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finelinefae · 1 year ago

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the final [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n and harry reach the final in the academy slam

word count: 12.2k

contains: fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, tennis rivals, smut (oral f-receiving, first time for h and yn, size kink, mostly just soft), travel anxiety, brief medical talk

a/n: extremely sorry for the wait but i hope this is worth it. thank you for being here and reading this little series. it means the world and I'm obsessed with all of u <33

this is the final part of the game, read part 3 here

. . .

In any relationship, Y/N had always believed she was the dominant, reliable, independent partner. In all of her friendships, family dynamics and even teamwork, the people around her looked to her for something that sometimes she couldn’t even give. Y/N was constantly pulling pieces of herself apart to give to those around her and at the end of the day she found herself with nothing left for herself. She was constantly burnt out, running on little energy to make it through to the end of the week.

But with Harry, her whole world felt like a sanctuary, a blue sky hidden from everybody else by grey clouds.

When she thought she knew all there was to know about herself, she was learning so much more through her relationship.

She learnt that it was important to share things, that just because Harry could read her face better than most people doesn’t mean he could read her mind. She hadn’t realised how closed off she was about her problems until Harry had found her panicking outside her classroom before an exam. It was that moment when he told her he needed her to communicate these things so he could help her in any way he could.

She learnt to accept that her love language was physical touch. She couldn’t keep her hands off of her boyfriend. No matter what they were doing or where they were standing, she was desperate to touch Harry in some way and he was obsessed with it. He loved how much she wanted him to hold her and how often she’d gravitate towards him to put her hand on his arm or hook their pinkies together. It was probably the reason why her lips were constantly chapped because she was always desperate to kiss him whenever they were near each other. Harry had told her once that our love languages developed from what we didn’t receive so much of as children, which made sense because Y/N couldn’t remember the first or last time her parents had held her.

She learned that arguments were healthy, even when they didn't feel like it in the moment. Just because Harry was her boyfriend and their feelings for each other were strong, they still ended up bickering over little things. It usually happened when one of them was having a bad day; they were both people who felt things very strongly, and sometimes that clashed. But they made a promise that, no matter what they were arguing about, big or small, they'd never go to bed angry with each other.

The biggest lesson Y/N was learning was something that she had yet to come to terms with. Having feelings for somebody was already a new thing for her, especially feelings as strong as the ones she had for Harry. She’d never been so attached to somebody in her whole life. Sometimes when she looked at him she felt like her heart was going to explode from how much it ached to be right by him. Y/N had always believed that she couldn’t feel much more than what she felt already, that this was how good it would get- and she was okay with that. But with every passing day, Y/N found herself floating higher and higher above ground as her heart began to inflate with such an intense emotion. Every morning, she felt like she was levitating right out of bed at the thought of seeing Harry.

It wasn’t until one particular day that she realised she was in love with her boyfriend.

She had woken up before him for once. Harry had always been an early bird, and so was she before him, but she loved staying in bed with him, basking in his warmth as he cradled her to him like he was cocooning her from the rest of the world and keeping her to himself for those brief few hours in the early morning.

She was going to wake him up to get ready for school but she stopped herself. Y/N had seen many versions of Harry her entire life but this was the first time when she looked at him and saw the person who had carved a nook into her heart for himself looking so peaceful and relaxed. She’d never really thought too hard into it before, willing to let herself fall into this relationship and see where she ended up, but that morning when she looked at him - really looked at him- she realised there was only one person in this entire world who could make her feel like she was still dreaming and that was the person she loved.

Of course, she hadn’t told him that. Never. Y/N felt genuine fear at the thought of having to tell him how she felt because everything she had ever truly loved she’d had to either work for or it had never loved her back as much. Surely loving someone as much as she loved Harry couldn’t be this easy.

“Hey,” Sarah beamed, leaning against the lockers as Y/N replaced her books for her next classes.

“Hey,” Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as she glanced at her shirt, “What are you wearing?”

“Do you like them?” Sarah grinned, proudly.

It was a white t-shirt with a tennis racket and a cut out of Y/N’s head plastered onto a tennis ball. The words ‘Y/N 4 court queen’ were written in red.

“Please tell me you only got one of these?” Y/N begged, feeling embarrassed.

“Well they’re prototypes so there’s only four,” Sarah explained and as she did Mitch walked towards them wearing the exact same shirt.

He put a hand around Sarah’s shoulders and kissed the side of her head before looking at Y/N, “How do you like the shirts? Me and Sarah spent all week designing them?”

“You designed these together? Aren’t you meant to be like horny teenagers or something?” Y/N tried not to laugh at their matching shirts as they stood side by side.

“We can be both,” Mitch shrugs.

“Who else is wearing these?” A throat cleared from behind them and Y/N turned around to find her boyfriend wearing his white school shirt unbuttoned to reveal the same t-shirt underneath.

“Hi baby,” Harry grinned, walking towards her and kissing her lips. Y/N’s hands went to his waist as he pushed her up against the lockers.

“And I thought we were bad,” Mitch said, “C’mon babe, I’ve got a few ideas for some more items we could sell.”

Harry pulled away as Mitch and Sarah walked away. Y/N looked up at him as he loomed over her, he was just so goddamn tall. “Missed you,” He murmured, kissing her quickly.

“You saw me this morning,” Y/N giggled.

“Hmmm,” He hooked his finger around her necklace and pulled her closer, “Do y’ like my shirt?”

Y/N laughed, “I can’t believe you actually wore it.”

“Anything to support my girlfriend,” He winks. She’d never get tired of hearing him call her that. “Did you hear anything about the Academy?”

Y/N shook her head. After winning against Astrid, she was now onto the final where she would play Courtney Avalon the only girl in the competition who had been picked to compete in a Junior Slam at fourteen. Y/N wondered who thought it fair for her to compete but she wouldn’t let it ruin her chances of winning, she’d just train even harder than she already was.

Unlike the previous games, the final wouldn’t be hosted at one of the academies instead it would be hosted elsewhere at a tennis club where professionals would play. There was no way of knowing where they’d be going, it could be in a different country for all they knew, but the final was a little under a month away and she still hadn’t heard anything about it.

“S okay,” Harry knew she was overthinking the situation as he traced his thumb over her pulse the way he always did when she was nervous about something, “We just train the way we always have,”

“Do you think I’ll win?” Y/N asked.

“I know you will,” Harry replied.

That same afternoon, Y/N was sitting in the library after school to finish her English essay on her computer when a notification appeared in her email. Her heartbeat hastened as she clicked on the email with ‘Academy Slam Final Location’ written in big bold letters as the subject headline.

She clicked on it and her eyes flicked through the long-winded introduction before they landed on the location.

Paris, France.

She was going to Paris.

With Harry.

She tried to keep her excitement at bay as she threw all her belongings into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She made a quick exit out of the library and ran towards the parking lot where she knew Harry would be.

Her eyes landed on him and she couldn’t help but laugh before running over to him and leaping into his open arms. “Paris,” She said and his eyes lit up.

“We’re going to Paris?” Harry asked, seeking confirmation.

Y/N nodded, “The same place they play the French Open.”

Realisation dawned on both of their faces as they understood the significance of this moment. Y/N would be playing at the same club where Harry was supposed to play before his injury. She waited to see his reaction, and a small grin formed on his face before he leaned in to kiss her.

“You are going to win this,” He says like a promise.

She nods, the weight of the moment sinking in deeper. The pressure now felt even greater than before, driven by a desire to win not just for herself, but for Harry too.

. . .

Y/N sat on the bonnet of her boyfriend’s Audi with her boyfriend standing between her dangling legs as they made out, “Are you actually going to teach me anything?” Y/N laughed, pushing him away.

Harry pretended to check the invisible watch on his wrist before shrugging, “We have time,” He leaned in to kiss her again but she playfully pushed his face away and slid off the bonnet.

They walked hand in hand to the court where Y/N put her bag down on the ground and pulled out her racket. Her eyes caught sight of Harry taking a bucket of tennis balls out of the storage shed. He looked particularly cosy today in his navy sweater and white shorts he was wearing, his hair was a little dishevelled mainly due to the fact that she had run her fingers through them for the past thirty minutes.

“Okay, so should we do a few drills?” Harry posed the question.

Y/N shook her head, “I wanna try something different today,” Harry frowned as she passed him a racket, “I want to play against you.”

She could tell Harry seemed unsettled as soon as the words left her mouth, “Y/N, you already know about my injury,”

“Just a little back and forth, if it hurts too much we can stop straight away,” She tried, hoping he would say yes.

Harry took one look at his girlfriend, seeing the pleading look on her face. Even though he knew she wasn’t forcing him, he couldn’t find it in himself to say no. “Fine, one game.”

Y/N squealed and ran to the end of the court she always played on, getting into position. She watched as Harry rolled his ankles and bounced up and down to get used to the feeling of his feet on the court. He took a tennis ball out of his pocket and bounced it on the ground.

With a playful chuckle, Harry tossed the ball into the air and served. Y/N lunged for it, returning it with a swift swing of her racket. The rally began, and each shot was met with cheers and laughter from them both.

Despite Harry's injury, he moved across the court with surprising agility, his competitive spirit shining through. Y/N knew he was at a disadvantage but still, she was in awe of how quickly he responded to her hits. Every time Harry would run for the ball, she’d find herself distracted by the muscles in his calves and thighs and the concentration on his face when the ball would go to her end of the court.

In the end, Y/N came out on top with one score above Harry’s when they decided on the last round as Harry could tell the pain was beginning to stir in his leg. She walked over to him and put out his hand to shake his, “Great game,”

Harry rolled his eyes, taking her hand and pulling her into him, “You’re too pretty, you distracted me.”

“I’ve heard that one too many times before,” Y/N smirked.

“From who?” Harry frowned.

“Oh just people,” She began to walk away but Harry quickly ran up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her around.

“Harry,” Y/N laughed, loudly, both of them ignoring the watchful eyes of passing students leaving school late.

He placed her back down on the ground and she looked up at him again, biting her lip, “Get back to those drills,” He shook his head.

“Yes sir,” She saluted but Harry stilled.

“I didn’t know you were into that,”

“What?” Y/N frowned before realising, “Ew don’t be so gross Harry,” She hit him on the arm and stormed away.

“What else am I supposed to think?” Harry threw his arms up in the air, biting back a laugh. She turned around and threw a tennis ball at him before grabbing another one and doing the same again, “Oh c’mon baby, I can live out your coach/student fantasies if that’s what you're asking,”

“You’re an animal!” She hissed.

Harry laughed and jogged towards her, kissing her quickly and running through their usual training.

. . .

Two weeks had passed until Y/N and Harry were finally on their way to Paris. Mitch and Sarah had dropped them off at the airport in the early hours of the morning with sleep still in their eyes. Y/N would be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t nervous about playing without her best friend cheering for her in the stands. But Sarah promised she would watch every second of the live stream from their dorm room and cheer her on from there.

She’d also tried to call and text her parents to tell them she had made it to the final and she’d be going to Paris, inviting them to come along even though she already knew they would decide not to. She hadn’t spoken to them since the dinner and even though she was the happiest she’d ever been, part of her ached, wishing her parents cared enough to see her that way.

Harry stood beside her as they waited in line to board the aeroplane. They had originally booked economy flights but Harry was insistent they upgrade even though the flight was only an hour long.

They were both dressed rather comfortably for the flight. It was Y/N’s first time wearing a piece of his clothing, a brown knitted sweatshirt he offered her to wear this morning. She couldn’t deny the rush of excitement she felt when he tugged it over her head and kissed her forehead, “Pretty,” He said and smiled.

But despite their comfy attire, Y/N couldn’t seem to stop fiddling with Harry’s fingers as they stood in line. She was nervous, biting the inside of her cheek and trying to ignore the sounds of the planes taking off outside. It was her first time flying and even though she was excited about going away to Paris, she hadn’t considered the prospect of flying and how nerve-wracking it would be.

“Harry,” Y/N tugged on his sleeve, looking up at him. He was holding both of their carry-ons, his black bag in his hand and her duffle on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, sensing her nerves.

“Will we be okay?” She blushes, feeling embarrassed at her question, “On the plane I mean?”

Harry’s eyes soften, “Of course,” He assures, “It’s the safest way to travel.”

“Okay,” She nods, before saying his name again, “Harry?”

“Yes baby?”

“You promise we’ll be okay?”

He smiles, putting their bags on the floor and taking both of her hands in his. He squeezes her fingers when he feels how cold they are, “Promise, promise.”

“Okay well if you’re lying I’ll probably never speak to you again.”

Harry chuckles, “I mean if I’m lying and the plan crashes then that’s probably true.”

Y/N frowns, “Don’t talk about crashing,”

“What? You bought it up.”

When they finally board the plane, Y/N immediately feels claustrophobic when she realises how small it is, “They’re loading us into a sardine can,” She mutters to herself and hears Harry laugh as he walks in front of her.

They finally reach their seats with Y/N right by the window and Harry in the seat next to her. Harry places their bags under the seats in front and moves to buckle his belt. “Harry?” Y/N says his name again. He glances at her and sees how pale her face is, “I’m really nervous.”

He felt his heart clench, it wasn’t often that Y/N admitted to feeling nervous or afraid of something. Hearing the shake in her voice made him consider getting off the plane and taking her back home again.

“Hey,” Harry cupped the side of her cheek, “Y’ got nothing to be afraid of sweet girl, everything’s gonna be fine. Might feel a little strange when the plane takes off but we’re safe and I’m right here with you.”

“I don’t know about this Harry,” Her eyes dart around and he knows she’s getting into a panic the more she thinks about it too much.

“Y/N,” Harry says her name gently, “Look at me baby,” His thumb rubs the skin under her eye and her eyes dart to him, “Can you feel this?” He gently wraps his fingers around her wrist and moves her hand to wrap around his own wrist until the pads of her fingers find his pulse.

Y/N nods, her eyes glistening, “Can you feel that?” He hopes the feel of his pulse will calm her down, “That’s it, just breathe and calm down everything’s gonna be fine.”

“It’s going to be fine,” She echoes his words as though trying to inscribe them into her own mind.

“M right here,” He comforts her, “You think I’d let anything happen to you after I just got you?”

Y/N smiles at that, “No,” She whispers, “You’re too stubborn.”

Harry grins, “Only when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s nerves were overwhelming as the plane began to move. She glanced out the window, watching the ground blur as they gained speed. Harry noticed her unease and reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

“What the fuck!” Y/N blurted when the plane lifted off the ground, loud enough for everyone to hear, “This is so not normal.”

Harry snorted a laugh, “Y’ doing just fine baby,” He rubbed soothing circles on the back of her hand.

Y/N’s eyes squeezed shut as the plane tilted, a whimper escaping past her lips when she took one peek out the window to see the clouds in the sky. “Isn’t it pretty?” Harry asked, ignoring how tightly she was squeezing his fingers until the point of turning blue.

“It’s a lot prettier with my feet on the ground,” Y/N responds, refusing to relax until the plane landed.

. . .

Y/N was in awe as they stood in the hotel lobby of the hotel they would be staying in for the next week or so. Harry had insisted he be in charge of choosing where they were staying as he had been to Paris plenty of times and knew all the best spots. Y/N didn’t argue with him, it gave her one less thing to stress about and she was never any good at making decisions anyway.

The receptionist handed him two key cards and Harry rolled both of their suitcases into the elevator as Y/N followed closely behind. “Are our rooms next to each other?” Y/N wondered, admiring the lights in the elevator as they went up to the seventh floor.

Harry’s eyes widened for a second but then they twinkled with mischief. She noticed him biting the inside of his cheek like he was trying not to laugh. “Is that what you want two rooms?” He asked and Y/N’s cheeks flushed.

“W-well I d-didn’t want to assume,” She stuttered, feeling embarrassed.

Harry handed her both room keys, “Room 764,” He motioned her out of the elevator when it reached their floor and she walked ahead, scanning the numbers on the doors as she did.

Eventually, she got to room 764 and stopped. Harry was still rounding the corner with both of their suitcases so she waved the key over the scanner and saw the light turn green but instead of opening the door, she waited for it to lock again. Switching to the other key, she repeated the action of waving it over the lock only to see it flash green again.

This time she did walk through the door, putting both their bags on the ground as soon as she stepped inside. Her mouth fell open when she saw the room they’d be staying in.

