#who knows if this one will see the light of day
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webism · 2 days ago
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sugar daddy!gojo who cuts a deal with you one evening: for each orgasm he can pull from you, he'll transfer $1000 into your account. who has you on your back, sweat soaked and fucked boneless as he brings you to your eighth climax of the night.
who, instead of dirty talk, or talking you through it, he coos about all the things you'll get to buy with what you earn. "can get your nails done so pretty, oh and that bag i know you've been looking at baby," because cocky is an understatement and you're too cumdrunk to tell him to shut up even if you wanted to.
sugar daddy!gojo who pays your rent on the condition that he has his own key cut for him to use as he pleases. sometimes you'll come home to a new set of lingerie laid out on your bed. sometimes you'll open the door to flowers on the kitchen counter, other times it's diamonds.
who sometimes surprises you when you're home, too. he sneaks in as you're showering and gives you the fright of your life as he hops in with you. it's okay, though, because he makes up for the scare by dropping to his knees and eating you out with such scalding passion you barely notice the heat of the water against your skin any longer.
sugar daddy!gojo who takes you shopping with the intention of showing you off. of course people turn their heads when a pretty thing like you walks by with his hand dangerously low on your back. bags hang off his free arm full of gifts for you, who he loves spoiling more than life itself.
who can and will fuck you in the dressing room if you show him an outfit that he particularly likes. no one will notice, bar from the slightly sore gait you walk with for the rest of the day. pushes you against the full length mirror and fills you with his cum, makes you spend the rest of the day shopping with him leaking out of you.
sugar daddy!gojo who buys you a car despite always being the one to drive you around. he likes being behind the wheel with one hand inching up your thigh just a little higher at each red light. you swear he brought you your car just to show off, just to make the purchase obsolete.
who fucks you in it regardless of the fact that it never sees the road. parked in your garage it sees more movement than it ever would otherwise. he hardly fits even in the backseat, but it's worth it when his legs are splayed and you're bouncing on his cock like you have no regard for the expensive leather lined seats. not that it really matters if you mess them—he can buy another car.
sugar daddy!gojo who likes giving you your allowance in cash, just so he can have you on your knees with your lips wrapped around his cock as he lazily counts out the thousands he'll gift you. every time you make him feel particularly good, he reaches over into his safe and pulls out a few more notes to add to the pile��laughs when you moan around his cock at the sight.
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sunni-stuff · 2 days ago
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Soap’s eyebrows lifted with a curious glint in his eye as he looked from you to Adira, a playful grin edging onto his face. He leaned in, never one to miss a chance at a bit of friendly prodding.
“So… you’re married?” he asked, his tone as light as his smirk.
You laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Haha! No, I’m not.” You gave Adira’s tiny hand a gentle squeeze, glancing down at her with a smile that softened every edge on your face. 
Soap tilted his head, pretending to be shocked. “A bonnie lass like yerself? Unmarried?” he teased, hand on his chest as though it were a crime.
“Guess I’m a rare breed,” you replied with a grin, chuckling as you shifted Adira’s hand in yours.
Soap’s face lit up at your response, as if he’d just been given the most interesting bit of news he’d heard all week. He shot Ghost a quick look, but Ghost was still watching Adira, his gaze softened with something unreadable.
Meanwhile, Gaz wasn't fascinated by Soap's ability to make anyone at ease, the man was a cassanova. Roach watched Adira with curiosity, as though piecing together a puzzle he hadn’t realized existed until now. Price stood off to the side, arms crossed, silently observing the whole scene.
“If you aren’t married, how’d you get this little one?” Soap pushed, grinning as he wiggled a playful finger in Adira’s direction.
Adira’s gaze snapped up from Ghost to the man with the funny hair, her little brow furrowing as she studied Soap with a mix of curiosity and caution. She leaned into your leg, clearly wary, but her attention stayed on the finger waving in front of her.
You chuckled, brushing a hand over Adira’s head to reassure her. “Long story,” you replied, smiling. “Let’s just say she was an unexpected blessing.”
Soap laughed softly, glancing at Ghost with a gleam in his eye. “Ah, aye, life’s full of surprises, eh?” 
Ghost, who had been studying Adira in silence, clenched his jaw, shifting uncomfortably as Soap’s words hit a little too close to home.
“I used to be really wild back in the day,” you admitted with a sheepish grin, a hint of nostalgia coloring your tone as you thought back to those not-so-distant years.
Soap wasn’t quite done yet, though. “Does the father know?” he threw a quick glance at Ghost, who had just risen from his crouched position. A new tension ran through Ghost’s frame, his stance rigid, as if the question had struck something he’d rather not confront.
You hesitated, a shadow crossing your expression before you shook your head. “No, he doesn’t… He, uh, probably has no idea.”
Ghost’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering from you to Adira, who was absorbed in her drink, unaware of the intensity surrounding her. His shoulders stiffened, and for a split second, he looked as though he wanted to speak—but whatever words he had caught in his throat, locked behind his silence.
"I see, well. I'm sorry if I took up your time, ma’am, you've been a nice chat," Soap said, his voice softening with a touch of politeness, his grin still present but more reserved now.
You nodded, giving Adira’s hand a gentle tug as you continued on your way, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound accompanying your steps. The blue sky stretched above, peaceful, serene. As you walked, Adira turned her head, glancing back at Ghost one final time. She refused to let go of her cup, her small fingers gripping it tightly, but she lifted her other hand in a small, hesitant wave. "Bye-bye," she whispered, her voice soft but sweet.
Ghost’s gaze lingered, but he didn’t move. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of things churning behind those eyes. 
Price let out a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and facing Ghost. “So... what’s the plan?” he asked, his tone both blunt and expectant, clearly waiting for some kind of direction. The rest of the team stood in silence, watching the exchange unfold.
Ghost didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained on you and Adira, watching you both disappear further down the street, the distance growing with each step. The soft crunch of snow under your boots was the only sound in the quiet winter air. He didn’t even notice Price's voice until the man spoke again, closer now, with a slight edge to his tone.
"Ghost, talk to me. What’s the plan here?”
Finally, Ghost shifted, his shoulders tense, his jaw clenched as he turned to face Price. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something caught between anger, confusion, and a deep, gnawing regret.
"I don't know," he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips. "I wasn't expecting this. Hell, I didn't even know she existed." His voice was low, strained, but there was a quiet honesty to it, as if he was trying to process something that didn’t make sense.
Soap stepped closer, his expression serious for once. "What now, Ghost? We can help. But you need to tell us what's going on."
Ghost finally looked away, his attention drawn to the ground, his fingers twitching like he was trying to find something to hold onto. "I don't even know where to start," he admitted. "All I know is... I saw her. And it hit me like a fucking truck."
Roach, always one to stay in the background, spoke up. “Maybe it’s time to talk to her, yeah? Figure out where to go from here?”
Price’s eyes narrowed, his stern gaze shifting to Ghost, assessing him. “And what exactly do you want from us? You’re in this, whether you like it or not.”
Ghost let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t know,” he repeated, voice hoarse. “But I can’t just let her slip away.”
A silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the weight of the situation settled in. Then, slowly, Ghost nodded. “I’ll figure it out. Just… not now. Not here.” His eyes flicked toward the street where you had disappeared, and something in his gaze softened, just for a moment, before the mask fell back into place.
Price gave a single nod. "Alright. But we stick together on this. You’re not doing it alone, Ghost."
The team stood together for a moment longer, the wind howling through the alley, before they slowly began to move, their steps trailing off into the winter evening. The silence that hung between them was thick with uncertainty. No one knew what came next, but they knew one thing for sure: whatever happened, they were in this together.
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A month passed, the team giving Ghost the space he needed to process the whirlwind that had hit him. They all knew this was something he had to handle on his own terms, but that didn't mean the questions didn't linger. What did it mean for the future? What did he want? The answers were still unclear, even to Ghost himself.
But Soap, ever the persistent one, wasn’t content to let things sit in limbo. He knew Ghost, knew how his mind worked, and that sometimes the best way to breakthrough was to take small steps. And if that meant subtly nudging you into the picture, then so be it. He’d always been good at this—at slipping in the background, making things happen without anyone noticing.
So, Soap started to "accidentally" run nto you. At the park, when you were out with Adira, he'd make sure to be in the same place at the same time, offering a casual greeting. It always started simple, harmless, with a nod or a small comment about the weather. Then, of course, there was that coffee shop where you'd gone to get hot chocolate for Adira.
The first time he "bumped" into you there, it was nothing more than a quick exchange. A question about the drink, a comment on the cold weather, just the usual small talk. But Johnny's natural charm and ease made you relax, and made the conversation flow without much effort. Over time, those small moments grew. You'd smile when you'd see him, and he'd greet you with the same friendly energy, always leaving you feeling at ease. No pressure, just casual.
And slowly, ever so slowly, Johnny began to warm you up to the idea of him. It wasn't much at first—a smile here, a shared laugh there—but he knew what he was doing. He wasn't pushing, just letting the connection build at its own pace. The more you saw him, the more comfortable you felt. The more you talked, the more you found yourself enjoying the interactions, even if they were brief.
One evening, Johnny sat beside you on the park bench, casually leaning back as Adira bounced around in the snow, her laughter filling the crisp air. The sound was contagious, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, watching her with a soft smile.
"So, me and a couple friends are meeting up at Leslie's this weekend," Johnny said, his tone light but with a hint of something more. "Would you be interested?"
You snorted, expecting the usual joke or teasing, but when you glanced over at him, his expression was far more serious than you anticipated. For a moment, you considered dismissing it. After all, Leslie's? A pub? That was a far cry from the cozy routine you’d built for yourself with Adira. 
“Seriously?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. "I don't think I fit the scene."
Johnny shrugged nonchalantly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that playful grin of his. “Please. It'll just be like old times.”
Your mind immediately wandered, trying to understand what he meant by that. What was it about old times that Johnny thought might appeal to you? You didn’t exactly have a wild past to cling to. Sure, you’d had your moments, but those felt long behind you now. 
Still, something about the invitation lingered. A night out... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. You hadn’t done anything for you in a while. And maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to let someone else take care of the night for once. No worrying about Adira, no responsibilities for a few hours. Just some fun, whatever that meant now.
You hesitated, looking down at Adira as she made another snow angel, oblivious to the conversation happening nearby. She’d be fine, right? And you could leave if things felt uncomfortable. 
“Alright,” you finally said, meeting Johnny’s gaze with a reluctant but genuine smile. "I'll join you. But only if it’s not as crazy as you’re making it sound." 
Johnny’s grin widened, and you could tell he was already mentally planning the evening, no doubt with some plan to ease you in without overwhelming you. He stood up, dusting off the snow on his pants as he glanced back at you.
“Deal. I’ll make sure it’s a night to remember.”
You just hoped he wasn’t overselling it.
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The weekend seemed to arrive so fast, and here you were, standing outside your apartment, nervously adjusting your blue blouse and jeans. It wasn’t exactly the type of outfit you thought would fit a night out, but it was the best you could do. Most of your wardrobe these days consisted of comfortable clothes, ones that could be easily changed or wiped clean in case Adira had another of her toddler mishaps. Sexy or flirty clothes were a distant memory, tucked away in a drawer somewhere, gathering dust.
Adira stood in the doorway, clutching her little stuffed bear to her chest, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. The sight hit you harder than you expected. You knelt down in front of her, your heart sinking at the sight of her teary eyes. “I’ll be back in a couple hours, I promise,” you said, your voice gentle but firm, reaching out to her with a reassuring smile.
Adira sniffled, her tiny hand coming up to rub her eyes, but she didn’t break her stare. You held out your pinky, the gesture as familiar as breathing. Slowly, she reached out, her small finger wrapping around yours with the same trust she always had. The connection was brief, but it felt like a promise, one that you hoped would calm her.
"I won't be out long," you said softly to the friend you’d left with her. "And you, be good for Auntie too." The last part was directed at Adira, though the words felt bittersweet on your tongue.
Adira nodded, but her face still held that sadness, that uncertainty of what the night would bring without you. 
Standing up, you ruffled her hair and offered a small, hopeful smile. “I’ll be back before you know it. Just a little fun for Mama, okay?”
Her small nod didn’t do much to ease the tightness in your chest, but you turned and gave her one last look before stepping outside. The cool evening air wrapped around you, a contrast to the warmth of the apartment behind you, but you pushed the feeling away. Tonight was for you, however strange that sounded. 
As you locked the door behind you, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This wasn’t just any night out. It was a night with Johnny, with his friends, with the possibility of reconnecting to parts of yourself you’d set aside for so long.
As you arrived outside the establishment, the familiar hum of chatter and music filled the night air, but what caught your attention first was Johnny standing outside, leaning against the brick wall, checking his watch. The moment his eyes met yours, they lit up, his expression shifting from casual to something almost... eager. 
“Well, well, look at you,” he said with that trademark wink of his, his gaze raking over you with a genuine appreciation that made you feel suddenly self-conscious. “You clean up well.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. It was hard to resist the easy charm of Johnny.
“Let’s just hope I survive this night,” you muttered, though the words were more for yourself than him. You weren’t sure what to expect tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things might not go as smoothly as Johnny seemed to think.
Johnny chuckled, the sound warm and reassuring. “I’m sure you will. Now, let’s get going before I change my mind.”
With that, you fell into step beside him, the weight of your hand at your side suddenly feeling strange in the cool night air. He led you toward the door, and as you entered the dimly lit space of the bar, your eyes scanned the room. 
It was bustling, a mix of regulars and newcomers, all seeking solace or company for the night. It smelled of beer, whiskey, and the faintest hint of fried food, a familiar and welcoming kind of atmosphere. But as soon as you stepped inside, your nerves shot back up again. You tried not to let the nerves show, but they were there, itching under your skin.
What you didn’t notice, as you made your way to the bar, was the group inside. Ghost, Price, Gaz, Roach—quietly observing, waiting for their chance to either speak to you or simply let you slip through their fingers once more. Ghost’s eyes tracked you the moment you stepped inside, and there was a hesitation in his gaze, something raw and almost pained that flickered in and out. 
For a moment, Ghost didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched you, aware that the moment he’d been dreading—he had finally stumbled into. Your gaze met his across the room, the flicker of recognition passing between you both. But that was it. You didn’t remember. You didn’t know him. You didn’t know what he was to you.
Approaching the bar, you saw that Johnny was already leaning in, chatting with the bartender, exchanging friendly banter. You barely heard the words, only caught up in the feeling that something was different. Something you couldn’t quite place. You glanced back at the table where those men sat. They weren’t talking, but their eyes were all trained on you, as if waiting for something to happen.
Your heart raced without explanation. Ghost’s eyes—those eyes—stayed locked on you. He didn’t know how to approach, how to change what had already seemingly been set in stone. What was he supposed to say? What was the plan now that you were here, so close? God, why the fuck did johnny do this.
Johnny leaned toward you again, a soft smile curling his lips. “You good, love?” he asked, his voice pulling you back to the present.
“Yeah,” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You forced a smile, trying to ignore the uneasy tension brewing in your chest. “Just... getting used to being out.”
Johnny winked again, oblivious to the chaos of emotions swirling within you. “It’s all good. Let’s have some fun tonight, yeah?”
Ghost’s fist clenched involuntarily under the table. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this distance, this silent acknowledgment of his role, or how long he could ignore what it meant to see you here now. 
“You’ll fit right in,” Johnny said, though there was a hint of something deeper behind his words. “Just a bunch of mates enjoying a drink, nothing crazy.” Johnny leads you over to the table, you expected to be met with… well you didn't quite know what.  
Price leaned back in his seat, cigar in hand, a soft smile on his weathered face as he regarded you with a raised brow. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”
"Neither did I," you muttered under your breath, forcing a smile and doing your best to ignore the gnawing feeling that lingered when you looked at him. You hadn’t quite expected this part of the evening.
“I’m just here for a drink, nothing more,” you said, looking over at Johnny was getting comfortable in his chair.
“Well, pull up a seat, love,” Price said, motioning to the empty spot next to him. “We’re all friends here.”
You hesitated but made your way over, perching yourself on the seat next to him. The sound of the glass being slid toward you, the clink of ice against glass, broke through the chatter around you. Your nerves buzzed as you focused on the drink in front of you, trying to ignore the sudden realization of just how different this was from the quiet, routine life you had at home with Adira.
“Enjoy yourself,” Price said with an air of casual amusement, leaning back in his chair. “This is all new for you, isn’t it?”
You raised an eyebrow, not wanting to admit just how out of place you felt in the moment. Instead, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of whiskey warming you from the inside out.
You laugh lightly, a bit awkwardly, trying to shake off the nerves that gnawed at you. "Yeah, this all a bit... newish. I haven't been out like this in years honestly," you admit, taking a deep breath and glancing around the bar. The warmth of the space was a welcome contrast to the chill outside, but the sight of the men made you feel more like a fish out of water than ever.
Johnny claps you on the back with an easy grin, clearly trying to make you feel more comfortable. “These are my mates. Price, Kyle, Gary, and Simon," he introduces with a flourish, motioning to each man in turn. 
You give them all a polite smile, not quite sure what to make of them just yet. There was something about the way they carried themselves, all standing a little apart from the crowd, that made it clear they were more than just regulars at the pub. But you didn’t have time to focus too much on that right now. You were trying to just survive the night.
Price, who looked a bit older than the rest, nods at you, his gaze thoughtful, almost cautious. “Nice to meet you,” he says in a tone that is polite but distant, as though he’s waiting for something, some sign.
Kyle, as Johnny had called him—gives you a friendly nod, a playful glint in his eyes, but there's a strange sharpness to his look that you can’t quite place. “Pleasure," he says, offering you a tight smile.
Gary simply gives you a quick but sincere nod. His eyes linger on you just long enough for you to catch a flicker of interest before he looks away.
And then there’s Simon. His presence, as always, is quieter, more intense. He’s sitting in the middle, arms crossed, his gaze fixed directly on you. You can feel the weight of it, though. It’s impossible not to. There was something you couldn't place with him though you couldn’t see too well under the dim light.
You try to shake off the unease creeping up your spine. “Nice to meet you all," you reply, your voice warmer than you feel. 
Johnny, oblivious to the awkwardness in the air, slaps the bar and gives a nod. “Alright, drinks all around, yeah? Let’s get this party started!” he declares, pulling the group into the rhythm of the night.
As the revelry began your stomach churns slightly, a sense of unease still lingering despite the distraction. You knew something was off, something you couldn’t quite put into words. It wasn’t just the men—it was the way Simon’s gaze lingered on you, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for something. It unsettled you, but you couldn’t figure out why.
Johnny, seemingly oblivious to your tension, slides a drink toward you. “First round’s on me," he grins, the clink of glass against the table snapping you back to the present. "Here’s to a good night.”.
You took a deep breath, swallowing down the nerves that still clung to you. This was supposed to be a night out, after all. A chance to shake off the past, to let loose just a little. You couldn’t let the weight of everything pull you under before you even tried. What would be the point if you didn’t at least try and enjoy yourself?
Shaking the tension from your shoulders, you took a sip of your drink, the burn of alcohol easing the knot in your stomach just slightly. The guys were chatting among themselves, Johnny’s laughter cutting through the low hum of the bar as he joked with Kyle. Price was listening intently, nodding along while Gary seemed content to let the others talk, his eyes occasionally flicking to you, though his gaze didn’t linger long.
And then there was Simon.
His presence loomed even when he wasn’t speaking, his broad frame leaning against the bar just slightly, face half hidden by the shadows. You caught his eyes for a split second, the intensity of his stare making your pulse hitch. You quickly looked away, focusing on your drink, your nerves creeping back up despite the effort to push them aside.
You could feel his gaze on you, though, like a weight pressing against your back. You tried not to let it show, tried not to acknowledge how his proximity seemed to pull at something inside you, but it was impossible to ignore. There was a pull, something in the air, but you couldn’t quite grasp it.
Sighing inwardly, you turned your attention back to the others. Just enjoy yourself, you remind yourself again. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about any of it.
Johnny clinked his glass against yours, a grin on his face. “Here’s to not letting the night pass us by,” he said with a wink, and you couldn’t help but smile back, lifting your glass.
“Cheers,” you said, the warmth of the alcohol giving you just the nudge you needed to ease into the evening. For now, you’d ignore the tight feeling in your chest. You’d enjoy yourself. 
But the eyes that lingered on you would remain, whether you were ready for them or not.
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You pushed your chair back with more force than necessary, the scrape of it against the floor loud in the otherwise quiet bar. The conversation still echoed in your ears, but your focus had been on the man, Simon, for the past half hour. His silence had become suffocating, every glance he cast in your direction feeling like it held some hidden meaning. You couldn't quite place it, but something was off about him. His eyes, cold and intense, had followed you too much, made you second guess every word you’d said.
"Im... gonna go powder my nose," you muttered, more to fill the silence than anything else. You didn’t wait for a response, the words barely out of your mouth before you were already making your way across the room, past the low hum of idle chatter and the clink of glasses.
While you were in the bathroom, the entire team turned their attention towards Ghost, each of them sizing him up, starting with Soap.
"What is wrong with you?" Soap asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement.
"What?" Simon blinked, genuinely confused.
"Mate, you've been gawking at her all night," Gaz added, raising an eyebrow, his voice teasing but laced with concern.
"Shit. Are you serious?" Simon muttered, running a hand through his hair, but his gaze didn't stray far from where you had just disappeared.
Roach, leaning back casually with his drink in hand, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's like you’ve been stuck in a staring contest with her since she walked in."
Price, who had been watching quietly, shook his head with a resigned sigh. He snuffed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray, eyes narrowing as he met Simon's gaze. "If you scared her off, I doubt you’ll get another chance, lad."
Simon’s jaw clenched. He hadn’t realized how obvious it had been, but now that the team was calling him out on it, he felt the heat rise in his chest. He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable, but the pull to look at you, to remember what had sparked your connection all those years ago had been almost magnetic.
“Alright, alright,” Soap teased, leaning in, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Just don't burn a hole in her head.”
“Shut up,” Simon muttered, his mind racing, trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse.
Price shared a look with the rest of the team, a silent understanding passing between them. While Soap might have been the one to set this whole thing in motion, it didn't mean the others didn't have contingencies in place. 
Soap got up first, stretching a bit. “Gonna make sure no one's tried to get in my car,” he said with a casual tone.
“I’ll come with you,” Gaz chimed in, already pushing himself up from his seat and following Soap toward the door.
A minute later, Roach also stood, excusing himself without a word, and then Price followed suit, his movements deliberate. “I’m gonna make sure they’re not up to anything,” he said with a knowing glance.
With everyone out of the immediate area, the bar suddenly felt quieter, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken. It took Ghost only a second for it all to click—he had been set up. Without thinking, he bolted from his seat, rushing outside just in time to catch the taillights of Soap's car disappearing down the street.
He cursed under his breath, but before he could make another move, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen. There, in simple words from Price: 
“Good luck.”
