, it's getting Price worried. Johnny too even if he won't say it."

You let out an annoyed huff. They shouldn't waste their energy worrying over something so trivial. You knew how to take care of yourself, even if it didn't look like it to them. What you were doing was most strategic.

"Great so it's a pity hunt."

"Don't do that," Simon grumbles. "We take care of our own," he gives you a pointed look when you make a noise of disapproval. "You're part of the team whether you like it or not Spider."

"Temporarily."

He shakes his head but otherwise makes no comment.

"Are you really that eager to get away from us?" there's an underlying meaning in his words, it’s less about an us, and more about a me.

You hadn't given it much thought, what you'd do once all of this is over. A part of you doesn't know if this can be done. They have a determination you lack. To truly see this through, you're going to need something that you still lack, you're going to have to dig a lot deeper than before, to resist, to complete the objective set before you.

"Where are you going when all this is over?" you ask.

"Wherever they send me next," he answers.

That's the part of his job that made sure you never got there. Sure, there were other certain factors. However, that point, the going from place to place with reckless abandon and a trust in your superiors that you'll never build again is what keeps you.

You move on your own terms, not someone else's. Not anymore.

"That doesn't get tiring?"

He goes quiet for a moment, leaning over to adjust where your gun is looking. He guides it towards the rustling bushes where he seems to have spotted something.

"There...a rabbit...keep an eye and take your shot when it's in view."

You let out a quiet steady breath as the white fur and pink nose sniffs out of one of the nearby bushes. It's cautious of danger, sniffing at the snow before taking a few uncertain steps out.

It's like it can feel it. That some quiet predator has it in its sights. The tense air around the clearing is almost suffocating, the expectation of the shot making your senses jittery.

"You get used to it."

It's all jumping around too much, and you start to crave the stability of the drug induced illusions.

Your finger itches on the trigger, your breath hitches. You look right into the red eyes of the rabbit, you see its terror. It's enticing, a rush like nothing else, that makes sparks fly off the synapses in your brain.

You pull the trigger with as much uncertainty as the scared rabbit.

You could never get used to it.

When you get back to the cabin, you find Gaz hauling a pine tree inside the house, right along with a mountain of snow. You can't imagine Price will be happy about that, but all he gives is a disappointed glare.

He directs Gaz around, moving the table a bit to the side to make space for the massive thing. You had never truly understood why there was even a need for a tree, even more so here. You didn't even have any decorations for the thing, it would quite literally just be a tree in the living room.

"Oh, you're back," Gaz perks up from behind the tree when he finally manages to get it into position. "Did you catch anything?"

Your empty hands should speak for itself. Simon closes the door behind you, kicking off the snow from his boots before looking quizzically over at the tree. "No," you answer curtly. "Not this time."

"Well, at least you're not being forced to carry a tree all the way from town," Gaz huffed with a smile on his lip.

"Zip it Gaz, you volunteered," Price grumbles. "Now put it a little more left."

"Do we really need a tree Cap'?" Simon passes you to stand next to the captain, observing from his viewpoint.

"It's festive."

You slip past the three of them, quiet steps placed towards your room. Simon might have brought you, to get you out of the room but that didn't mean you couldn't retreat as soon as you got back.

Halfway down the hallway, a wall in the form of Soap stops you from entering the room once again. You stop abruptly, startling yourself and him at the same time. "Joh-" you don't get to cut yourself off because he does it for you.

"Spider!" a smile spreads across his lips, and it startles you worse than bumping into him. "I was wondering when ye were coming back," he sounds endearingly excited. "Are ye ready for tonight?"

"Tonight?"

You take a step back, swallowing the thick of your spit back down. He's holding a notebook in his hands, a pencil case behind it. He's been drawing again then. Your wrists itch, curiosity winning its primary space in your brain as to what he could possibly be drawing now.

"Got invited by Mrs. Evans and her husband to dinner at their house tonight, ye and me." He shifts the weight between his legs, his eyes darting away from you and to the art on the walls. "Price agreed it would be good idea, get more intel on 'em."

"Of course they did," you say exasperated. "He's not wrong, if they're apart of anything major there'll be signs. Subtle but they'll be there."