Y/N had stayed in fancy hotels before thanks to her parents but this was something she had never seen before in her life. It had a high ceiling and a chandelier hanging in the middle. White curtains hung from the windows with a view of Paris right outside their window. She walked into the bathroom to see marble countertops and a deep bathtub with a separate glass-enclosed shower.

After taking everything in, she walked back into the bedroom where her eyes landed on the king-sized bed - one bed for two people.

The sight of it made Y/N’s mouth dry. It was her first time sharing a space with any boy, let alone her boyfriend, for longer than one night. Although she’d been spending a lot of time together, this was the first time Y/N would be sleeping beside him, waking up next to him, and getting ready with him. In fact, this whole trip they were all each other had.

“Do you like it?” Harry came up behind her and squeezed her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

Y/N spun round and clung to him, “Thank you,” She whispered, hoping he couldn’t feel the nerves radiating from her.

“I was thinking we go out and get something to eat and then maybe walk by the river. We’ll be training for the next few days so,” She sighed, longing to just stay in the room with him holding her the entire time.

“I’d like that,” She sighs, eyes closing.

Harry chuckles lowly, she feels the vibrations from his chest, “Y sure?”

“Mhm,”

Harry smiles even though she can’t see, “Or we can order room service and stay here?”

Y/N seems to melt against him as he rubs circles on her back, “I like that idea a lot more.”

She was pretty sure Harry had ordered everything off the menu in the time it took her to unpack her suitcase. She smiled to herself when she saw their shoes side by side at the door when she went to put her trainers beside them.

It wasn’t long before hours passed and Y/N was wrapped up in a plush, white bathrobe with Harry’s shirt and her pyjama shirt on underneath. A cart with empty plates of what once was full of an array of desserts and sides was cast off to one side as Y/N lay on top of Harry with a full belly. The TV played lowly in the back, Harry's hands playing with the ends of her long, loose hair. The sky had turned dark with the lights of Paris lighting the city.

“Y’ sleepy baby?” Harry murmured, cupping her cheek and lifting her head like she was a little kitten so he could see her face.

Y/N hummed, nuzzling her cheek against his hand and curling into his side. Her hand slid up his torso to fiddle with the cross necklace around her neck. “Go to sleep,” He kisses the top of her head, “Got a long day tomorrow.”

Tomorrow they’d be off to the tennis club to train for the final at the end of the week. Harry had picked a hotel that was a ten-minute drive away just in case they ended up spending long hours into the night working on Y/N’s technique like they did when they were at Crestwood.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut as Harry rubbed soothing circles on her hip to try and lull her to sleep. The outside world seemed irrelevant in that moment, he felt as though he could lay there forever in this comforting bubble they had created together.

“Goodnight Harry,” Y/N mumbled, clutching his t-shirt.

“Goodnight baby,” He whispered, feeling the happiest he had ever been.

. . .

“Somebody pinch me, I feel like I’m dreaming,” Y/N gaped as they walked through the tennis club. She felt Harry pinch the skin above her elbow, “Not literally,” She huffed.

After a blissful night's sleep, Y/N awoke to her face buried in the crook of Harry’s neck as both of his arms held her tightly to him throughout the night. Sleep had always been Y/N’s worst enemy but she genuinely considered calling off today and just laying there with him.

They booked a cab before getting ready which would take them to the tennis club. They had planned a morning session of training so they could spend the remainder of the afternoon exploring Paris properly this time instead of looking out the window of the back of a taxi or from their hotel room where they had spent yesterday afternoon lounging around.

Harry smirked, “You haven’t even seen the best part yet,” He leads her to a big glass window in the lobby.

Y/N immediately gasps, pressing her nose against the glass wanting it to disappear so she could walk straight through it and across to the Roland Garros which just so happened to be right next door.

“I’m going to be there one day Harry,” Y/N says with the upmost determination in her voice.

Harry nods in agreement, “You will,” He says and that makes her believe it even more.

They walk hand in hand to the courts, Y/N in a white tennis dress and matching visor and Harry wearing a white polo shirt and white shorts. They were both wearing black sunglasses to cover their eyes, Harry snaked his arm around her shoulders, Y/N’s fingers automatically threading through his, as they walked outside.

They seemed to pause at the same time when they saw one of the courts already occupied. The sound of the ball speeding through the air and hitting the racket of the girl running to hit it in time broke through the air.

Y/N watched as the girl moved with such agility and force, meeting every hit made by her coach with her own. It was like nothing she had ever seen before, no one she had ever played against.

With one final hit across, the ball landed somewhere past her opponent and the game ended. The girl grabbed a towel and wiped it across her forehead, smiling as she took a waterbottle from the cooler. Her head raised, Y/N’s eyes casting away in hopes she wouldn’t come over but it was too late and she was already walking towards them.

Harry gave Y/N’s hand a gentle squeeze as if to say "be nice," already familiar with her temper. However, she had put up a guard, uncertain whether to trust this girl or not.

“Hi,” She said, “I’m Courtney,” She held a hand out to which Y/N slowly responded, “You must be Y/N, I’ve been watching your games. You’re good.”

Y/N felt her jaw tick at the tone she used in trying to compliment her like she didn’t think she was a good player at all but she was trying to be nice about it.

“Thank you,” Y/N decided to not act out and instead remained civil.

Courtney flashed a pearly white grin, “Yes well my coach thought this whole Academy competition would be good training for the Junior Slam next year. It’s not often something I would participate in but no one can deny the glory of winning something no matter how easy it is.”

Y/N forced a smile, “You’re right, it seems every game just gets easier and easier. I’m sure this next one will be a walk in the park.”

Courtney smirked, her eyes drifting up to see Harry, “Harry,” She acknowledged, “I haven’t seen you since your injury? How is it?”

“Good,” Harry nodded, “Besides the fact I can’t play anymore, I’d say it’s going pretty well.”

Courtney’s smirk deepens, “Is that why you’re doing this? Since you can’t play you’ve got a little pitbull to carry the torch for you.”

Y/N’s fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms, “You know, I’ve been watching you too Courtney.”

Courtney’s expression turned smug as she crossed her arms, “Oh really?”

Y/N nodded, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her nose like she was inspecting it, “Your nose is looking a little crooked after last season. My mother knows a doctor who can fix that if you want their number?”

Courtney scowled and spun on her heel to storm away from them after being reminded of her embarrassing moment from last season where she hit herself in the face with her tennis racket and broke her nose.

Harry chuckled from beside her, “I’m sorry, I know I’m not meant to but she pissed me off when she started talking about your injury like that.”

“It’s okay, if I didn’t think you had it covered I would have said something myself.” Harry began to walk to their side of the courts, “Now c’mon my little pitbull, let’s get to work.”

Y/N scowled at his choice of words but followed him anyway.

. . .

Throughout the entire week whenever they weren’t training - which was less often than they had hoped for but also the reason they were here in the first place - Y/N and Harry spent their evenings exploring the city.

Y/N was thankful Harry had been to Paris plenty of times before, enough to show her around and take her to some of his favourite spots.

Together they went to Harry’s favourite cafe each morning to pick up croissants and pastries to eat outside on the little tables and chairs. They visited the Eiffel Tower where they attempted to take photographs of each other holding it in the palms of their hands. They walked over to the Louvre where Harry paid for them to have a private tour in the evening and they would spend most of their evenings walking hand in hand as they strolled along the Seine.

This must be what being a kid feels like. Y/N thought to herself as Harry lay in between her legs as they sat on the grass right in front of the Eiffel Tower. He was reading a book he had bought from a small, indie bookstore they had come across as they walked through the streets.

Everything in her life had always been meticulously planned or she had to work hard for it, even at the age of eighteen. Both Y/N and Harry had been made to grow up quickly because their parents had raised them that way but together it felt like they had regressed back into their simplest forms. Life felt easy and colourful and magical. Each day, Y/N felt like her heart was shedding hardened skin and was slowly turning into this beautiful ball of light that weighed hardly anything inside of her chest.

She paused her train of thought when she felt Harry’s lips press a kiss to her arm, “Let’s go out to dinner tonight,” He murmured.

Tomorrow was the final and Y/N had been a nervous wreck all day hence why they had attempted to do things that might help her relax. Harry had woken her up with breakfast already carried in by one of the housekeepers and had offered to take her to the spa in the hotel but Y/N was desperate to escape the indoors and go outside so they ended up walking through the streets and stumbling into different shops on multiple street corners. Harry had even bought a baguette to put in his tote bag that they had been nibbling on all day.

“I don’t know if I can handle eating right now,” Y/N admitted, the nerves getting the best of her.

Harry shifted and turned around so he was lying on his stomach, his chin resting on her belly, “You’ll regret it if you don’t eat baby,” He kissed her exposed stomach from where her shirt had risen, “Even if it’s just a little something, y’ can’t go to bed hungry.”

Y/N knew he was right which is how they ended up in one of the fanciest restaurants Harry could have possibly picked from the many Paris had to offer with two plates of pasta and a shared basket of garlic bread between them.

At one point, midway through making her laugh, Harry pulled out his phone to quickly take her picture. Y/N's cheeks tinged pink as she asked, "What did you do that for?"

Harry bit back a grin, “Because you’re my girlfriend and sometimes I take photos of you to make sure this is real,” Y/N rolled her eyes, “What? Do you want to see the whole album I’ve made for you too?”

“A whole album? Ew weirdo,” She teased.

“Not a weirdo, ‘m just obsessed with you,” He says, “Wait until you’ve seen all the playlists I’ve made over the years I’ve been pining for you behind closed doors.”

Y/N’s lips part, “You’re lying,”

“I’m not, I swear,” Harry chuckles, “Remember that box of chocolates you found in your cubby in fifth year on Valentine’s Day?”

“That was not you,” Y/N refused to believe it, “Sarah and I sat in the park after school eating them on the swings after she broke up with Byron.”

“It was,” Harry nodded, his cheeks turning rosy but he carried on, “The day you asked me to teach you to play tennis I felt like I was floating on a cloud at the big old age of eight.”

“But you said no,”

“Yeah because I figured you’d never leave me alone until I did and low and behold here we are today.” He says like he’s been planning this exact moment in time all his teenage life.

“Ah so you’ve been scheming ever since,” Y/N joked.

Harry shrugged, “I may have put things into motion but I think you were always meant to be a part of my life, Y/N.”

Y/N’s heart warmed like he was holding a candle beneath it, “I don’t think I remember anything good that you weren’t a part of.”

He reached for her hand across the table and kissed the inside of her wrist, “You are my good.”

. . .

Harry leaned against the doorframe of the hotel bathroom as he brushed his teeth whilst Y/N lay on the bed in just a towel and underwear having just finished showering. Both their gazes were fixed on the television with re-runs of previous tennis matches playing with the volume down.

Harry’s eyes softened when they looked at Y/N who watched the TV with so much awe on her face. He felt a sense of pride wash over him for both his girlfriend and for himself. After his injury, he thought himself damned and that nothing would give him the rush of playing tennis against big names like he did before but now he had Y/N and life before today seemed non-existent - maybe he hadn’t really been living at all.

He spat out his toothpaste and turned the bathroom light off. He stopped in the doorway in just his boxers when Y/N switched the TV off and there was nothing but the soft, warm glow of the lamp lighting the room.

Her eyes looked up at him, vulnerability shining from them, “If I lose tomorrow will you still look at me the same?” She asked.

Harry frowned, “What do you mean?”

She sighed heavily, sitting up and pulling the towel closer to her to hide her naked chest, “Will you still like me?”

Harry’s eyes softened. It wasn’t often she shared such a vulnerable side with people so whenever he got a glimpse of it, he felt himself spiralling out of control like he was completely at her mercy, “No,” He starts and walks towards her squatting down before the bed and reaching a hand out to hold her cheek, his thumb smoothing over her cheekbones, “But I’ll love you a little harder than I do right now,”

A breath escaped from Y/N’s lips as they parted, her heart pounding, “What?” She breathed.

Harry’s lips curved, “I love you.”

She still couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing, “You do?”

Harry said nothing other than a small nod as he waited for her to respond, “I love you too,” She whispered, her eyes glistening, “More than anything in this world.”

Harry didn’t need to hear anything else as he surged forward to kiss her, his bottom lip sliding between hers. Y/N held his face in her hands as she kissed him as hard as she could whilst he crawled onto the bed.

She fell back, feeling the soft sheets beneath her as Harry held himself up above her. The towel around her had loosened her pulse racing as she realised what was happening. “We don’t have to-” Harry started but Y/N kissed him quickly to shut him up.

“I want to,” She murmured against his lips.

Harry nodded, his curls falling around his face as his cheeks tinged pink, “I-I can’t promise I’ll be good,” Y/N immediately shook her head, pushing his curls back and looking him straight in the eye.

“I love you, Harry,” She saw the way his eyes twinkled as she spoke those words, “Whatever we do will be perfect because it’s with you and nobody else. Just us.”

Harry smiles, “The way it’s always been. You and me,”

Y/N mirrors his smile before kissing him again, running her hands up and down his back with nothing but the sound of their lips connecting and their heavy exhales filling the silence of the room.

As Harry kissed down her neck, Y/N felt her nerves escalating as an idea formed in her mind. The towel around her was the only barrier preventing their skin from touching, and she yearned to feel the warmth of his bare chest against hers.

Before getting lost in a spiral of self-doubt, Y/N loosened her grip on the towel. Harry paused his assault on her neck and they both froze, “Holy shit,” Harry whispered maybe to himelf but she wasn’t quite sure, “Okay give me a second,” His eyes squeezed shut and Y/N waited.

Suddenly, Harry’s head glimpsed down at her naked form lying beneath him. The only piece of fabric left on her was a pair of red, lace panties, “Fuck,” Harry cursed, “This isn’t real, pinch me so I can wake up,”

“Harry,” Y/N laughed.

“I’m sorry baby but you’re just gonna have to give me a moment because- Holy shit.” He exclaimed, “This is way better than I imagined,” He muttered, loud enough for her to hear.

Harry was in awe of the girl that lay beneath him, every curve of her body and inch of her soft skin looked as thought it was sculpted by tender hands. His hands gripped the bottoms of her thighs and he felt the hard muscle from months and months of playing tennis and yet, despite all that, her skin was still so damn soft.

Harry couldn’t think up enough words to praise the temple that was her body so he sealed his lips with hers, his tongue darting out filled with lust and need. His fingers slid up her thigh to grip her ass and when his hips rolled against hers she felt him - all of him.

Y/N let out a moan as he kissed down her body, he pulled her into him until her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her arms looped around his neck, her fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

Y/N hummed, her eyes fluttering shut, as Harry kissed and touched every inch of skin. She felt like all the heavy parts of her were being taken out of her body and only her heart remained. He cupped her breasts in his hand and squeezed, her nipples hardening despite the warmth of his touch. She felt like dough, fluffy and light, and no matter what he did to her they would somehow mould together perfectly.

She felt Harry’s thumb hook the waistband of her panties when he kissed the inside of her thigh, “Harry,” Y/N gasped. It seemed to be the only word she had left inside of her empty head.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked, his green eyes peering up at her.

“No,” She said, too quickly, “You can do anything y’ want to me.” She trusted him that much.

Harry shuddered at her words, his heart expanding three sizes inside of his chest. He didn’t think it was possible to feel this way about somebody, to feel like all his calloused skin was peeling off of his body and now he was someone completely new.

With shaky hands, he removed Y/N’s underwear, seeing the way her chest rose and fell. His hands gently pushed her plush thighs apart, “Fuck baby,” He groaned.

“Please Harry,” Y/N mewled, her hips wriggling in hopes the action would propel him to do something.

“Calm down lovie, jus’ admiring how pretty y’ are,” He smirks, his thumb trailing up her slit until it reached her clit. He stopped, hearing her weighted breaths before he began to rub it in slow, teasing circles. He caught the stutter in her breath, watching when her hands fisted the blanket.

Without warning, Y/N feels his warm, wet tongue run between her folds. The sensation feels foreign but she’s overcome by intense pleasure as he begins lapping her through her folds. She feels her lungs deflate as the air escapes her, unable to breathe when he teases her clenching open. Her toes curl as his other hand travels to her hip to hold her down and nuzzle his face harder against her.

Hearing her whines and feeling her writing beneath him, Harry feels his cock throbbing in his boxers, he could feel the damp fabric against his skin as he pressed himself into the mattress with his head still in between her thighs.