Ghost stood still for a moment, phone in hand, as the weight of the situation hit him. His heart thudded in his chest. This was it. There was no turning back now.
By the time you returned to the table, you felt a bit more at ease. The night out wasn’t all that bad… it was just that Johnny had some weird taste in friends. Well, mostly the tall one. You couldn’t help but notice how everyone seemed to have left, a pit forming in your stomach at the thought of being ditched.
You let out a quiet sigh, about to gather your things and head out when your phone lit up in your purse. Pulling it out, you saw a text from Johnny. 
"Emergency, looks like one of the beers wasn't that good, poor Kyle threw up."
You paused, reading the message again, a small smile tugging at your lips. Aww… nevermind. At least they hadn’t forgotten about you after all. 
"Hope he's okay." You replied quickly, grabbing the straps of your bag when suddenly a hand landed on top of yours.
You looked up, meeting the intense gaze of Simon. Seriously? You couldn’t help but think. They took everyone but this guy?
You forced a smile, trying to pull your hand away, but Simon’s grip was firm, not unkind. “Look, I had a decent time, but I have to go—”
“Just a minute,” he interrupted, his voice low, steady, almost pleading. There was something about the way he said it that made you pause, something different than the usual small talk.
"Fine." The word slipped out before you could process it, and you cursed yourself inwardly. Really? You just agreed to stay with the guy who hadn’t stopped staring since you met him. You sat back down, and he mirrored you, settling across the table. 
Silence stretched between you, his intense gaze unwavering. He didn’t so much as blink, and you couldn’t help but feel more unsettled by the second.
What the hell is his deal?
“Look, if you're just going to be a creep, I don't think I want to mee—"
“Do you remember Armed Forces Day?” His voice cut through your words, quiet but resolute.
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Okay, this took all day, I wanted to give you all something long to read incase I disappear for finals (which I might)
Reblogs appreciated!!!
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WOWWW LOOK AT ALL THESE NAMES. Thank you all so much for the support!! Im sorry if i missed any, I will update if I noticed any missing or comment on those who's tags didnt go through!
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sightoru · 3 days ago
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Katsuki's never been someone who's used or enjoyed pet names all too much, preferring the intimacy of saying someones first name instead of mushy shit like 'baby', 'honey', or 'darling'. It's just never really made sense to him, why say something like that when he can just use your name? Surely the tone of his voice conveys any emotion he might need. Your name mixed with curses when you forget to turn off the lights at night, your name accompanied by the sound of his boots at the door when he's home, your name mixed with the sounds of sheets in bed.
and you've never cared or paid any attention if it, even though calling strangers 'honey' and 'sweetheart' rolls of your tongue so naturally Katsuki spent the first month of your relationship wondering how it's possible to hold so much love in your heart for people you don't even know. the way you seem to care about strangers, asking questions about their day, remembering the details and bringing it up the next time you see them; all accompanied by sickly sweet words of affection, casually woven in between well wishes and giggles. you promise to return to them, and they promise to be there waiting.
Katsuki looks at you, one of these times after you both leave the market late at night (he always insists on going with you, says it's too dangerous for you to go alone. you always try to tell him you've been fine all these times before, but never fight his insistence too hard), takes in your body that glows gold under the streetlights, your tote bag full of things you bought (flowers, since the ones on the dining room table are starting to wilt. an eggplant for the Thai curry you've been meaning to make — though when you get home you'll see the lemongrass you've bought is bad and you'll have to make another trip, not that you or Katsuki mind. Green onions, chives, fresh thyme. Soft white bread lays on top of it all, and you're careful not to crush it under your arm.), and the way you mindlessly talk about your day. The cat you passed on the street, the stranger you regularly make conversation with at the bus stop. Your coworkers personal drama you can't help but be invested in — despite claims that you're not.
When he goes to bed with you that night, his keys in the same dish as yours ( a little ceramic one that sits on the table by the door. it's shaped like a sardine can. you giggled the whole way home after you bought it), his boots next to your flats — his are neat, sitting up right and yours are haphazardly thrown next to his. He'll fix them in the morning before he leaves— you'll wrap your arms around his middle, burying your face between his shoulder blades in an attempt to steal his warmth. You'll mutter something about your day, follow it up with 'good night, my love.' and something about it, will have his heart grow 4 sizes in his chest.
My love, my love, my love
He'll hold onto it the next day, and the one after that. let it settle into his mouth like honey before he starts whispering it to you when he thinks you're not listening. My love, my love, my love, the words seep into the air between you both and permeate the space. Chopsticks passed to you before dinner, handing off the remote so you can put on YouTube videos (make up tutorials, obviously. katsuki pretends he's not interested while he makes mental notes at the products that elicit a gasp from you) all followed up with those two words.
He looks at you, bundled on the couch, thinks of all the beautiful things he sees and the way that all reflects in the beauty of you.
Maybe he likes pet names, after all.
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z4rph1m · 3 days ago
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Platonic Yan!Batfam X dazai!GNreader X Yandere DC
Mix of neglected batfam and based of port mafia dazai with a small slice of ada dazai
Forgotten child
Prologue
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A bastard is what you are
You were a result of a one night stand between Bruce Wayne and your mother who you don’t or will ever know the name of.
How’d you know his your father? A simple DNA test.
Who would’ve thought that a child of a billionaire Bruce Wayne would ended up in the mafia.
As much as you want to know more about your mother, it was quickly dialed down by one sentence.
“Traitors doesn’t deserve to have their name pass down”
Mori isn’t really the best person to look up to
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You were at the very least 5 or older when the GCPD took you away, you don’t remember.
Alfred was the one who pick you up from the investigation.
He remembers that day as if it was yesterday.
You, a malnourished child who stayed still, staring into the darkness with no light in their eyes, bandages covering you.
It was a pity sight.
A few calling of your name to realized it time to go to your new ‘home’
You move as if you’re not even human, instead a doll who was abandoned and left to rot.
With what left of your belongings, if you even had any, Alfred with his gentle nature guided you to the car.
You didn’t even made a breathing sound, only blinking and constant fidgeting to your doll.
He tried his best to struck up a conversation with you, such as “how are you?” Yet only to be replied back with either a deafening silence or words barely above a whisper.
You were a child yet have suffered so much beyond to see the light of hope.
Only when you’ve arrived at the manor is when you started clinging more to him. Maybe it your nature as a child to be nervous to go to your new home.
With what left of your innocence, you looked up to him with a pleading look , “don’t…. Don’t let go please….”
Your voice was hoarse and dehydrated but it still sounded as if you were afraid of being left alone.
Probably the effect of losing the only person whom you know and trust.
When you cling onto him is when he took note of your entire appearance.
Yes you were covered in bandages but those bandages were not only dirty but also covered in red streaks of blood and was layered below the fresh white one.
Your clothes had some torn at end, hair being messy and full of knots, sections of your skin having bruises.
Alfred was more than ready to hold your hand while guiding you to wherever you two go together.
Yes the absent of your family saddened you but Alfred company was what you wanted.
You didn’t care for the others, not when they ignore you 90% of the time and not when Alfred is there with whenever he has the chance.
In your mind, Bruce Wayne is not your father no, instead it was Alfred Pennyworth.
But even that doesn’t stop you from being what you are now.
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Bruce Wayne, the man who is your supposed father. Do you hate him? Not really.
You can’t really hate a man you barely know your whole life.
And it wasn’t hard to learn what does he do for a living other than being a man whore.
He bare- actually never even had a proper conversation that lasted more than 3 seconds.
The dude didn’t even notice the increasing amount of bandages when you first stared in the port mafia.
Richard Grayson, the second person to talk to you after Alfred. Do you also hate him? A mix feeling really.
You know about him more than you know about Bruce, on what he doing when he’s Nightwing, what he’s favourite food, and just the minimalist stuff.
You don’t exactly have the right feeling to describe your relationship with him.
Do you talk? Barely. Do you have a proper conversation? Never. Spend time together? Nope.
In short, you don’t think the two of you are fitted to be considered siblings.
Jason Todd, was probably the closest to you.
You saw him being taken in as a robin and died as a robin.
Yes you two mocked eachother in terms of whatever you can remember but at the very least there was interactions between the two of you in comparison to the others.
As much as you hated it, you did infact miss his presence when he died.
Timothy Drake was the most distant than all of them combine. The two of you didn’t have a single conversation or even a single sentence to eachother.
You knew well he’s a fan of Batman and probably didn’t even knew you existed or just didn’t care since you’re not one of the vigilante.
Not that you care, you never identify yourself as a Wayne anyway
Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown and Barbara Gordon…… how should you describe them….
Just like Tim, you don’t exist in their world, but instead a background character.
You were sure that they can’t even remember your name properly without mispronouncing.
But You do sure as hell do love it when you’re given a nickname by someone
Last of all, Your half Brother. Damian Wayne, as much as the two of you barely talk, the first meeting wasn’t very welcoming.
Almost being impaled doesn’t give out a nice first impression after all.
You mostly try your best to ignore the insults and the degrading words from him.
The little kid barely met you yet for some reason hold a deep hatred for you like you did something illegal.
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You’re currently standing in front of a grave….. someone who was there to take care of you in the port mafia.
You stare blankly at the grave, not knowing what to do, wether to breakdown and cry or to leave it alone.
You were trembling, sweating and on the verge of actually breaking down yet something is holding you back.
Oda Sakunosuke
Your father figure after Alfred is dead.
Ango is right by your side trying his best to comfort you.
As much as you were a demon prodigy, he knew that deep down there’s a child who’s unable to act like one.
You shrugged him off before walking away to do a phone call.
“Alfred….? I know it’s a sudden but…. Please clean up my room…… I no longer staying at the manor from now on”
You try your best to held in your tears but your voice betrays you, and Alfred knows that.
He swallow a lump in his throat before replying, “don’t worry Master [N], I understand. But do please remember that I will always be there to welcome you”
He was the only one who knows about your work in the Port Mafia and the only one who you trusted to told it too.
He knows about the people you met and the people who you befriended.
He understands how a death of one of them can put you on the verge of losing what left in your humanity and to live.
And he knows that the death of your second father figure can cause you distorted in many ways.
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Inspired by @-acid-ixx again & again series and @-marcyvampire silly little bat.
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sematarygirls · 2 days ago
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                                                  part one here .ᐟ
⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── rafe x reader / you remember who shot you
Your eyelids fluttered open easily, no longer feeling as if they were weighed down by a ton of lead. You found yourself staring up at a white, tiled ceiling, the fluorescent lights ahead almost as blinding as the sun had been when you last opened your eyes. Your brain still felt fuzzy, maybe even fuzzier than it had before.
You registered the sharp scent of alcohol and a steady beeping that sounded like it was practically in your brain, rattling the organ around with each piercing screech that echoed out. Your brows furrowed, a small groan falling from your lips as you felt a dull ache in your abdomen.
Warmth. You felt something warm in your palm. It took you a moment in your delirium, which you could only assume was the result of the pain drugs they'd shot (unfortunate word choice) you up with, to realize that it was another person's hand wrapped around yours tightly, as if the person was afraid you'd disappear if they let go.
You rolled your head to the side, the situation reminiscent of the way you'd woken up on the ground with a gunshot wound and a very scrambled brain. At least the universe had the decency to let you keep your memory this time—well, the little memory you had when you'd passed out in the ambulance.
Your eyes fell on a hunched over figure, his broad shoulders slumped with worry and defeat. It was Rafe. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, his eyes red and puffy, and his hair disheveled. He was still wearing the blood-stained shirt that he was wearing before. You didn't know how long you'd been out, but however long it was, he hadn't left your side, and it showed.
Your eyes narrowed on him. You had a realization before the blood loss had pulled you from the land of the living. You were looking into Rafe's glassy blue eyes, flooded with guilt and fear when a face flashed briefly across your field of vision—the face of the man who shot you. Rafe wasn't the one that shot you. You knew this to be true, but if that was the case, why had his face reminded you of the man who did?
Even now, staring at his anguished features, there was an unsettling familiarity about him that sent a chill down your spine. Something about him was giving you flashbacks to the moment that gun went off. You could practically hear the bang followed by the intense ringing as your body hit the ground harshly.
Why was he a trigger if he wasn't involved in some way?
As if sensing your intense stare, he picked his head up, his red-rimmed eyes meeting your gaze. You couldn't help but notice how pretty he looked, even when crying. The gloss over his blue eyes, the way his long lashes caught his tears, his furrowed brow, his lower lip trembling as he pouted—it was all the effortless picture of perfect.
"Oh, thank god, you're awake." He let out a shaky breath, bringing your entwined hands to his mouth and kissing your knuckles softly. His body relaxed slightly, but the tension in his shoulders remained.
You didn't say anything, simply stared at him calculatingly as your eyes roamed every inch of his face. You were willing the figure from before to reappear in your memory, to make itself known, so you weren't stuck in the dark. You felt helpless being so utterly confused, and it was infuriating.
His gaze searched yours desperately, as if he could see the gears turning in your head. You knew he could tell that you were trying to remember, and by the way he seemed to squirm under your gaze, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly, you could tell he was afraid of whatever there was to find.
"I was shot," you croaked out, your throat dry and voice raspy from disuse. The statement came out harsh, accusing. Obviously, you'd been shot, but it was the only thing on your mind right now.
You hadn't yet fully unlocked the part of your brain that loved Rafe and would've all but jumped into his arms at the sight of him after nearly dying. You also hadn't yet fully grasped that you almost died, the whole thing still seeming like you were stuck in a dream-like haze.
Who? Who shot you? It was the only thing you could focus on. It was the only thing you cared about. Maybe because you wanted some sort of penance for what happened, maybe because you wanted to feel in control or at peace by knowing who did this to you, or maybe, it was just morbid curiosity plain and simple.
Either which way you spun it, tried to justify your misplaced priorities—not even fear creeping itself into the jumbled mess of thoughts bouncing around your head—you needed to know what happened and why you had the nagging feeling that Rafe was apart of it.
His jaw clenched at your accusatory tone, something flickering in his eyes—fear, maybe?—before it was gone instantly, masked with concern. He swallowed hard, your eyes tracking the movement of his adam's apple before darting back up to meet his intense stare.
And suddenly, it was like you were violently pulled back into the moment, the scene playing before you, a memory extracted from the depths of your foggy brain simply by the look in his eyes.
A familiar voice called your name. When you turned, you felt your heart sink to your stomach as you found yourself staring down the barrel of a gun. The moment seemed to play in slow motion. Rafe was yelling—at you, at the assailant; he was frantic. You couldn't focus on anything but the metal catching the sunlight and glinting ominously, taunting you to your fate.
A bang. A scream. Your back hit the ground. Your eyes closed briefly, and when they opened again, that was when Rafe was over you, the pogues crowding around in a panic as they watched you bleed out.
The moment played at an odd pace—slow but fast, lasting an instant while somehow, simultaneously, lasting an eternity. You felt like you only had more questions than answers after that.
Why were you shot? What were you doing? Where were you friends during all this?
"You were there," you said, your eyes widening as you met his gaze again. He was there with the man who shot you. He showed up with him, led him to you. He was protecting his father, clearly having hoped you wouldn't remember at the first sign of your amnesia.
"No, baby, you're confused," he tried to lie, but his face said it all. You didn't have all the pieces, but you had enough to know that he had let his dad flee the scene, intending to cover for him. You had to wonder whether he even truly cared if you lived, or if he was only keeping you alive so his dad didn't catch a murder charge. "The doctors say you have a form of amnesia people sometimes get when they go through something traumatic. And-and they think you might've hit your head when you fell, so you don't-"
"Don't lie to me," you said harshly cutting him off, pulling your hand away from him and wincing at the pain that the sudden movement caused. "Ward." You glared at him, watching his features contort in guilt and fear as you uttered his father's name. "Your dad shot me."
It all made sense now. Rafe's face triggered your memory before because he looked like his dad. Those features you'd traced and committed to memory were the very same ones that he shared with the man that tried to kill you.
Would you ever be able to forget that? Even if you somehow forgave Rafe for whatever part he played in this, would you ever be able to look at him and not flash back to the patriarch of the Cameron family pointing a gun at you?
"Listen, I-I can explain," Rafe stammered, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He was scrambling for words, for an excuse, anything that could justify the fact that his own father shot you, and he did nothing to stop it. "Please, just..."
"Why?" You demanded, not caring for whatever justification he was going to pull out of his ass.
Your treasure hunting dream—which was, in fact, not a dream as you'd come to learn. The gold that you and your friends were looking for had to have been the reason that he shot you, but you were still fuzzy on the details.
What exactly were you doing out there, and what had made Ward pull the trigger?
Rafe's eyes darted around the room, avoiding yours as he struggled to come up with an explanation that wouldn't make him look like a heartless monster. "You and your friends... you were getting close to something. Something my father has been searching for for a long time."
"Did you know he was going to kill one of us out there?" You asked pointedly. You found it hard to believe that he had come with his father to stop you all from finding the treasure and not known that Ward had a gun he was planning to use
"I... I didn't know he would go that far," Rafe said, his voice cracking slightly. It was a flimsy excuse, and you both knew it. He had to have had some inkling of what his father was capable of. There was no way that he was as innocent in this as he was pretending to be.
"Get out," you demanded suddenly, a mixture of emotions flooding through you, anger and hurt chief amongst them. The whole situation was making your head hurt. You needed to think, needed to remember more, and you needed to do it alone.
Staring into his eyes and seeing the look of anguish within them was when the memories of you both together had chosen that inopportune moment to surface, your entire relationship flashing through your mind. Your head started to spin at the rush of recollections, none of them the things that you really wanted to remember.
You wanted to know what exactly you were looking for with your friends and how close you'd come to finding it. You wanted to know what exactly had led up to Ward firing a bullet into you. You wanted to know the extent of Rafe's involvement in all of this.
What you didn't want to know of at this particular moment in time was first kisses, first dates, first i love you's. You didn't want to be reminded that the man before you was someone you knew intimately and loved with every fiber of your being.
Your heart began to ache as you looked at him, eyes glazing over with tears at the feeling of heartbreak and betrayal that was practically coursing through your veins. You wished you could go back to forgetting him, to not knowing the feeling of his body fitting perfectly against yours and the sweet words he was capable of whispering.
"I'm sorry," Rafe choked out, his voice thick with regret. "I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted you to get hurt. You have to believe that." He reached out a hand towards you, but stopped short of actually touching you, knowing that you would likely recoil from his touch.
"I said get out!" You practically screamed at him, your own emotions overwhelming you. He didn't know what it was like to feel a stranger in his own mind, and then, to find out that the one person that he could remember—the one person that had managed to break through the protective wall his brain had built around itself—was part of the reason that this was all happening in the first place.
You could practically see his heart shattering at your words and the force behind them. For a moment, you felt a pang of guilt, but you quickly pushed it away.
He wanted to hug you and shake you all at the same time, to urge you to listen to him—not that he had a very compelling story to tell. You couldn't do this. After everything you two had been through, everything he'd done for you. You couldn't let it end like this. But, he knew he couldn't get you to see reason now, not when you were so fragile.
All he wanted to do was protect you. That's all he ever wanted to do, and the urge was stronger now more than ever. It killed him to walk away, but that's what you wanted. You wanted him gone, and you wouldn't let him strong arm you into getting his way, not this time.
You watched him go, a sob painfully racking your body as soon as the door clicked shut. You flinched at the sound of Rafe letting out a frustrated yell in the hallway followed by a crash, and as you sat there, crying alone and feeling empty, you couldn't help but wonder:
How did you end up here?
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tags .ᐟ   @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee / @kissesfrmriri / @xoxohoneymoongirl / @bradshawed / @fallbhind / @rafeslittleangel / @bakugouswaif / @rafecameronswifeyy / @originalgirlnoreplacar / @lovinqbella / @evermorx89 / @willowpains / @madzig / @harrys-housewife
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thumperdaetime · 1 day ago
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im going to take it one step farther and say If you see someone and you don't like how they look, Ask Why? dont stare or anything but take a moment and examine: why that persons body made you want to be mean to them? what did you assume about that person because of their body? where did that bias come from? is it founded in any data or fact?
i used to be the kind of person who couldn't help but pull a face when i saw evidence of a soft belly through clothing, i also used to be the type of person squinting at any man's chest to see how i compared. and do you know how i stoped painting myself in to that dysphoric corner? i started challenging those thoughts and being mindful of where they were coming from and how they hurt me.
do you want to know what my go-to thing to wear around the safety of my own home is now? fuckin croptops! its hot out, what the fuck do i care if my bathroom mirror sees my stomach? i hurt my back enough at work- im not binding on my day off.
and that freedom of not obsessing about how i feel i might be perceived 24/7, came from practicing radical acceptance of how bodies are, rather than policing how bodies should be.
in the beginning it felt silly and annoying in the beginning to be my own little big "well actually" about body positivity. but the longer ive done it the easier it gets, and now when i see my stretch marks my first thought is "the way the light bounces off that type of skin makes it look like ive got a subtle foil decal. im like a shiny card in Pokemon." and yeah maybe i had to keep thinking "stretch marks are normal and permanent and do not make people worse" every time i saw one for a couple years. but y'all it was so incredibley worth it!
I think I’ve talked about it before but the hypersexualized ‘twink feminine trans guy’ thing has caused people’s (mostly cis guys who prey on trans men) idea of what a standard trans guy looks like to be warped.
What is skinny for a cis woman is suddenly fat for a trans guy. Trans guys have to be super underweight to be ‘pretty’. And this pressure to fit into the ‘cute anime boy’ leaks into online spaces. I can’t tell you how many times I got called fat when I was 110lbs by other trans guys who think that the only way to be loved is to fit into what chaser cis men want them to be.
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gojobbg · 3 days ago
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friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt. 8
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pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami
synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.
warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)
a/n: AHHH im so sorry i was gone for so long! work and school and i got sick again. my luck lately has been quite poor, but here's the next part!! i dont think its quite well written but i hope you all think its good! thank u again for ur support, kindness, and patience :) (sorry i say thank you so much, cant help myself!)
all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7,
December | Tokyo, Japan | Wednesday
You should have worn more lotion. 
The unkind cold and threatening winds made your trek to work excruciatingly more difficult. Surely you made it, but had to get blind by the flurries of snow in the process. You take your time in the lobby, stomping aggressively down at the weather mats to remove all the snow and ice from your boots. You shake yourself like a wet dog to get the snow off your coat, too. The lobby men chuckle at you, and you couldn’t help but smile. 
It’s been rough to do so, after all. Considering you got rejected twice by the same man, you needed all the serotonin you could get. You spent hours crying, which only halted when you finally passed out. The heartbreak exhausted you, given how dark your eyes were, and how hollow your chest has felt since then. The worst part about all of it is that despite everything, you still had Nanami’s coffee in mind. 
It floated in your mind to go to the cafe and get him a cup. But you have to remember that he has other assistants who know his coffee order now. You were now one of few who knew it. 