He nods, falling quiet as he stands there. You look at him for a hot minute, expecting him to move but he doesn't. Your lips move to form the words you want to ask but nothing comes out. Your eyes go back to the items he's holding, and you gesture to it, trying to get him to say something, anything.

"Oh! ach that's right, I got ye something." He smiles and holds out the notebook for you to take. Hesitantly you take hold of it, giving him a questioning look. Your hands ghost over the edges before you flip it open.

It's empty, but the paper has quality and it's not just any notebook. He had bought you a sketchbook, one that's matching his own. A warmth blooms in your heart as you realize he remembered. Of all things you hadn't expected him to go out of his way and use his own money on you.

"John you...didn't have to..." you cringe a little when you catch your own slip up. He gives you a curious look. A tiny nod is the only signal you get. He's fine with it. It manages to relieve a weight in your chest, the one that's been bothering you about the balance between the two of you. Of what is too far. What is too much.

You gently take the sketch book out of his hands, and he places the little pencil case on top of it. "Nah don't mention it, thought ye might enjoy having something to do that isn’t just working." You feel your cheeks warm up a bit at the call out.

Your teeth latches onto your lower lip, your eyebrows furrowing along with it to create the difficult expression. He looks so excited about this gift. It sometimes feels a little like having a dog standing in front of you, his tail wagging excitedly at the mere possibility of you showing even a hint of approval.

"Just think of it as an early Christmas gift."

You can see why Simon has taken a liking to him. When you first meet him, he's an imposing figure. Even if he puts his good side forward, there's an underlying darkness. A thing you haven't been able to dig out of him yet, but you can see it in the way he moves, in the way he carries himself through social situations.

It's no doubt to you that every single one of the men living under this roof have a deadly touch. They've killed, and they'd kill again if they were ordered to it. It makes you wonder what their moral compass is like. How far is too far. Would they have done what you did, if they were in your position?

Would they understand.

Whatever Simon was put through it had been rough on him, enough to confine himself to a mask. John seemed understanding of him. He always seemed understanding of the things around him. He cared for things. He took care of things, even if that is in his own ways. You watch him love Simon like it's the easiest thing in the world. It's a quiet love, barred behind closed doors for safety but it's there. You see it, in their actions.

You wish you could be like that. Take responsibility in the same way. You've never loved normally, and part of you is sure you never will. Your love is an obsession. It's an all-consuming sickness, burrowing itself in the cavity of your chest. You are an all-consuming idea. You lick your tongue over bloodied ribs, you sink teeth into the heart. Your touch leaves marks and scrapes, that will hurt and destroy.

There's no part of you that should be loved in the way John loves Simon. Yet you crave that attention so viscerally, you'd do anything for it, to be the object of someone's eye once again.

"Thank you..." the words are quiet but it still makes him smile.

"Do show me what ye come up with, ah have a feeling inspiration will strike when it's just right" he speaks like he knows. He's so sure of himself, that you almost believe him just from that. He's the smart type, he'll figure it out.

He'll figure it out.

You shake your head. He won't unless you give him or any of the rest any reason to suspect anything. So far, you're just a weirdo, right?

"Yeah, I will," you try to give him an easy-going smile. Your thoughts should stay on the goal ahead. Whatever this dinner will bring, you have an objective now.

"Do we have to?" you turn away from their front door to face John again. You had gone along this far without complaint. The event of the evening hadn't seemed so daunting before you were standing Infront of the Evans family's lusciously decorated front door.

The first sign of their religion already came at the first glance. The giant cross put in the middle, surrounded by decorated plants and Christmas reds and greens.

"Yes, we do, and ye know that" he says with a soft chuckle, yet he remains still with you in front of the door.

"We could turn around now, Price doesn't have to know, there's a market in town we're just as likely to get information there than here." You aren't sure why exactly you're trying to convince him, when you're well aware you aren't getting out of this without the use of force. Which is definitely not ideal either.

He shakes his head, an amused smile flashing your way. "Price'll know, trust me he always somehow knows," he speaks from experience.

"It'll be over before ye know it, and we can always go to the market afterwards if ye'd like that," he offers as a middle ground. As if it was about the market in the first place.