“So good,” Y/N babbles, her body shivering when she felt the coil begin to tighten in the pit of her belly, “So, so good Harry.”

Before she could find her release, Harry pulled away his chin glistening with her juices. Y/N’s hands grapple for him but she can barely reach him and feels too floaty to try any harder. Harry’s hair is a mess as he crawls up her bare body and kisses her. She tastes herself on his tongue when they brush against each other, “I need to be inside of you,” He slurs against her lips, “I need you so bad Y/N, I think I’ll go crazy if I don’t.”

Harry’s head hangs, his curls falling in front of his face. Y/N automatically pushes them back, her hips rolling against his. She can feel the damp spot against his boxers despite her own wetness covering her thighs, “I’m on birth control,” She tells him.

Harry groans, his forehead pressing against her collarbones, “Of course you are,” He says, “Always so fucking prepared, aren’t you?” He drawls, “My best girl,”

Y/N’s heart flips and spins at his words, but the reality of the situation sets in when she feels him removing his boxers. She gasps as she feels his hardened length against the inside of her thigh. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but Harry was big; she had no clue whether it was normal for someone to be as thick as he was, and she wondered how she was meant to fit it all inside of her.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs and Y/N nods, “I feel like we should high-five or something,”

Y/N can’t help but laugh, “What?”

“Well we’re both virgins about to lose our virginity, shouldn’t we like boost morale or something?” He jokes and Y/N laughs so hard her cheeks ache.

After they both settle, Harry kisses her quickly as he lines his cock up to her pussy, “Harry?” He hums a reponse, “It’ll fit right?”

Harry groaned, his mind still picturing her small, wet glistening pussy that he had just had his first taste of, “Yes baby, it’s your first time so it’ll hurt a little but if you want to stop we’ll stop and if you say go we’ll go and if you want me to leave you alone for ten minutes, I’ll leave for five. Whatever you want.”

“Okay,” She nods, fully determined, “I love you,”

Harry’s eyes soften, “I love you too, lovie.”

Y/N smiles, “I like that name,”

“Yeah?” Harry’s lips curve.

“Yeah,” Y/N loops her arms around his neck and tries her best to relax when she feels the tip of his cock brush through her folds.

Harry kisses her forehead, “Take a deep breath,” He says and as she does, she feels him push his hips down and his tip gently ease into her. She gasps, feeling her pussy throb as he moves achingly slow, inch by inch inside of her. A thin layer of sweat covers Harry’s forehead, his jaw clenching as he feels her walls squeezing him tightly.

She feels a sting of pain as his thick length pushes through her, her pussy stretching to accommodate his size.

“Baby,” He murmurs, the tip of his nose brushing over her cheek, “If you keep clenching around me I’m gonna cum before I’m all the way inside of you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You’re not all the way in yet?”

Harry cringed, “M sorry, do you want to stop?”

Y/N immediately shook her head, pulling him closer to her, “Keep going,” She whispered despite the fact she was wondering if she even had enough room to fit him inside of her when she already felt so full.

Harry eased into her a little quicker this time, kissing her soothingly and whispering sweet, encouraging nothings into her ear. He even began to rub his thumb against her clit in hopes it would ease some of her discomfort.

Eventually, he found himself all the way, deep inside of her, her walls squeezing him tightly with his hips pressed against her own. “Are you okay?” He murmured.

“Mhm,” Y/N could barely keep her eyes open from how blissful she felt. It was like nothing she had ever felt before, her entire body was just full up of him in ever sense of the word, “Can we stay like this for a moment,”

He kissed her shoulder and along her collarbones, “Whatever you want lovie, doing so well,”

Although he was trying to remain calm for her, Harry couldn’t believe he was buried deep inside of the girl he had loved for so long. He couldn’t feel any part of his body apart from where they were both connected, slotted together so perfectly like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Her hair splayed out around her on the pillow, her lips were plushy and swollen, and her cheeks were red, the colour of two, crisp apples picked right off a tree. She was a dream, the love of his life.

“Okay,” She murmured, “Y’ can move now.”

“Are you sure?” He would hate himself if he caused her any more pain but she nodded.

A hiss escaped her lips as Harry began to slowly move out of her. He paused, “I just need to get used to it is all,” She assured.

Harry nods, waiting for her to tell him to move again and when she does, he moves gently out of her before carefully thrusting back into her again. Now that she was getting used to the feeling of him inside of her, Y/N could feel the ridges and veins of his cock brush her walls, the tip of his cock pressing into her g-spot as he moved inside of her.

“God Harry,” Y/N whines.

“You’re m’ dream girl,” Harry slurs, biting his lip when he takes in how tight she is as she clenches around him. He grabs one of the hands still placed around his neck and kisses her wrist. He intertwines their fingers and settles their hands beside her head needing to feel her touch, “M’ best girl, I love y’ so much.” He whispers.

“Love you,” She sighs, her eyes fluttering shut as he thrusts over and over again, each one more perfect than the last.

“Y’ pussy is so perfect baby, made for each other, aren’t we? Hmm? Y’ my perfect, dream girl.” He groans, his head falling forward.

Harry pulled his hand away from hers to smear his thumb over her clit. Y/N whimpers and writhes beneath him at the added pleasure, “Faster,” She whispers, “Please.”

Harry presses messy kisses along her jawline, “Don’t have to beg baby,” He hastens his rhythmic thrusts, their moans filling the air.

“Can feel y’ clenching baby?” Harry seemed to already have an idea of when Y/N was about to cum from the way her body shivered beneath him, “Y’ gonna cum?”

“Yes Harry,” She gasps, “Please Harry, it feels so good,” Her eyes pinched with tears at the overwhelming pleasure that filled every part of her.

“Cum round my cock baby, make a mess hmm, need y’ to cum so I can cum too yeah?” He was almost pleading, words tumbling from his mouth as his thrusts began to speed up the closer he got to his release.

Y/N could feel that same coil begin to tighten in her belly, she could see her vision start to blur and all her muscles tighten until it snapped and her back arched into him. He swooped one arm beneath her, pulling her into him and burying his face into her neck as he groaned into her, “Fuck,” He heaved, releasing into her.

Y/N could barely get any words out as he collapsed on top of her. Her eyes were fixated on the ceiling, her lips parting with small puffs of air escaping her. She felt like she was floating, levitating off the bed and leaving her body behind, “Y’ okay baby,” Harry murmured, kissing her cheek, “Come down for me yeah?” He presses a hand to her forehead.

“Harry,” She whimpers, the first word to leave her lips after coming down from her high. She loops her arms around him and he scoops her up into his.

“You did such a good job, m’love,” He coos, moving her matted hair out of her forehead and admiring how beautiful she looked under the soft light of the lampshade.

“Was so perfect,” She whispers, meeting his soft, green eyes and lifting a hand to brush his hair out of his face.

“Yeah?” He smiled, holding her to him like she was something so fragile he was afraid he might break her.

“Mhm,” She hums, curling into him. “I love you,” She kissed his chest and felt his heart thudding against her hand.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” Harry replied.

They lay tangled together amongst the sheets, waiting to float back down into their bodies but basking in every second they had in that moment where their hearts were the same.

. . .

Y/N lay in bed that same night with Harry’s t-shirt now covering her bare form. Harry laughed as he re-entered the bedroom having just taken his second shower of the evening.

She was watching a tennis match on the TV again.

“You’re watching tennis?” He smiled, falling on the bed beside her, clad only in his boxers. “Is this your version of cigarettes after sex?”

Y/N grins, “What can I say? It’s my addiction.”

He reaches for her hand and mindlessly plays with her fingers but his ears prick when he hears his name from one of the commentators, “This is my game from last year,” Harry speaks, seeing his face appear on the screen.

They watched as Harry walked onto the court exuding confidence as he shook hands with his opponent before the match started. He then pointed his racket at the middle of the stands where the audience was watching.

“Why do you do that?” Y/N wonders, “Before every game, you’d always point your racket at the middle of the audience.” “Every game?” Harry poked her side.

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve watched every single one of your games so what?”

Harry smiled, kissing her bare shoulder and answering, “Because you used to sit there.”

Y/N stilled turning her head to look at him, “What?”

“Whenever I would play at any of my tennis matches, I always looked out for you in the crowd and I’d always find you sitting right in the middle of the bleachers to watch. Eventually, it just became a thing, before I even set foot onto the court, I’d find you sitting in the exact same spot with the exact same expression on your face. I thought you were a good luck charm because whenever you weren’t sat there I’d lose. When I went to matches that you weren’t going to be watching, I just started pointing down the centre courts like my own superstition or something.”

“Is that really the reason?” Y/N’s eyes glistened.

Harry nodded, his eyes casting downward, “S embarrassing I know,”

Y/N shook her head, cupping his face in her hands, “You’re so perfect,” She mumbled, the both of them falling back onto the mattress, getting lost in each other all over again.

. . .

Y/N couldn’t focus on anything other than the crowd gathering in the stands as she sat in her plastic chair on the left-hand side of the umpire’s seat. Harry stood next to her, barely saying a word but offering her his presence to ease her nerves.

Today was the final, the day Y/N had been working towards all these months and it didn’t feel real. The air was hot and humid, Y/N could already feel her skin sticking to the chair as the sun beat down on her.

After waking up this morning, Y/N felt a blissful ache between her legs from her night with Harry. In some ways, she was thankful for it because for a moment it helped her forget what events lay ahead. Their night together had been magical, there was no other way she could describe it. She had no idea what could happen to a person after being so vulnerable with another but she felt lighter and even more in love with Harry than she had ever been before.

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, “We’ll be starting soon,” He murmured, squatting in front of her to meet her eyes.

They had gone to the gym first thing in the morning to warm up for the day's big event. Harry had tried to distract her mind from the doubts that consumed her by playing bad music or challenging her strength on the bel bars but Y/N’s mind constantly drifted.

“Right,” Y/N felt the pit in her stomach cave inwards, consuming all her insides and mushing them altogether. She felt a wave of nausea as Courtney walked onto the court and everyone applauded her.

“Y/N,” Harry grasped her hand in her lap and squeezed, “You are going to win this. I wholeheartedly believe in you.”

Her shoulders drop, “If I don’t-”

“There’s no ‘if’,” Harry interrupted her before she could finish her negative train of thought, “You can and you will. Courtney may be a good tennis player but her ego outweighs all of that.”

Y/N nods, “Okay,” She says.

Harry stands, his hand cupping her left cheek to lift her head. He grins, “I love you.”

Y/N knows her heart is still intact at least from the way it flips and spins inside her chest at his words, “I love you too.”

A twinkle shines in his eyes until they drift over to the stands. His lips curve, “I think there are some other people here who love you too,” He motions his head towards the crowd and Y/N casts her gaze over in that direction.

She feels her eyes prick with tears when she sees Sarah, Mitch and Adam in the front row of the stands all wearing t-shirts with her name and face plastered onto them. Sarah immediately spots her and waves, pointing to her shirt with excitement and pride for her best friend.

“Did you bring them here?” Y/N asked, looking up at Harry.

He shrugged, “Sarah was insisting she came,”

Y/N squeezes his hand, “Thank you,” She whispers, “For all of this. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.” Harry holds her feeling her heart hammering against her chest as too many emotions consume them both.

Unfortunately for her, Harry couldn’t stay at her side for the entire game but he was in the front row of the stands, directly in the middle exactly where she would sit whenever she would watch any of his games back home.

When the umpire announced the game would begin, Y/N walked over to Courtney and shook her hand, “Good luck,” She said.

Courtney scoffed, “Yeah, thanks.”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

As the match began, Y/N and Courtney faced off on the court. The crowd hushed, watching intently. Y/N felt jittery as she waited for Courtney's first serve.

Courtney tossed the ball and swung her racket, sending the ball flying towards Y/N who responded quickly, hitting the ball back with a loud smack.

The game was on. Y/N and Courtney traded shots back and forth, each trying to outplay the other. Y/N felt confident with each move she made, pushing away her earlier doubts until she noticed Courtney begin to counteract her moves when she took in how Y/N responded to each shot.

With one hard-hitting strike, Courtney sent the ball straight past Y/N’s shoulder.

Courtney had the first point.

Y/N glanced over at Harry, seeing him watching with intense focus but his eyes were glued onto her as if she were the only person on the court.

Ignoring Courtney’s smug expression, Y/N served the ball sending it straight into the air and hitting it back with all the force and aggression she could muster. The rally started up again, each stroke a testament to Y/N’s hard work over the past few months. Except this time, the winning prize was closer than it had ever been before.

Y/N aimed the ball and landed it in the corner, Country struggling to reach it in time before it bounced off.

“Fifteen all.” The umpire speaks.

Her ears caught the cheers of her best friend in the crowd, Harry stood and clapped for her but she could still see how tense he was since the game had only just begun.

This back-and-forth continued for the next few rounds. Every time Y/N would move, Courtney would match it. The scores were inching closer and closer to the end. Y/N watched when Courtney served the ball once more and aimed to respond, wrapping both her hands tightly around her racket and running towards the ball as it flung through the air but then she felt it.

An intense pain travelled through her entire body coming from her shoulder and travelling down her arm.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the ball landing right by her as she dropped to her knees and her racket fell from her hands. Y/N let out a pained scream as she clutched her shoulder.

Medics ran onto the court, people gasping in their seats as they watched the events unfold. “Harry,” Y/N whimpered, “Harry,” She was saying his name like he was looking out for him.

“Stop moving,” One of the medics urged when Y/N tried to stand up.

“Harry,” Y/N sobbed, tears falling from her eyes.

She wasn’t sure what hurt more - her shoulder or her heart breaking from the thought of all this being over.

“Y/N,” Harry was out of breath as he approached her, pushing the security out of the way when they tried to stop him. He collapsed to his knees beside her, searching for the damage.

“Harry,” Y/N cried, the only word she could possibly seem to say in a moment like this.

Harry didn’t know what to do. He felt helpless as he waited for the medics to finish checking out her arm. He held her head to his chest, covering her ears as though it would be enough to shelter her from all that was going on around them. “It’s okay baby,” He whispered, trying to remain calm despite the panic he was feeling.

He felt as though this was all some kind of nightmare he couldn’t seem to wake up from. Flashbacks from his own injury came to the forefront of his mind as he sat beside her, his shirt dampening as her tears seeped through. “You’re going to be fine,” He told her, repeatedly like he was trying to make himself believe it too.

“It’s ruined, I failed.” Y/N sobbed.

“Hey,” He held her face, trying to smooth some of the tears away, “You’re not a failure and you didn’t ruin anything. You played so well, the best I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s over,” She couldn’t take in anything he was saying and he knew that.

He knew what she was feeling - how the pain of losing everything outweighed the physical pain of an injury. “I love you Y/N, you’re going to be okay.” Was all he could say.

“Y/N, it's a mild dislocation,” one of the medics explained.

“What?” Y/N tried not to scream as they moved her arm.

“We need to take you to the hospital to get it reset,” they advised, but Y/N shook her head immediately.

“No,” she whispered urgently, “Do it now.”

“Y/N—” Harry couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Ignoring him, Y/N locked eyes with him and insisted, “Put it back in now, and I can finish the game.”

“Y/N, this is crazy,” Harry protested, shaking his head, “I won’t let you go out there in this much pain.”

“You’ve done it before,” she reminded him, “I watched you dislocate your shoulder and keep playing.”

“This is different,” Harry argued, remembering his own injury.

“If I don’t finish this, I would hate myself,” Y/N insisted earnestly, “Please.”

“Y/N, you’ll be at a disadvantage. You’d have to play the entire game with one hand.”

“I know, and I know how to do it,” Y/N reassured him, her eyes softening, “Because you taught me.”

Harry struggled with a gut feeling that this was a terrible idea. “Okay,” he relented, brushing her hair back gently, “Okay.”

“Are you sure?” the medic asked, clearly apprehensive.

“Just do it,” Y/N spoke through gritted teeth.

Harry held the back of her head as she buried her face in his neck, clinging onto his hands tightly. “I’m gonna be so mad at you for this later,” he whispered into her ear.

“That’s okay,” Y/N attempted a smile, but it quickly faded as the medics reset her shoulder. She wailed and squeezed Harry’s hand so tightly he thought it might fall off.

As the medics stepped back, Y/N raised her arm, feeling the pain subside but still present. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

“No,” Y/N said, “But I have to do this.”