To have your relationship seen as just boss/assistant by the other participant felt like punishment. A large sigh left your lips when you exited the elevator on your floor. Shivers tickled your body as you begrudgingly walked over to your desk. It was warm in the office, enough for you to take solace in. 
You begin to turn on your computer and prepare your desk, before being interrupted by two hands slamming down your desk. You look up to find a panting (and exhausted) Haibara. “Yu?” You whisper worriedly. “Is everything okay?”
“He lost the flashdrive,” Haibara lets out. “The presentation… it’s missing.” 
Your eyes widen, “Nanami? But… how?” Of all people, Nanami was never one to lack in anything, especially in organization. He was always sharp and aware of where all his things were. You never had to concern yourself with assignments getting lost because Nanami is too diligent.
“We– we um, drank last night…?” Haibara reluctantly confesses. “We both got home quite late… he might not have his whole head on.”
Without another word, you swiftly leave your desk and rush over to Nanami’s office, with Haibara following closely behind. On your way towards his office, you see all of Takada’s assistants outside of his office, their expressions full of concern. You make your way through them and knock on his door gently. 
“What?” Nanami’s annoyed tone rang through the door. 
“It’s Y/N,” you reply, ignoring his attitude. 
Quick shifting was sound behind the door before the doorknob began to turn. The door opens to reveal a disheveled Nanami. Despite his usually refined features, his unkempt hair and unbutton shirt was quite distracting. The shadows line his collarbone and the darkness under his eyes add to the intensity in his struggling, hazel eyes. He leaned against the door frame, his eyes slightly lighting up from your presence. There was some sort of relief in his eyes, but it was still drowned out by anxiety. 
“Please, please tell me you have a copy?” Nanami practically begs.  
You feel a lump in your throat from seeing his desperation. Not even you can be dismissive to his plea. “I–I was instructed not to keep an extra copy. It’s confidential, so I didn’t…” 
Nanami let out a quiet ‘fuck,’ retreating slowly back towards his desk. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset with you. I’m upset with myself because you’re right and I’m simply irresponsible…” He leans back against his desk, defeatedly holding himself up with his hands firmly down on the desk behind him. He looks distantly to the floor, a sight you never thought you’d ever see. 
The confident, sharp Nanami was now at his wits’ end. 
“Do you remember when you last had it?” You ask quietly. 
“I had it in my coat pocket on my way here,” he recalls quietly, “I still had it when I got off the train, so it must be outside around the area.” 
“But with all that snow…” Haibara begins, the defeat clearly on his tongue. 
You let out a sigh, emitting a calm apology before dismissing yourself. Once you were out of sight, you ran towards the elevator, practically beating the button until it arrived to you. You impatiently wait as you descend, your body already feeling the cold from outside. Even maintenance couldn’t believe their eyes as they watched you run out from the lobby, and into the harsh weather. 
It was a bit embarrassing for you. You were always there to fix Nanami’s scarce mistakes, or prevent them. Even after he broke your heart twice, here you are, outside in the freezing cold, without any garments to protect you from it. You could feel your body beginning to go numb from the seconds you were outside. 
Your exposed legs were inches deep in the snow, your frigid hands sifting desperately through the snow. Why? You asked yourself. Why, why, why? You were freezing, the weather was harsh, and this flash drive is as small as a roach. Why were you doing all of this? 
As you shoveled through the snow, you were finally able to feel how you were feeling after facing Nanami again. You were able to keep yourself from crying, but you wanted to cry profusely. Your boss, your crush, was stressed out over a mistake he made, and it didn’t even make you feel better. Unfortunately, your feelings were too weaved into his, and you felt the stress he is feeling. 
It bothered you to see him stressed. So much so, your body moved on its own and now it was in the cold, looking for the solution to Nanami’s problem. You didn’t even stay idle for a moment while in his office. Perhaps, the reason why you were helping him was because since you met Nanami, he has always been someone to work for his team. 
But you know for sure part of it was that you never want to see him like that again.
Taking on projects on his own to keep his other colleagues working in low piles. Working with clients he personally isn’t a fan of to make sure the company grows. Providing breakfast and lunch when important meetings arise to make sure everyone at least eats well before torturous work. He was strict, but never a mean person. And to that end might explain why you still felt the way you did. 
However, 
Your respect for him goes above your feelings. A hard piece of plastic was barely felt between your fingers, but they were able to hold onto it firmly. The small flash drive, covered in a bit of snow, still glowed green when you pushed up to reveal the USB. You promptly make your way back in, the warmth barely penetrating the cold you developed while being outside. 
I’m gonna get sick, you thought to yourself. As you passed through the lobby, you noticed Nanami’s clients getting checked in at the lobby. You hurry to the elevator, pushing aggressively at the close button so they didn’t have a chance to get there at the same time you did. You move your legs in place, attempting to regain some warmth. While you ascended, you purposely pushed the buttons of the floors you passed to delay their arrival. Finally reaching your level, you rush out to go to the other free elevator. As you did, you were met with a concerned Haibara. 
“H-hey!” Haibara calls to you, but you ignore him and shove the flash drive into his hand. But as you did, he noticed that you were frozen and kept his hands around yours. “You… found it? Did you go outside? Without a coat? Y/N, you’re freezing!” 
Oh, how you wished you fell for Haibara instead. You pull away your hand, quickly entering the other elevator and slamming your hands on the buttons. You look up at Haibara, your bottom lip blue and quivering. “Take it to Nanami,” you say roughly, your voice hoarse from the little warmth in your body. “Your clients. They’re downstairs. Hurry up.”
Haibara holds onto your arms, noticing that you could barely keep yourself up, “yeah, fuck the clients. You look like you’re going to pass out.”
“Please,” you look up at him desperately, tears welling in your eyes. It was already enough that you felt stupid for even looking for the flashdrive in this state. But even Haibara couldn’t push away the hurt and stress in your own eyes. “I’ll be fine… please help Nanami finish this.” 
“Let me at least walk you to your desk–” 
“I got her!” You both look over to see Tae run over, his apron dancing left and right from not being properly tied in the back. He quickly takes hold of you, looking up at Haibara to give him a curt nod in replacement of a proper bow. “Resume your work, Haibara-sama. I can tend to her.” 
Tae held you close enough that you could feel his warmth. It was intoxicating almost, the solace of his heat and the scent of pine needles emanating from his body. The fresh scent of linen coming from his black sweatshirt made you feel a little nostalgic but uneasy. You could still feel the cold taking you over, your entire body shivering. His hands firmly held you without squeezing you tightly. 
Haibara looks down skeptically, but you wave at him. “Please go,” you croak, coughs finally leaving your throat. “I’ll be fine.” You could see that you didn’t quite persuade him, but for the sake of Nanami, he nodded. 
He eyes Tae, a rare serious aura surrounding him, “get her to a doctor if she needs it. I’ll be back as soon as the presentation ends. Please make her something hot, like hot cocoa or soup.” Tae nods, allowing Haibara to run back towards Nanami, who was probably drowning in his own anxiety. 
“‘m sorry to inconvenience you like this, Tae,” you whisper, your body still shaking and twitching from the cold. “But thank you for that.” 
“No worries, please don’t exert yourself,” Tae softly warns. He tightens his hold on you before slowly walking you over to the cafe. Though you didn’t have enough trust to close your eyes, you did have enough to hold his sweater, confident that he won’t let you fall. “Let me help you. After all, you helped me first. Come, the cafe is just around the corner.” 
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The relief on Nanami’s face was truly meant to be displayed in a museum. 
He held onto the flashdrive tightly, mentally scolding himself from ever dropping it in the first place. He forces it into the projector, and everything was set up for the clients to come in moments. He noticed that the flash drive was not only still cold, but slightly wet. “Was it outside in the snow?” 
Haibara nods as he fixes up the conference table a bit. It was ornate with drinks, snacks, and notetaking items for their clients to use and enjoy. “The snow is really growing by the inch out there. This winter is brutal.” 
“It truly is unkind out there,” Nanami sighs, his eyes looking through the window. “I hope you grabbed your coat before going out there.” 
Haibara shakes his head, “it wasn’t me who found the flashdrive; it was Y/N. I caught her at the elevator, and she was the one who handed it to me.” 
Nanami slightly perks up at your name, “did she really?” 
“She left straight from your office to go find it,” Haibara says quietly, “but she didn’t even bring a sweater. She was completely frozen when I saw her.” 
This left a pit in Nanami’s stomach. “Why did she not bring a coat? She’s more rational than that.” 
Haibara lets out a sigh, “who’s to say, Kento. Y/N works very hard to do right by you and this company. I think she’d do whatever it takes in order to make sure you and this department shines.” 
“Disregarding her health is not why she’s here,” Nanami huffs strictly. “Where is she?” 
“I left her with the barista you hired,” Haibara informs, “my guess is he took her to the cafe to warm her up.” 
Nanami’s eyes cut over to Haibara, burning through his soul. Despite this, Haibara still didn’t see his eyes. “You left her with a stranger?” 
“A stranger you hired,” Haibara clarifies. “Anyways, Y/N insisted I come help you. I’d probably make her feel worse if I didn’t.” 
There was a rare annoyance that Nanami never felt. You were always conscious of yourself, and others. Nanami always noticed when you would help someone with a large pile of papers, or when you applied bandages to blisters due to your heels. But more times than not, you never shied away from a challenge, and never hesitated to help someone whether they asked or not. 
But now you were far from him, and he couldn’t do anything to help you. He had this stupid presentation to do, rather than be by your side and tend to you. After all, you truly were the reason behind his success. The reason for his reduced stress, and a direct asset to his department. You did so much for him, only to be given a shred of that effort. He was feeling guilty, not only for being unaware of his feelings towards you, but the immense disregard he had for your own feelings and effort in this company. 
You were his dear assistant, and he was breaking you. 
“I’ll be back,” Nanami hums, rushing out of the conference room. Haibara looks back and follows right behind him, surprised by his sudden dash. 
Nanami, the meeting!” Haibara calls out to him, “you can’t do this right now!” 
His response was silence as he reached the corner towards the cafe. As he appears in the opening, his hazel eyes relentlessly looked for you. But when he stumbled upon you, his concern and annoyance skyrocketed. 
You were lying on one of the couches at the cafe, surrounded by a few of the baristas there. They all comforted you, as you lay under a few blankets. But Nanami noticed that below all of that, you were covered by a large, black crewneck. On your head, a beanie as well. And sat on a stool right in front of you with a hot coffee cup was Tae, the barista he hired. Nanami noticed the warmth in his eyes when he looked down at you, with a free hand out to you. Your boss felt a lump in his throat when he saw you take his hand, helping you sit up to take the cup from him. Tae kept his hand on the bottom of the cup while you sipped it cautiously. 
His chest felt like someone was pushing it down, his breath was limited. His heart, at the same time, was punching against it as well, almost as if it was going through a two-front war. He looks down at his hands, adjusting the sleeves at both of his wrists. He needed to reach you– sooner rather than later. And now looked like the perfect opportunity. 
But before he could take another step, the elevator behind him opened, and the entourage of clients he was expecting stood before him, all smiles. Haibara catches up and pats Nanami’s back, forcing him to turn around as they both curtly bow in greeting. A vein protruded Nanami’s temple, and Haibara looked back to see what he was looking at. 
What he saw made him crack a small smile, his energy returning to him as he led the clients and an annoyed Nanami towards the conference room. 
Taglist: [Now Closed]
@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000
@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn
@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist
@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds
@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve
@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer
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kismetlotts · 22 hours ago
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Kinktober 🎃 day eight: Knife play!
cw: knife play, non con/dub con, degrading names e.g whore, slut, violent language, fingering, public sex, sex in the dark, Simons a little crazy, licking his fingers clean, knife to the throat, dominant Simon, masked Simon, Simon who thinks he owns you, finger riding, crying
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Simon hated you. You left him, you nasty- selfish disgusting little slut. How dare you leave his life, vanish after years of saving his back and him protecting yours. Years of being together daily, training- working- bickering; pretty much glued at the hip.
If one thing for sure- Simon hated talking to people, he only made the effort to get somewhat close to you from the Captain’s orders but little did he know how badly he’d fall for you. Fucking fall for you. The way you presented yourself, body wracking with elegance and normality. The dream girl he never knew existed, the girl that he was going to marry. You were his- his yours: every moment with you he felt alive, burning with your foreign endearment, a care he never knew he would be granted with. A love full of delicacy and sugar he’d be a fool to balk.
So why on gods green earth did you fucking abandon him? Why did you wish your goodbyes, thank your teammates and set off for a new life. A different career branch, new set of friends; perhaps a new lover. It was brutal, you were heartless. He wanted to break your fucking spine. Tracking you down and following you into some shitty overpriced Halloween pop up event happening near you, a haunted house in which your new friends and new boss were accompanying you. A murderous intent trailing through his body before it sunk deep in the masked, 6'ft Lieutenant’s stomach at the sight of your boss’s arm around you. He’d cut his fingers off and force him to choke on them for touching what isn’t his.
Managing to sneak past the security and walking into the haunted house- well mansion- he hid himself in a corner on the second floor. The room was wide and decorated like the interior of a barn. Haystacks and dark oak panels covering the red walls and barricaded windows. A creaky wooden floor and barley any light aside from the odd lantern, casting a warm- sinister glow.
It was probably a hint to the actor in the next room- probably some psycho farmer or a chainsaw wielding scarecrow stood ready to chase after you. Simon didn’t feel fear when it came to the actors around this place, he’d like to see a man smothered in fake blood and a zombie costume out at war, on enemy territory with nothing but a pistol, fighting and protecting for not just his life but for the life of your teammates- civilians. That was true terror you had to make people feel and true terror you felt in yourself.
He heard footsteps approaching and laughter falling people, your voice shining through them and into his ears like a song- a song that he had muted and silenced for a moment. His cock hardening as he grabbed the fake knife hidden on hay beside him, running at your new little group with his prop knife, internally rolling his eyes as they all screamed and ran for the next door. All but one.
Your eyes lingered on his mask, surely it wasn’t him- why would he be here? An actor in a silly little Halloween house doesn’t necessarily scream Simon. His hand threw the fake knife on the floor, the plastic rattling against the wood as he walked forward, grabbing you by the neck and shoving you against the wall. Not giving you any time to analyse the situation you’d entered.
“Why the fuck did you leave me?” He growled in your ear, knee coming between your legs and pushing your thighs apart. The fabric of his jeans rubbing your clothed pussy harshly, mouth opened but no words coming out. What words would come out? What the actual fuck? You were petrified.
A pleased hum came from the chapped lips of the man, his eyes squinting slightly from a smile beneath his mask, creasing his black eye makeup and staring through your pupils- into your soul: your fear. You were pathetic, couldn't even explain yourself to him, he could laugh.
“Simon- please.” You pleaded, your voice cracking with fear as it seeped through your thick strong interior, igniting a manic chuckle from his lips. Did you think he was going to kill you? His little backstabbing whore he’d tracked down, slowly bleeding out as he’d leave you against the wall. His blade deep in the side of your throat. No no no, Simon didn’t want to hurt you- he wanted to toy with you.
“Love, I'm not going to kill you- O’d you think I am?” The knife not moving an inch against your pretty flesh, a contrast between the softness of your skin and the sharpness of the blade. Applying the perfect amount of pressure to poke but not cut. An ounce of relief washed over you at that comment, the reassurance palpable but the dread sickening; if he wasn’t going to kill you what did he want from you?
He watched as his body trembled beneath him; anxiety overtaking your blood and your veins, looking away and down because if you stayed looking up at him you were going to cry. A weak weak little girl compared to him. You could act strong, you could push him away and run as fast as you could but there would be no use, he’d catch you somehow, somewhere. He’d fuck with you more, all you could do was obey him and his demands now unless you wanted a life of watching over your shoulder constantly.
“Strip.” And your hands slipped into the waist band of your bottoms, tugging them down and stepping out of them, hesitating would only make him more pissed off. Your shaky hand grabbing the bottom of your shirt too, tugging that over your head leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties, your bra and wet panties. He looked down your body a whistle at the end of this tongue but he held back, looking up at you again.
“Strip- you want me to get fucking mad?” And hesitantly you took off your panties, unhooking you bra, tears pouring from your eyes as you hugged yourself, not only embarrassed but ashamed, ashamed with what your letting happen and horrified that you kind of like it. His body came in closer again, heating you up as he dragged the tip of the blade down your body. Between your tits, over your tummy and against your cunt, stuffing two fingers inside your hole greedily, not even focused on you anymore.
He kept a steady pace, thrusting his fingers inside over and over again, curving them slightly so it feels good for you but not giving you any opportunity to come or get close. Going at his pace, touching you how he wanted to at whatever speed he likes. His ears perked up at the little whines you let out, tiny confirmation that you weren’t all scared and were enjoying it- the juices running down your thigh gave him that understanding too. What a dirty bitch, getting fingered against the wall of a horror house, a knife pressed against her but it only increasing her arousal: you were mad. He was fucking taken aback.
“Yeah? You sad little whore. Missing Simon so much the minute he gets you against the wall you give in. Where was my strong girl from a few moments ago? Where did she go, huh, baby?” Mockery. Your body felt red- it felt hot. Anger taking over the fear and fuelling you. You threw your body back down on his fingers, practically riding his hand for him. Moaning in his ear, showing him that you were still there, still strong. Still holding on and that despite his best efforts of trying to scare you- fucking with you- hurting you. It didn’t work because you enjoyed the pain, you lived off of the pain he provided you.
After a few more thrusts of his fingers you came over his hand, eyes rolling shut and all tears from before resurfacing and pouring from your eyes. Legs such a trembling mess he dragged you towards the hay, lifting and placing you on top so you could breathe and come down from you high. He watched you pant, eyes shut as your tits bounced from each breath. His eyes flickered to his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean, your taste exploding on his tongue.
“Next time you misbehave and leave me I won’t be so generous. I’ll get your paperwork done and you’ll be back with us in no time.” You nodded unsure on what else to do. Simon had control over you now; Simon had the power and all you could do is submit. There was no backing down now, you were tied to his hip. And something deep inside you, something sick and deluded was unsure. Something in you, so fucked up you couldn’t help but wonder if you minded, if you cared that you were living a life run by Simon.
Looking up to see him look down at you; a raging, violent look in his eye but behind it there was softness. Protection and security, you were Simon’s and he was going to keep you safe in the long run. And maybe that wasn’t all bad. So what if he’s a little crazy, it just shows how much he cares.
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imaginaryf1shots · 3 days ago
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School Vigilante Pt. 1 | Oscar Piastri
WC: 5.2K
Oscar x childhood!friend!reader
Summery:(REQUESTED) Oscar is back from a weekend of racing. On the way back, he's stopped by jealous guys.
Warning: fighting, injuries, maybe cursing?
A/N: This request is one of my absolute favourite, so fun to write and once I started it was easy. I'm not linking the request until I post the second part
@ausie-brit this one is for you ❤️
Masterlist
Oscar Masterlist
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When Oscar decided to take karting seriously, telling his parents that he wants to be an F1 driver, they told him that their condition is for him to finish at least school. So, when he moved to Europe to compete there, they enrolled him into private school. And when he wasn’t racing or training, he was there. Oscar didn’t mind his time at school. But since he missed so many days, he mostly only made friends with people in karting.
Oscar’s family agreed with the school to let him come and go, if he got good grades and they paid all his tuition, which they did. The school didn’t allow their students out of campus most weeks, including weekends, but every once and a while the students will have a weekend in town, depending on their ages.
Even though Oscar didn’t spend as much time in school as other did, but he’s one of the popular ones. It’s known that he isn’t there on scholarship like some of the students are. And everyone has seen the places he goes to due to racing. He’s known as the racer kid in school, people like to talk about him and speculate a lot.
You of course knew who Oscar was, like everyone in school, you also heard the girls talk about how goodlooking he is. Thankfully your parents had you in a single bedroom, so you had no roommates, it helped you study and focus on your extracurricular activities. Being top of your year and the smartest student in years, made it easy for you to do those extracurriculars you liked. Teachers and students often didn’t pay attention to what you were doing and didn’t check on you.
It was one evening, Oscar was returning from a formula 3 race. The sun has sat since he arrived back in the UK, Oscar only had a backpack with him. He was close to the school gate; the campus was huge and surrounded by high brick fence. The streets weren’t that well light, but there was enough light for Oscar to see around him.
Oscar heard them before he saw them, the sound of drunken guys being rowdy. He hoped that they wouldn’t cross his path, he wasn’t feeling up to having to talk to anyone, all he wanted is to shower and go to bed.
But it looks like luck wasn’t in his favour because they soon rounded a corner and saw him instantly. He couldn’t see their face, but he was walking towards a streetlight, so they clearly saw them.
“W-wait, is that? What’s his name?” The shorter one said and pointed at Oscar. “The driver!”
“Ooh, you’re right.” The taller squinted his eyes. “Oscar or something.”
“Yes! Oscar.” His friend said and they looked at Oscar, he was moving closer to them. “Looks like he’s coming back from a race.”
“I don’t get how he gets to leave most weekends, and we’re stuck here, every day.” The taller one complained. Oscar doesn’t know if it’s their drunken mind or if it’s just how they are. But they walked up to him and blocked his way. No Oscar isn’t a small kid, he’s not short, and he works out every day, but the guys looked both taller and bigger than him, it was intimidating, he was intimidated even if he didn’t show it.
“You’re Oscar, right?” The shorter one asked buffing his chest.
“Yes.” Oscar answered one of his hands gripping his bag’s strap tighter.
“So what you’re back from a race?” The shorter asked smirking, Oscar could smell the alcohol on them from where he stood.
“Yeah.” Oscar tensed up, he was simply hoping they’d leave him alone.
“Why do you get to do as you please and the rest of us are stuck?” The taller asked and leaned closer to Oscar crossing his arms in front of him.
“My parents made a dea-“
“Oh parents! Yes, forgot you come for money, doing rich people sports and all that.” The taller cut him off and he pushed Oscar’s shoulder back, making the Australian stumble back a step. “You know, it’s not fair, they can’t just allow you to come and go as you please and the rest of us are stuck because you have more money than we do, the system is messed up, and you just think you’re too good for a regular life just because you race and…”
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You heard them before you saw them, they were loud, you could hear them from down the street, leaning over the edge you saw them come closer and closer before they passed you, you followed them around the corner and saw them look at another guy walking by the school fence. You saw those two sneaking out a lot, not only them, but they also usually had a couple more people with them. You usually come here for the open space to train, you can only do so much in your dorm room. They were still being so loud, you heard every word they said to Oscar, the guy the girls liked to fawn over. You adjusted the black face mask on your face and put your cap back on before you pulled your hoodie over it, the hoodie had the school crest on it, but you couldn’t risk wearing anything else in case you got caught after getting back on campus.