You lean forward to press their doorbell with a sigh. If you were quick enough you could find the signs and leave. The shallow hope resides in your chest like an anchor to reality. You knew it wouldn't happen, not the way you wanted it to.

You take a step back when Mrs. Evans opens the door with half a squeal to make you wince. Her smile is so bright it borders something disturbing. "Oh my goodness, it's so good to see you two! Come in, come in!" she exclaims.

You step inside, giving her a soft smile and the friendliest greeting you can think of. Anything to make you come across as normal and not an anxious lunatic. She's wearing a beautiful floral print dress reaching down to her ankles, her hair done up in braids tucked into a bun.

Your hands twitch, muscle memory settling into your reflexes as you remember. The younger ones had loved that type of hair. You had been the best at doing it.

The signs will be subtle but they will be there

The Father's voice echo within your head as you step into the foyer.

I never abandon my children to the dark

The inside of their home is almost as obnoxious as their loud front door. Everything is Christmas times a hundred, but only the right kind. The one that praises God, the holy, the pure.

"Thank you for inviting us, Mrs. Evans" you give her your best crafted smile. She clasps her hands together and gives you one in return.

"Oh please, I always make it a point to acquaint myself with anyone new. So few come all the way out to our lovely little community, it's a blessing to see good new faces, and I told Frank you two make such a cute couple I couldn't resist inviting you over and getting to know you!"

You freeze at that. Couple? You hadn't said anything about that. Had John...you give him a look but he doesn't look back at you, his eyes focused on Mrs. Evans.

"And we're glad you did, we're both happy that the community is so welcoming, we were a bit worried at first," John doesn't correct her. Is he being serious right now. Did he really tell her that the two of you were together. What in the world was he thinking. What about Simon.

"Please, take off your shoes, settle in settle in! Make yourself at home," she encourages the both of you. There's little time to reflect on his choice, and even less to scold him about it. For now, you'll just have to play along, pretend as if you know what in the world she's talking about.

You discard your shoes and jacket in their rightful places, keep a respectful distance from most things in their foyer to avoid accidentally knocking over the copious number of trinkets they've got out on display.

"I hope you like roasted pork," she leads you into the living room where the warmth of the roaring fireplace encloses around you. "My husband made sure to get the best from the market this morning."

"It smells delicious, I'm sure you're a lovely cook" John stands closer to her. She giggles and waves him off with a bashful expression.

"Oh please, I'm just fine but you'll get a taste for yourself soon enough."

They've got a tree out, ornaments putting it in a white and golden light. Each one engraved with something. It's too small to read. Drawings around the room, done in crayon and childish paint, hung on the spaces on the walls.

John makes small talk with Mrs. Evans, some of relevance some not. It all becomes white noise as your eyes dart around the room. A pet bowl stands near the entrance to the kitchen, it's empty. Paintings of moments of importance from the scriptures are hung neatly on the walls. You recognize most of them, while a few are vaguer for your imagination.

"Excuse me," you try to be as polite as you can butting into their conversation. "Where's your bathroom?" you gesture awkwardly around the room with your hand.

"Oh! Just down the hall sweetie, the first door on your right" Mrs. Evans points back out towards the hallway you had gone through. You thank her, before retreating back out there. Away from the prying eyes of hers.

The hallway is almost worse than the living room. Decorations are splayed about, and it's probably the most visually interesting thing you've come across. Overstimulating almost. You come to a stop Infront the circular mirror, you ignore it in favour of directing your interest towards the display on the little table in front.

It's been decorated in many different colours, plants, pine, ornaments and Christmas cards. All of them coded in some way with the scriptures or religious practice that's been taught to them. Your hand traces over the little ornament, the words hollowing out inside your mind. Reactivating prayers that lay dormant.

'Let love and faithfulness never leave you; bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart - Proverbs 3:3'

You know words of prayer by heart. You've spent countless nights reciting them, practicing them, committing them to memory so you could receive a reward morning come.

And then you had spent countless nights crying them out in a prayer for help, for rescue. You had spent countless restless nights turning your throat raw, screaming to a god that never actually listened.