The crowd gasped when Y/N stood, picking up her racket with one hand and flipping it in her hand. Harry stood, glancing over at Courtney who was equally as shocked as everybody else.

He stood in front of Y/N, “I’m so pissed at you right now,” He huffs, “But you better win this.”

Y/N shot him a sad smile, “I’ll try my best.”

He hastily kissed her lips before she could walk away to carry on playing, “That’s all I ask,” He murmured against her. He walks back to his place in the stands, Y/N watching as he goes.

She pushed away the pain that was shooting down her arm and stood on her end of the court to finish the game. Courtney seemed unsure, scanning the way she stood and seeing her limp arm beside her.

Y/N glanced at the academy trophy, feeling like it was now out of reach.

The umpire announced the final round and the tension fell thick in the air. Y/N inhaled a shaky breath and got into position, watching as Courtney threw the ball into the air and hit it with her racket.

Even though one of her arms wasn’t exactly working, her legs worked just fine as she ran for the ball, hitting it with her racket in her one hand. She gritted her teeth when the pain increased with her movements and met Coutrney’s rallies as best as she could. The match raged on, each swing of the racket echoing with the intensity of her cries as Y/N hit the ball.

With each shot, Y/N poured her heart and soul into the game, her movements fueled by sheer determination. The crowd held its breath, watching in awe as she defied the odds with every stroke.

As the pain intensified, Y/N's desperation for the game to end grew. She couldn't understand why Courtney hadn't already sealed the win with one final move. However, Y/N was slowly wondering whether Courtney was using her pain as a way of satisfying her own ego. Y/N noticed whenever she winced or faltered in her movements, Courtney's smirk widened as if she was intentionally prolonging the game to relish in Y/N's discomfort.

A surge of anger ignited within Y/N at the realisation. Harry had been right about Courtney's ego, and now Y/N was determined to turn it against her.

With gritted teeth and a steely determination in her eyes, Y/N squared her shoulders and focused solely on the game. She blocked out the pain, channeling every ounce of her strength and skill into each swing of her racket.

Courtney's smirk faltered as Y/N's resolve became palpable. The crowd sensed a shift in momentum, their cheers growing louder. With each stroke, Y/N felt herself gaining ground, her movements becoming more fluid and precise.

And then, with one final, decisive shot, she sent the ball sailing past Courtney, landing squarely within the boundaries of the court.

Y/N fell to her knees, tears falling from her eyes as she realised she had won the entire game.

Harry, Sarah, Mitch and Adam all leapt from the stands and ran towards her, embracing her carefully so to avoid her aching shoulder.

Harry picked her up, holding her tightly and kissing her face, “You did it,” He grinned, “You won.”

“I did it,” Y/N sobbed in disbelief and then a smile took over her entire face as realisation hit her.

She had won.

. . .

Y/N stood by her locker with Sarah, her arm wrapped in a sling whilst wearing her school uniform. Banners littered the walls of the hallway with ‘congratulations’ written in golden handwriting across them.

“I can’t believe you won’t be coming with me to UCL next year,” Sarah huffed, “How am I meant to do anything without you?”

Y/N smiled at her best friend, “The tennis academy is a twenty minute walk away from UCL so it’s not like we’ll be away from each other.”

“I know but who am I going to roomie with next year?” Sarah sighed, “It won’t be the same. We’ve been roommates since we were five, I can’t trust anybody like I do with you. I mean, you even accept my white noise machine.”

Y/N hadn’t accepted it, she hated that thing, but Sarah was her best friend so she put up with it, “Well how about we get an apartment together?”

Sarah almost gasps, “Seriously?”

Y/N nods, “I was thinking maybe me, you, Mitch and Harry could all move in together since we’re going to be living in the same city.”

Sarah’s entire face lights up at the idea, “Have you told Harry about it?”

“We spoke about it last night.” Last night when she stayed the night at his apartment and spent most of the night tangled up in one another.

Sarah squealed, “I have to tell Mitch, he is going to love that idea. Don’t tell Harry this but the other day he started crying at the thought of having to leave him when the year ends.”

They walked out of the school building together, Sarah rambling about how she wanted to decorate their non-existing apartment as Y/N nodded intently to each of her ideas.

Since the Academy Slam, not much had changed other than the fact that Y/N was now going to be spending the next two years at the Tennis Academy in London. The school newspaper had done another interview with her but this time she didn’t mind so much that Harry shared the front cover with her, pride on his face as he looked down at her.

Even though she was achieving her dreams, nothing compared to the relationship she had with Harry. Everyday Y/N felt like she was floating whenever she woke up in Harry’s arms in his apartment or in her tiny dorm bed whenever Sarah wasn’t around.

A smile covered her entire face when she saw Harry looking like every girl’s wet dream, leaning up against the bonnet of his audi as he waited for her. When he did, his own smile mirrored hers, “Hi baby,” He spoke, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Hi Harry,” Y/N stood toe to toe in front of him, clutching her books in one arm.

He wrapped one arm around her waist beneath her blazer and pulled her into his chest, kissing her lips softly, his breath tasting like mint chewing gum, “How’s m’ girl?”

Y/N bit down on her lip to stop herself from smiling so much, “Good, I had a test today.”

“Did you smash it?” He smirked.

“Yes but I probably could have done better if somebody hadn’t kept me up all last night.” She rolled her eyes.

His lips went to her neck, “Don’t lie, you loved what I did,” He mumbled against her skin as he suckled on her neck, surely leaving a mark.

“These late nights are getting out of hand,” Y/N made a feeble attempt to push him away.

“Mmm,” He hummed, pulling away, “Need I remind you that you were the one to initiate it,”

“I did not,” Y/N gaped.

“Uh huh,” Harry smirked, “Whatever you want to believe.”

“No you were the one who-”

Harry’s smirk deepened, “Who what?” He watched as Y/N’s cheeks turned pink and her mouth open and closed as she struggled to say something.

“Shut up,” She huffed, walking to the passenger seat of his car, “Take me home please,”

“Whatever you want,” He beamed, loving the way she called his apartment her home.

He drove away from the tennis courts, a spark of joy igniting within her every time they came into view. Harry held her hand over the console as they drove down the streets to his apartment, feeling more at peace than she had ever been before. Not only was she going to be going to her dream school but she’d also be with Harry and her best friend too.

For a long time, Y/N believed that tennis was the only love of her life but now she had Harry and if she had to choose between the two, she would pick him every single time.

taglist: @storyschanging @lilbredsticc @esposa-do-harry @st-ev-ie @itschelseacisneros @hermionelove @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hesvoid34 @writersarenotartists @ayeree1 @sassamanda77 @estaticheart

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coltcassidyy · 3 months ago

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I know this is probably gonna get annoying, but I can't help it. I'm hyperfiated on invincible atm. But a lapis lazuli inspired male reader.

Mark finds his gem in space or something and frees him, and now he has this strong ass gem alien living with him, trying to learn human customs and stuff.

It’s not annoying my g don’t worry bout it. I like writing for people … but I need to get some non invincible requests soon before I crash out and explode my kitchen

Mark Grayson x Lapis Lazuli/reader

TW: reader is male, No nsfw (I wasn’t sure if you wanted any or not). Non-sexual nudity. Includes romantic HCs.

I’m writing this at fucking 3 am. On the night before Easter. I’m trying to catch the fucking Easter bunny

Mark thinks you’re so fucking cool. You’re a gem? With water powers? And blue skin? Sure you occasionally remind him of the mauler twins but mark is happy to have somebody Oliver can look up to … having … odd skin, and all …

The way you behave is just so silly to him sometimes. This ranges from eating basic foods wrong (eating cake in layers, eating burritos / tacos sideways , etc), behaving so formal in the least formal places possible, saying odd things because you don’t quite understand English yet. ( Ex: “you know what, mark? I could care less.” “Then … care … less?” “… you know what I mean.”)

There’s some behaviors of yours that mark doesn’t find as silly. Like your ptsd. From the war (I think a war happened in Steven universe? I don’t remember). Yeah he hears you murmuring in your sleep.

Being not human and all, you never really understood the idea of being polite. You’re extremely blunt in all situations, and if marks there, he tries to spare you— to explain your situation. But honestly, it just makes things work. Sometimes when you go out in public with mark, he’ll beg you to let him do all the talking.

When mark first saw your powers in combat he was absolutely entranced. It was beautiful— the water itself was already gorgeous, but watching you contort it so elegantly is just the icing on the cake. Watching you maneuver and use the water to the crescendo of its abilities was so satisfying and so breathtaking. Sometimes, he’ll have you play with your powers simply because he likes to watch the water move.

Speaking of water! When you came to earth for the first time, you kind of … smelled. You didn’t stink … but you didn’t necessarily smell good. Mark tried to explain to you in words how to bathe, but it wasn’t really getting through to you. So your first actual bath was with mark.

This is one of those moments where mark had you play with your powers just so he could watch. Sometimes when you shower together or bathe together he’ll have you change the temperature or the water pressure. You didn’t think of using your abilities in such a way before, but now that you’ve discovered it, you never want to stop.

Your first bath together was where mark got to get a really good look at your gem placement, too. Right smack dab in the upper middle of your chest- a little below your collar bones. Mark always liked crystals and gems— he thought they were pretty, and he thought it was interesting how the earth could produce something so aesthetically pleasing just from minerals and dust. He thinks yours is pretty especially, the way the water reflects or the light catches in it sometimes, it’s hard to miss— and hard to ignore.

Mark finds your powers to be incredibly convenient. Taking down low level fire goons, or whenever he needs to wash his hands, get a drink (you thought this was quite nasty, but apparently mark doesn’t mind), or just when he’s hot or dirty and needs a refresher.

Mark had to teach you social interaction. It was insanely embarrassing— but thankfully, he really only used his mom, atom eve, amber, or William to practice. Mark assumes that after spending so much time with William that it gave you a bit of a … sass.

You’ve eaten the soap from marks bathroom before. You coughed up bubbles for weeks. (Smells good ≠ tastes good. He had to teach you that as well.)

Romantic HCs

Sometimes, after a really bad day, mark will ask to lay down with you and he’ll trace his fingers around the gem in your chest. It’s satisfying and smooth against his fingertips, and it’s a nice feeling for you too.

He enjoys having a partner who can fly. Sometimes the both of you will just go on flight trips together, flying over cities or hovering in the night sky to look at the stars. You don’t ever do this without holding hands though. Holding hands makes you feel closer and more connected, and without that simple gesture, sometimes you get quite uncomfortable.

You weren’t necessarily comfortable with PDA at first. To your culture, touch and affection is an incredibly intimate and sacred thing. Though you didn’t necessarily agree with it, you obeyed anyways. So when mark broke the news to you that PDA is actually quite normal, you went a little overboard with it. You love the idea of displaying to others that mark belonged to you and you alone, letting the world know of your love— of your unbreakable bond.

Similar to mark laying you down and tracing over the gem in your chest, after a bad day or a particularly rough fight, sometimes you’ll have mark trace his fingers over your body, just gentle touches to remind you that not all super-abled humans (or viltrumites.) are out to hurt you— to remind you that at the end of the day, mark will always be there to soothe your wounds.

The both of you don’t really kiss mouth-to-mouth a lot. Only on special occasions. You don’t like it— you think it’s nasty. So the both of you opt for kisses to the forehead, the hands, the inner wrist, the cheek, the nose … anywhere but the lips, basically. (Mark believes that kissing each others hands is much nastier than kissing on the lips, but he doesn’t want to confuse you, or make you even more grossed out by humans then you already are. He just keeps his hands washed.)

((This is kinda short but holy fuck Easter bunny give me chocolate))

#invincible x male reader #male reader #invincible #Steven universe #lapis lazuli #mark grayson x male reader #mark Grayson #bacon egg and cheese

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imaginespazzi · 1 year ago

Text

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team.

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face.

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up.

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up.

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back.

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again.

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too.

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her.

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes.

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again.

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs.

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen,

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend.

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence.

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond.

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way.

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening.

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously.

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly.

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana.

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath.

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that.

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately.

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips.

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is.

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours.

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look.

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends.

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage.

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them.

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her.

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger.

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said.

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly.

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again.

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly.

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore.

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate.

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple.

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did.

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her.

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh.

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly.

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-”

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender.

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever.

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist.

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel.

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows.

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames.

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother.

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her.

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them.

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently.

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands.

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch.

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be. That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort.

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas.

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them.

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt.

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults.

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side.

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other.

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years.

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe.

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this.

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige.

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes.

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay.

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake.

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly.

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away.

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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fatuismooches · 1 year ago

Text

More Dottore and Fragile Reader voice lines, except it's your turn this time. A part two to this. Previous voice lines are here.

About Prime Dottore:

"Zandik. My one and only… words cannot express my tenderness and love toward him. I refuse to forget any moment I've spent with him. Not once has he given up on me, despite the times I’ve given up on myself. And he has always taken care of me, not once faltering in over four hundred years. I- I don’t know what to do sometimes when faced with that information. I wish I could be… less of a burden on him…”

About Omega:

"Omega, huh... he is the only segment where I always spend time with completely alone. See, he's not prone to sharing, just like Prime. I don't mind much, honestly, it's nice to get away from all of the noise and be with him. He always coaxes me to be more selfish too... is it a good or bad thing he's influencing me?"

About Alpha:

"Yes, the grumpy cutie I met all those years ago, the start of it all. He says that my presence is a hindrance and it only disrupts his work, but we both know that's false. Often, I like to sit by him as he writes his notes, pointing out all the errors caused by the atrocity of his handwriting... Sometimes, I feel bad using him as a reminder of the past."

About Beta:

"It always baffles me that Beta was once how Dottore acted. I mean, have you seen the difference between 'Mega and Beta? Anyway... he's always such a fun segment to hang around! Even when his assistants cower behind me in fear! Oh, and whenever he goes 'he-he-ho-ho', it always makes me giggle. Please don't tell him I did that impression of him though."

About Delta:

"Oh, Delta's... pretty mean. A really big meanie, if I do say so myself. He never laughs, never smiles, never entertains my shenanigans, always sees right through me... so rude. Huh? Don't worry about me, I'm allowed to talk about him like this. I still love him, after all."

About Zeta:

"Zeta's always so elusive! It was such a pain to track him down at first, he was always avoiding me. I thought he hated me... but once I got a hold of him, he is always so attentive to me! However, it greatly saddens me that he thinks he "failed" me... and yet he doesn't know how much it hurts me more that I've caused him to be like this."

About Zandy:

"Have you met my son? He's the sweetest little thing, isn't he? I remember how shy he was in the beginning, but he quickly grew to be such a dear. Always so excited and eager for attention. I can't help but wonder if Dottore's life could have been different if more people were kinder to him as a child."

About Pierro:

"I will always be indebted to him and Her Highness for taking me in. He is pretty scary to be around, but I feel sort of bad for him. I can't imagine how much responsibility he has... I once promised him I'd work for the Fatui once I'm better, but he didn't react much. Hmph, I'll show him how much I can boost Dottore's efficiency!"

About Capitano:

"The only thing I really know about him is that he's incredibly strong and well respected, at least from other people. The single time I met him, I also learned he was quite well liked by animals too, but it's hard to get any more information when he's so quiet..."

About Columbina:

"Bina is the best friend I've always wanted. I'm glad she's always there for me whenever things go bad. Although I can never predict what she's going to do or say, which is pretty strange, considering who I'm with, that makes her company all the more fun. Still, the amount of embarrassing situations she's tricked me into with Dottore... makes my head hurt."

About Arlecchino:

"I wish we could be closer, but I don't think it'll ever happen. I can't really blame her though, the relationship between her and Dottore is... not the greatest, for reasons I understand. I wonder what she thinks of me, the person who still stands by his side despite his sins?"

About Pulcinella:

"Oh... the little grandpa? I've always wondered how he's the fifth rank, but there's probably more to it than I know. Regardless, I didn't expect him to be so kind to me. I only see him once in a while, but every time he seems to know how I'm doing. And then, he proceeds to give me the best advice, exactly what I needed to hear at that moment, even when it has to do with Dottore. It's kind of scary..."

About Scaramouche:

"Ah yes... the Balladeer. He always wants to start up something with me whenever we cross paths, which is why my patience runs very thin around him. I hope the next time he goes into the Abyss, he gets stuck there."