You saw how the guys moved, and from their stances you knew this was about to get ugly, and two against one is bad in your book. Getting to the pipe running down the side of the two story building, you swung yourself over the edge and held onto the pipe, placing your feet on the metal parts attaching the pipe to the wall. Moving swiftly you climbed down the pipe and moving in the shadows you got closer to the trio.
Thankfully you were close enough to them, because the moment the shorter one moved over his friend with his hand raised in the air you bounced. You ran over and pushed his harm to the side by his forearm, and sliding yourself in front of Oscar, the guy stumbled but regained his balance quickly.
“What the heck? Who are you?” The taller one asked taking half a step back, but not backing away. You tilted your head to the side but didn’t answer.
“What are you doing, hit him!” His friend pushed him closer to you and it took him a moment before he tried to attack you. Maybe it was the alcohol or they’re just stupid but it was obvious when he leaned to the right he was going to swing. You once more dodged, he didn’t stumble like his friend, just swung and swung the last one he stumbled. You’ve been backing up, making Oscar also back up. Oscar could only see your back, hew knew you were from his school but other than that he had no idea who you were.
The guys both shared a look and then came at you.
“Step back.” You told Oscar and he then realised you’re a girl, his eyes went wide but he did as you said. Clearly you knew what you were doing.
Your training kicked in as you swing under a hand flying your way before punching one of the guys in the stomach. Before turning in a spinning roundhouse kick that caught the first guy square in the jae, he stumbled back, shocked that soon turned into anger as he crashed to the ground. Your hood slipped off showing your hair under the hat.
“Whoa.” The second guy exclaimed, momentarily stunned, his drunkenness failing him. “Is that a girl?”
You didn’t give him time to process, you darted forward, closing the gap he made between the two of you. in a swift motion you dropped low, your knee shooting into his gut. He doubled over, gasping for breath and you followed up with a precise elbow to his back, he hit the ground sprawling.
The moment they were both on the ground you turned to Oscar. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yes.” Oscar looked at you confused by the whole thing, this is all happening too fast. Oscar tried to look at your face, but with the hat leaving a dark shadow on the little that was visible from your face he was unable to. But his eyes flickered down to the glinting of a necklace around your neck, his eyes flicker to your hands, and he sees a scar over your knuckles. There wasn’t time for him to say anything else, as the first guy scrambled to his feet, rage all over his expression. He charged at you, fist swinging wildly, you dodged easily. Your body is moving like water around him. in a seamless move, you sidestepped and swept his legs out from under him, sending him crashing down once more.
The second guy staggered to his feet, his expression shifting from shock to fury. “You’ll pay for that!” He slurred, launching another awkward punch.
You sidestepped again, your training kicking in as you countered with a swift jab to his ribs, then pivoted behind him, locking your arm around his neck. With a quick twist, you sent him tumbling to the ground, gasping.
Breathing heavily, you looked back at Oscar, who was now staring in awe.
“Get out of here before they decide to get back up.” Oscar hesitated, he didn’t want to leave you alone with the guys, even if you took them on by yourself. “I’ll be right behind you.”
“Okay.” Oscar turned and ran down the street to the gate, he heard you follow him. However, by the time he reached the gate, there’s no one behind him when he looked back.
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The next morning, Oscar couldn’t get you out of his head. As he walked to the administrative office, every detail from the previous night replayed in his head: the swiftness of your strikes, the way you moved with precise control, you’re trained he knows that for a fact.
Oscar recounted everything that happened to the headmaster, he could tell that they didn’t believe him a 100%, he asked if there’s CCTV, and then the headmaster and the vice-headmaster all went to the security room. Pulling up the footage from the day before, they skipped to the time Oscar told them the altercation happen, and sure enough they saw the guys walk to Oscar. The looks on their faces turned from doubtful, to concern, the school was ‘good’ with security, parents leave children in their care but here they are drunk and out when they shouldn’t.
There was no sound, but everything was clear, the principle knew who they were, even though the quality wasn’t the best, both guys were in trouble a while ago. When you appeared on screen, everyone leaned forward to try and see who you were, but even when your hood fell, they couldn’t pinpoint who you were.
“Do you recognise her?” They asked him.
“No, but she’s from our school, had the jacket and everything.”
Now in a school that doesn’t have any gossip besides who dated who and who cheated on who, the news spread like wildfire around school. The teachers told the students that they wanted to know who the girl was, and for her to step forward and nothing would happen to her, no punishment or anything.
By lunchtime, nearly everyone had heard about the mystery student who had supposedly rescued Oscar from an attack.
It took three days before a girl stepped up and said that it was her. She showed the teachers where she sneaks out from, and you couldn’t help but snort when you heard. You usually jump the wall where no cameras are positioned, you don’t sneak out when the guards change shifts or wait for them to go on a bathroom break. It was ridiculous. But you didn’t bother saying anything, let them believe what they wanted.
She cornered him after going to the teachers. 
“I heard what happened.” She said flipping her hair back. “Crazy night, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess you can say that.” Oscar replied trying to keep the conversation short. He wasn’t really a big fan of all the attention now on him because of the incident.
“Well.” Saddie continued, leaning a little closer. “I think I know what you’re wondering… it was me who saved you.”
Oscar blinked, taken a back, he didn’t expect that. “You?”
She grinned nodding.
“Yep. I was out that night too, you know, I sometimes sneak out.” She smirked as if revealing some thrilling secret. “I saw you in trouble and couldn’t just stand by.”
Oscar frowned; not sure he believed her. The girl who saved him moved with a lot of grace and confidence, he’s not convinced Saddie was that person. But she kept talking, adding more details to the attack. She knew the number of people, where they came from, and even some of the things they said. The footage wasn’t released, something only those who were there or watched the videos will know. But he still was sceptical, her build was different from the one he saw fighting, especially the height. He wasn’t that tired to forget or get confused. But she did know about the fight.
To you it was obvious why the girl lied, it was in the way she tried to stick to Oscar’s side, trying to touch him and laughs at everything he says, even when they’re not jokes. It was also obvious to you how uncomfortable it made Oscar; he’d cringe or roll his eyes, and Saddie still wouldn’t care or notice.
Even so, the news spread, and everyone was calling her a hero. Saddie went around saying what happened, exaggerating her story with each time she’s asked about it, embellishing details and playing up her bravery as though she fought off an army And everyone just started shipping them together, to no avail it seems because Oscar isn’t the type to be pressured into anything.
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Oscar was back from another weekend of racing; he found himself at the nurses office because his side was hurting from a crash on track that he was involved in.
Oscar walked in and didn’t see the nurse, but he saw you. You looked up at him before you went back to what you’re doing. You had sustained a few scrabs and cuts while you were doing parkour and fell. It wasn’t big or deep, all superficial.
“Uh, do you know where the nurse is?” Oscar asked closing the door behind him.
“She went to the toilet, will be back in a bit.” Oscar takes a look at you, while you paid him no mind, he knows you’re in his class, but he doesn’t know your name.
“I’m sorry, I forgot your name.” You looked up and drowned, no one ever asks you for your name or anything for that mattered. You were invisible to a lot of people in the school, and you didn’t really mind.
“y/n.” You tell him and finish putting the bandages on your hand. You turned to face Oscar fully, and something caught the light making him look down. His eyes went wide in recognition, you looked at where he was staring and saw your necklace. You pushed it under your shirt and sighed, but that gave him a view to your uncovered hand. A scar.
“You’re her.” Oscar said and you sighed, moving to get out of the nurse’s room. Oscar stepped back blocking the door. You stopped and glared at him, there’s a stiffness to your shoulders.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say through gritted teeth, getting annoyed with him. He’s always gone, which you don’t care about, and no one has figured or had any inkling to what you do during the weekend. Everyone just assumes you spend your time studying.
“You saved me two weeks ago.” Oscar crosses his arms in a challenge.
“No! what are you talking about? That was Saddie.” You shrug, and if Oscar didn’t know better, he would’ve believed you.
“I saw the necklace when you were fighting, it’s you.” Your hands went to where the necklace rested under your shirt. “Same height, same build, same hair and same scar.”
“That means nothing, it could be anyone with my hair colour or something.” You weren’t welling to back down, you were scared of getting exposed and then suffering the consequences, you’ve worked too hard for that to happen.
“y/n, it’s you.” Oscar was firm, and you knew there was no changing his mind.
“You can’t prove it.” Was all you said as you looked away, trying to come up with what to say to the headmaster. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, it is you then. You’re the mysterious saviour, the one that jumped in even though you don’t know each other.
“I’m not going to tell anyone.” Oscar said softly noticing what’s bothering you.
“You’re not?” your head snapped to look at him.
“I’m not.” He gave you a smile and you slowly returned it.  “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Oh… you don’t have to.” You shrug not seeing it as a big deal. “They were too drunk to do anything, anyways.”
It surprised him how different your reaction is from Saddie, you don’t want the recognition, he understands your reasons. You want to keep to yourself.
“Maybe not to someone who trains like you, but my training is completely different.” Oscar said and you hummed.
“I hear Formula 1 drivers have great reflexes.” You tile your head slightly to the side.
“I’m not a Formula 1 driver.” Oscar counters.
“Yet.” That gets a smile out of him.
“Yet.”
The nurse comes in before you could talk more, you thank her for letting you use the bandages, and leave. 
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Oscar later finds you in an empty classroom, with a book of advance calculus in front of you, your eyes were focused on the pages lost in your own world. And Oscar understood how no one would suspect you of saving him or of sneaking out. The smartest student in class, no friends, parties, didn’t even indulge in idle chatter.
“That’s the ghost.” Oscar looked to his friend; he had leaned over Oscar’s shoulder to see who he’s looking at. Oscar was confused, and it showed because his friend went on to then say. “She’s always there in class, knows everything before the teachers even explain, and disappears as soon as the class ends.”
It seemed to both you and Oscar that you were both everywhere. When you’re studying in the library, he’s there escaping from Saddie and her entourage. Oscar would pull up the chair across from you and sit down to study, you’d glance up before going back to your books. And then one day he had a question he couldn’t answer so then you started explaining it to him, that turned to you always helping him in all the things he either missed or just didn’t get.
You’ve never done that with anyone before, but unlike most if not all your classmates, Oscar is calm and collected. Something you didn’t expect from him at first. But other than the library you didn’t spend time together, you just met there and after your study session both would go their own ways. Oscar would go to the gym and you’d sneak out to train or train in your room. There was never any further talk about the night you met, and you were thankful for that.
Whenever Oscar spotted you around campus he tried not to stare, not to bring any unwanted attention towards you. He knew that you liked to stay as far away from the spotlight as you could. And he respected that about you, unlike many in school you loved to keep to yourself.
One evening Oscar was walking around campus, he walked in a section that rarely anyone went towards, he wanted to have time to think to himself. The night was silent, and calm, the weather was nice. It was only because it was so silent that Oscar heard it the sound of soft grunting and movement. Feeling compelled to follow the sound he walked around the storage shed. And there he saw you, you were focused, your movement fluid and precise as you practiced a series of strikes and kicks. Each punch, each kick seemed to release stress and energy, that you kept hidden the rest of the time.
Oscar started to feel awkward from just standing there for a few minutes, he took a step closer hoping not to startle you. You noticed him immediately, lowering your fists and meeting his gaze, clearly surprised.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, breathing heavily.
“I... I was just walking around.” Oscar tried to smile and seem as un-creepy as he could. “And then I heard you, and I got curious.”
“Oh, didn’t realise I was being loud.” You said and pushed your hair out of your face. “Are you still curious?”
“I am.” Oscar chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I mean you did save me, and that made me curious to see how good you are.”
You thought about his words, he already knows what you do, and he’s seen you out of school. After a moment you gestured for him to a few boxes nearby.
“Well, if you’re going to watch, you might as well sit down.” Oscar follows your orders and sits down; you return to practicing. Oscar being a detail-oriented person started to notice all the small things. He noticed how you balanced on your toes before delivering a powerful kick, how each moved was delivered with precision. There’s no doubt in his mind that you’re skilled, it’s clear to him that you’re not an amateur, this isn’t just for fun.
After a while you took your water bottle and went and sat next to Oscar. “So, do you think it’s weird or strange?”
“No, not at all.” He shook his head. “It’s impressive, I didn’t know you could do all that.”
“It just… helps me clear my head.” You said and took a sip from your water. “Plus it helps me save guys coming back from racing.”
Oscar smiles and lets out a chuckle. “But you have training, like with a coach and everything, right?”
“Yeah, I have two actually, since I do both Parkour and Muayi Thai.” You tell him and he looks impressed. “Don’t look so shocked, Mr. Future Formula 1 driver.”
“It’s not for certain.” Oscar shrugged; you bump your shoulder with his.
“I’m a 100% sure you will.” Oscar saw you smile for the first time, and he has to admit that he liked it. You continued talking for a bit before you had to go back to your dorms.
And so after that it was either the library or the spot behind the storage shed where you’d meet up with Oscar. You may have liked him, and he may have liked you. Yet neither of you made a move or said anything.
As the semester came to an end you both didn’t know this will be the last time you met each other. And it’s your timidness that you both didn’t ask each other for the other’s phone number. You had a competition during the summer that you came first then, and so your parents and you both felt like you needed to go to another school, where you’d be closer to where your new coaches are if you want to go pro in the future.
That’s how you lost contact with Oscar. You thought of him often as did he, but the chance has passed you both by. You’d look him up and see him winning races and championships climbing the ranks and getting closer and closer to reach Formula 1.
Oscar too decided to look you up one day after Hattie (his sister) insisted he do so, saying he won’t lose anything anyways, and Oscar saw that Red Bull signed you. You’ve gone pro, he followed you on Instagram and you did too, however you both had a lot of followers to check who followed you and who didn’t.
Even though time went on and years passed, you remember the best time at school being the year that you and Oscar became friends. He’s been your only friend from school, you had many others from training but he’s the one through school. You always cheered him on, and when you saw him get the McLaren seat, you DM-ed him a congrats, but never got an answer back, knowing he probably got flooded with messages.
Oscar kept up with your career, he saw you win a world title in parkour and almost win one in Muay Thai, it was close, you came in second. He was proud of you either way, he knew for certain you’d win one day.
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When your manager contacted you and told you Red Bull were doing some promotions, and you’d get to see the team in another sport, you jumped at the chance to go to a Formula 1 race. And luck would have it that they agreed. So here you are in Japan invited to the paddock for a weekend of racing. You were introduced to Max and Checho and you were set to film some things with them on Media Day.
And that’s how you ended up in a car with the 3 times world champion on a hot lap. Did you scream? Define screaming. You squealed and you gasped, that was a fact, but I mean Max didn’t really have to break so late. He also didn’t have to laugh at you.
“I’d like to see you laughing in a ring.” You told him after he stopped the car and laughed at your hand clutching the seats.
“Is it bad I think I’ll be able to hold my own?” Max asked and you laughed, patting his shoulder.
“It’s like me saying I can hold my own racing you.” You tell him and he nods along.
It isn’t long before you’re out of the car and filming a challenge, let’s say the Red Bull boys aren’t really that flexible. It was a lot of fun you have to admit, and yet you didn’t get a single glance of the papaya driver.
Practice day came and you had more time to wonder around and do your own thing. The good thing is you weren’t a well-known sportswoman, so you weren’t bothered by anyone. Walking around you saw someone you knew, which was a surprise to you.
“Lilly!” You called to the golfer; she turned and saw you. She smiled and waved at you, walking closer you both shared a hug in greeting. “What are you doing here?”
“Me? What are you doing here?” She asked with a laugh, you both met at a sporting even a year or so back and spent a lot of time talking. “My boyfriend Alex is driving for Williams.”
“Oh shoot, right, you told me.” You felt stupid for forgetting, but to be fair you had been super busy.
“So, what are you doing here?”
“Oh, Red Bull invited me, some promotion for the team’s different sports.” You told her, and she aah-ed, it made sense. “But we filmed everything yesterday, so I have time to do as I like today.”
“Good, stick with me then.” She locked your hands together and you followed her down the paddock to a café or sorts, where she greeted two other girls. “Girls this is y/n, a Red Bull Parkour champion and a Muay Thai runner up. y/n, this is Rebecca and Carmen.”
You all greet each other before they invite you to sit down, you learn who they’re dating, they ask you about the sports you do. The girls were all nice and welcoming, they found that you already have knowledge of Formula 1 and weren’t just invited here for the heck of it, even if it didn’t matter when you were asked to attend.
After a while Carlos dressed in his Ferrari team kit came by and following him was a man dressed in Papaya. Your heart skipped a beat before you realised it’s not the person you were hoping to see. Lilly saw the look on your face and nudged you slightly.
“Are you okay?” She lowered her voice; you nodded with a smile.
“Yeah just…” You didn’t know if you should tell her or not. It’s been years since you saw Oscar last, you don’t know if he even remembers you or not. Would it seem childish? “I went to school with Oscar and-“
“You went to school with Oscar!” Lilly exclaimed and you stared at her wide eyed, she places her hand on mouth shocked at her own reaction. It was too late though because the other people at the table heard her.
“You went to school with Oscar?” Lando asked interested, you nodded. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“y/n y/l/n, I do Parkour and Muay Thai.” You say with a smile and put your hand out for him to shake, he does and Carlos as well.
“A Red Bull world champion.” Lilly adds, Lando looks at the pass around your neck seeing it’s from Red Bull.
“Huh, another Red bull champion.” He commented.
“How well did you know Oscar?” Carmen asked curiously.
“Well, we were friends for a year, but we were very close until I changed schools, and we lost contact.” You told the group, the girls all felt bad for you.
“I’m sure Lando can help you.” Carlos said turning to his friend. You all looked at Lando, he looked at all of you before sighing.
“Fine, but if this is a plot from Red Bull to steal information, I’m blaming you all.” Lando pointed at his friend and the girlfriends, the girls were just amused, and Carlos rolled his eyes. Lando turned to you. “Come on, before he hops in the car.” Lando gestures for you to follow him which you do.
“Take a video!” Rebecca shouted and Lando rolled his eyes but raised a thumps up.
“I’m really not a Red Bull spy, if that’s what you’re scared of.” You tried to reassure the McLaren driver, who after a moment of silence spoke.
“I know, sorry, just a tense season.” You nodded in understanding.
“It’s all right, I know what you mean. Balancing rivalries while you’re competing and not is hard.” You smile at Lando to show him you didn’t take offence to what he said or his attitude.
“I’m starting to believe you’re friends with Oscar more.” You let out a laugh at that.
You silently followed Lando through the paddock and to the McLaren garage. He asked a few people for Oscar’s location, and you still just followed. Turning a corner you saw an orange 81 on a broad back, the fireproofs sticking to his body.
“Hey Osc, there’s someone here to see you.” Lando had his phone opened to video, it was aimed at Oscar.
Oscar turned and saw Lando, his brow furrowed, before he turned to look at you. There was a moment of silence, Oscar just took you in.
“y/n.” He said simply and you smiled, he recognised you, didn’t forget who you were.
“Hey, Oscar.” 
Taglist:
@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03 . @schniti-is-in-the-house . @lottalove4evelyn . @eywas-heir . @glow-ish . @lilypat . @directioner5life . 
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amirasainz · 2 days ago
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Please write one with Norris!reader. She is competing in the Olympics with pair ice skating. Her and her partner win gold. Lando who is sadly in a different country for a race watches the performance with the other drivers. Everyone, like really everyone, is so happy that she won and is celebrating. Proud older brother Lando
Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!
-xoxo babygirl 💕
Golden
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The bright lights of the stadium glinted off the ice, reflecting the high energy of the crowd as they waited for the final pair of skaters in the Olympic Pairs Free Skate competition: Y/N Norris and Thomas Liu. The audience had been buzzing for days about their challenging program, filled with complex lifts and intricate footwork. But while everyone in the packed arena held their breath in anticipation, there was someone thousands of miles away, nervously glued to a screen, who was probably even more tense than the crowd: Lando Norris.
Lando was in his race gear, sitting with a group of Formula 1 drivers in a hospitality suite that McLaren had set up for the race weekend. It was nearly midnight in this part of the world, but he’d made sure to arrange for a screen to be set up so he wouldn’t miss a single moment of his sister’s performance.
“Mate, you look like you’re about to race right now,” Carlos said, nudging Lando with a grin.
“Tell me about it,” Charles chimed in, laughing. “You’re sweating more than before a qualifying lap.”
Lando’s foot tapped against the floor nervously as he adjusted his position. “Guys, you don’t get it. Her program is… it’s insane. She and Thomas have been working on this routine for months, but it’s, like, terrifying. There’s this lift — he flips her over, mid-air — if it goes wrong…”
Max Verstappen raised his eyebrows, giving Lando a supportive pat on the shoulder. “You’ve got to have a little faith, man. She’s been working toward this for years. She’ll crush it.”
The feed cut to a shot of Y/N and Thomas taking their positions at center ice. Thomas’ hand reached out, giving Y/N a reassuring squeeze before the music started. Even from miles away, Lando could see the glimmer of determination in his sister’s eyes.
The routine began, and almost instantly, Lando’s hand went up to his mouth, his face contorted in a mix of pride and pure anxiety.
Carlos nudged him again. “She’s graceful out there, you know. Doesn’t even look nervous.”
“Yeah,” Lando replied, unable to tear his eyes away from the screen. “She makes it look easy, but it’s not. Not even close.”
The other drivers had gathered around as well, all offering quiet words of encouragement, their own faces tense as they watched. Even Lewis, who was typically the calm and collected one, had his arms crossed tightly, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
“She’s incredible,” Oscar murmured, shaking his head. “I didn’t know figure skating could be this intense.”
As the performance continued, Y/N and Thomas flawlessly executed their jumps and spins, moving in perfect sync, like two parts of a well-oiled machine. Then came the most challenging part of their program, the lift that Lando had mentioned.
Lando’s breath hitched as he leaned forward, gripping the edge of his seat. “Here it comes. This… this is it.”
Thomas skated backward, pulling Y/N into a complicated lift, where she twisted in mid-air before he caught her smoothly. For a moment, it looked like they might wobble, and Lando’s heart skipped a beat. But Y/N steadied herself and completed the maneuver with a look of pure confidence.
“Yes!” Lando punched the air, his face lighting up with pure, unfiltered joy. The drivers around him erupted in applause, patting him on the back, some even whistling in admiration.
The performance ended with Y/N and Thomas holding their final pose, frozen on the ice as the audience rose to their feet, the entire stadium erupting into cheers. Lando’s eyes were wide, his expression one of astonishment and pride as the scores flashed across the screen.
Gold.
“She did it…” Lando whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “She won gold. She actually won!”
The entire room broke out into celebration, with Charles and Carlos jumping around him, Max ruffling his hair, and Oscar giving him a quick, excited hug.
“Your sister’s an Olympic champion, mate!” George exclaimed, grinning widely.
“I told you!” Lando’s voice was loud with pride as he looked around the room, practically glowing. “My little sister just won gold. Do you all understand? Gold! Olympic gold!”