This home is oversaturated with them.

There's truth to be found in them, one you pretend to no longer care for. You walk further down the hallway, inspecting every ornament, every inscription. All the little signs that could distinguish this home from a loving religious household, to one that does the bidding of the collective.

There has to be signs. Tiny little things. Anything at all that can lead you towards the presence of The Father, of your home. He rarely goes anywhere without doing so, to lead his rightful children back to where they belong, no matter how far out they might have gone.

It was a lesson he taught you early on.

There'll always be a place for you in my arms.

The shadows still take his face, and use his voice. They still taunt you despite how much you try to fight it. You think they might not even stop if you were to finally give in to them.

You come to an open door. A child's bed room. It's clad in golds and pinks, blending together in the context of a princess design. The little kid is there too, her golden hair almost shining in the big lamp light above. A halo around her head. She's pure.

She would be so easily corruptible.

"Are you mommy's guest?" she doesn't seem nervous at all. "Oh! Do you wanna see my toys? Mommy says I can get more for Christmas!"

Let her be innocent. Please. Let her be free of it.

You walk closer wordlessly. An easy smile settles on your lips, exactly how you used to do with the young. "Yeah, those are some cool toys" you try to mimic her tone of excitement. "Are they new?"

You settle down onto your knees next to her. Her toys keep the same colours scheme as her room, except for a few baby blues and greens. She excitedly shows you her favourite.

You're careful not to touch her as she drags you through her collection of colourful ponies. She's too young. Let her be too young to know.

He starts young.

Let her be too young.

Your eyes search her body for scars, bruises, any mark at all but find nothing but the smooth skin you envied. "Do you go to church often little one?" you ask and settled down on the floor next to her in a more comfortable position.

"Mhm! It's a bit boring sometimes though, don't tell mommy I said that," she snickers and puts a finger over her mouth.

"Have you ever wanted more out of it?"

She shrugs barely interested in your words, clearly boring her about just as much as the lectures she would find within the church. You reach out, grab her arm with a force that gets her eyes to widen.

"Deus spes nostra," your eyes bore into hers searching for even the tiniest sign of recognition within her.

You spoke a tiny prayer within your mind, let her be innocent, let her be free.

"Deus lux mea est."

Your stomach sinks, your eyes searching for the source standing in the open doorway. She couldn't be much older than you had been. She had the same expression you would wear back then, masked by the anxiety swimming in your gut.

The family has two daughters.

The little one, uninterested in the religious practice being thrust upon her as she grows. She'll change her mind as she gets older, turn to the so-called light stained by the blood red sky above her.

And the older one.

He's raising a new angel.

It's the only thing that makes sense. A new angel to take the place you left hollow when you fled. He's starting from the bottom up, creating something better, something stronger. And by how she stares you down from across the table, it wouldn't be crazy to think she knows of you.

You can only pray she would keep her mouth shut. That she wouldn't alert your presence to anyone of importance. Or you could dispose of her. The plan formulates all too quickly in the back of your brain, how you'd do it, what you'd do with the corpse afterwards, the explanations of your absence to the team.

Depending on how deep in her training she is, you're unsure whether it's a fight you want to pick alone. She's so much younger than you, inexperienced but fresher without the pains of a weakened body.

"Love, could you pass me the salt?"

You freeze, your head whipping to John in surprise. Despite the agreed cover you hadn't expected him to pull out anything extra. Was that really needed? As if Mrs. Evans hadn't already fussed over the two of you enough.

"Yeah..." you pick up the salt and pass it to him. Your eyes leaving the new angel.

"Are the two of you settling in well?" Mrs. Evans speaks up clear startling her youngest. "I know the valley can be difficult to get accustomed to especially this time of year!"

She has a faux type of energy that rubs you the wrong way.

"We're settling in just fine, kind of you to worry" John responds with optimism. How does these people not rub him the wrong way, can't he see it? Or is he just that much better at masking it than you are. Likely it's the latter and it doesn't help your annoyance.

"Ah it's nothing, gotta look out for the young love in our community" her knife squeaks against her plate when she cuts a piece of meat. It hurts your ears. The table itself is clad in imperfect white frills, candles in the middle, surrounded by fruits, potatoes and meat galore.