About Wanderer:

"Who?"

About Sandrone:

"Her research sounds so cool! I've seen some of the things she can create, and it's completely fascinating. I too once had a love for machines back when I was a student. It's just a shame she never comes out of her lab... there are never any chances for me to talk with her. Well, I can always talk with Alpha and Beta about their research at least."

About La Signora:

"I've barely ever seen or spoken to her, but she has my respect. I heard what happened to her husband. If I ever lost Dottore, I'm not sure if I'd be able to go on... or at least be as half as strong as she is."

About Pantalone:

"Oh, Lone's one of my good friends! He always has such unique ideas for me to get back at Dottore, and listening to him talk about his theories quite reminds me of listening to Dottore. He's helped me a lot, dealing with this man. Still... as he does with everyone, I'm kept at arm's length. It doesn't bother me, but I wish I could help him in some way. But I know that'll never be possible."

About Childe:

"Despite being a Harbinger, he's a lot nicer than you'd think. Well, especially compared to the others in the Fatui. He's great at conversation, his family is the sweetest... and he always promises to spar with me once I'm no longer sick. Truly great company. Too bad Dottore's attitude toward him is... less than favorable."

About Furina:

"At first I hated her just like all the other Gods, but after learning the truth, I can't help but greatly respect her. To take on such a burden without having a single shoulder to lean on and succeed in the end... I think I've been through a lot of pain, but at least I've had Dottore and the others to ease it even just a bit. But she had no one, and I admire her will."

About Nahida:

"I try not to waste my time on things that upset me. It's not good for my health."

Sprint Start:

"No, no, I am not running at all. Look, if I get hurt and Dottore finds out it was your fault, you'll be the ones strapped to the table, not me. Hey... I wouldn't mind being in that position, actually."

Chat - Worry:

"I hope that one day he can make peace with himself."

Chat - Old Times:

"Sometimes I wish I was just a simple student again, having no worries other than my grades and pulling all-nighters with Dottore. Actually, that doesn't really sound relaxing, does it?"

Chat - Idling:

"If you're just going to stand here doing nothing, then I'm going to take a seat over there."

When it Snows:

"Would you be willing to distract Dottie so I can chuck a snowball at him? No? How boring."

When the Sun is Out:

"It's a perfect day to have a picnic and listen to him rant again."

In the Desert:

"... Omega, Beta, Delta, I don't care which one of you does it, get over here and make your hands completely ice cold before I faint."

Something to Share - Talent:

"If you ever need help writing something, you can ask me. I wrote some pretty good essays back in the day, you know. Dottore once said I should even write a book! I thought he was bullying me, but he was actually serious, for some reason. Maybe I should get Zandy to draw some pictures?"

Something to Share - Secret:

"Dottore actually has quite a sweet tooth. Well, this probably isn't much of a secret anymore because I accidentally spilled it to the agents, but it would do you good to keep this in mind."

Interesting Things - Foxttore:

"This little guy here? He'll do you no harm unless I say so, so don't worry. He was one of Dottie's failed experiments roaming the lab until he gifted the creature to me! These pufflings too, surprisingly they help me a lot more than you'd think. They're pretty strong, carrying all my things."

Favorite Pastimes - Meals:

"It's time to eat already? No need to worry about me, I'll just wait for a segment. See, it's best for both of us if I have company while I eat. My hands... aren't the most reliable."

Troubles:

"I am very happy that they have a good place to conduct all the research they want, but I wish they paid some more attention to me sometimes. Voicing this complaint over and over again, however, is too exhausting."

Amusement:

"Dottore's fan club never ceases to amuse me. I know every Harbinger has one but... it's completely hilarious. To go so far as creating a handbook about the two of us... well, I appreciate the dedication and the laughs, especially when I update Dottore on their activities. He may not care, but I support them!"

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #fragile reader <3 #zandy bb <3 #playable reader <3 #dottore x reader #can we get more playable reader asks pls #im humbly begging my anons #im crazy for them #divider by cafekitsune

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ickytreats · 7 months ago

Note

Hey! Can I have something like big brother just come out of prison and his little sister is the first beautiful body he's seen in years and he can't help himself, and little sister missed him so much! Maybe even a bit of dumbification/bimbo-ification of little sister?

Little sister is so excited she is basically bouncing off the walls. Throws herself into his arms when he finally walks in through that door. He wraps his arms around her so quick and can't help but get hard. Little Sis can't help but touch him all over, seeing how much muscle he has put on, how tall he is now, and his tattoos. Honestly, she finds him hot and can't stop innocently complimenting him. I'm going to go the extra mile and say the whole reason he was in prison was because of her. He did some stuff defending her that got him put away, so her big brother will always be special in her eyes.

No one can separate them now that they are together again. Little sister is showing him around, bringing him to all her hangouts. He always has an arm wrapped around her; he is still so protective of her. Movie nights lead to her being on his lap, his hard cock against her as she giggles. He lays his head on her tits whenever he wants a nap, squeezes her cheeks together, and pecks her lips. Little sister lets him because he was gone for so long that he probably doesn't know better and she just doesn't mind. Even though he just got out, he still acts like he knows everything. You shouldn't do that; it's okay, baby. I know things can be hard for you, and his favorite line of all. Let Big Brother do all the thinking for you.

All these things and words make Lil Sis so moldable for him! Listening to him and clinging to him, she was talking to a guy and quickly dropped him because Big Brother told her. Dumb little girls like you shouldn't be with guys like him. Big Bro is back, and he will take care of you like you should be cared for. He even sleeps in her room; his room is okay and fit for him, but he wants to be with his sister, and she clings to him so cutely. Pressing her tits onto him, her covered Cunnie right on his thigh. Countless nights do they grind on each other, making messes in their pajamas. It's okay, little sister; just keep going. Big brother knows better, remember? I have been through so much that I know more than you with your dumb, innocent little brain.

One night that grinding isn't enough. Pulls her shorts down to reveal her bare cunnie. The first one he has seen in person in years, he is so hungry for her. Big Bro, maybe this is too far? ... She was okay with the kisses, okay with the grinding, but maybe fucking was too much. Big Bro is quick to lay it thick. Baby, remember why I was gone? How did I get into that mess because of you being dumb? Over these years, I've learned way more than you, and yet you are still a stupid little girl. Pulls his pants down to reveal his cock; he is panting; he doesn't know what position he wants her in first. Now since I'm obviously smarter, you know you should listen to you, big brother.

He kisses her so rough because of his need and flips her to her side, sinks his cock into her, and groans so happy to finally feel a cunt after years. As his little sister squeals at the sudden action, lets him fuck her. Big Bro has a point; he is so much smarter than her, and he has been through so much; he deserves this. The bed squeaks as he thrusts in and out of her; both their moans fill the room. We need to be a little quieter, stupid girl; we can't let Mom and Dad find out. You really don't think, do you? That's okay, baby. You know what Big Brother always tells you. He is flipping her into another position before driving back into her, just using her cunnie.

Already gone? He'd laugh in her face as he watched her eyes flutter back and how she drooled and babbled. Cumming one too many times for her little mind to handle. Big Bro has a lot of stamina; he has been pent up for so long. Just like that, baby Sis, don't think while big brother cums in your cunt. He has such a tight grip on her, like they are going to take her away from him again. Bites her shoulder as he ruts into her, making a mess with his cum. Pulls out and watches how it drips, and it only makes him even more hungry for more as his cock still bobs with need. Lightly smacks his baby sister's cheek a couple of times. We aren't done yet, little sis; come on, dumb girl, come back to me. Come back to Big bro, he fucks her one or two times more. Making her ride him, sucking on it, any position he can think of. She is so out of it that by the end all she can do is take it dripping from his cum.

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munsonthings86 · 1 year ago

Text

sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanon #soft!steve harrington #stranger things 4 #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x poc!reader

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fivestaralien · 1 year ago

Text

four-forty four a.m.

jaehyun x AFAB!reader

w.c.^^: 913

warnings:SMUT MDNI!!!,, cockwarming, kissing, clit stimulation, piv(always use protection!!) , so much kissing!!!!!!!! I no joke will die on the hill that Jaehyun is obsessssed with kissing , especially behind closed doors...

a.n.// forgot this was in my drafts so I thought I would post this while writing requests,,I'd love feedback especially since I'm still learning how to write smut,, its so intimidating how do fanfic writers do it?? haha anyways hope y'all enjoy and pls stay safe<3

It takes your mind a few minutes to fully register the gentle pressure against your neck and shoulders. When you do, you let out a deep sigh, moving without realizing where you were and what was going on.

“Fuck, don’t move yet honey.” Jaehyun warns quietly. His lips going back to kissing across your skin.

Without thinking you press yourself back on him, earning a low groan from the man. His hand grips at your waist trying to get you to stop from pushing back further. Your foggy brain clears enough for you to remember that you fell asleep with Jaehyun's cock still snug inside you.

Jaehyun nearly died when you told him you wanted to try cockwarming, crumbled even more at the thought of having himself inside you overnight. He loved the idea way too much.

Last night when he came home you were immediately being smothered by him, not that you were complaining. Especially since you just so happen to be really missing him lately with his crazy schedule. There wasn’t a single moment where his hands and/or lip weren’t on you. Touchy Jaehyun was definitely one of your favorites and it didn’t take long for him to get you to bed.

He took his sweet, sweet time loving on you, stretching you out and getting you soft and pliable for him. He always knew how to break you down to the point that just a simple look from him could get you to come undone. It was embarrassing yet turned you on even more at the same time.

“You feel unreal around me. How did it take you this long to want to try this?” Jaehyuns voice is strained and rough.

You clench around him unintentionally letting a whimper out when his hips buck up slightly. You raise your arm up, threading your fingers through his hair, bringing his face closer to yours.

“I notice that you always stay inside me whenever we finish so I thought that maybe it would be something you’d like,” You feel him tighten his hold on you as he places slow open mouth kisses along your jaw.

“Baby you will be the death of me.”

Jaehyun takes his time massaging your body to help with the soreness you were probably feeling, his lips never leaving your skin as he works you up again. His fingers drag just below your belly button making your breath hitch.

You feel your body begin to heat up in the delicious way only Jaehyun has been able to achieve and you can’t help but let out a loud moan when he finally begins to thrust in and out of you.

“Oh my god.” You breathe out the same time he moans into your neck.

Every part of your body was tingling in oversensitivity but in the best way. Neither of you had ever felt this connected and aware of each other before. You didn’t realize how intense having him stay in you all night would make you.

Without hesitation he moves onto his back having you laying right on top of him, your head coming to lay right next to his on the pillows. Jaehyun continues his slow pace while bringing his hands to the insides of your thighs spreading them apart. His soft lips trail from your cheek to behind your ear before you cup his jaw to smash your lips to his.

Jaehyun pulls away from your pretty mouth long enough to wet a few fingers then starts to rub your clit just the way he knew you liked. Your moans grow louder at the added sensation, hips moving down to meet his thrusts.

“I’m not going to last long, too sensitive.” He mumbles, placing hurried kisses on your throat. “Me too, please go faster Jae.” You whine and who was he to deny the love of his life what they need.

Jaehyun wraps his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up closer to your chest. He places his feet flat on the bed and then thrusts into you at a mind numbing pace. Your hands frantically reach for something to grab onto. One goes to the back of his neck while the other squeezes his forearm.

It doesn’t take long for either of you to cum. Jaehyun brings his mouth to yours as he feels you pulsating around him, releasing your legs to massage your breasts. Hoping to help guide you down from your high gently. You stay on top of him for a few minutes before he lays the two of you on your sides again. He glides a hand up and down your thigh as you both try to catch your still erratic breath.

“Holy shit baby. We have to do that again.” Jaehyun says between kisses on your shoulder and along the back of your arm.

He smiles so big against you when he feels you clench at his words. You reach behind you pushing his hips away a little, signaling for him to pull out of you which he does very gently.

“I think I will need 2-4 business days to be able to do that any time soon.” You reply while turning around to face your glowing boyfriend.

“Anything for you.”

He wastes no time pecking all around your face before catching your lips in a deep, slow kiss. Your mouths dance perfectly together and you let Jaehyun kiss you until the sun begins to peak above the horizon.

///

#kpop imagines #3 am hard thoughts.... again #smut #kpop smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun imagines #jaehyun hard thoughts #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct 127 imagines #jeong jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun

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vicolette · 20 days ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 !

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, uses of y/n & lovebirds, not proofread.

"Do you know where-"

Pau looked up from 'his' notes as he came face to face with you – his seating partner in class and the only girl that he actually trusted enough to fully on rant about anything and everything. It was silent for a moment, just you waiting for him to finish his sentence, when Pau gave you a big grin. "Here, your notes."

"Oh, thanks! I thought you lost them," You admitted while staring at the papers that you had prepared for yourself on a random study lesson in the public library, only for Pau to suddenly appear and tell you a story about how his teammates played a prank on him.

You remembered it vividly, only half-listening while he told you that Lamine acted as if his phone was playing music, and somehow had convinced everyone else to join into the prank and tell him that he should stop the music, as it was unprofessional to listen to it during training.

"What?" The very same person, who had once been too shy to even look at you in the eye, pouted at your odd accusation as he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms while trying to figure out why you would think of something as stupid as that. "Why? I would never."

"Remember when you lost the paper that Mrs-"

"Okay, okay! I get it." He refused to listen to your words as Pau looked away in pure embarrassment, not wanting to hear how he had once lost something important for school and then was lectured in front of the whole class.

Meanwhile, you just laughed at his ridiculous expression and shook your head, getting back to checking your notes out and try to remember what you had written in your tests, before you realized you weren’t the only one. "What do you have?"

At first, Pau seemed confused and wondered what you were talking about, watching as you reached for your bag and searched for something. Once you showed him your test results, holding multiple ones up, Pau stood frozen for a moment before he placed his own bag down.

When he had found his own exams and seen the grades on them, he beamed with excitement and proudly showed them off, earning a generous hum from you. "I'm just that smart, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, totally." You agreed, half-sarcastically at how proud he was, half-wholeheartedly at agreeing with how much he had learned. At the beginning of the school year, he had struggled with most of his lessons due to his job, yet you were there to save him.

You were there, when he needed advice on how to handle his messy schedule. You were there, when he needed study tips. You were there, when he wanted to learn vocabulary but struggled embarrassingly.

You were always there, whenever Pau needed you.

And now, as you looked at the minority of his mistakes – which were genuinely just random things that nobody would’ve known were wrong – a ground of students passed by and one of them bumped into you.

However, instead of apologizing, they turned around and looked at you dead in the eye, "Don’t stand in the middle of the hallway, lovebirds!"

"We weren’t standing in the middle of the-" Before Pau could even finish his sentence and properly let out his frustration at the situation, they turned to the corner and were long since gone, making him click his tongue. "Fucking as-"

"Yooo, we don’t curse!" You told him with a laughter following soon after, not even bothering to acknowledge the blush on your cheeks as you noticed how you were a bit too close to Pau. The said person just sighed in disbelief, rubbing his forehead before his gaze landed on your test papers.

Without thinking too much of it, he secretly took one of them and looked at your grade, his jaw dropping as a weird sound left from his mouth as he saw a big '1, amazing Y/n!' on the last paper. "Seriously? Oh my god, I could never."

"What?" You wiped some tears of joy away from your eyes while staring at him, seeing how Pau was surprised to see you have such an incredible exam. "Oh, that. Yeah, I'm just that good."

"Are you mocking me?"

"What, me? Copying you? Oh, please." You definitely were.

Nevertheless, as Pau checked each one of your exams out, his eyes only widened as his soul began to leave from his body, feeling like he had entered hell as he watched you proudly nod your head.

However, in the middle of hearing how you were flattered by his nonexistent compliments, Pau spaced out and stared right into your eyes, getting lost in them. You were everything that he wanted – smart and intelligent, beautiful and gorgeous, kind and loving.

The list could go on, yet as Pau realized that you had grown silent after a while, he snapped out of his daydreams and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You’re staring." That was your only response, moving your hair around with your hand as he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. No biggie."

"It is, though." You quickly remarked back, holding your chin with your hand as you slightly tilted your head, looking at him up and down, which made him just the slightest bit nervous. "You were staring at my lips."

Oh.

"What?" You nodded repeatedly, purposefully pointing at your lips, which had grown into a smirk as you winked at him. It was adorable to see Pau like this, barely able to look at you in the eye, as if he had returned to his old self.