From across the room, Zak, who had been watching with a keen interest, raised a glass in Lando’s direction. “Congratulations, Lando. Quite the feat. She’s a Norris, after all.”
Lando laughed, his voice almost cracking as he replied, “Thanks. I think I’m more proud of her than I’ve ever been of anything.”
With a grin, Lando looked at the screen again, watching as Y/N and Thomas embraced each other on the ice, their eyes wet with happy tears as they took in the roaring applause of the crowd.
“Did I tell you guys she’s been skating since she was three?” Lando was practically bouncing as he regaled the room with tales of his sister’s determination. “She’d get up at five every morning to practice. And she’d never quit. Never.”
One of the F1 media team members overheard the conversation and couldn’t resist joining in. “I think we’ll need a press release from McLaren. ‘Lando Norris’ sister wins gold!’”
“Please do!” Lando laughed. “I’ll shout it from the rooftops myself if you don’t!”
The drivers laughed, and for the rest of the night, Lando didn’t stop talking about Y/N. Every person he passed, from engineers to team staff, he’d proudly announce, “Did you hear? My sister’s an Olympic champion!”
Carlos was laughing, shaking his head. “Lando, I think you’ve told everyone in the entire paddock at least three times already!”
“And I’ll tell them again!” Lando shot back, grinning ear to ear. “Did I mention? My little sister’s got an Olympic gold medal!”
Back on the screen, the ceremony began. Y/N stood on the podium with Thomas, a gold medal hanging around her neck. When they lifted their medals to the sky, the drivers raised their drinks in a toast to her from miles away.
“To Y/N Norris, Olympic champion!” they all cheered.
As the night went on, Lando’s pride didn’t wane for even a moment. He went on and on, telling anyone who would listen about her dedication, her talent, her hard work. And as he finally made his way back to his room, Lando couldn’t resist sending Y/N a message.
Lando: Y/N, I am the proudest brother in the world right now. I knew you could do it. You’re incredible, you know that?
A few moments later, his phone buzzed with a reply.
Y/N: I had the best brother in the world cheering for me. Thanks, Lando.
Lando smiled, putting his phone away, a warm sense of pride flooding through him. In his mind, there was no race, no podium, no championship that could ever compare to the feeling he had at this very moment. His sister was an Olympic champion, and he was—without a doubt—the proudest big brother in the world.
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kimuzostar · 2 days ago
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YOU CAN'T HIDE ii
⊱ bountyhunter!terry x black fem reader ⊰ ⊱ warnings: 18+, smut, degradation kink, pregnancy scare, mention of clinic visit, slight choking, stalking aspects, slight dom!terry and more i forgot ⊰ ⊱ probably the last part for this, i don't know... writing smut scares me because i'm bad at it ⊰ enjoy
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A few weeks have passed of you being on the run. The media coverage of the robbery had died down; yet you were still on edge. 
Not about the robbery but about him.
“When I catch you again, I won’t be as nice.”
 His words replayed over and over in your head. You felt them deep in your stomach, just like his di-
No, no, no. You will not allow a man to be the proprietor of your downfall. 
After he left, you gathered your things and immediately headed for the nearest bus station. You brought a ticket to Arondale, another small town about four hours away. You needed to put distance between the two of you. 
As you boarded the bus, you had an eerie feeling of being watched. You turn and see a truck. His truck. 
Its lights cut on and it rapidly sped off in the opposite direction. 
You let out a sigh of relief. 
Now you could live in peace….. or so you thought. 
You were currently bent over the toilet of your dingy motel room. The entire contents of your stomach emptied out before you. 
For the last 5 or so days, you’ve been unable to hold down any food, certain smells cause you to gag, and you’ve been over emotional about every little thing. 
The tenant next door was not being of any help as he didn’t seem to know how to lower his volume. Constantly playing loud music and talking loudly. Every time you went to complain, he would get quiet and not answer his door. 
The one time you did see him, his back was turned to you as he got in his car. You wish you would’ve saw his face so you could flip it off. 
You were trying not to think the worst, brushing it off to a persistent stomach bug. But your period was late and that wasn’t making anything more comforting. 
“There’s no fucking way!”, you whisper to yourself. 
There’s no way you could possibly be pregnant by a man you don’t even know. A man whose face you’ve never even seen. You didn’t need any of this right now. 
Gathering yourself, you pull up to look in the mirror. Your curly hair wild, eyes shadowed with bags and your plump lips were chapped. You were a mess. 
You needed a pregnancy test. There was a small market across the street. You gathered your jacket and headed out. 
-
The market was stocked; having every essential one might need. 
You grabbed a buggy. You were going to get everything you needed so if you get the worst, you wouldn’t have to come out for a while. 
As you turn down one of the aisles, you bump into someone. 
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” you say. 
Looking up, you see it’s your loud next door tenant. He’s wearing shades with the biggest shit eating grin on his face. A perfect set of 32s. 
“That’s no bother, just don’t do it again,” he replies. 
Already aggravated, you didn’t have the energy to play into his games. You continue along the aisle, paying him no more attention. 
Scanning the items, you finally find what you’re looking for; a clear blue pregnancy test. You grab it, biting your lower lip out of nervousness. 
Taking a step backwards, you run into what feels like a brick wall. A pair of arms surround you, the hands covering yours over the test. They lift them so the owner can take a closer look. 
“A pregnancy test. Who dis fa?”, the person says. 
You push back, turning to see who it is. 
It’s the tenant again. 
“Don’t fucking touch me and it’s none of your fucking business.”
He laughs, taking off his shades to get a better look at you. 
“I think it’s a lot of my business considering I could be a daddy.”  
Fuck, those eyes. 
It was him. The bounty hunter. 
Terry stood before you, smiling so big that his eyes disappeared. His hair was cut low, his skin bronzed by the sun. 
He was beautiful. 
You were frozen, unable to properly process what was going on. You wanted to run but your body wouldn’t move. You have many questions but your mouth wouldn’t move. 
“You look surprised. What’s wrong?”, he says jokingly. 
You finally get the push to speak. 
“You’re not the only person I’ve been with so you’re probably not the father”, you lie. 
Terry raises one of his eyebrows. “Is that so?”, he says. 
“Yes, so you can go away now”, you reply. 
“Nah, I’m curious about the results. Let's get back to your room”, he says walking towards the registers.
Your shoulders sunk. There was no way of this. 
-
Terry watched every step of you take your test; standing in the bathroom doorway like a bouncer. 
You avoided eye contact, feeling vulnerable about the current situation. 
“What does it say?”, he asks. 
“I don’t know, the instructions say there’s a 20 minute wait,” you reply. 
He sighs, looking up at the ceiling in thought. 
“What should we name it? I’m thinking Junior for a boy and Jasmi for a girl”, he says, smiling. 
You scoff. 
“You have lost your black ass mind if you think I’m having a baby with you. Plus, you don’t even know if this is your baby. The only thing I’m worried about is what clinic I need to go to”, you say. 
You peek at him through your lashes. He stood arms crossed, no longer smiling. You could cut the tension with a knife. 
“I’ve been watching you for weeks. There is no other man”, he says. 
“How did you find me? I left Springville weeks ago, it should’ve been impossible for you to find me here.”
Terry smiles, a laugh erupting deep from within his chest. 
“I never stopped following you, you’re just too fucking stupid to realize it. I followed your bus all the way here. I’ve been staying next door the whole time.”, he chuckles. 
You stood there dumbfounded. The clogs in your brain jammed and you were unable to produce a coherent thought. 
The loud music, the loud talking, the man entering the car. All him. 
“Are you actually insane? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound? What’s not clicking?”, you say. 
Terry’s brows furrowed in genuine confusion. 
“Why are you so mad? I never told you I was going to leave you alone. I said when I catch you, not if I catch. You’re my problem until I feel you’re sorted out,” he says. “You were warned yet you still can’t hide.”
He stepped towards you. You step back and he follows you until you hit the wall. He leans down, his lips brushing your ear. You shiver at the contact. 
“Do I scare you?”, he asks, tracing a circle on your hip. 
Feigning dominance, you respond, “No, I’m not scared of you.”
You were definitely afraid of him. 
“I’m not afraid of a bubbling moron that goes around stalking people, unable to act like an adult,” you continue. 
You see Terry’s shoulders shake with a silent laugh. He pulls back, trailing the hand on your hip up to your neck. He wraps it around, squeezing slightly. You can feel your nipples harden through your shirt. 
”As long as you’re here, I won’t ever leave you alone. Deal with it”, he says. 
The statement causes you to look down at the floor. The thought of him bothering you forever was too much to bear. 
Terry lifts your chin so you can meet his eyes. You’re stuck, unable to look away; almost like you were being hypnotized. 
He kisses you, his mouth engulfing yours. His lips were so soft, citing a moan from you. His hands slide their way to your butt. He squeezes, pulling you flesh against his body. 
He picks you up, walking you over to the bed. He places you down, still not breaking the kiss. 
Your tongues fight for power, neither of you wanting to fall to the other. 
“Take these off”, he says tugging at your pants. 
You oblige, removing your shirt, pants and underwear. He does the same, allowing you to finally get a good look at his body. 
He was chiseled by the gods. His shoulders were large, coupled with a six pack and a deep v-line leading down to a hung dick. 
Terry hovers over you, settling his face in the crook of your neck to inhale your scent. His fingers begin to rub up and down your pussy, softly grazing over your clit. 
He plunges two fingers in you. He licks from your collarbone to the shell of your ear. He gives it a kiss. 
“Still as tight as last time. There’s no way somebody else been in here,” he teases in your ear. 
“Would’ve been better than you anyways,” you reply. 
Terry freezes. He pulls his fingers out of you, lifting his head up to stare in your eyes. The stoic expression is back. 
Uh oh. 
He sits back, using your hips to flip you on your stomach. His hands find your hair and he pushes your face into the mattress. He straddles you, his other hand on your back.  You can feel his dick resting on your ass. 
“I’ve been being really nice. I don’t appreciate all this back talk,” he says. 
“If you stop talking so much shit then maybe we wouldn’t have that problem,” you reply. 
Terry pushes you further into the mattress, leaning in closer to your face. 
“Apologize and mayb-“, he starts. 
“Fuck you”, you spit, cutting him off. 
With no warning, he slams into you, taking a pause so you can adjust around him. 
His grip loosens from your hair, wrapping it around to cover your mouth. He lowers the rest of his body on you, trapping you between him and the mattress. 
“You don’t know how to shut up and be a good girl. Always got that bitchy attitude. That’s ok, I can fix that”, he says with a smile. 
He begins to thrust into you, hard. The position made it feel like he was poking your lungs. 
“Can’t nobody fuck this pussy like I can.”
He would pull up, only leaving the tip; rolling his hips, before thrusting back in. He kept moving over your spot; it felt like scratching an itch slowly.
“Talking all that big shit, say something now,” he urges, removing his hand. 
All you could respond with was a moan. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t form any words. He was fucking you dumb. 
You began to pant, feeling out of breath; that familiar knot growing in your stomach. 
Terry shifts, the change of angle reaching a new dept within you. 
“Cumming,” you say with an exasperated sigh. He continued to fuck you through it, making it feel like it was going on forever. 
“That’s what I thought”, he says. 
Terry flips over to his side, taking you with him. He grabs the back of your knee, pulling it up to your ear. He slides back into you, feeling even deeper than before. 
“Ah, fuck, that feels so fucking good”, you say. 
“You are mine, this pussy is mine, all MINE. You belong to me,” he growls, planting a kiss on your knee.  
You nodded. The words sounding like music to your ears. If this was the kind of dick you’d get everyday, you thought it wouldn’t be too bad. Besides, you know he wasn’t going to leave you alone anytime soon. Especially if you had a baby on the way. 
“You will be a slut for me, whether you like it or not  
He kept slamming into, never letting up. His free hand grabs your neck, pulling you closer to his face. You felt the warmth of his breath on your skin. 
“I’m gonna cum again”, you say. 
“Let it go, wet that dick up”, he replies. 
With that, you let go, screaming to the heavens. Terry follows closely behind. You feel him tense up as he paints your walls white. 
The two of you are a mess of sweat and deep breaths. Terry pulls out of you, looking down at the art he created. He gives a playful slap to your ass cheek.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”, he says.
You roll your eyes, getting a chuckle out of him. 
He gets up, heading to the bathroom to check on the test. 
“Oh look”, he says flashing it to you, “it’s negative”.
-
@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @skvrpion @avoidthings @jimmybutlrr @persethegawd @nayaesworld @mymindisneverhere @theereina @thabiddie23 @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @melaninpov @madamzola @literallegendicon @blyffe
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imaginespazzi · 3 days ago
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Part 11: Free Fall
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Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10
How many nights did you wish someone would stay? (Lie awake only hoping they're okay?)
(In which an angst writer makes her comeback in more ways than one)
Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd
Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint?
Words: 8.0K
TW: Swearing (that's probably it?)
A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Y'all are the sweetest people ever for being so patient with me but it's finally here! I'm hoping that I don't put y'all through this again but it is almost finals season so...fingers crossed. While you read this chapter, I'd like y'all to keep in mind how much you love me and how much y'all wanted a new chapter and of course my favorite phrase: for the plot! I tried to edit but I hate reading my own work back and so it's not as thorough as it should be and there's probably typos so lemme know. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely week my angels!
May 2025 
It’s her first ever WNBA game -Dallas Wings vs Washington Mystics- and the first thing Paige notices as she steps onto the court is that the two courtside seats right by the Mystics bench are empty. The sound of music streaming through the speakers clashes against the raucous crowds; the lights are dimmed and there’s a riveting thrum of energy swirling the arena in anticipation for a generational talent’s professional debut. Paige has spent the days leading up to her first game immersed in basketball. Since training camps, she hasn’t let herself think of anything except how to make sure the ball went through the hoops, how to make sure the person in front of her didn’t score, how to win. 
It’s easier that way. Because then she doesn’t have to think about how empty and cold her bed feels at night, doesn’t have to think about how much she craves to press call on a number she knows she should have blocked, doesn’t have to think about how the pieces of her shattered world are barely bound together by a tape of pretend. Paige can’t think of any of that and so she’s spent every second awake, clearing her head of all potential distractions and focusing on preparing for this moment. 
Except, the moment is here now. 
And all Paige can fixate on is the empty courtside seats. 
The memories come back to her in waves; the two of them in those seats, pressed together -as close as it could be acceptable for their façade of best friends to be- as they weaved dreams of it being their turn on the professional stage. If she listens closely, Paige swears that amidst the chaos, she can still hear the echo of a promise that had once been made casually in conversation. 
“When you play here for the first time, I’ll be right here cheering you on. Every single time.”
Another broken promise. 
The truth is that the last few weeks as much as it’s felt like Paige is walking on a carpet of roses, there have been countless sharp thorns woven through the petals. She’s tried to avoid them -focusing on what she had, instead of what she’d lost- but they’d found a way to perforate through her skin anyways. And Paige knows she’s bleeding but she can’t scream, so she swallows the pain away instead. Memories of the past are piercing her feet and it feels like she’s leaving a trail of it feels incomplete without you behind her as she navigates the journey through her present, stepping towards a future that would be nothing like the one she’d imagined when she’d been a naive girl sitting in those courtside seats. 
The courtside seats that are empty tonight. 
Really it’s exactly what she should’ve expected. And there’s something so final about this moment, like the last flicker of a candle that had burned in secret. Paige hadn’t even realized she was still holding out for something but as she drags her eyes away from the seats and towards her father and brother who are practically vibrating with pride, she can feel the tautness of the string that she’d held onto. Because she hasn't told them; hasn’t told anybody about the breakup. 
Something about vocalizing it had felt just a little too real and Paige had evaded any potential situation that would warrant her having to reveal the tirth. But it hits her now, looking at those damn empty seats that should've been -in another life would’ve been- filled by her other family, that the words she’d been too scared to say out loud -for fear of them being enshrined into reality- had already probably been spoken into existence by someone else. And it hits Paige now, that maybe she’s desperately holding onto a rope that has already been let go of. 
“You good Bueckers?” she whirls around to find Arike looking at her, eyebrows raised in concern. 
“I’m fine,” Paige lies; she’s gotten so incredibly good at that, “just thinking a lot of thoughts.”
Arike nods in understanding, “fair enough. But you got this dude,” she reaches out a hand to squeeze her rookie’s shoulder, “whatever you’re thinking, when you get on that court, none of it’s gonna matter. All that matters for 40 minutes is the game and that we come out of it with a win. You gonna help us win Paige?”
“That’s the fucking plan,” Paige smirks, earning her a matching one from Arike before the shooting guard saunters onto the court, ready for tip-off.
All that matters is the game. 
Paige sucks in a deep breath, letting herself look over at the courtside seats one more time. This is her reality now. There’s no point in waiting for a regretful phone call or a surprise midnight knock on her door because it’s not going to happen. She feels a sense of hollowed acceptance as she finally turns away from the seats, plastering on a confident smile as she takes her place in the Dallas Wings starting five. And Paige is faced with the same truth that she’d learned at a far too young age; that people would leave her but the game never would. 
***
Dallas wins the game by 17 points. Paige’s statline is 21 points, 6 rebounds and 8 assists with 2 steals and a block. It’s a respectable statement from the rookie and her teammates are overjoyed. She’s surrounded by them as they celebrate winning their first game of the season and there’s a sense of hopeful excitement about how the rest of the season could go. Her eyes go over the top of them to find the cute Dallas local reporter that Paige had befriended shooting her a congratulatory wink and she blushes a little bit, looking away bashfully. In the distance, Paige can make out a small crowd of people decked in custom Wings #5 jersey, whistling in excitement. Despite the home fans, their celebration still echoes around the stadium and the loudest cheer comes from her brother who stands next to her father, both of them beaming with pride. And It’s almost enough to prevent her eyes from wandering back to the empty courtside seats. Almost. 
***
It had seemed like a good idea at the time. With the quick transition from the college season into the draft, Paige hadn’t had found time to go home inbetween. And so when the Wings had been making hotel arrangements for DC, she’d opted to stay with her dad and Drew in Maryland instead. But as she stands in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at a wall filled with pictures that are an ode to the past - collages that are practically a shrine to her broken relationship- Paige finds herself longing for the cold, unfeeling exterior of a foreign hotel room. 
Paige’s life can be split into two parts. There’s the Before Azzi and then there’s the With Azzi. And the truth is that there isn’t much from the Before Azzi left in Paige’s life. Every inch of her current life has been touched by the brunette, illuminated by her presence and now, it’s tainted by her absence. Especially in Maryland. Since she’d met the Virginia native, the DMV area had always been synonymous with the Fudds for Paige and she can’t remember a time when she’d been here -when she’d been in this bedroom- and not had plans to see them- to see Azzi. 
She takes a hesitant step inside, eyes gliding over each photograph and it’s like she’s being transported through time. The memories are as vivid as ever, bursting with color as they ellipse her mind. Paige can picture every moment like she’d lived it yesterday. She can still hear their laughter echoing through the air, can feel the softness of their hands -their bodies- brushing against each other, can still taste the lingering sweetness of their lips meeting halfway as they breathed silent promises against each other’s skin. 
A silent sob wracks through Paige’s body as she brushes her fingers over the most recent image of them from December -the last photograph she’d had time to print out. It’s one that Drew had taken of them in the kitchen- Paige propped up on the counter and Azzi in between her legs, one hand on the counter with the other resting right against Paige’s heart. Neither of them had even noticed the little boy, too wrapped up in each other; they were in their own world like they often had been. Azzi’s head is thrown back in laughter -probably at some ridiculous joke her girlfriend had cracked- and Paige has that goofy - just for Azzi- grin on her face as she gazes at the brunette with nothing but adoration. 
The picture is from barely six months ago but they look so young to Paige, so innocent, so naive, so fucking happy, so completely unaware that in a couple of months, one hesitantly spoken word would dissolve that happiness into a puddle of rubble. 
No. 
She thinks that one simple word is destined to echo through her ears, like that unpleasant screech of nails scratching against a chalkboard, for as long as she still has the ability to hear. Paige hadn’t even really heard it at first; it had been said so softly, so quietly, so brokenly and she’d barely seen Azzi’s lips move. For the briefest moment she’d tricked her mind into believing it was just the sound of the wind around them. But then there it was again. 
Louder. 
Stronger. 
No.
Paige’s hands instinctively clasp around her ears, fingers tangling tightly through her blond hair, because she can still fucking hear it. Here in this bedroom, where every corner still holds a little part of Azzi -holds a little part of them- the sting of rejection is louder than it’s been since it had first hit. Because it’s not just the pictures. It’s all the little pieces of them they’d left scattered over Christmas break, thinking they’d come back to it together.
 It’s a set of Azzi’s earrings -one Paige vaguely remembers picking out for her when they’d gone shopping a couple of weeks before- placed delicately on Paige’s dresser. It’s the pink sweater -that neither of them are sure who it originally belongs to but like most of their clothes, is basically a shared item at this point- haphazardly thrown over a chair. It’s that stupid book they’d started reading together -Paige lying across her girlfriend’s lap, toying with her curls as Azzi read the story out loud- still lying on the nightstand, waiting to be finished. 
Despite being alone in her room, Paige finds herself rapidly shaking her head. Because she can’t do this. Can’t spend a night in this room that had barely ever been just hers, had always felt more like theirs. She can’t sleep on that bed, no when her last memory of it is being tangled in the sheets with Azzi on a cold wintry morning, their legs intertwined with each other as they’d giggled to themselves in between languid lazy kisses. And maybe it’s pathetic of her but she can’t find it in herself to unmake the bed, not when her last memory of the two of them in this room is her leaning against the wall, shamelessly checking out her girlfriend as Azzi neatly made the bed, chiding Paige for the nth time on the importance of tidiness. 
“When are you gonna learn how to make your bed,” Azzi had sighed. 
Grinning, Paige had wrapped her arms around her girlfriend from behind, slotting her face into the crevice of Azzi’s neck and brushing her lips against the patch of skin, “I know how to make my bed. I just never have to because I’ll always have you to do it for me.”
Except for the last few weeks, Paige has had to make her own bed and she fucking hates it. 
Breathing sharply, Paige slowly backs out of her bedroom, gently pulling the door shut. She leans her forehead against the cool mahogany frame, trying to calm herself down. There’s been a nonstop dull ache in her chest since that night but tonight feels different, like the cold hands of the past have managed to dig under her ribcage and squeeze her heart  -something sharp digging into her arteries- so hard that it hurts just to exist. Paige gives herself a couple more seconds, creating half-moons as she digs her nails into her palms, before she finally pulls away from the door, heading towards her brother’s room down the hall. 
“You know you really should start knocking before you come into my room,” Drew says with a mock annoyance that’s betrayed by his large grin, as Paige slips into his room, “I’m almost a teenager.”