"Isn't that right honey?" she elbows her husband in the arm. His eyes have been glued his plate since you took a seat. He's barely eaten a thing. When he doesn't answer her, she clears her throat and nudges him again.

"Mh..yeah."

She lets out an awkward little laugh, her uncomfortable stature satisfies something in you. John smiles unsure towards her as he takes another bite of his own food.

"Oh, darling you've barely eaten a thing? Do you feel ill?" Mrs. Evans directs her attention to you when she doesn't get the response she's looking for. You mentally curse out the man of the house for not taking up her conversation.

"No, I'm alright, just had a big lunch that's all" you give her your best attempt at a disarming smile. Let her buy it. Don't dig.

You pick up your fork and pick up the piece of meat you had cut for yourself. It doesn't go down easy. The heat burns your tongue, and the texture drags in your throat. It settles wrong in your stomach.

"It's such a good thing the two of you decided to come to church! The community is always so excited over newcomers, I'm sure you'll make lots of friends in due time." You have to give it to her, her excitement seems as genuine as it gets. Whatever lays beneath, she believes in it wholeheartedly.

"Yeah, we're happy to have found it so receptive. We have a lot to learn from a tight knit community like this, but I'm sure there's only good things to come. We've also been thinking about expanding our horizons, attend some things more than just the Sunday mass." John replies in an excited tone. He's good at mimicking the interest in their practice, but you suppose it's not entirely fabricated.

"Oh but of course! You absolutely need to come by Wednesday when the choir practices. My own two girls are apart of it, and they've got the most angelic little voices, do you not?" she glances towards them with hope in her eyes.

The little one smiles bright at you, nodding along rapidly to what her mother is telling. The elder remains quiet. "They both work so hard too! I mean you should have seen it when they first started, a bit uncoordinated but they sharpened up quickly. A few private lessons and it put them right on track with the others!"

She sounds proud.

Her happiness disgusts you.

The daughters are silent listening on to their mother singing their praises on a topic they'd clearly rather avoid. It's in their faces, even the younger one, the distaste, the compliance. The new angel still has her eyes on you, ever focused on your moves, your expressions, your reactions. She's too observant for your liking.

You make a mental note to ask Laswell for any and all information on this family, on her.

There'll be plenty of work to do once you go home from this. You doubt you'll get much sleep. You only hope your sleep deprived state won't cause you too much trouble, and that the 4 men living under the same room won't make too many comments. You got voices enough in your head to listen to.

The rest of the dinner is spent observing the family's dynamic, marking off mental notes of their reactions to one another. You've got down the mother’s devotion, the daughters forced contribution, the father’s detachment to the world around him as if nothing matters to him anymore.

He's been here

This place is filthy with his prints

He's planted the seeds and they've taken root deep within them

"Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Evans. It was delicious."

"Oh, don't mention it Mr. Mctavish, it was my pleasure to host the two of you" she gushes as you move out the front door and back into the snowy town. John follows close behind, his hand holding tightly onto yours as if to keep you in check, so you don't go running off prematurely.

You guess he still doesn't fully trust you after your little stunt.

"We'll see you in church on Sunday! Stay safe now," Mrs. Evans waves you off and closes her front door with a prominent click.

You let out a deep sigh, finally being out of there. "You did good," John says and gives you a smile. His hand is still in yours, a warm weight you don't feel like letting go just yet. Luckily, he doesn't seem to want to either as he tugs on your arm to walk in tow.

You let him lead you, tugging your jacket further around yourself. "So are you not a fan of family dinners at all, or was that just as intense as it felt like back there," John says with a chuckle. You a crack a smile of your own. You could still feel your muscles tense state, at least you hadn't been completely alone in it.

"Would you believe me if I said both," there's amusement in your voice bordering a reciprocal chuckle. He looks to you with a fonder smile.

"Yeah."

His attention is taken off of you again when you hear the faint music down the street. Christmas carols, songs of joy. It seems to spark interest in him as he quickly changes course.