"Uh, yeah, sorry." Your mere reply was to slightly furrow your eyebrows, immediately waving him off to interrupt him before he would go into a five minutes complication of apologies.

"I have you a service to learn from my notes, mind you." As if Pau himself didn’t know it, you made it clear to make it seem like he wasn’t grateful enough for it. "You should be thankful, but I also want something in return."

Pau could only feel his cheeks get warmer as you zoom your exams papers back, stuffing them inside your bag and closing it as you them looked back at him. He didn’t seem to have the time to even blink, making you chuckle before speaking up again.

"A kiss."

– A/N : guys training yesterday was deadass SO BAD OMG, also the prank happened to me yesterday.

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pharawee · 2 months ago

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What really gets me about PeteKenta this week (and by that I mean that it causes me emotional damage), much more so than in the episode before (or in the whole of season 1 even though the seeds were already there) is how emotionally careless Pete acts towards Kenta (and the mission against Tony but maybe that's for my PeteChrisWay post). And it's all such a mess -- their shared past, their individual traumas, their current preoccupation with second chances -- that I can't even blame Pete, even if I'm fully on Kenta's side here.

Pete treats (and, let's be honest here, this isn't even the first or fifth time) Kenta as an afterthought. I know he means well and that he's driven by trying to make amends for something that was never even his fault to begin with. I also understand that with the way things are right now in canon, his feelings for Kenta were always platonic (even though that makes the one kiss they shared kind of questionable in retrospect because at the very least he was acting very inquisitive, inviting even) which is fair enough. I wish they'd kept the whole "the one that got away" angle because it feels so much more realistic to me than the revelation that all this time Pete was himself secretly pining after Way.

(adding a sprinkle of gifs to this post because clearly I'm not suffering enough already)

The secret pining COULD however at least partially explain why Pete never put a stop to Kenta's one-sided pining either. Because he must always have known. He can repeat the "he thinks of me as a brother" line a hundred times, but he's a telepath. Kenta and he kissed, and every time they've since met and touched, Kenta's thoughts are very obviously all but screaming his longing at him.

And yet Pete has never said anything -- either to spare Kenta's feelings or (judging by how he handled his secret crush on Way) because he found the situation to be overwhelming. Again, I don't blame Pete in the slightest, it's not like he had an emotionally healthy childhood to learn how to approach these things. I don't even blame him for the third possibility: that Kenta's crush is a very useful thing for him to keep around, especially since in the past it's kept him out of Tony's reach (plus, feeling wanted when your own love is unrequited probably feels very nice too).

There's no way Kenta would have let him leave over and over again if it wasn't for his feelings (and remember, Kenta never extended the same courtesy to any of his other brothers until much later). Unrequited or not, not addressing the elephant in the room left Kenta in limbo for years. He's kidnapped children for Tony, probably even killed for Tony, yet as soon as Pete starts leaning into Kenta's longing for him, Kenta can't bring himself to stop Pete (much less harm him or rat him out to Tony) -- which is a really convenient secret weapon to have in a fight against someone as ruthless and powerful as Tony. It's not even deliberate manipulation but pure self-preservation. Babe and Jeff and Charlie and Way have all learned to survive on less than that. It's about time we see the damage that Tony caused in Pete.

And not only that. I think now we also get to see that Pete doesn't know or understand Kenta nearly as well enough as he believes. He literally asks the go-it-alone guy to not go it alone when that's kind of his whole thing (not to mention that OF COURSE Kenta will do the thing for him and not care for the consequences -- it's all he knows to do to earn appreciation). He's essentially leaving Kenta on stand-by, not like the brother he claims to be, but like a thing he can just pick back up whenever it's most convenient for him. And he deals out praise to Kim while openly reprimanding Kenta in the next sentence -- which ironically is such a Tony thing to do because it keeps Kenta small and loyal.

Pete is so willfully blind towards Kenta's feelings and to who Kenta is as a person that it makes him look like a total dick here. And the thing is, his defence doesn't even hold up: you wouldn't treat your brother like that either, someone you claim you share a bond with. Hell, if Pete treated Kim that way -- someone who's only marginally involved -- Kim would surely let him have a piece of his mind. But Kenta has learned to suffer in silence so why bother changing the status quo (and never mind that the status quo was Tony)?

As things are right now, Pete's allowed to have priorities (currently these priorities lie with neglecting everyone's safety by dicking down Chris on every imaginable surface in his condo while not even using a secure password on his private computer) while all Kenta is allowed to do (all that he KNOWS to do) is switch masters from Tony to... what? a very absent Pete?

I'll always love PeteKenta, and I'll always love the could-have-beens from Pit Babe Season 1, but with how things are playing out right now I either need Kim to put Pete in his place (good) or Kenta to walk away and leave Pete on read (even better).

#pit babe #pit babe 2 #pit babe the series #petekenta #jane watches stuff #i mostly wrote this to get it out of my system #so pls excuse if this is kind of one-sided and unfair to pete #i could write this from his perspective and find equally as compelling arguments #which makes these characters so very good #and it's kind of ironic how pete is now at the other end of the whole unrequited crush thing and completely unravelling #in season 1 we got to know him as this larger than life hero-like figure #and now he's the most wet and pathetic of them all #(except for winner)#but also #i think they were still trying things out in season 1 #along with chemistry and pairings #and as soon as they settled they had to go back on some of what's implied for marketing reasons #lord knows fandom can't even handle willy's harassment of babe #someone having a past with another love interest? UNPOSSIBLE

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joyfulcowboycandy · 8 months ago

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My tears, oh my tears, I just read your Lilia fic😭😭😭😭I don't think I'll be able to get through my day well. I really need a happy ending for him with her🤧🤧🤧

HI ANON! Thank you for your request ❤! I had to think pretty hard for an idea and I settled on this I hope it's satisfactory! I'm not very good at writing fluff and happy endings so I tried my best:p

Lilia Vonrogue x Reader

❥ part two (part 1: here)

Content warning: none

fem reader

Lilia had spent countless years as a hardened warrior, fighting on the front lines and keeping his heart guarded from attachment or sentimentality. But when she died in his arms, all his strength and resilience seemed to dissolve. Now, he was left with only her memory—and the child she’d entrusted to him, Silver. Raising Silver should have been a way to honor her, but each day felt like a reminder of his failure to protect her. Despite this, he kept her memory close, never sharing the truth with anyone else.

When he’d returned to Briar Valley, he had simply told others he’d found the boy abandoned. He didn’t want their sympathy, their prying questions, or their pity. She was his secret, a part of his soul he guarded as fiercely as any territory he’d once protected in battle.

Though he loved Silver fiercely, Lilia struggled to raise him properly. Silver was human, fragile and dependent in a way that bewildered him. Malleus, though eager to help, was just as lost. He was unused to anything so delicate, and his fascination with Silver’s human traits sometimes did more harm than good.

“I do not understand, Lilia,” Malleus said once as they watched Silver wail at the unfamiliar taste of solid food. “Why does he reject this nourishment? Fae children devour their first meals.”

Lilia only chuckled, masking his own frustration. “Human babies don’t always eat everything, Malleus. They’re… unpredictable.”

But when he was alone, Lilia was less assured. How could he teach a child when his own life had been war and solitude? He often tried to remember the warmth of her smile as she held Silver, the way she’d cradled him with a patience and gentleness he could never seem to match. He’d even picked up books on human parenting, flipping through pages with an intensity usually reserved for military strategies. Yet, with every attempt to follow the words, he felt her absence even more sharply, the emptiness of her laughter lingering in the silence of their small home.

Silver was growing quickly, and with him, Lilia’s feelings shifted. At times, Silver’s big eyes, so much like hers, would look up at him with a trust that made Lilia’s heart ache. But he was also reminded of his failings. How could he raise this child with warmth when he had none left to give? He was a warrior, not a father. And yet… he couldn’t let her down. Each time he saw Silver sleep, curled up and peaceful, he’d lean against the doorway and watch, feeling something unfamiliar and gentle soften his battle-worn heart.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. Years Later

As he grew older, Silver began to notice things that didn’t quite fit the stories his father told him. Lilia had always said he found Silver, abandoned and alone, and that he’d taken him in. But there were gaps in the story, inconsistencies that left Silver questioning his past.

Sometimes, late at night, Silver would wake to find his father sitting by the fire, staring into the flames with a distant, sorrowful expression Silver had rarely seen. And sometimes, Lilia would hold a small trinket—a ribbon, or a faded piece of cloth—that he quickly hid whenever Silver approached.

“Father,” Silver asked once, “were you alone when you found me?”

Lilia’s gaze shifted, and he masked his expression with a wry smile. “You were all I found that day, Silver. Just a bundle of trouble waiting to happen.”

But Silver couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. Over time, he learned not to ask too many questions, knowing they would only be deflected. Yet, the mysteries lingered, especially in the moments when he saw a softness in Lilia that he couldn’t quite understand—a gentleness that seemed to speak of someone else.

One night, Silver dozed off after a long day of training, only to find himself drifting into a dream unlike any he’d ever had before. It felt unusually vivid, he realized he were stepping into someone else’s memories rather than his own. He was in a dimly lit forest clearing, and through a haze of recollection, he saw his father, but not as he knew him. This version of Lilia seemed slightly younger, sterner, his gaze sharper and full of fire. And beside him was a woman Silver had never seen before.

She was human, with soft, gentle eyes, and the way she looked at his father was unlike anything Silver had ever witnessed. In one scene, she was gently binding a wound on Lilia’s arm, her hands steady and careful. Lilia was grumbling, clearly unused to being cared for in such a way, but there was a tenderness in his eyes, a look Silver had never seen directed at anyone before.

The memory shifted, and now she was holding a small child—an infant Silver realized with a start was himself. She whispered to the baby in her arms, her words too soft for him to hear, but the expression of love on her face was unmistakable. And when Lilia glanced at her, it was with a mix of admiration, something deeper and unspoken lingering in his gaze.

Silver stirred, feeling an ache in his chest he couldn’t explain. Who was this woman, and why had his father never mentioned her? The dream faded, but the questions remained, and the next morning, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Father,” he began hesitantly, watching Lilia’s face, “I had a dream last night… or maybe a memory. There was a woman with you. She looked… kind.”

Lilia stiffened, his usual mirth fading as he met Silver’s gaze. For a moment, he was silent, his eyes betraying a depth of pain Silver had never seen before.

“She was…” Lilia’s voice was barely a whisper. “Someone I lost long ago.”

Silver remained quiet, sensing the weight of the memory and the love his father had hidden all these years. Though Lilia didn’t offer any more details, Silver understood that this woman—his mother—had been someone truly special.

Silver felt a quiet desperation gnawing at him. Now that he had glimpsed a fragment of her—a woman he felt connected to yet hardly knew—a hollow ache settled in his chest. His father had always kept his sorrow hidden, masking any sign of grief with his usual humor and lightheartedness. But after seeing her, Silver couldn’t ignore the emptiness left by her absence, and he couldn’t accept that this was the end of their story.

The longing grew sharper with each day, his mind drifting back to the mystery of her—a mother he barely remembered, a bond he could only dream of. How could he let things end like this? To never have truly known her felt wrong. Still, he was just a human, and what power did he have over something as final as death?

But the thought wouldn’t let him rest. He was not as helpless as he felt. He was strong, he knew magic, and he was connected to some of the most powerful beings in Twisted Wonderland. Surely there was a way—some forbidden knowledge, some hidden path he hadn’t yet considered.

And then he remembered the rumors, whispers of a witch who resided far beyond Briar Valley, somewhere between worlds, where human souls and fae magic brushed against each other. A powerful sorceress who understood the mysteries of life and death and could speak to the spirits themselves.

The path to this witch wouldn’t be easy, but Silver knew he couldn’t turn back now. This was something he had to do—not just for himself, but for the one who had given everything for him, the one he knew his father had loved in a way he had never spoken of.

Silver set out quietly, keeping his journey a secret from his father, Sebek and Malleus. He ventured through dense forests and past enchanted lakes, traveling farther than he ever had before. His heart remained steadfast, though fear began to settle in as he neared his destination.

Finally, after days of travel, he reached the borderlands between the human world and the realm of the sea—a place where twilight lingered, where ancient stones rose from the mist, and the air was thick with enchantment. In the shadows of the rocks, he caught sight of her: the witch he had heard of. She was cloaked in dark robes, her figure partially obscured, but her gaze was piercing, as though she had been expecting him.

“You seek to bring back a lost soul,” she said before Silver even spoke. Her voice was calm but held a warning, laced with an unsettling wisdom. “A dangerous wish, young one. Life and death are not to be tampered with lightly.”

Silver’s resolve held firm. “I know it’s dangerous, but… she was taken from us too soon. I just want the chance to know her, even if it’s only once.”

The witch regarded him in silence, her expression unreadable. “To bring back a soul from beyond… it requires a great sacrifice,” she finally said. “Not in gold, not in power, but in spirit. To restore what was lost, you must be willing to give something of equal weight in return.”

“What do you mean?” Silver asked, feeling a shiver of uncertainty.

She gave him a steady look. “It will cost you a piece of yourself. Memories, perhaps, or a fragment of your own life force. To give life, something must be taken. And even then, it may not work as you hope. The dead do not always return as they were.”

Silver’s heart raced, but he nodded, his determination unwavering. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

The witch watched him, assessing his resolve before finally nodding. She led him to a clearing at the edge of the shore, where she instructed him to gather rare herbs and light a circle of candles in the shape of the full moon.

Silver could feel the energy drain from him as the witch chanted in the language of old, his very life force spilling into the circle they had created. He closed his eyes, focusing on his mother’s face, the brief glimpses he had seen in his dreams—the gentle smile, the warmth that lingered even in a memory. He barely noticed as the witch’s voice faded, the mist thickening in front of him until it nearly obscured the world.

When he opened his eyes, she was there.

She stood just beyond the edge of the mist, her form wrapped in simple robes of soft, muted colors, somewhere between the shades of twilight and dawn. Her hair, flowing, caught the light in a gentle, silvery sheen. Silver’s heart stilled, his breath caught in his throat as he took in her familiar features—the softness of her gaze, the contours of her face that mirrored his own.

For a moment, she looked around in confusion, her brow furrowing as her gaze settled on him, lingering with a glimmer of recognition that hadn’t fully settled. She studied his face, her eyes taking in every feature as if piecing together a puzzle from fragments of memory.

Silver’s lips parted, and the word slipped out like a breath. “Mother…”

Her eyes widened, the dawning realization flooding her expression, and then, as if nothing else in the world mattered, she moved toward him. At first, a tentative step, and then, as recognition and emotion surged within her, she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around him with a force that belied her slight frame. Silver’s arms moved instinctively to hold her, his heart pounding as he felt the solid warmth of her, the reality of her presence.

They held each other for a long moment, both too overwhelmed to speak, both still trembling with the fragile wonder of what had just happened. She pulled back slightly, gazing up at him, her eyes studying every line and shadow on his face. She let out a soft, incredulous laugh, a sound both joyful and tearful.

“Silver…” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “You… you’ve grown so much. You’re so big now.”

Silver managed a shaky smile, barely able to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions. “I… I never thought I’d see you…”

Her hand reached up, brushing his cheek, her fingers lingering as though she was still trying to assure herself he was real. “I don’t understand how… or why… but I felt something calling me back, a longing I couldn’t ignore.” Her voice faltered, softening. “I thought I’d lost you both forever.”

Silver shook his head, his own hand moving to cover hers. “No. I had to bring you back. I had to know you—just once.” His voice broke slightly, but he didn’t care; he needed her to know the depth of his longing, the years he had wondered about her.

They shared another silent moment, just taking in the wonder of being reunited before Silver finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s someone who needs to see you… someone who’s missed you even more than I have.”

Her gaze brightened, and she nodded, a glimmer of emotion flickering in her eyes as she realized who he meant. “Take me to him.”

When they returned to Briar Valley, Silver led her to the castle, his heart racing with anticipation and awe. Lilia was there, his usually cheerful expression softening as he spotted Silver at the entrance. But when his gaze landed on the figure beside him, he froze.

For a heartbeat, Lilia seemed unable to comprehend what he was seeing. His eyes widened, his mouth slightly open as he took in the sight of her, standing beside Silver, alive, her eyes shining as she met his gaze.