Despite the heaviness that’s still lingering between her lungs, Paige suddenly finds it a lot easier to breathe. Her little brother’s bedroom is dark, save for red LED lights and dim glow of the TV. Drew is reclined on his bed, gripping a white gaming controller between his hands. 
“You’re always gonna be a baby to me Drewski,” she teases, stepping towards him to ruffle his hair, laughing when he ducks her hand and shoots her an irritated glare in response. 
“Not the hair,” he whines and then groans as his eyes flicker back to the screen, towards the game he'd been playing, “damnit Paigey you just got me killed.”
“Hey hey hey, don’t blame me for your incompetence,” Paige chides. 
Drew rolls his eyes, before reaching over to hand over the other controller, “you wanna play?”
Paige shakes her head, gently pushing his hand away, “nah I just-” she chews at her bottom lip, shuffling her feet with uncharacteristic nervousness, “I was just uh- just wondering if I could stay in here tonight? We could have a sleepover? Like old times? Just you and me.”
It’s heartwarming the way her little bother’s eyes light up -like he’s still the little boy that used to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, not almost a teenager who’ll eventually be taller than her- as he nods excitedly, scooching over to give his older sister space on his bed. Paige crawls gingerly onto the bed, hesitating for a second, before she lays her head on her brother’s lap, curling into herself. Drew is warm and inviting and familiar and for a second she almost forgets that serrated pain shooting through her nerves. But then it all comes rushing back and Paige has to swallow harshly to keep herself from giving into the fresh new set of tears that are re-emerging on her waterline. 
“Paigey,” Drew whispers softly as he runs his finger through her delicate blonde hair, clearly sensing something’s wrong, “are you okay?”
“I’m fine Drew,” she means to keep her voice strong but it comes out as broken as she feels. 
“Paigey,” the little boy’s voice is more worried now, “should I call Azzi?” 
This time the whimper escapes before Paige can stop it as she tightly closes her eyes. She knows her brother means well; know that Drew doesn’t really remember Paige without Azzi- doesn’t remember a time before his sister knew how to heal without the brunette’s touch. He’d watched Paige celebrate all her victories with Azzi and he’d seen the same hold his sister in all her tragedies, putting her back together every time she broke with promises of you’ll have always have me. From the moment Drew was old enough to understand his sister’s feelings, he was also perceptive enough to understand that Azzi was always what she needed, no matter how she was feeling. And it’s still true, Paige thinks; she wants nothing more than to say yes, wants nothing more than for Drew to call Azzi, so Paige can tell her how much she fucking misses her- how much she fucking needs her. 
Perhaps it's pride or maybe it’s fear, but Paige doesn’t say what she wants. Instead she vigorously shakes her head in her brother’s lap, “n-no it’s fine. I’m fine. It’s late and Azzi’s busy-”
“Azzi’s never too busy for you,” Drew says indignantly, “I’m gonna call her.”
“Drew stop,” Paige’s voice is much firmer this time as she wraps a strong arm around her little brother’s knee, stopping him from moving, “we’re not calling Azzi.”
She could tell him now. After all, she’s going to have to when he inevitably asks why he hasn’t seen Azzi -why he hasn’t seen the girl who’s been a part of his life for more than half of it- in so long. But even though the words sit scratchily on the tip of her tongue, she still isn’t quite ready to spit them out; isn’t quite ready to confront reality. 
“Why not,” petulance coats Drew’s tone. 
“Because I’m fine and I don’t need- I don’t want to talk to her,” Paige lies. 
The little boy scoffs, “you always want to talk to her.”
He doesn’t know the way that simple sentence turns the cracked pieces of Paige’s heart into dust as she tightens her grips on his leg, “Drew please- please just let it go.”
“Why,” Drew argues stubbornly, “why can’t we call her.”
“We just-” Paige’s voice breaks, as she scrambles to wipe her tears before they can wet her little brother’s shirt, “we just can’t okay?”
And there must be something in her voice -the anguish that no amount of trying is able to hide- that Drew pieces together to understand that this isn’t a battle he can win, no matter how much he and Paige might both want him to. The young boy slowly droops his body back to its reclining position, his fingers returning back to Paige’s hair as he begins to stroke her head again. 
“It’s gonna be okay Paigey,” he whispers with all the hopeful innocence of a blissfully naive little boy, “everything gonna be okay.”
And god does Paige want to believe him. But the courtside seats were empty tonight. And she’s in the DMV with no plans to see the Fudds- to see Azzi. And she’ll never know the ending to that stupid book on her bedside table. 
She wants to believe Drew but Paige isn’t sure how anything’s ever going to be okay again. 
***
May 2033 
It should be a joyful moment -the three most important people in her life congregating together- but instead as Paige quietly observes the scene in her living room -Drew silently seething, Azzi fidgeting nervously with her thumbs and Stephie babbling away amidst it all- she feels suffocated by this heavy gray cloud of apprehension lingering above her head. If she’s honest with herself, she’s been on edge for a couple of days now, since training camp had begun to be precise. Since she’d moved to the Bay Area, everything else in Paige’s world had been eclipsed by Azzi and Stephie. The mother-daughter duo were all-consuming and if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been more than happy to let her thoughts -and her heart- be consumed by nothing but the two of them. 
It had been so easy to forget everything else and the tentative verbal three-way deal she technically had with the Valkyries and the Liberty had pretty much ceased to exist in her thoughts. That is until Angie Davis -the lynchpin in this agreement- had been selected, just as everyone had predicted, to the Valkyries. The Stanford PG had shown up to training camp with a shy smile and an eagerness to learn that all the rest of the vets on the team had warmly embraced. But all Paige saw in the girl was the ticking time bomb of a decision she’d forgotten she’d have to make. And it isn’t just the reminder of the decision that has Paige feeling at unease; it’s why she has to make this decision in the first place, the reason behind why she’d agreed to this deal in the first play, why she’d been so adamant for Talia to make sure she didn’t get stuck here. 
Eight years ago, Azzi Fudd had broken her heart and Paige has spent every moment since, trying to collect the shattered pieces and reassemble them. 
And the last thing Paige had wanted to do was give Azzi the hammer to smash her barely fixed heart again. 
That’s what it had felt like when Talia had first brought up the Valkyries offer. It wasn’t that she and Azzi hadn’t been in each other’s orbit the last couple of years -it was impossible not to- but since the breakup, they’d never been around each other long enough, never quite been in the right situations, for that opportunity to present itself again. But Paige had known that if she came to the Valkyries, it would be an inevitability. That belief had only been strengthened the day she’d visited the Bay Area. She’d been adamant from the second she’d gotten on the flight that she couldn’t be persuaded to join Golden State, no matter how much she respected the organization and how well she’d fit into their system; no matter how much she adored the city and its love for her favorite sport.
But then she’d met a little girl who had an identical smile to the one that had held her captive since she was fifteen and barely knew what love was. And if Stephie with her doe-eyed wisdom that Paige would look great in purple wasn’t enough, then there was Azzi. Paige had expected Azzi to tell her to decline the offer. In a way that’s what she wanted; the masochistic need to feel the sting of that rejection again so she wouldn’t be tempted to burn herself in the fire again. But the brunette had done the opposite and Paige had known by just how quick her resolve had succumbed, that she’d been right to fear the inevitability. And it was that fear that had prompted the verbal agreement with the Liberty; an escape plan she’d forgotten she’d devised. 
Because escaping had been the last thing on Paige’s mind the last few weeks. 
All of Paige’s fears and apprehension had seemed to take a backseat the moment Azzi had smiled -hesitant but real- and said she was ready to try, the moment Stephie’s tiny hands had fit perfectly into her own. 
But she can feel it all coming back now, bubbling to the surface and threatening to spill over like lava, wiping out this paradise she’s been in with Stephie and Azzi. It had started with the reminder of the Liberty deal but it’s Drew’s presence -his scowl directed at Azzi that feels like one of a brother still betrayed on his sister’s behalf- that had heightened it. Her little brother’s anger, and the genuine hurt that lingers behind it, feels like a dark reminder of Paige’s own heartbreak. 
Suddenly she feels like she’s 23, playing her first WNBA game and instead of celebrating a solid debut, she’s sobbing in her little brother’s lap over the girl who had walked away. 
“Miss Buecks,” Paige looks down to find Stephie crawling into her lap, “are we ready to order the pizza now?”
The little girl’s arms wrapping around her neck eases some of Paige’s discomfort as she smiles down at Stephie. 
“I’ve been ready for ages. You were the one yapping away,” she teases. 
Stephie pouts, “I don’t yap,” she turns her body towards Azzi, “Mama I don’t yap do I?”
Azzi’s own tense body seems to relax a little as she smirks at the two of them, “you definitely yap Stephie-”
“Mama,” Stephie protests, looking betrayed. 
“But not nearly as much as your Miss Buecks yaps,” Azzi’s eyes twinkle with mirth as Paige splutters, jaw dropping open with mock offense, “between the two of you, it’s a miracle my poor ears haven’t fallen off.”
“Just for that I’m not adding veggies to the pizza,” Paige sticks her tongue out, causing Stephie to giggle and Azzi to roll her eyes at the display of immaturity. 
Paige slips out her phone, pulling up their usual pizza place on doordash and quickly plugs in her memorized orders for everyone in the room as Stephie gets herself comfortable on the blonde’s lap. The five-year old leans her head back against Paige’s chest, who instinctively wraps her free hand around Stephie’s waist, keeping her securely in place. 
“So uncle Drew,” Stephie says with a grin, slightly leaning forward as she addresses the man sitting rigidly on the edge of the sofa, “did Miss Buecks yap a lot when she was younger too.”
“Be careful how you answer that,” Paige warns with a good natured glare in her brother’s direction, trying to lighten his mood. 
It works to an extent as a small smirk slips onto the edges of Drew’s lip, “oh she was a chronic yapper.”
“What does che-ronic mean?” Stephie asks, scrunching her nose in confusion.
Drew laughs, eyes glittering with mischief, “it means she didn’t know when to shut up.”
“Drew Thomas,” Paige guffaws, “you’re supposed to be my little brother, protecting your older sister’s honor and all of that.”
“Hey,” Drew raises his hand in surrender, “my older sister taught me to never lie, especially not to children.”
“Did you really talk that much?” Stephie asks, turning to Paige with wide eyes. 
“Don’t listen to him Stephie-bean,” the blonde says, brushing her hands through Stephie’s curls, “it’s all bullsh-”
“Paige,” Azzi hisses immediately as the older woman bites her lip to stop the curse word from escaping. 
“Bullsharks,” Paige amends, “fake news. False advertising. I was a calm and quiet kid for sure.”
Drew snorts, leaning back into the sofa and Paige lets out a soft sigh of relief at seeing her brother relax. Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, feeling a sense of calmness when she sees the younger girl’s nervous fidgeting has stilled and there’s a tentative smile on her face. 
 “You weren’t calm or quiet,” he says pointedly. 
“Was too,” Paige argues stubbornly. 
“Yes you were,” Drew presses, “Stephie if you don’t believe me, ask your Mama,” he turns to Azzi, “tell her Azzi. She literally yapped your ear off into becoming your friend.”
Azzi blanches, clearly shocked at having been so cavalierly addressed, and even Paige is a little surprised by the expectant “agree with me look” that Drew is giving the brunette after having spent the last moments practically glaring at her. But really it probably shouldn’t be that surprising. Because Drew and Paige are cut from the same material and letting Azzi into the folds seems to just come naturally to both of them. And it’s so familiar to when they’d all been years and years younger -two college students and a little boy - so familiar to the countless nights spent in Minnesota and DC and Connecticut where several silly arguments like this between Paige and Drew had ultimately ended with them both turning to Azzi -the forever moderator- in hopes that she’d side with them. 
She’d always sided with Drew -much to Paige’s chagrin, though she’d been secretly enamored by the relationship between her girlfriend and her brother- and this time is no different as Azzi shakes off the shock, replacing it with a cheeky expression. 
“Didn’t shut up for 14 whole hours,” she laments, her voice filled with teasing but she smiles at the blonde as if she’s reminiscing it, reminiscing the moment that began it all for them and Paige can’t help the hopelessly sappy smile she gives her in return. 
“14 hours? You talked for 14 whole hours, Miss Buecks?” Stephie’s eyes are comically large as she echoes the number. 
“Of course not,” Paige defends, eyebrows creasing as she glares at the other two adults in the room, “this is bullying. Stephie,” she whines, nuzzling her head into the little girl’s neck, “they’re ganging up on me.”
“There there Miss Buecks,” Stephie says diligently as she pats at the older woman’s cheek. 
“We’re just telling the truth,” Drew shrugs. 
“Exactly,” Azzi nods solemnly, “the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
She grins, reaching her hand out for a high five and Paige watches as Drew raises his own hand, ready to reciprocate. For a second it feels like everything is coming together; like the past could just stay in the past. But then he stops midair. The easy smile fades from his face and the previous tautness comes rushing back. He pulls his hand back, turning away from Azzi, who’s face slowly falls back. The lightheartedness from mere seconds ago is replaced by the tension from before and that burden of all that’s happened between us returns as a heavy weight pressed against Paige’s heart. 
“Paigey used to yap a lot,” Drew says slowly, “like I said you couldn’t get her to shut up and then one day,” he pauses, angry eyes darting towards Azzi, “one day she just got quiet- she shut up- she stopped yapping all the time.”
“Why?” Stephie asks softly, her tone a mixture of concern and genuine curiosity. 
Paige’s arm tightens around the little girl in her lap as she shoots her brother a pleading look, “Drew-”
“Because someone-” there’s so much venom in the word that it makes Azzi visibly flinch and Paige wants to soothe away the creases forming in her forehead, “someone broke her heart. And it took years- it took years to get her back to normal, to get her yapping again. To get my sister back to who she was.”
There’s pindrop silence as Drew seethes at his own words and Azzi rapidly blinks back tears, until Stephie turns around in Paige’s lap, tiny hands cupping the blonde’s face as she tries not to let her emotions show in front of the little girl. 
“Someone broke your heart?” Stephie looks so upset by the idea that Paige wants to vehemently deny it, “how could anyone break your heart Miss Buecks?”
She means well -just a child concerned for one of her favorite people- but she has no idea of the dagger she’s just twisted in her own mother’s heart as a faint whimper escapes Azzi’s lips. Paige opens and closes her mouth, hopelessly looking at the brunette who’s digging her fist into the sofa, despair embedded all over her face. 
“Stephie-” Paige tries to say. 
“Don’t worry kid,” Drew cuts in instead, his voice steady and firm, “it happened once but I won’t-” his eyes burn with fire as he looks at Azzi, “I won’t let it happen again.”
“Stephie,” Paige says quietly after a moment, her gaze transfixed on Azzi whose doing her absolute best not to let her emotions show in front of her little girl, “sweetheart how ‘bout you show Uncle Drew around the house.”
“I don’t want to see the house,” Drew says petulantly as he stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest
“Yes. You. Do.” Paige grits out, trying not to curse when her younger brother rolls his eyes at her. 
“C’mon Uncle Drew,” Stephie says cheerfully as she slips off of Paige’s lap and reaches a hand out for the man instead, “Miss Buecks has a really cool house and maybe we can go steal some of her cool clothes.”
Drew sighs but he’s not immune to Stephie’s infectious energy. A hint of a grin sneaks through the cracks as he accepts the little girl’s offer. Stephie starts to pull him towards the staircase but the perceptive girl stops for a second in front of her mother, a cautious look on her face as Azzi musters up a grin to mollify the little girl's concern and Drew adamantly averts looking at the other woman. 
“Go on bean,” Azzi urges softly, keeping her shaky voice under control, “go show him the house.”
Stephie nods before gently pressing her lips against Azzi’s cheeks, eliciting a deep breath from her mother, before she practically drags Drew towards the staircase, already speaking a mile per minute.  
There’s a pause, filled with a combination of the quiet rumble of Stephie blabbering upstairs and Azzi’s uneven breathing. Then the tears that the brunette had been trying so hard to barricade behind her eyelids starts cascading down her cheeks and Paige almost trips on her own feet as she moves towards her. She falls to her knees in front of Azzi, gently brushing her against her cheek, before wrapping her hands around her tightly formed fists. 
“Baby don’t cry. Please I hate it when you cry,” Paige whispers softly, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s, “he’s just-”
“He’s right,” Azzi cuts her off, shaking her head. 
“Az-”
“He hates me-”
“He doesn’t-”
“He does,” Azzi presses, her tears falling faster now, “and he should. Paige I did break your heart,” they both flinch at the blunt statement, “and he doesn’t trust me because of it and he hasn’t forgiven me for it. I haven’t forgiven me for it.”
“Baby,” Paige echoes again, unsure what else to say. 
“Have you forgiven me?” 
The question lingers in the air as Azzi looks expectantly at her and Paige stumbles over her words, trying to find the right ones. She doesn’t really know how to answer the questions; hadn’t been expecting to be confronted with it tonight. Paige wants to say yes; she wants to take away Azzi’s guilt so fucking bad. These last few weeks had been so perfect, Paige had convinced herself she was over what had happened almost a decade ago. But if she’s honest with herself -if she’s honest to the memories of every night she’d spent sobbing into her pillows, missing the girl in front of her and resenting her for walking away- Paige doesn’t really know if she has forgiven Azzi. 
“Paige?” Azzi ask again, her voice breaking on the one syllable. 
Paige’s face crumbles as she looks at the girl defenselessly, “ Az, I-”
The doorbell rings at the exact moment and Stephie comes excitedly barrelling down the staircase as the two women scramble away from each other, trying to compose themselves. 
“Miss Buecks, Mama,” the younger girl hollers, “pizza’s here.”
Paige looks at Azzi who’s rushing to wipe away the remnants of her tears. She opens her mouth, desperately willing herself to find something, anything that could offer the girl in front of her some comfort; that could take their relationship away from the precipice of this cliff they’ve somehow found themselves on. But the right words don’t materialize and instead Paige closes her mouth and turns away, slowly heading towards Stephie as Azzi’s question continues to wreak havoc in her mind. 
And she wishes she could rewind the clock and freeze them where they had been just a couple of hours ago, freeze them in a moment where the past hadn’t weighed so heavily on the present. But perhaps the past had always been there and they’d simply just done a marvelous job ignoring it. Except tonight, they can’t seem to ignore it anymore. 
***
Paige thinks pizza has never tasted so terrible in her life. The mood at her basically unused dining table is numbingly sober; even Stephie has stopped her chatter, the little girl clearly picking up on the tense atmosphere around her as she quietly nibbles away at her slice of pizza. It’s in stark contrast to the innumerable dinners they’d had in the last three weeks; the three of them -Paige, Azzi and Stephie in between them- at the table or the counter or sometimes even the couch, raucous with laughter and smiles. Paige doesn’t understand how moments can shift like this; how last night could have been filled with giggles and grins and tonight is filled with nothing but a silence filled with too many unspoken words.
Her eyes flicker over to Azzi, who’s making a concerted effort to keep her own everted from both Bueckers siblings. The brunette’s question from before feels like a loud horn blaring in Paige’s ears, one that she can’t seem to find the off-switch for no matter how hard she searches for it. They’re barely a couple feet apart, sitting opposite each other with Drew next to Paige and Stephie next to Azzi, but the width of the table feels like it stretches for miles. Paige misses the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against hers, misses the sly brush of their hands before their fingers would inevitably curl around each other’s underneath the table where Stephie couldn’t see. 
“Miss Buecks,” Paige swallows, trying to shake off the feeling of is this us crumbling again, as she diverts attention to Stephie who’s smiling at her with that cheeky grin that means she wants something. 
“What’s up Stephie-bean?” Paige asks and she’s convinced there’s magic in the little girl’s existence because despite the tightness she still feels in her chest, having Stephie close feels like a reason for her to breathe through it. 
“Can I have a soda?” Stephie asks, using the palm of her hands to frame her slightly tilted face as she juts out her bottom lip in a pleading. 
Paige grins, ready to concede as she often is with the little girl but Azzi speaks first, “no soda Stephie.”
Stephie pouts, “why not?”
“Because I said so,” Azzi says bluntly and Paige is taken back by the sharpness of it. 
“Mama please,” Stephie begs, “please, please, please.”
“No Stephie,” there’s a warning edge to Azzi’s tone but Stephie doesn’t pay much heed to it continuing to plead and the irritation on her mother’s face -clearly exacerbated by other things- gets more and more apparent. 
“Please Mama. Pizza just doesn’t go down right without soda,” the little girl argues, “can I please just have a little bit. Just a teeny tiny bit Please, please pretty please please-”
“Stephie, no” Azzi repeats, pinching the bridge of her nose as Drew and Paige exchange nervous glances. 
“Stephie, yes,” the little girl argues, stubbornly crossing her hands over her chest. 
“Ste-”
“I want soda. I want soda. Please, please, please, plea-”
“I said no Stephanie,” Azzi all but yells, startling Stephie into being quiet and making both Drew and Paige flinch. The little girl is wide-eyed for a second -not used to anything but her mother’s normally gentle way of dealing with her occasional brattiness- before her lips begin to tremble and big fat tears begin to spill down her cheeks. She scrambles out of her chair, beelining towards Paige and climbing onto her lap as she burrows her face into the blonde’s neck, wetting her shirt with tears. 
“Shhh, shhh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige whispers to the little girl, gently rocking the two of them back and forth as she strokes her hair. 
She glances at Azzi, who’s adamantly looking, her face stone cold but regret gleaming in her eyes, “Az-”
“No,” the younger woman says immediately. 
“C’mon,” Paige says exasperatedly, “you don’t even know what I was gonna say.”
“If it’s about giving her a soda, I don’t wanna hear it,” Azzi warns, “you can’t just give into all of her demands all the time, you have to learn to say no and she needs to learn to hear it.”
“I hear you but Az it’s a Friday-”
“Paige-”
“A tiny bit of soda to start the weekend can’t hurt. In fact,” Paige smirks down at the little girl in her lap as she coaxes Stephie’s face out of her neck so she can wipe away the tears on her blotchy red face, “I think a little soda to start the weekend is probably good for you.”
She feels her heart soar when it makes Stephie giggle, letting out a couple teary hiccoughs in between as she clutches onto Paige. 
“I think so too Mama,” the little girl echoes, looking back at her mother with a timid grin. 
“Give in Azzi,” Paige matches the pleading smile on Stephie’s face as she turns her focus onto the brunette, “she deserves a little treat 
“I know what she deserves. I think I know what’s good for my daughter,” Azzi says steely and Paige feels something cold squeezing through her ribcage, “no soda Stephie. End of discussion.”
My daughter. 
The thing is Paige doesn’t even really think she has the right to be upset over Azzi’s statements. Really, it’s nothing but the truth. Stephie is Azzi’s daughter and Azzi definitely knows what’s good for her daughter. So why does it sting like this? Why does it feel like little shards of ice piercing into her heart, leaving deep gashes that have her whole body feeling like it’s freezing over? Paige knows why, knows that these past weeks had been enough to trick her mind into believing the mirage that Stephie was hers. But now Azzi’s flicked her fingers against it causing the whole fantasy to come crashing down and Paige feels herself slowly getting buried under the rubble of it. 