The closer you get the more extravagant the decorations around town seem to become. Fairy lights are hung from house to house, and across streets, becoming shimmering lights above you, like golden stars in the night sky to guide you to where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful..." your voice is but a whisper, staring up at the marvel. A rough hand comes to graze against your jaw. The hand that isn't holding yours guide your eyes to the bigger display at the centre of the upcoming square, the giant tree in the middle, the band in front of it playing songs for a dancing crowd.

His hand squeezes yours, making you look down. His thumb rubs soothing motions over your skin, like it's meant to be there. Your eyes trail back up to his face, but he isn't watching you. No, that amused face is captivated by your surroundings. There's something unmistakably beautiful about him in this kind of lighting, and you count yourself blessed enough to be allowed to see it before your end.

Your teeth clench together as your mind drifts back to the dinner. The one question you want to ask lies on the tip of your tongue, and before you can stop yourself.

"John back there why did you make us a couple, we could've been anything to them you didn't have to-" you bite down on your tongue, looking away from him as his eyes come back to you.

"It was the first thing that came to mind, didn't think it would bother ye that much." John is quick to respond, his concern edging into his tone. You swallow uncomfortably, and the hand that lies in yours suddenly feels wrong, like rubbing your hand on a cheese grater.

"But you and Simon..."

"He doesn't mind."

Your brows furrow, because what does he mean he doesn't mind. He should mind. He should really, really mind.

"But-"

"Dance with me."

He comes to stand in front of you, blocking the view of the spectacle ahead and becoming the new one instead. Light shines around him like he was sent from the heavens, a beacon for you to follow. The workings within your mind are dangerous, the connections they start to make.

"What?"

"Dance with me." He's steadfast not taking no for an answer as he gently grabs your other hand and moulds you into the right position. He doesn't start right away, waits for your muscles to relax, for the surprise on your face to morph into something different.

Then he leads you, and you follow.

You haven't danced much in your life if at all, and it shows in your clumsy movements, in the way you look down at your feet as to not step on his. He doesn't say a word, not a single complaint is heard. He spins you around with a soft smile on his lip, hums along with the tune of the song in the back.

It takes you half the song but you start to grow more confident, your steps more bold, more assured. A smile cracks out on your own lips, and when he spins you around again you can't help the laughter that crackles from your throat, the tickling in your body.

"You don't have to worry so much you know," he whispers close to your ear, your back to his front.

"We've got you."

He spins you back around, guides your steps until you've successfully danced yourself over to the rest of the moving crowd. His hand finds a resting place on your waist, the other one aiding you to make sure you stay in place. Your steps become unsteady, trying to not bump into people but he doesn't let go. He doesn't let you fall.

You don't know what changed for you that day, but later on you've come to realize, the feelings within you have morphed into something else, and whether you liked it or not, they would continue down that path. It's too late to walk away.

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[thegaissilent]

"...good night, dearest." Her words are soft, so at least some love is left after how bad everything just went.

She makes her way to the office, though she doesn't really have anything to do. So, when she sits by the desk, she fetches her sketchbook, grabbing a pencil and not really thinking when she starts drawing, letting her emotions guide her.

Firstly, there's a poppy field, but it doesn't look as beautiful and well taken care of as it once did. The flowers are wrecked, petals scattered around the grass. And in the middle of that, there's a single girl in a big gown, she's got curly hair, but you can't really see her face. She holds one of the poppies in her hand and it is the one that looks the most wrecked. Not a single petal visible anymore.

A few tears drop on the drawing as she works on it and she's so focused on what she's doing that she only hears someone knocking on the door when they seem to try it for the second time. For a moment, she wonders if it might be Elphie and her eyes light up a little.

"Come in."

It's almost hard to hide her disappointment when Fiyero is the one to enter the office. Because, of course. Why would it be Elphie? She had made her cry. She had hurt her.

"Glinda? Is everything alright? It's pretty late."

Glinda shakes her head, forcing a smile.

"Yes, darling, of course. Just... Artistic inspiration!" She laughs. It's not real.

"Of course." Fiyero nods. "Well... Perhaps... You should finish it tomorrow? It's way past midnight."

"What?" She frowns. "What time is it?"

"...2 am."