“Lilia…” she whispered, her voice breaking as tears pooled in her eyes.

Lilia took a hesitant step forward, his composure slipping away, replaced by an expression Silver had never seen before—a vulnerability, a disbelief, and a raw, overwhelming joy. “How…?” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Unable to hold back any longer, she moved toward him, her steps quickening until she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if he might vanish. Lilia’s arms encircled her, holding her tightly, and a tear slipped down his cheek as he buried his face in her shoulder.

They stayed like that, the two of them locked in an embrace, their reunion marked by silent tears and whispered words of comfort and disbelief. Silver watched, a warmth filling his chest, his heart swelling with quiet happiness as he witnessed the reunion he had always longed for.

When they finally pulled back, Lilia placed a gentle hand on her face, brushing away a tear. “I thought I’d lost you forever,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes softened with a depth of love that Silver had never seen before.

She placed her hand over his. “You never lost me. I was always there… watching over you both.”

Lilia looked toward Silver, his gaze filled with gratitude and something else—a newfound pride, a warmth that he struggled to put into words.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. BONUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Silver led his mother, Y/N, through the stone corridors of the castle. She held herself with quiet grace, her steps soft, but she was clearly a bit nervous. As they approached the courtyard, Malleus and Sebek stood waiting, expressions guarded yet curious.

“Mother,” Silver began, a touch of pride in his voice, “these are my friends: Malleus Draconia and Sebek Zigvolt.”

Y/N gave a small, respectful nod, her gaze briefly meeting theirs before she glanced aside shyly. “It’s… nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a little of you on the way here.”

Malleus tilted his head, regarding her with a steady, thoughtful gaze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

“Wait,” Sebek interjected, brows drawing together in confusion, “Silver, you… have a mother? That’s not the story Master Lilia told us…” His voice was skeptical, yet respectful.

Silver shifted slightly. “I uh…. Well, it’s complicated…”

Just then, Lilia approached, hands behind his back, giving the scene an amused glance before his gaze softened on Y/N. She caught his eye, a bit of warmth there, even if neither spoke right away.

“Lilia,” Malleus finally ventured, “perhaps you could enlighten us?”

Lilia gave a faint smirk, his tone dry. “Oh, I do seem to have forgotten a few details, haven’t I?” His eyes flicked to Y/N with a hint of warmth. “She has a habit of showing up when you least expect it.”

Y/N chuckled softly, glancing at Lilia. “Some things haven’t changed.”

Sebek was still gaping, while Malleus studied the quiet exchange between Y/N and Lilia with a thoughtful look. Lilia only shrugged, his voice nonchalant but his gaze carrying a deeper feeling as he said, “Every family has a few secrets, after all.”

Bonus 2: Y/n: Oh… You cut your hair. Lilia: Yes, I did… Did you like it longer? I’ll grow it out. Y/n: W-what? It’s okay! I love it now too. It’s cute. Lilia: I love you too–oh, I mean I love it too, yes.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia x reader #general lilia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #lilia #malleus draconia #malleus #silver #silver twst #sebek #sebek zigvolt

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twst-rose-prisms · 1 year ago

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Hi! Can i ask for some preference for the twst boys? Like who would want a cute/naive s!o, who would want smart/ sexy s!o, silly/goofy one or something like that? Just the guys preference in s!o ? Thanks!

Hi hi~ First of all, I'm super sorry for not answering for a long long time cuz I was out of this blog and fandom 😭 If you're still active then this one is for you my amazing rosie! My first request ever so I'm still learning bu~t I tried my best! (shout out to my bestie for helping me a ton with this 🙏🙏) Btw I'm separating this into 3 parts so it won't be too long~

Twst boys preference for their partner

Characters: All NRC students (except Ortho) x Reader Genre: Fluff Reminder: This is just a headcanon post, so even if you aren't your loved one's preference, do not worry! Remember, love might have preference, but it's never the final thing that decides one's partner, so rest assured~ Your lovely twst boys love you no matter what 🌹❤️ Part 1 | Part 2 (coming soon) | Part 3 (coming soon)

🌹 Riddle 🌹

- He would definitely like someone who is responsible and serious about their work just like himself. He admires it whenever they're strict to follow the rules and understand the importance of it like how he is as well. Seeing how diligent they are about their schoolwork would also earn a good impression from the housewarden himself, even better if they're a decently knowledgeable person. - Though he probably needs someone who's always there in his most tired, vulnerable moment too; someone who will comfort him, tell him that he did well, etc. just be there to whisper sweet words, like how hardworking he was on that day, he'll melt into their embrace almost immediately. Let him rest his head on your shoulder or chest, slowly drifting off from tiredness yet his face looks so peaceful and content... Your warmth and gentleness are something he definitely needs after everything that he endured and went through. Of course, those moments are rare since he need to put on a front being a honor student and a dorm leader, so be sure to stick by his side to catch it. - He needs a s/o who can tell him to get loose and take breaks occasionally too, due to how he always being strict on himself. Or whenever he gets angry, they'll be there to calm him down so he won't start an outburst knowing how easily angry he can get. - He isn't really keen on appearance too much, but he would prefer it if his s/o know how to dress properly and formally enough. He is a housewarden after all, so a partner that dress as good as him is enough for a great impression towards Riddle. No need for such things like super fancy make-up or expensive jewelries. - Bonus: if his s/o knows how to bake, surprise him his with favorite sweet strawberry tart occasionally! He'll be pretty flustered that they put so much love and effort into this beautiful tart and would just melt internally, and every bite would taste like heaven for sure 💖

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♥️ Ace ♥️

- He's definitely into people who know how to make jokes or have fun, it's one of the most important things to create impressions toward a guy like him after all! It never hurts to let loose and have fun once in a while y'know. - Though it doesn't have to be someone fun all the time, it could just be someone who could be able to keep up with his shenanigans most of the time or just know how to get loose instead of being uptight or serious. Of course, that doesn't mean letting this guy commit whatever horrible thing he's about to do, his s/o has an important mission and that is to stop him from getting scolded again by the teachers! - He's definitely an appearance type of guy, I mean, just guys being guys y'know; he's probably into cute, cheerful type or maybe a bit girly. But his s/o doesn't have to appear to his taste entirely, just someone being confident enough in their look also earns a point from him too! Giving him a big, goofy grin while making funny hand sings definitely would earn a laugh out of this guy for sure. - Because he's a rather mischievous type of guy, his s/o could be someone who can keep up with it. Or even better, being teasing or joking back at him, it would catch him off guard his s/o actually followed along and that would definitely want him to get their attention. The more unexpected they're around him, the more he would want their attention since he thought they're the most interesting person he has ever encountered! (He won't admit that it's because he falls for them though) - Bonus: One way to get his affection is to watch him playing basketball, like cheering him on or patiently waiting for the match to be over. Just imagine his reaction when you give him a cheerful grin and give him a cool drink as a way to tell him he did well! I'm sure you've earned a spot in his heart at that moment 💖

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♠️ Deuce ♠️

- Because he used to be a rumble delinquent, he probably needs a s/o that would accept his past and encourage him to not be scared, because they'll accept him for who he is no matter what, and that's what he's looking for the most in his partner because he too, want someone to tell him that it's okay to have a bad past, but what matter is how he is himself now and they love him for it~ - No matter how he acts, specifically, whenever he switches to his delinquent mode by accident in front of his s/o, he doesn't want you to be scared or avoid him because of it. That is the last thing he ever wanted - to hurt his partner. And if you saw his "bad boy" mode by accident, be sure to reassure him that you are totally alright with it and it won't drive you away! - He will admire a s/o who is diligent, smart and hardworking, since he is also a hardworking person after all. If his s/o is someone that shows their knowledge in a way that goes "Oh, I read this in a book that..." then our boy is gonna be super impressed! He loves it when you also talk about something you like too and share your knowledge with him, he'll always be ready to listen just to be impressed all over again like the first time. Since he's a slow learner, it would also be great if you could be patient and teach him things that he asks you, don't worry, he is very attentive, especially since it's you being his tutor after all. - He'll probably like it if his s/o is someone strong physically, even better if they don't appear like it; just imagine the astonished look on his face when he sees them easily carry heavy things despite their appearance! He'll be impressed but in another way (if you get what I mean...) - Bonus: If his s/o is someone who can take the lead or initiate a relationship then it's definitely something that will make him melt! Like just imagine if they kiss him or hold his hand suddenly, just being surprisingly affectionate and he'll become a blob! He might not admit it, but it's probably something that he's into, considering how easily flustered he can get when it comes to things like romance 💖

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♣️ Trey ♣️

- I think that out of all the twst characters, Trey is the most easy-going when it comes to partner preference. He's pretty open to any type of people so to him, preference isn't something that he keen on too much, also since he's taking care of everyone most of the time or being the older brother figure, you can expect him to be the perfect, caring boyfriend~ - Though I think he would have special feelings more towards people that are mature with a somewhat older siblings vibe that is capable of taking care of others just like him. He might not appear like it, but he would really appreciate it if he's the one receiving instead of the other way around once in a while, it's the most effective way towards his heart! - It doesn't have to be a s/o that's mature or has an older sibling vibe all the time, they can also just be someone really sweet and supportive. Actively helping him out in the kitchen or tagging along with him in school, that is enough to tell him how affectionate they are towards him, and he too, would be affectionate back towards them. - Perhaps it could also be a s/o that likes hearing jokes or easy-going like him too. Occasionally, he would joke around or make small teases, and if his s/o replied with a laugh or just showed how much they're having fun around him, he would feel really relieved that they love this side of him too, since not many people can take jokes well or sometimes they would even take it seriously. (Ex: the Walrus seal oyster sauce joke) - Bonus: If his s/o is someone who loves sweets then get ready for a gift full of sweetness (literally and figuratively) delivered to them almost everyday! Simply complimenting how delicious they're with a happy expression and that would be enough to earn a heart point from Trey! Even more if his s/o gives him something that they baked themselves as a gift, I'm sure he'll treasure every single little bite with how much effort they put into them 💖

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♦️ Cater ♦️

- Because he's a trendy, fun loving person, I think he would definitely like a s/o that is a fun fellow to be around him! Even better if they also like trendy things; just imagine you guys talking for hours and hours about the latest trends and how do you 2 can follow it, especially those couple trends on magicam. - But of course, it doesn't have to be someone with the same preference as him, it could just be someone chill and easygoing too. If his s/o is a curious, attentive person then he'll definitely love sharing his interests and all the latest trends if they ask him. They don't have to follow it, the way they give him a curious cute look while listening to him talking is already enough to show how much they care about him, and he would be so into them! - He's still overall a chill person that wanna take it easy, so he probably would like his s/o to be the same as him too. Sometimes, just a comfortable silence between the two of you would be enough as he scrolls through his phone casually, with your head on his shoulder or vice versa. - He might have a few preferences when it comes to appearance, such as a cute, trendy or confident s/o who knows how to style themselves. It's totally okay if they're someone more casual, but a well-dressed appearance is if not, a must if you want to impress him first hand. - Bonus: I think Cater is not a person who falls in love easily, but if his s/o tell him how much they love him with a genuine expression, eyes full of sincerity like they really, really mean it, then he'll fall more than just hard~ He probably received a lot of compliments before but none probably meant genuine for him, until he meets someone as amazing as you 💖

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🦁 Leona 🦁

- Oh, you're pretty daring enough if you wanna date someone like him. I mean, he's the housewarden of Savanaclaw we're talking about here, a real lion prince, if you managed to get his heart then I'd say you're already pretty great yourself! I mean, you already saw how others think of him with their tails in between their legs... - Though, if we're talking about preference, he would definitely like someone who won't be noisy and interrupt his precious napping time. Maybe someone that lets him lay down on their lap, stroking his hair or his fluffy ears while he's sleeping. He might deny it but those low purrs and growls are telling a whole different story. Sometimes he could also use them as a great pillow to hug too, with his head on your chest and arm wrapped around your frame, just be prepared for staying like that for the next 3 hours though... - He would find naive s/o interesting too, so easy to mess around and tease, their expression is truly entertaining to watch with the way their round eyes look astonished, then blush brightly from the way he tease them. Like a lion messing around with the little naive herbivore~ He could never get enough or tired of it. - Maybe he would also like a s/o that can be bold or challenging at the right time. Surprises are a welcoming thing, and Leona isn't an exception to it. A somewhat teasing, flirty relationship between you two would be entertaining and also something fun that he would seek for, he does like it when his "prey" fight back after all, though he'll just eat them up in the end like a lion he is. (interpret it as however you want...) - Bonus: One way to really catch the lion prince off-guard is outsmarting him. Pretty hard to do considering how Leona is, I know, but once your wits manage to catch him by the tail, he'll be pretty surprised his s/o is someone more than just his expectation. Maybe acting a little bit daring while we're at it, but I'm sure that he knows how special his s/o is and that no one else is like them 💖

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🐆 Ruggie 🐆

- I think for Ruggie, he probably would prefer a s/o that is smart and witty like him, maybe even better if they're street smart too as he'll be very impressed someone is the same as him. After all, people who have great practical skills can't be someone lazy from a spoiled, rich family right? Don't get him wrong, he didn't mean bad things, but it's just so because he grew up in such an environment, you couldn't blame him for thinking like that. - Though of course, it doesn't have to be someone like him, it could just be a s/o that likes to take care of others or be very supportive too. They can help him out with his errands; expect him to ask if you want anything in return though, since it has been his mindset for a long time now. But hey, if you help him enough in a sincere way without asking for something else, he might start to open his heart to you a bit and trust you more...? Everything takes time including love after all, so be patient~ - Another preference he would like maybe a somewhat naive s/o. Teasing them is nothing but fun for a cunning hyena like him. I mean, he could also use this chance to impress him with his skills in a way too, their face is just so entertaining to watch, but he probably warns them to be careful or bad people gonna get to them easily~ (ex: Ruggie himself) - Because Ruggie grew up really poor, he is someone who treasures and treats food way more important than normal people would, so if his s/o is someone who knows how to cook then he'd feel like he just stepped into heaven~ I mean, just imagine the happy but surprised face when they feed him such luxurious handmade food that they put so much love into, he feels like he's eating a buffet! His s/o could also make lunch for him daily as well, you two could share together as you feed him your homemade food, and his round ears would twitch in happiness for sure. - Bonus: Something sweet, surprising and genuine would be the best way to get his heart. For example, a bag full of warm, fluffy donuts would do! He loves those sweet treats a lot, so if you have free time be sure to bake some for him alright? As there's a phrase goes "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach" after all 💖

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🐺 Jack 🐺

- He would like someone very responsible about themselves and take their work seriously and fairly with no underhanded methods or cheating. Seeing how diligent they are, he definitely would think his s/o is a great and respectful person to be with. I think if they recognize him and compliment him back, that will get him flustered too, though he might deny it with a grumpy expression. (He's just being a bit of a "tsundere" as you call it) - Someone with a moral worthy of his respect is also one of his preferences too. Do try to not misunderstand his coldness, he's a real softie deep down, so if you act kind towards him with no ill intent whatsoever, he'll quickly understand what kind of a person you are and won't be cold towards you much the more you two hanging out... and maybe it'll turn into something more precious than just friendship~ - Once you earn his respect, he'll become your biggest protector that you can imagine. Nobody will dare to mess around with you once you have a giant bodyguard like him tagging along. If his s/o is a bit of a tease and affectionate person, remember to thank him with small pecks on the cheek or a hug, our wolf boy would be pretty flustered with a wagging tail! Speaking of that, he wouldn't mind a bit of a tease too since I think he would like it. (Although he'll deny it again or so) - He isn't an appearance type of person, but if his s/o is someone smaller or shorter than him then his protecting instinct would happen more often. Also, it's cute when your smaller frame tries to wrap both arms around his bigger one, he would unconsciously feel flustered but also found it a bit cute. - Bonus: While it might sound a bit rude to him... or not, but I think if his s/o treats him like he's a big, cuddly and fluffy dog he would get super flustered. Like imagine you give him a big, cute grin while petting his big ears or his super poofy fluffy tail, oh the wolf boy would be so "tsun" about it. His s/o is the only one who can touch his tail or brush it! It's also a way to show affection towards a big wolf like him too, so don't hold back 💖

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To be continued! Stay tuned for part 2~

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #twst #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #ruggie bucci x reader #jack howl x reader #twst fluff #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland

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faultcline · 1 month ago

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⠀ ㅤ𓈒 ⠀ 🧸ㅤIN BETWEENㅤ( ch. oneㅤㅤㅤ )ㅤstand by meㅤ!