“Right," she says softly, trying to keep her voice steady, “she’s your daughter and you know best,” she ignores the tinge of guilt in Azzi’s eyes as she turns to Stephie who looks like she’s ready to protest again, “you heard your Mama Stephie. No soda tonight.”
“But Miss Buecks-” Stephie whines. 
“No sweetheart,” Paige says gently, shaking her head. 
The little girl narrows her eyes before letting out a frustrated groan as she slips off of Paige’s lap. She loudly stomps her feet, glaring at all the adults in the room before she angrily storms upstairs. It’s so unlike the usually even-keeled little girl that Paige thinks it’s probably a reaction to the tension she can sense between the adults. Her eyes drift over Drew -who’s chewing at his lips in a similar manner to how his big sister often does- before locking with Azzi’s and she feels that familiar guilt of there’s always collateral damage for our mistakes pooling at the pit of her stomach. The brunette breaks eye contact first, letting out a heavy sigh before she follows behind her daughter and Paige lets her face fall into her hands, 
It feels like everything’s in free fall, like during an earthquake when everything shakes and the books -the complicatedly tangled stories of the past and present- go flying from their shelves. Paige rubs at her eyelids, trying to make this helpless feeling go away. Her fingers are coiled tightly around a rope, just like they had been on that night eight years ago and just like that night, she can feel the tips of them starting to bleed. She can feel Drew’s gaze fixated on her; can tell he’s contemplating whether to say something or not. Swallowing, Paige pulls her face out of her palms to look at her brother, a decisively defiant expression on her face. 
“Something you wanna say?” she asks him, cocking her eyebrows as if she’s daring him to speak. 
Drew hesitates for a second before an almost identical expression crosses his face, “what the fuck are you doing Paige?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paige replies airly. 
Drew narrows his eyes at her, “seriously?”
“Seriously,” Paige shrugs. 
“This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement Paige,” Drew says, ignoring the way his sister flinches at the reminder as he drops his voice lower so they can’t be overheard, “you were supposed to be with Golden State for one season, hopefully win a championship and then you’d be off to New York at the end. That was the plan but clearly all of that has gone flying out the window. You’re getting attached to this city, this life, to them.” 
A barely believable “of course I’m not,” flutters weakly off of Paige’s lip as she blinks rapidly at the accusation. 
“Oh for fucks sake,” Drew curses, “Paige your bed looks like it hasn’t been slept in, in days. There’s almost no groceries in your fridge or your pantry. From what I saw of the garden, it’s basically been left for dead. Your closet is half empty and it sure as shit isn’t because they’re all in the laundry because as Stephie puts it, Azzi says that their laundry basket is three times heavier than it used to be with all your clothes.”
“I-I don’t-” Paige stutters, “that- that doesn’t- doesn’t mean-”
“It’s been two months -if even that- two months Paige and I think you're in even deeper now than you were the last time,” Drew spits the last two words out bitterly like their flames on the tip of his tongue and the sparks of it singe Paige’s skin. 
“That’s not- I’m not-” she tries to justify but it sounds hollow to her own ears. 
“You are,” Drew says exasperatedly, “what are you gonna do when she walks away again? When she lets you go again, what are you gonna do Paige?”
Her little brother isn’t cruel but Paige swears she’s never heard anything more aimed to hurt than these perfectly directed arrows he’s launching straight at her heart. The defense of she’s not going to leave me stays stuck in her throats, battling against the harsh thoughts of she already has that are taunting her. 
“She- I- you- this- I don’t- you can’t-” Paige doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say; she feels like a fish spluttering outside of the water, desperate to breathe air that seems to kill her the more she inhales it. 
Drew looks away, his face crumpling slightly, a mixture of sadness and guilt gleaming in his eyes, and Paige can tell that he hates himself a little for being the one to cause her this torment, the one to make her face the darkest possibility of her reality. 
“I was there Paige,” he says softly, “I was the one who watched you break in ways that I didn’t even think you were breakable,” his voice snaps, “and I was the one who watched how hard you had to work to put yourself back together. I don’t wanna see any of that again.”
“Drew,” Paige whispers. 
“And it wasn’t just her,” Drew continues, “you lost her family too.”
Paige gulps at the reminder, “they were still there. They came to games. They were at my wedding.”
Drew shakes his head, “but it wasn’t the same and you know it. You lost her and you lost them and this time,” he bites his lip, like he wishes the next words weren’t sitting on his vocal chords, waiting to spill out, “this time, if you lose her, you’ll lose a lot more.”
“What do you-” Paige heistates, unsure if she even wants to ask, “what do you mean?”
Her little brother pauses, mouth opening and closing like it’s painful to speak, before his eyes drift towards the stairs and Paige feels her heart sinking even before Drew says the words she knows he’s about to say. 
“You’ll lose her daughter. You’ll lose Stephie.”
“No,” the whispered syllable is out before Paige can even stop it, “no, no, no, no-”
“Paige-”
“Stop it Drew,” the blonde says louder than she wanted to as she clutches at her heart, trying to keep it whole as the tears overflow over her waterline. 
“Stop what Paige? Stop saying things you already know deep down but are choosing to ignore? Is that what you want me to stop doing?” Drew asks harshly. 
“Drew-”
“There’s a reason you didn’t want to commit to the Valkyries and you know it. There’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season.” her younger brother says firmly. 
“I know,” Paige whispers, “I know.”
Drew’s eyes soften, “stick to plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”
Paige bites her lip so hard, she can taste that morbid taste of iron on her lips as she opens her mouth to say something. She’s not sure if it’s to argue with Drew or to agree and she doesn’t get a chance to find out. Instead there’s a sharp intake of breath and then a quiet, timid voice laced with accusation and Paige feels the blood drain out of her body as she slowly turns around to find Stephie and Azzi -their faces ashen with identical expressions of betrayal- staring at her. 
“Miss Buecks, you’re moving to New York?”
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spiicii · 2 days ago
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the og bloodline  / bloodline property (part one)
jey uso / jimmy uso / roman reigns / solo sikoa x fem!reader  word count → 4k summary →  you belong to the bloodline, in every sense of the word. and your job is to serve. tags → multiple partners, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, hair-pulling, praise kink, daddy kink, possessive behavior, hickies, dom/sub dynamics, vaginal sex, creampie, begging, light choking, crying, overstimulation
“Fuck, you feel perfect,” Jey groaned in your ear, his hands braced on either side of your head as he continued to thrust into you. You opened your legs wider to provide more access, allowing him to grind deeper, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix. 
Jey always started with you first. He was so good at getting you open and relaxed, so much sweeter in comparison to his brothers. He was always gentle, pressing chaste kissing against your cheek as he made sure you felt good. With Jey, it wasn’t just sex. He wanted to make you happy. Wanted you to enjoy it. 
“You gon’ hurry the fuck up or what?” You heard Jimmy snap, always impatient. 
Jey threw an annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Chill out, uce. We ain’t in a rush.”
Jimmy let out a huff, pacing the length of the room in frustration. “You takin’ too fuckin’ long. She needs a real man to show her what’s up.”
Jey curled his lip, a scathing remark on his tongue, before Roman’s booming voice interrupted them. “You'll get your turn soon enough.”
You couldn’t see him, not as Jey kept you caged between his arms, impaled on his cock, but Roman's next words left no room for argument. “Enough with the bickering." 
The twins obeyed, though you could still see the annoyance on Jey’s face as he looked back down at you. 
“Just ignore him, babygirl,” he whispered, peppering your neck with soft kisses. “You know I ain’t gon’ leave you hangin’. You know I always give you whatchu want.”
He always did. 
You felt his hand reach down between the two of you, his long fingers finding that small, sensitive bud with ease. You felt sparks shoot down your spine at his touch, your legs falling open further just so you could feel more. 
He chuckled against your skin, picking up the pace of both his hips and his fingers, pushing you closer and closer to your release. 
He leaned up and brushed his lips against yours. They were soft, his kiss gentle as he continued to fuck into you, his fingers playing so perfectly with your clit that you found yourself writhing against him. 
You threw your head back and searched for Roman, your mouth open as soft moans fell from your lips. 
“Please, Daddy,” you begged, your thighs beginning to shake. “Please, can I come?” 
The Tribal Chief was the only one who could grant you permission and you were pleased when you heard him off to the side, out of your line of vision, say, “You can come, pretty girl.”
The orgasm was perfect. It always was with Jey. Pleasure unfurled from your core as you sank deeper into the mattress, your muscles relaxing as the tension released. Jey wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering against yours. 
“Gonna fill you up, babygirl,” he gasped in your ear and that was the only warning you got before you felt him paint your walls white, warmth spreading inside of you at the feeling. He let out a contented sigh, continuing to press sweet kisses into your skin. 
“You did so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing another kiss against your lips. You offered him a lazy smile, your eyes still glazed over from the pleasure he’d given you. 
“Alright, alright, come on, uce. Move it.” Jimmy was already at your side, shoving at Jey in an effort to get him off of you. 
Jey scowled, but he slowly pulled out of you, your body shivering from the feeling of emptiness. 
“Will you chill out for two fucking seconds? Jesus, you act like you ain’t ever gon’ get a turn.” 
“I been waitin’ all day. And I ain’t got time to sit here while you doin’…whatever that was.”
“Man, if you don’t-”
“Enough.” Roman’s voice quickly shut them up. He was used to this. The twins almost always bickered when they fucked you together. It was just their way. They were too competitive. And a little too possessive for someone they were meant to share. 
Jey threw you a cheeky wink before finally climbing off of you, Jimmy already tangling his fingers into your hair and pulling you up to meet him. 
“Been waitin’ to fuck this pretty pussy all day, little girl,” he growled, quickly hauling you to your feet. Jey preferred to fuck you in missionary, his face close to yours so he could kiss you and watch your eyes cross in pleasure. Jimmy, on the other hand, almost always fucked you from behind, holding you out on display for the entire world to see. He enjoyed grabbing you by the hair, your tits bouncing as he pounded into you from the back. 
As he manhandled you into position, you met Roman’s gaze. He was sitting in the chair near the door, watching you with hooded eyes as Jimmy shoved you forward onto the bed, his hands gripping your hips brutally as he lined up behind you. 
The Tribal Chief was generous and usually let his cousins go first on nights like this. He wasn’t hurried, knowing that you’d be begging for his cock by the end of it anyways. You may be Bloodline property, but Roman was the chief. You belonged to him. 
Jimmy pushed into you, his cock thicker than Jey’s, causing your back to arch at the feeling. He let out a chuckle, grabbing a fistful of your hair. “So fucking tight,” he hissed, beginning to pump in and out of you. “You sure you fucked her, Jey?” 
“Fuck off, man.” 
You glanced over and saw that Jey was standing near Solo, both of them watching as Jimmy pounded into you from behind. Solo was always difficult to read, his eyes dark as he stared at you. Had it been a few months ago, you wouldn’t have known what he was thinking. Now you knew that the distinctive twinkle in his eye was lust, the barest, imperceptible tick of a jaw the only sign of his impatience. 
He’d have a turn after Jimmy. That was how things usually went. If the Bloodline was anything, it was traditional. All four men were creatures of habit, which is perhaps why it hadn’t taken long for you to learn their routine, easily falling into their lifestyle. It had been difficult at first, managing all of their varying personalities, their different schedules, but you had learned. 
Now as Jimmy continued to drill into you from the back, the tug on your hair bordering on painful, you were reminded of the very first lesson you had learned with them: you belonged to the Bloodline, in every sense of the word. They had claimed you. Owned you. Body and soul. 
Jimmy shifted the angle of his hips, and you felt stars explode across your vision as he hit your g-spot with devastating accuracy, your knees almost buckling from how good it felt.
Jimmy pulled tighter on your hair and your mouth fell open, soft moans spilling from your parted lips. You heard Jimmy chuckle, his other hand gripping your hip so hard you knew it would bruise. 
“What a good slut,” he snarled, his pace relentless as he bullied you towards your next orgasm. “You gonna come on this dick?” 
You tried to nod but his grip on your hair made it impossible. Jimmy growled, smacking your ass for good measure as he kept up the brutal pace. The roughness of his thrusts combined with his incessant abuse against your g-spot had you spiraling towards orgasm. Again. 
“Please, Daddy,” you begged, meeting the Tribal Chief’s gaze as Jimmy pulled on your hair so hard again tears sprung into your eyes. “Please, can I come?”
Roman’s eyes were dark, his face unreadable as he replied. “Come again, sweetheart.” 
You felt the tension inside you snap, Jimmy wringing the orgasm from your body with each sharp thrust of his hips. Your walls contracted around him, causing him to groan. 
“That’s right, little girl. Imma finish right here inside you. Right where I belong. Fuck!” 
Jimmy yanked at your hair so hard that you were forced to stand, his hands now wrapping around your neck as he pulled you back against his chest. His grip tightened and you felt him release inside you, a new warmth spreading between your legs as he finished. 
The world was still for a moment, your ears ringing like a jet had just flown by, until Jimmy finally relaxed, slowly loosening his fingers from the tight grip he’d kept on your neck. 
“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. He slowly pulled out of you, and you whimpered, feeling some of his come leak out and trickle down your leg. Jimmy chuckled, pressing another kiss into your hair. This was the only time he was sweet like his twin, the post-orgasmic bliss making him tender and soft. You melted in his arms, allowing him to lay you softly back on the bed. He gently pushed you back against a pillow, his hands warm against your heated skin. “You always so good for me, pretty girl.” 
You leaned into his touch and Jimmy smiled, brushing a few stray hairs from your face. He soon moved away, another hand now on your face, this one much bigger. 
“You feeling good, sweetheart?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was low in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his breath fanned across your neck. “Need your Daddy to take care of you?” 
You let out a low whine, already reaching out for him, despite the gooey feeling in your arms. You heard Roman let out a low chuckle, sitting up against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You went easily, allowing his strong arms to wrap around you and bring you closer, your legs falling on either side of his hips to straddle him. 
You realized now that things were not following their usual order. Usually, it was Solo who went next, leaving hickies and marks across your neck and chest as he fucked into you. You turned around instinctively to look for him, your brow furrowed in worry. 
“Aw, you worried about Solo, babygirl?” Roman’s tone was patronizing, roughly grabbing your chin to look back at him. “Don’t want him to feel left out?” 
You whimpered as he kept a tight grip on your chin, his eyes blazing with intensity as he looked up at you. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, releasing your chin to cup your cheek. “Solo will get his turn. I just couldn’t wait any longer. You looked too perfect tonight. I just couldn’t help myself…” 
He ran his hands across your body, admiring the way you reacted to his touch, your hips already rolling forward to meet the erection that was nudging against your inner thigh. He allowed you to take what you wanted, sinking onto his cock with ease, your toes curling at the full feeling inside of you. 
“Good girl,” he praised, running his hands along your sides, his face now close to yours as he pressed sweet kisses against your jaw. “You like sitting in Daddy’s lap?” 
You nodded, reaching out to touch the beautifully sculpted muscles of his chest as you began to move your hips, never taking your eyes off his. 
The Tribal Chief was smirking at you, his large hands encircling your torso. “Such an eager slut, aren’t you, sweetheart? Already been fucked twice and you still want more?” 
You rolled your hips again in answer to his question, the feeling of him inside you erasing all thoughts from your brain, bliss overtaking your body. He always made you feel like this, his cock so thick and long that it completely filled you up, hitting that perfect spot inside of you with every thrust, no matter the angle. You could have sworn your insides had morphed to fit him perfectly and he seemed to agree. 
“Like you were made for me, baby. Such a good girl for your Tribal Chief.” 
Your eyes fluttered at his praise, rolling your head back as he pressed wet kisses to your exposed neck, teeth nipping at the pulse point beneath your jaw. You felt yourself clench around him and he laughed, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass as you began to grind on top of him. 
“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” Roman’s voice was a low growl, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. “Gonna take what you want from me?” 
“Yes, please,” you moaned, grinding further down so your clit could make contact with his skin. “Please, Daddy. I want you so bad.” 
He laughed, the sound rumbling through the large expanse of his chest. “‘Atta girl,” he praised, allowing you to control the pace. “Take what you want. I’m all yours, sweetheart.” 
Yours. Yours. Yours. 
You lifted your hips and sank down again, gratified to hear the Tribal Chief make a pleased sound beneath you. You don’t often get him to ride him like this. He’s normally grabbing you and taking what he wants, almost always manhandling you to show off his incredible strength. Seeing him laid beneath you, his arm slung lazily behind his head as he watched you bounce up and down was rare. And you wanted to enjoy it. 
You planted your hands against his tattooed chest, attempting to gain more leverage to lift yourself higher, moaning at the feeling of his dick splitting you open as you straddled him. You picked up the pace, the feeling of him inside you sending tendrils of pleasure shooting across your body. 
“That’s it,” Roman encouraged, using his free hand to keep you steady above him, his touch keeping you grounded. “Don’t hurt yourself now. I’m not going anywhere, pretty girl.” 
You obeyed, slowing your movements, but only a little. You rocked up and down, throwing your head back in pleasure. He made you feel so good. You weren’t sure how it was possible to feel this good, your skin tingling all over, soft pants falling from your open mouth as you rode him. 
“Greedy thing, ain’t she, uce?” You heard Jimmy’s voice somewhere behind you, but you could hardly focus on it, tension beginning to coil inside you for a third time as you took what the Tribal Chief offered you. 
Roman chuckled at his words, watching you with amusement as you bounced on his dick in desperation, chasing your own pleasure. 
“So greedy she needs four men to take care of her, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 
You nodded at his words though you were having difficulty hearing him, your own heartbeat in your ears. 
Roman growled and pulled you closer, no longer lounging against the headboard as he wrapped his arms around you. This angle pushed him deeper inside and you gasped, stars exploding across your vision. 
He began moving his own hips, thrusting up into you with easy strength, one of his hands tangling in your hair. He was impossibly deep now, and you felt your pussy spasm at the feeling. 
“I know I let you fuck my cousins,” he growled in your ear, your pussy clamping down on him as he thrust into you harder. “But who do you really belong to? Who owns you, pretty girl?” 
You were barely moving on your own now, Roman now fully taking control and shoving his cock deeper and deeper into you until you felt like you might pass out. Still, you somehow found the words he wanted to hear. “You, Daddy. I belong to you.” 
The grip on your hair tightened and you felt his cock twitch inside of you. He was close. And so were you. 
“Please,” you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. “Please, can I come, Daddy? Please?” 
“Come, pretty girl. Come on your Daddy’s dick.” 
This orgasm was brutal, your thighs shaking in pleasure beneath Roman’s large hands. You felt yourself gush around his massive length, triggering his own finish. You heard him let out a groan, his grip on you tightening as he came. 
He pumped a few more times into you, just to ensure that you took every last drop of his seed, before finally holding you still, his breath warm against your neck. 
“Good girl,” he praised, releasing the grip on your hair and allowing your head to fall against his shoulder. “Such a good slut. You did so well.” 
Your limbs felt heavy, your body now sensitive after three orgasms so close together. You shivered as Roman pulled out of you, more come dribbling out of your leaking cunt onto the bed below. Your breath was shaky, your muscles trembling from exertion. 
“Come get her, Solo. She’s ready for you.” 
You could barely register the Tribal Chief’s words, suddenly feeling your body being lifted off of him and into someone else’s arms. Solo’s arms. You immediately relaxed, nuzzling against his neck, body limp as he carried you. 
He set you down gently against the mattress, propping you up against a pillow before climbing on top of you without much preamble. You opened your eyes to look up at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach as you met his intense gaze. His dark eyes were fiery, his jaw clenched as he looked down at you. His gold chain dangled in front you, glinting in the bedroom light.
“Solo,” you breathed, his name easy on your lips. He hardly ever spoke to you, but you had learned that he appreciated it when you spoke to him, even if he didn’t always show it. You reached up and placed a hand against his cheek, offering him a smile. 
“She looks so fucked out, uce,” you heard one of the twins say. “Think you can get her to come again? She might be done.” 
Solo’s eyes narrowed, the only sign that he was annoyed at his brother’s words. You knew that he didn’t mind fucking you like this, your body soft and pliable beneath his large hands, so easy for him to manhandle into any position he wants.
When he pressed his thick cock into you, you felt your eyes roll back into your head, the feeling bordering the fine line between pain and pleasure. 
He was thicker than all of them and you usually had to take at least one of his brothers first just to prepare yourself. Even now you’d taken three dicks, and you still weren’t prepared for the burn as he stretched you out, small puffs of air escaping from your parted lips. 
Solo let out a low groan as he gave you another inch, his mouth already latching onto your neck as he suckled a bruise against your skin. He loved marking you up, more possessive than either of his brothers. He wanted the whole world to know that you were his, more than happy to mottle your neck and chest with bruises. He finally bottomed out and you let out a whimper at the feeling, the burn at being stretched by his massive girth positively delicious. But he didn’t move. You met his gaze and saw that he was looking at you, almost expectantly. He wanted to hear it. Wanted to know that you needed him. 
“Please, Solo,” you begged, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “I need it. I need you. Please.” 
His eyes darkened and before you fully realized it, he was pulling out and ramming back in, the thrust sending tendrils of pleasure up your spine as his thick cock massaged your walls. You couldn’t help the embarrassing whine that escaped your throat, overstimulation prickling at your exhausted muscles. 
Solo continued to grind into you, his lips attaching themselves to your neck again, another bruise blossoming beneath his mouth. Solo had always been good at keeping you right on the edge between pain and pleasure, whether it was his massive cock splitting you open or his lips suckling a bruise beneath your jaw. It always left you head spinning, the feeling so euphoric that you almost feel like you’re floating. 
His teeth grazed the delicate skin against your windpipe, and you moaned again, wrapping your legs around his waist just to pull him closer to you. 
“Need you so bad, Solo,” you pleaded, looking back up at him in desperation. “Please, I can’t…I can’t-”
Another one of his thrusts had you whining, pleasure licking across your tired limbs like wildfire. Your nails dug into his shoulder as you pulled him close, the sound of his name leaving your lips spurring him on as he continued to drill into you.
Solo leaned down and you felt his lips ghost across the shell of your ear. “You want me, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice so low that only you could hear. You let out a gasp as he dragged across your g-spot, his thrusts sending you closer and closer to the edge. 
“I want you so bad,” you whimpered, pressing small kisses against his neck. “Please, I need you. Give it to me, please. Please…”
You couldn’t speak anymore. Not as his hips snapped against yours, tension growing in your abdomen at the feel of him inside you. He reached around and grabbed one of your thighs, pushing it forward to allow better access to your puffy cunt. A strangled moan escaped your lips, and you felt like he was splitting you in half, your g-spot so abused by now that you weren’t sure you could take it anymore. 