Her eyes widen in surprise. Time usually passed without her noticing when she was drawing, but even so, she must have been there for at least 3 hours now.

Everything starts coming back, then, and her stomach growls, and her bladder complains and she yawns.

"I am... So sorry, dear. I'll be there shortly..."

Why is he still awake, though? It's not like they actually wait for each other to fall asleep every night.

"Why aren't you in bed yet?"

"...it's been hard to sleep."

She nods. Indeed, lately, Fiyero has been having a hard time to sleep and Glinda isn't sure of what is happening, but she's heard of the Gale Force getting a lot more violent to "maintain order".

In all honesty, Glinda has avoided the subject. And perhaps that doesn't make her the best of partners, she should be taking care of him somewhere, but thinking of what the Wizard has been doing, how worse things things have been getting makes it almost unbearable to wake up in the morning.

"Of course... I'm sorry, dear." He nods.

"Don't take too long, okay?"

She nods and he leaves, making his way back to their room. And Glinda doesn't take too long. She decides to fetch something to eat first, then makes her way to the bathroom before she heads for the room, where she finds her fiance laying on the bed, a little shrunk with the blanket over him. He looks so scared it's disturbing.

She swallows, changing to her nightgown and letting her hair loose, brushing it before she sits by the edge of the bed and breathes a couple of times, her fingers clenching in itself. Fiyero shakes behind her and she lets a tear drop.

How much longer can they take this? And was Elphaba coming here really a good choice? Wouldn't she end up just as broken as the two of them were now?

She almost feels like running to her room right away and telling her to go. To leave and never look back, before this goddamn palace sucks on all of her light as it did Fiyero's.

Glinda still has a light. She has to be the light. As it is her job to bring people hope, to keep them cheerful even in times as dark as these. It doesn't matter how fake this light is, the citizens of Oz count on her to keep it going.

But, Lurline, does it weight.

She lies on the bed at last, back to Fiyero, but it doesn't take long for her to turn and spoon him. For he is warm and she has something to cling onto.

It should be enough. It used to be enough, but knowing Elphaba is right in the next room, Glinda misses her terribly. She misses having her strong green arms wrapped around her. She misses being young and melting in those arms, knowing that as far as they could lie down together like that every night, everything would be fine.

They would always be fine.

...they would never be fine again, would they?

for: @halfofozsfavouriteteam

Being Glinda, the Good is, above everything else, tiring.

She can't even pinpoint what is the most tiring part of it. If it's the fact she has to perform way more than she did her entire life, if it's the fact the work never ends and she barely has time to stop and relax. Or if it's simply because she feels stuck in a loop and there is no way out.

Her entire life is made out of lies now. Having to listen to those rumors about her best friend and not being able to say anything against them, smiling and waving to the crowd while they stare at her like she's some sort of savior.

Getting married to Fiyero so she can finally stop thinking about her.

She is tired. She is so tired. And yet she can't stop it. She doesn't know how to. Because despite it all, despite the fact that this is wrong and repulsive, she can't help herself. She can't help the small amount of satisfaction that she gets when people are praising her. When she's celebrated, applauded.

It doesn't compare to real love, of course. It never will.

But it fills her up somehow. It's all that she's had for the last years and if she keeps trying, she knows she can pretend that they truly love her.

Plus, she's still trying to make moves to actually take down the Wizard. To destroy this awful, terrible system from inside. So maybe, one day, she will be able to clean Elphaba's name. And have her friend back beside her.

(Does she actually believe she can do that still, though? Or did that naiveté die with Galinda?)

Either way, her entire life is absurdly tiring and as soon as she reaches the Emerald Palace in her bubble, exhausted from a very long day, she only wants to soak in her bathtub, and then lie on her bed.

But instead, she's called by the Wizard and grunts at that as she makes her way to the room where he keeps the goddamn machine. Everyday, Glinda wishes she could set that thing on fire.

As soon as she walks past the door, she freezes, though.

Green skin. Black clothes. Dark hair with microbraids.

Elphie.

"Elphie!" She exclaims, throwing herself on her friend to hug her tight. "What... What are you doing here?"

[littlexdeaths]

i may or may not have a little workplace meet cute in the works