⠀ genre.⠀high school au, enemies 2l⠀⠀⠀ wc.⠀3 . 5k words ⠀ cw.⠀mentions of unpleasant personal traumas/experiences, daddy issues, strong language. more warnings per chapter. no use of yn.

[⠀ abby talks.⠀]⠀⠀hihii! finally the first chapter of this series! i'm really excited to share it with you <3 i really hope you like it! this is just some sort of introductory chapter to whats to come 🙂‍↕️ enjoy itt!!!!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ1986.⠀stand by me⠀⠀✶⠀⠀'i never had any friends later on like the ones i had when i was 12' !

YOU ENTERED YOUR ROOM AND PICKED UP THE BOOK THAT WAS LAID ON THE NIGHTSTAND. Picking Daisies on Sundays was your best friend’s favorite, and it had been waiting for you to read it several weeks now, but you never seemed to find the right moment to do so. For one reason or another, you have not yet had the opportunity to start it peacefully.

You laid down on your bed with the intention of finally starting to do it when your phone buzzed in the back pocket of your jeans. It was Wyatt.

Wyatt Scobell has been your neighbour for as long as you can remember, the guy you've always liked and, for some reason you still don't know, your boyfriend. It's not that you don't hold yourself in high esteem, it's just that you never really thought that your silly obsession would turn out to be anything more than that. Besides, it's not like he ever paid much attention to you. Until he did, of course.

His brother Walker, on the other hand.... You had always gotten along well, until in elementary school he started to be more rude to you, and ended up being the pain in the ass he is now. You had a bit of a hard time, at the beginning, but when you started dating Wyatt, you learned to avoid minding him so much. You assumed he was just jealous of you spending time with his beloved brother, and although sometimes you remember what your relationship was like and it makes you feel down, you know you can't force things. He doesn't seem to want to change, anyway.

You snapped out of your thoughts and opened Wyatt's message, and suddenly the characteristic nervousness of the last few weeks crept up on you, reminding you of how unusual his interactions with you have been getting. For a while now, he has been acting a little bit strange, but you always assumed it was due to the magnitude of his senior year in high school and the tough football practices he has to endure.

A few hours ago you texted him to see if he wanted to spend some time together to clear his mind, but when he didn't answer immediately when you knew he was online you tried not to think too much about it and locked yourself in the kitchen. You made a bunch of cookies, as you have been doing whenever something stressful happened to you and you didn't want to think about it.

His message, like most of them lately, was dry and sounded like an excuse: i have practice in a few hours and i need to finish an essay. The training thing you know is true, because you've gone to see him several times and cheer him on despite not having a clue about football—to support him. However, if this had happened a few months ago instead of in the situation you were at the moment, you were sure that he would tell you that you could go to his house while he wrote his essay, just to hang out with you.

You replied with a simple ‘okeyy, if you need anything you know i'm here 💘’ and let out a sigh. As much as you wanted to ignore it, this new attitude hurt you, and you knew it had influenced your mood because of comments your family and best friend had shared with you.

Thinking about the latter cheered you up a bit, and you decided to drop by her house to see her. That way you could bring her some cookies, which you knew she loved (and were not, at all, a payment for always listening to your rambles).

On your way downstairs, you spotted Noah, your little brother, in the living room, watching television. You passed by him and gently ruffled his hair, drawing a low grumble from him.

“Is Mom in the garden?” you asked, not seeing her in the kitchen, which is directly opposite the room you were in.

“Yes, I think she's talking to Stella,” he replied without taking his eyes off the TV, where Henry Hart was meeting with Charlotte and Jasper.

When you heard it you rolled your eyes, since Stella was the mother of Mason Thames, your next-door neighbor and Walker's best friend. You didn't dislike her, but you hadn't been able to avoid being the victim of some prank of her son because of your boyfriend's brother.

You went out into the garden and found your mother talking to Stella, both of them separated by the fence that divided your houses. You slowly approached the two women engaged in a lively conversation, with a quiet smile on your face.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Thames,” you greeted Mason's mother politely, who curved her lips at you in reply. “Mom, I'm going over to Lucy's house for a while, and I'll also bring cookies to her and Betty.”

Mabel—that's your mother's name—turned to you at the sound of your voice and responded warmly, “Okay, baby. Just remember you have to cook dinner later.”

You nodded, letting her tuck a lock of hair behind your ear in a distracted gesture, and she added, “I'll stop by the cemetery for a while and then by the Scobell's.”

“Okay,” you replied as you tried not to show on your face the mixed feelings, the lump you can't swallow at the mere sound of Wyatt's last name. “I won't be back late, I promise. I'll leave a few cookies set aside for you to take to Henry and Cora. Tell them I said hi.”

“You tell Betty the same thing, and also that I have the pants ready that she asked me to fix, that she can come over one day for coffee and pick them up,” she says goodbye, giving you a kiss on the forehead. “Have a good time, honey.”

“Okay, Mom,” you reply with a smile, turning to Mason's mother. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Thames.”

Your mother has always been one of the strongest and most smiling people you've ever met, and certainly an example to follow day in and day out. Your father, a jerk of an uncle that your mother doesn't regret being with because thanks to him she had you and Noah, left home as soon as he found out that the three people living there would become four. Although before that he didn't perform his parental duties very well either, since he preferred to go from bar to bar to take care of his wife and daughter.

Your mother had a hard enough time, but she always reminds you that it was the best thing she could have done, that because of this you moved here, and she could get to know the families in the neighborhood, who helped her a lot to take care of you and Noah. For that same reason you and your brother grew up playing in the street with your new neighbors’ children, who immediately became friends.

You supposed that in the end it was good for you that Dexter—because father is not a word that defines him well—left you, since your mother was now happier than you've ever seen her.

Back in the kitchen, as you divided the cookies into three batches—for Lucy, for the Scobell's and for you to eat at home—you remembered your mother's plans for the afternoon. On the days a week that she was free she would go to the town cemetery to clean some graves that no longer had family members to do it, and to put out fresh flowers. She said that this way the passed ones would ‘feel beautiful and loved wherever they were’.

You're sure it was a habit she picked up from feeling guilty about moving and not being able to visit your grandparents' gravestones, but you think it's a nice thing to do and it doesn't cost anything, so you often accompanied her.

When you finished serving the cookies, you put yours aside, the bag for the Scobell's on the table and grabbed the ones you were going to leave at Lucy’s house. You took the house keys from the front cabinet and went back to the living room for a moment to say goodbye to Noah.

“Noah, I'm going to Lucy's, but I'll be back to get dinner ready,” you informed him from the doorframe. “Behave and don't be glued to the TV all afternoon, Swellview already has someone to save it,” you told him, walking over and handing him a cookie. “Don't tell Mom,” you add, winking at him.

And with everything finally ready, you walked out of the house and across the street.

YOU HAD MET LUCY THE DAY YOU FELL IN FRONT OF HER HOUSE AND SHE LAUGHED AT YOU. You recalled that her mother had had to run out to help you and carefully treat the wound in your knee, while she scolded Lucy for laughing her head off and not warning her or seeking help for you. It had happened a long time ago, but you both liked to remember it, because since that day you had become inseparable.

Besides, you remember it as fate, since you had technically fallen in front of your house, but since your mother was watching Noah—who was only one year old—she couldn't notice what had happened, and it was the neighbor from the house across the street who took care of you.

“Hi, darling! What a joy to see you, how is everything going?” As you arrived, Betty greeted you, giving you a short but comforting hug.

“Very well, Betty, and you?” you answered, and didn't forget to share your mom's words: “My mother told me that she's already got your pants sewed up and ready, so you can drop by any day now.”

“Oh, Mabel is always so kind. She's an artist, you know? It's a pity she couldn't pursue a career in sewing...,” she gave you a loving smile. “Come in, come in, don't stay at the entrance.”

You entered her house, which was literally the same as yours except for the decorations, and headed over to the kitchen while Betty closed the door behind you.

“I brought some cookies I made this afternoon, I'm sure Lucy will like the surprise,” you said, as you set the plate on the table and grabbed a few to take to your best friend.

“Thank you so much, honey, there was no need,” she beamed, giving you a knowing smile. “you're a sunshine. Lucy will obviously be thrilled, she's upstairs in her room.”

“Thank you, Betty,” you told her goodbye, picking up a smaller plate with a few cookies to offer Lucy.

You went up to her room, which was in exactly the same place as yours: in the attic, with a balcony from which you could access the roof.

When you were little, your parents wouldn't let you go out as a precaution, but as you grew, you spent entire nights watching the stars and talking about anything and everything until you fell asleep. Those were some of your best memories with her.

The door was closed, and although you were sure she had her headphones on, listening to some Gracie Abrams song, you knocked anyway with your knuckles before opening it.

You found Lucy lying on her bed on her stomach, with what you thought was the latest addition to the bookshelf full of books on her left. On her head rested said headphones, as you had already guessed, and near her feet was Marie, her precious cat, sleeping peacefully.

Lucy was a very pretty girl, with long blonde hair and a beautiful smile. Anyone who saw her looked more than once, and it was only natural; however, it was even better if you got to know her. She always tried to help others, and to keep a smile on her face even if she wasn't having a good time—just so you wouldn't feel bad. You were very lucky to have her, and so you tried to make up for your dramas and problems with kind words and selfless gifts.

You sneaked into the room, and after leaving the plate of biscuits on her desk, you pounced on her, careful not to crush poor Marie, who just ran away in terror. You wrapped your arms around Lucy as you kissed her head, some sort of apology for the sudden startle.

“Oh my GOD!” she screamed, her pulse racing and eyes wide, comically open at you. “You almost killed me, don't you know how to knock?” she added reproachfully, removing her headphones and accepting that she will not be able to shake off your clingy embrace.

“Well, for your information I did call,” you replied, with a mocking tone. “The thing is that some lady has her music on at full volume and it's impossible for her to hear me.”

“There are other ways to say hello that don't involve throwing yourself at me, anyway,” she grumbled.

“That's true,” you said, making a sheepish gesture. “I guess if you're so upset… you won't want homemade cookies made by your annoooying neighbour.”

You watched with amusement as her eyes lit up, and she broke free from your arms, her body sliding from beside yours and standing up to run to her desk and grab the plate.

“Cookies!” she shouted excitedly, taking one and biting into it with a soft hum, savouring it with her eyes closed. “Just know that cookie blackmail won't always work,” she warned with an incriminating tone, but a delighted look on her face.

“The biscuits are actually an excuse for what I came to talk to you about,” you added, “the hugs and kisses were supposed to justify the scare.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes and looked at you accusingly.

“And what is it that we need to talk about?” she asked, with a more serious edge in her voice.

“It's about Wyatt—” you start, but are cut off by the cookie-eater.

“If you're here to remind me how lonely I am or what a jerk Wyatt is, you can leave,” she cut you off, but her tone was soft while she pointed at the door. She was just trying to ease the tension on your shoulders. “But the biscuits stay here.”

“No, it's not that…” you kept talking with a stern expression. At that she paused, the plate still in her hands, and sat down next to you on the bed. “It's just that—”

But the words choked on your throat you couldn't continue.

“Come on, girl, it's okay,” she warmly pronounced, resting a hand on your shoulder while you tried to get air back in your lungs. “If you can't talk about it now, we'll wait as long as you need.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said when you had calmed down enough, cheeks flushed. “It’s okay, I just—Wyatt's been really distant lately,” you began slowly, surely, eyes on the palms of your hands in your lap so you didn't have to look at Lucy's expression. “At first I thought it was because of school and practice, but now I guess that's what I chose to believe so I didn't have to think about the possibility that he's getting tired of me.”

Your tone decreased as you spoke, as you exposed to your best friend all the thoughts and emotions you’ve been feeling and holding on for so long, as if they were going to go away.

You raised your head at last and your gaze met Lucy's, who looked at you with a haze of pity but mostly unfiltered love. She put the biscuit she was eating aside and took your hands.

“Listen,” she began carefully, as if you were a very fragile object and the slightest clatter could break you, “I know it's complicated, because he's your first love and all, but if you feel this way, you need to talk to him about it. If he really loves you—and as much as I don't like him, he seems to—he should listen to you and tell you whatever it’s going on; if there's an explanation, or ask for forgiveness or something. You can't go on like this because the situation will end up consuming you, and that's not healthy. You don't deserve it.”

At the beginning she was tactful, warm and honey meeting your eyes, but as she continued to talk to you her voice got more serious, like started to realise what she was saying and the importance of it.

She ended up looking at you intently, attentive to your reaction.

“I know what I have to do,” you confessed, “but I'm afraid of what he might say to me. What if he's really tired of me? What if he really wants to end the relationship?”

“Babes, I hear you, but without talking to him, you won't know if those ‘What ifs’ are true or not. What if he's just overwhelmed by what this academic year implies for his future? What if he's not knowing how to handle his emotions in the right way? We could think of a thousand different ‘What ifs’, but without telling him anything you'll never know which ones are true and which ones aren't.”

Her words were like a vase of cold water and a halo of hope at the same time. You were terrified of what could come out of that possible conversation, but Lucy was right: there was no point in racking your brains and creating hypotheses if you didn't know what the reality was.

At your silence, Lucy slightly raised your head so that you looked at her, her eyes giving you that reassurance that comforted you so much.

“Let's do something,” she told you without taking her eyes off yours, her hands still clutching yours protectively. “Sleep on it tonight, but if you're still not convinced, there's always another option.”

“Another option?” you asked quizzically.

You had come to her house hoping that Lucy would come up with some miraculous solution, but logically, her idea ended up being the same as yours; and you hadn’t really expected to be another one. What else can you do but face reality and talk to Wyatt?

“Instead of talking to Wyatt,” Lucy pronounced, knowing you were pending on her every word, “talk to Walker.”

“What?! What does Walker have to do with anything?”

You untangled your hands and straightened up on the bed, standing a little higher than she was.

“Lucy, you know how Walker is,” you retorted, unable to understand why she would engage with that option at all. “He won't talk to me to begin with, but I don't want to talk to him either. He's an insufferable pain in the ass who only thinks about himself and all he wants is attention.”

“Come on,” she answered, before you could launch into another string of protests. “For starters, going by those words it sounds like it's Wyatt you're describing, not his brother. And the last time you were serious with him was in fourth grade. Since then all you've done is pick on each other.”

She paused for a moment, but her eyes beamed when she thought of another argument: “Besides, he's his brother. He's one of the people who knows him best and lives with him day to day. He'll know what to do to put things right.”

She then stared at you with satisfaction, as if her great idea was just magnificent. The truth was that nothing she had said was a lie—except, of course, the insults she had so wantonly hurled at Wyatt—but you refused to turn to Walker like a helpless puppy, least of all to solve any problems you could have with his brother.

“Let's say I go along with your terrible plan and talk to Walker,” you accept, just for a second, and witness a smirk appear across her face. “He's not going to want to help. No way. After everything I've done to him? And everything he's done to me? No way,” and you kept repeating, like you wanted to convince yourself.

That was undeniable. In the course of your enmity, you have played many pranks on him to make him pay for the tasteless jokes he—sometimes accompanied by Mason—played on you. And vice versa.

For a moment, Lucy finally seemed to look defeated, but before you could even enjoy the satisfaction a hint of a wicked grin curved her mouth.

“Well…,” she started looking everywhere but at you, clearly relishing on the moment. “You can always offer him something in return,” she said, gaze fixed on you. “Like doing his homework for a month, or something. I don't know.”

“Really, Lucy?”

“Really,” she looked at you, like reading your mind, this time a little bit more serious. “You know he's your best bet if you don't want to talk to Wyatt. “I’m sure Walker would be more than happy to help you,” she picked up the half-finished biscuit again and took a bite. “If not, we can always kill Wyatt. You know, no body, no crime.”

ㅤㅤwith love ,　© abby.　do not copy, translate, repost, share this work as yours on other platforms or feed it to the ai !　🐚 ˚. ⋆͏

#── ` ᥫ᭡　abby writes!#🧸 : in between #walker scobell #walker scobell x reader #walker scobell fanfiction #walker scobell fanfic #walker scobell fluff #walker scobell imagines #walker scobell scenarios

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