You opened your mouth, trying to form the words on your lips, but you couldn’t. Your head felt empty, Solo’s cock pistoning in and out of you with such force that you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk again for days. 
“Daddy,” you managed to whisper, your eyes glazing over as Solo grunted, raising up your other leg to push you into a full mating press. A strangled scream ripped from your throat and tears sprung into your eyes. You were completely helpless beneath him now, pinned to the bed beneath his massive weight, his cock feeling like it was sawing you in half. 
The tension inside you was coiling again, but you still couldn’t find the words to ask for permission, your head feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton. There was only one word you could think of. 
“Daddy.” 
You repeated his name like a mantra, your body no longer your own as Solo drilled into you, your legs next to your ears. 
“What is it, sweetheart?” 
You heard the Tribal Chief’s voice and almost wept at the sound. 
“Daddy, please.” You still couldn’t find the words, your eyes unable to focus on anything except Solo’s dark eyes, dangerously close to the edge of your fourth orgasm. 
“Use your words, princess. What do you need?” The Tribal Chief’s voice was soft, and you felt your entire body tense. 
“I can’t…” You gasped, Solo’s face blurring as tears began to fall. “Please…I can’t…” 
“Yes, you can.” Roman’s voice was firmer now, and you knew it would displease him if you came without permission. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.” 
Solo’s hand found your clit and you screamed again, though this time you used your words. “Please, can I come? Please, please, please.” 
“Come, slut.” 
Your vision went white. The pleasure was so intense that your entire body shook, walls spasming helplessly around Solo’s massive cock. You wanted to move, but you were still pinned to the bed, your feet still by your ears as Solo held you down. You were vaguely aware of the sounds you were making, alternating between high-pitched whines and fucked-out whimpers. You might have been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so fucking good. 
“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Solo grunted in your ear, finally spilling into you as he chased his own pleasure, coating your insides with his seed. 
You weren’t sure what happened after that. Your vision was blurry with tears, your throat hoarse from your screams. You felt Solo finally release you, leaning up and allowing your legs to fall back onto the bed. You felt his come trickle from your abused hole, all mixed together from the multiple loads you’d taken from his brothers and cousin. 
You felt someone’s lip on your forehead, pressing a tender kiss to your fevered brow. “Such a good girl.” he murmured, his tone soft. “You serve my bloodline so well.” 
187 notes · View notes
poguehearted77 · 13 hours ago
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Just Another Cliché
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Summary: Rafe has been asking to take you out for years and you always shoot him down, after a particularly bad day, you decide things can't get much worse.
<<Here's some fluffy angst for those who need it>>
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Shitty was an understatement for the day you had. This day will go down in history as the worst day any soul has ever lived through.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." The murmur is bitter on your tongue as you stuff your hands deeper into your warm pockets. The breath of your words were visible in the crisp winter air as you were about to pass by Rafe Cameron who waited patiently outside of your apartment building with a single rose just like he always did.
Since your senior year of high school, every year on the fourteenth of February, he would wait outside your complex, asking you out, then you say no, then he goes home. That's the tradition.
Well, technically you never said no. You'd always make up some excuse. 'I don't have time for a relationship right now' or 'Now's a bad time' are just a few of the examples you've used over the last five years.
It's not that there was anything wrong with him. You actually did find him attractive. Aside from the sketchy reputation he had going for him back in high school, he was still a relatively nice guy.
You just didn't have the time for a relationship, or at least you didn't before.
A small smile forms on his face as he sees you, already knowing what to expect. Another excuse like "Fine," yup, just as he thought- Wait.
"Say that again?" His head shakes in disbelief, blue eyes bulging slightly. Your shoulders shrug under your heavy-duty winter jacket. "My car was towed, then I lost my job, so why not lose my dignity too? Let's go out." You say and his heart begins to bounce off the confines of his ribs.
Not sure if it was the frosty air nipping at his cheeks or his lifetime wish finally unwrapping before his eyes, his cheeks flushed and he blinked a few times. "You won't regret this, I promise." he holds out the rose for you to take, and you finally do. For the first time in five years. You bite back a scoff, not in the mood for empty promises.
"Why haven't you given up yet?" You ask and now he places his hands in his pockets as a chilling breeze sweeps past you. He's rocking back on his heels slightly, "Life's too short to give up." The tiny smile on his face does make you scoff this time but he moves past it, "I'll text you later," is the last thing he says before he walks off.
You look down at the rose, then at his shrinking figure as he heads for the distance. A little pep in his step and you shook your head, immediately regretting your decision.
Great, this is exactly what you needed, another cliché.
-
Just another cliché is exactly what it was. On the lowest day of your life, you finally gave Rafe a chance. Of course, he changes your life in ways you couldn't imagine and leaves you with a dead weight of regret for not giving in sooner.
Your first date wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was fun. The two of you were inexperienced skaters failing to skate in the middle of the town square during the heart of winter. With festive lights outlining the rink where you laughed every time one of you fell.
There was even a point in time when you'd both embraced the cold connection with the ice floor and had a deep conversation on the sidelines, watching the other skaters circle the rink.
"Why me?" The question slips out before you can catch it and he licks his lips. He anticipated the query would arise eventually. "You remember that party Hailey Vanderbilt threw back in senior year?"
You hum with a nod, that was a party you'll never forget. Pool toys ended up in the trees, broken windows, jello in the hot tub, fights in the front yard and gambling in the back. "You and a few of the girls were playing truth or dare and they had dared you to start a rumour that I'd shaved my head because my family had joined some cult or some shit."
It took you a second, but the memory came back to you. "You don't know this, but I was fucking wasted behind the couch, but I'll never forget the way you stood up for me to them and refused to do it, and I dunno, I jus' think that was really cool of you." His head turns to you, his gaze softening when he looks at you.
At that moment, you felt the butterflies flap around in your stomach for the first time. He clears his throat, expression becoming more sombre as he continues. "My mom," He starts, taking a difficult swallow to get the words out.
"She was really sick. I got caught up with the wrong crowd to deal with it. Doing anything people said would get me distracted, even for a little, but she got worse and me being high every day didn't help so I quit. Her chemo was taking everything from her and eventually, she just shaved it off, she hated looking in the mirror and it killed me."
Your chest tightened at the story, having a sneaking suspicion of where this was going, "So when you shaved your head..." You trail off and Rafe nods along, turning away from you as a stray tear falls. "It was for her. You sticking up for me meant so much more than you know."
So there you both sat, on the ice with your backs against the wall in silence while the faint Christmas music chimed in the background. The date had taken a sad turn but you're glad it did, it sparked the beginning of your forever-evolving bond.
That was only the first date of many. Dozens and dozens of dates had flown past you and with each one you hated yourself a little more for letting him stand outside of your complex for five years rather than invite him inside.
"This is a nice place." He compliments as he takes a look around before settling himself on the couch with you beside him. "Thanks, it used to be a lot nicer when I could afford it. Had to sell some stuff to keep it after I lost my job."
He chuckles, "That explains why we're facing a blank wall and no television." and you pinch him. "Sacrifices had to be made. Who needs a TV anyways when there's so many other things we could do to keep ourselves busy." Your wandering hand gently runs down his firm thigh and you can feel the muscles in his leg tighten.
This was unchartered territory for you. You'd been dating for almost three months now and have never been intimate in that way, but Rafe knew the kind of person you were. A perfectionist, you need to be sure of everything before you try it.
Based on how fervently you were currently kissing along the length of his neck he could assume he had a pretty good idea of where your head was at. "Baby, baby--" He struggles to keep you at bay so he can lock eyes with you. "Are you sure about this? We don't have-" You silence him with the passionate attack of your lips against his.
Nearly tackling him onto his back, your hips straddling his as you demonstrated your certainty to him.
-
The months went on and sleepovers became more frequent. Even when Rafe had that tired look in his eye which was more often these days, you kept him up with your bright eyes and wide smile as you explained to him the newest conspiracy that intrigued you.
He tried his best to listen to what you were saying but he'd often lose himself in the labyrinth of his own mind. You were just so cute when you were talking about what you were passionate about. Especially when you wore the glasses you cursed so much, opting for contacts during the day.
"Why don't you wear your glasses more often?" He asks and you frown, "Rafee, did you hear anything I just said?" He nods, "Of course I did. I heard every last word.... up until about five minutes ago." You whine and he hugs you tight as an apology, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.
You couldn't stay mad at him. That was proven time and time again when even your biggest fights would be resolved within 24 hours. Rafe insisted on talking things out, no matter how hurt the both of you may feel. He never wanted to go to sleep without making things right. "Life's too short," He would say.
You both had your shortcomings, but that goes without saying. Rafe was short-tempered and you were stubborn, a bad combination for an opinionated conversation. Things can quickly spiral out of control but when it came to apologies, Rafe outdid you every time. Flowers, or a small gift to show his feelings.
Even now, as Rafe leant against your kitchen island as you transferred the flowers he'd gifted you 'just because'. A weak smile graced his lips as he noted the way you did everything with such intensity, putting your all into everything you did.
Leaning forward onto his crossed forearms he watches you. "You're staring, babe." You say and he can only hum. "Can't help it. I like what I see," His words elicit a soft warmth to radiate in your chest.
"I love you, y'know that?" You're startled as you feel his arms wrapping around your waist from behind. "You tell me only every day, Rafe." He comes down to peck your cheek before you're rotating in his hold to face him. "But I love you too." You're unable to contain your smile as you say it.
It wasn't the first time but every time the words left your mouth, it gave you a little bubbly feeling. Security blossomed within you anytime your eyes grazed over his features.
"Let's go out tonight, yeah? Let's go dancing." Rafe declares without thinking and you laugh, tilting your head to look at the time over the stove. "It's almost midnight, nothing's open at this hour." You reason, but he doesn't back down.
Holding you by the hand, he twirls you. "Not a problem, we'll just do it here." That night your apartment was filled with laughter and soft jazz. Rafe hardly ever had this much energy so late but you loved it.
Two days after that night of dancing, you woke up to an eerie silence that felt too heavy for the morning. You went about your routine, still buoyed by the memory of Rafe's laughter filling your apartment. You checked your phone—just the usual notifications, a missed call from an unknown number, and a message from Sarah that simply said, "Call me."
You barely had time to press dial before she picked up, her voice trembling. She tried to speak, but only the sound of soft, choked sobs came through. Finally, she managed, "I’m so sorry…"
The words hit you, but you didn’t understand them. You wanted her to stop, to say something else—anything else. She kept speaking, her words blurred and distant, as though you were underwater, drowning. Somewhere in her explanation, you heard the words, "peacefully… in his sleep." But it didn’t feel peaceful. Your mind raced, demanding answers. Why hadn’t he told you? How long had he known?
Over the days that followed, Rafe's family gently filled in the pieces: he’d been sick for years, silently enduring, doing everything he could to hide it. Every date, every moment spent laughing with you, was a deliberate choice he made to live his last days fully, in love and joy, with you.
He hadn’t wanted you to know because he couldn't bear to see you suffer for him the same way he was once familiar with in his senior year. Even in the end, he kept the truth locked away, shielding you from the loss he knew was coming.
The weight of his choice tore you apart. You wanted to be angry, to hate him for leaving you out, but in his silence, there was also a strange kind of love. A love that had given you a few precious, unburdened moments together. Still, the pain settled deep within you, refusing to ease.
The anger, hurt, and ache became constant companions in the days that followed. But in his absence, you began to understand just how much he’d given for you.
He'd shared with you how hard it was for him to deal with that eerie state of loss. The stage where the person isn't gone but you know you'll lose them. It alters you in a messed up kind of way and he wanted you as far from that reality as possible. He was protecting you from his own condition till the very end.
Helping his family to clear out his apartment was easily the hardest thing you'd ever done. You couldn't do it without tearing up with every belonging of his you touched.
His favourite hoodie that he never let you wear but loved when you did. The polaroids in his drawer that you took from your first date, taken from the floor of the ice rink.
You noticed he'd scribbled writing on the back of the photo.
She finally said yes.
That was all it took. The last bits of your composure were stolen from you and you wept on his bedroom floor. Everyone always told you it would get easier but it never did. How could things get easier when the other half of your heart was buried six feet below the ground?
You learned to live with the loss, forcing a smile when in the company of others and taking deep breaths every morning when you woke up. Mildly disappointed the realm beyond the living hadn't reaped you during your slumber.
Very slowly, you begin to adjust to this new reality. It’s not the life you imagined, but you learn to live with the loss, carrying him with you in the smallest, most tender ways. His favourite hoodie becomes your comfort on cold nights, wrapping you in his memory and his scent.
Just because he was gone doesn't mean you'd end all of your traditions. Each year on the fourteenth of February, you visit his grave, placing a single red rose on the stone as a quiet tribute.
Though the ache remains, you hold his spirit close, carrying him forward into every milestone and memory yet to come, honouring the love you shared while finding the strength to continue onward.
In some ways, your love story turned out to be just another cliché—until it ripped your heart out from your chest, leaving you with the unbearable ache of everything he left unsaid, every unfulfilled promise, and the haunting silence of a future that will always belong to him.
Somehow, even in the quietest, most heart-wrenching moments, you never gave up on finding the silver lining, because life’s too short.
294 notes · View notes
strwberri-milk · 2 days ago
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How would the lads guys feel about an s/o who is more quiet in showing their love for them? Not shy, just silent actions of affection. Things like helping with their chores, cooking for them, directing conversations around their fav topics. Sudden surprise delivery of flowers or something. Combing their hair or helping them get ready. Standing by their side when they’re going through a tough time. S/o kind of like a sturdy rock by their side.
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Zayne is the same. He loves you and you've never doubted his affections for you because you see it as clear as day. He doesn't often say "I love you" with his words and neither do you. The two of you have a very quiet way of loving each other, taking care of your home and doing little things that are stark reminders that you're thinking of each other.
You love helping him get ready for work in the mornings if you can. You tie his tie, straighten out his collar, fidgeting with him until it's finally time for him to leave. He never feels quite right if he has to go to work before you're able to fuss over him, but those moments are becoming fewer and fewer as you adjust overtime to make sure that you can find some time to spend with him before a long day of work. If you can't be there you'll text him messages telling him to remember to eat, or prepare his meals for him ahead of time, always with his favourite macaroons.
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Xavier doesn't notice everything you do for him right away. It's not to say he doesn't appreciate, just that some of the more subtle things slip his mind if he's not paying attention. He's always known you'd be there for him but really feels it when you help him replace some bandages, not even commenting on the nature of his wound because you know it'd upset him to see how worried you are. Instead, you redirect your energy into keeping things light hearted, telling him some plans you've got and how you want him to help you decide on what the two of you do for your next date night. He feels how much you care for him, tilting your head up for a soft kiss.
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Rafayel is a little more overt in his affections just by way of words. He's showing you he loves you in grand gestures, painting your likeness or refusing to let you out of bed in the morning because he'd miss you too much.
The quiet way you love him soothes his soul, reminding him that he always has a home with you. He quickly recognises all the ways you show him you love him, knowing that you weren't really one to tell him with your words even if that's what he thought he needed at first. Over time he learns it's enough for him to just feel your affections, basking in the warmth of your love. He knows that no matter what happens, you'll be there waiting for him with all the patience in the world no matter how difficult it is for him to weather his own turmoils.
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Sylus shows his love through his actions as well. You joke about him always being mean to you and that he never has anything nice to say. He worries for a bit that you genuinely mean it, trying to soften his bite around you. However, when he sees how you tidy his workspaces and are constantly checking in on him he knows that you don't actually mean it. You know that he loves you and he's glad that you do, thanking you for your gestures with gestures of his own.
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blackynsupremacy · 2 days ago
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NICHOLAS BEING OBSESSED WITH YOUR BOOBS HEADCANONS
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pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader
summary: nicholas can’t enough of your boobs.
contains: sfw and nsfw (18+) so minors dni! established relationship, nicholas being a simp, nicholas being a pervert, making out, mention of smut, ambiguous unprotected/protected (it’s up to the reader), oral (f!receiving + m!receiving), riding, major love to your titties, nipple sucking/biting, food play, ice play, slight breeding kink, praise kink, mention of sending nudes, cuddling, aftercare.
taglist: @stereotypicalbarbie @sabrinasopposite @afrogirl3005 @rosiestalez @supaprettyg @xoxoglittergossip @hnch33rios @tryingtograspctrl @gxuxhdjdu @simply-the-best23 @jkr820 @ellethespaceunicorn @camiesully
• your boyfriend nicholas loves everything about you.
• your mind, your soul, your heart.
• and of course, your body.
• one of his favorite parts: your boobs.
• the biggest simp to them thangs.
• it all started when he came over to your place for a dinner and movie night.
• ya’ll were gonna cook together, eat, and watch a movie. just kicking with each other, basically.
•when you opened the door, he peeped your usual lounge wear consisted of sweats and a white, ribbed tank.
• what he also peeped was that you didn’t wear a bra. you were a little confused on why he was blushing when he stepped inside.
• “because well, you know, you’re not wearing a…yeah.” he awkwardly gestured towards your figure and tried his best to avert his eyes.
• of course he believed you were this breathtakingly stunning woman who was indeed sexy as hell, but he didn’t want you to see him as a creep by any means.
• he respects you—a lot!
• when he told you why, you couldn’t help but laugh.
• “wait. what am i not wear—oh. ooohh!”
•you weren’t thinking of it that much because this was your house and you felt that comfortable around nicholas to walk braless around him. you reassured him this was just how you relax at home.
•you’d sometimes walk around shirtless, but that’s a story for later.
• from that day on, nicholas gained a bit of confidence regarding his love for your chest.
• it started out with you guys cuddling on the couch. his big wholesome self was laying on top of you with arms wrapped around you like a koala. his head rested on your torso, just a little below your chest.
• you didn’t mind. that’s your lil’ bookie butt!
•you and nicholas were laying in a comfortable silence. one hand massaging his hair, while the other was scrolling through your tiktok.
• “hmm…y/n.” he murmurs, nuzzling his head up closer. you spaced out a little and he called your name again a little louder.
• “yeah, nicholas?” you respond still paying attention to your scrolling.
• “there’s something i wanna try. would you be okay with that?”
• “yeah, sure, go ‘head.”
• nicholas took that green light to slide his large hands up under your shirt to softly caress the skin of your stomach, just taking his time and easing his way in.
• he was gonna make sure you’d stop scrolling once and for all and give him some attention.
•you thought he was just giving you an innocent body massage as you felt him move your shirt up your stomach.
•you giggled a bit when he sprinkled some sweet kisses along your navel.
• now you were starting to get confused. was he about to go down on you, right now?
•it was the complete opposite, nicholas was lifting that little ass shirt of yours higher and higher until your breasts were fully exposed to him.
•the girls were sitting pretty and looked ready to be taken care of.
• with both hands, he grasps onto them. with a dark, focused vision, his fingers take time to knead, roll, and play around.
• “nick, baby, what are you—ah, shit.” your sentence was cut short when pressed his tongue flat against your nipple, giving it a deliberate lick before his lips surrounds it to give it a good sucking.
• nicholas felt smug as fuck when he heard the thud of your phone hit the floor. now both of your hands were caressing his head as you brought him in closer.
• he’s a cheeky little perv when it comes to your boobs.
• he sees your nipples as little hershey kisses.
• ya’ll could just be standing there and he’d just grab a titty with no logical reason.
•he likes to playfully bury his face in your chest.
• gives you a motorboat every once in a while.
• he loves when you cuddle right on top of him, so your chests would be pressed together.
• he’s a sucker for you when hug him from behind.
• bonus for when you hug him from behind and you’re both shirtless.
• your plush, soft chest pressing and rubbing against the hard, toned muscles of his back are an intoxicating sensation.
• besides those itty bitty tanks you wear, it drives him crazy when you wear bikinis, corset tops, and low cut dresses.
• girl, he’d be ready to give it to you if you wear any of that with one of his necklaces.
• especially his gold cross chain. he’d be ready to literally fold you.
• you’d sometimes send him pics of you covering bare chest with his necklace on to tease him.
• for your instagram post on halloween, you and him recreated the iconic, yet scandalous album cover from janet jackson’s 1993 self-titled album.
• it’s the one with your hands on your head and he’s concealed behind you with his hands covering your breasts.
• ya’ll went so viral that queen janet herself gave you a like, comment, and a follow.
•nicholas thought you were so cute while you were having a fan girling moment.
• ya’ll didn’t give two shits about whatever backlash ya’ll received.
• you just got followed by janet jackson, so nothing else mattered.
• he loves to see them thangs jump and jiggle.
• one time you jogged up to him to tell him something and this man kept staring at your chest like he’d been hypnotized after seeing them move like that.
• you’d have to be the one to bring him back down to earth.
• “nicholas, i’m trying to tell you something important. my eyes are up here, baby boy.”
• he’d nervously laugh and apologize, he felt so embarrassed. he swears up and down that he has better self-control.
• you reassured him that you were going to let him see them soon.
• when you guys work out together. he would notice the bounce of your boobs when you were running on the treadmill.
• or when you sweat, it leaves your brown skin glistening in that area.
• his nasty self don’t give a fuck, he wants to lick it.
• obviously gropes onto your breasts while you guys makeout.
• he loves when you whimper in his mouth as his grip gets more intense.
• you were playing him in pool. it was hot as hell, so of course you wore a fucking corset top.
• nicholas just watched attentively each time you bent over to hit the balls with your pool cue.
• his eyes couldn’t pull away as your breasts pressed flush against the table.
• you didn’t notice because of your competitiveness. you just wanted to kick nicholas’ ass in this game.
•well, you did.
• man was in such a titty tizzy, he fumbled the game.
• you couldn’t help, but to gloat and he was still happy for your win.
• plus, he got to see your boobs, so did he really lose?
• he sings your praises each time you expose yourself before sex.
• “fuck, my girl is so fucking beautiful.”
• “don’t you see what you do to me, y/n?”
• “please, let me make you feel good, sweetheart.”
•when he goes down south, one hand is intertwined with yours while the other is playing around with your nipple as his tongue brings you to euphoria.
• they’re one his favorite places to release on after you’ve given him the world’s best head.
• he goes fucking crazy when he sees it dripping down your nipples.
• loves to alternate between each boob. he wants to make sure the girls get equal tlc.
• pull on his hair harder, his nibbles turn to bites.
• to spice things up, he’ll have you decorate your boobs with whip cream, chocolate sauce, or icing for him to lap it clean.
• his personal favorite is circling an ice cube around your nipples to get them cold and erected before placing his hot tongue on each.
• he’s mesmerized by the way the girls bounce whether you’re riding him or you’re beneath him in missionary.
• if it’s in reverse cowgirl, he’d hold on to your boobs for dear life.
• if he’s taking you from the side, one hand is on your leg to angle it up while the other gripping onto your chest.
• sometimes he’d just sit back and watch. he’d enjoy the show with his hands behind his head.
• or if he’s in a sentimental mood, he’d hold you by the waist and bring your chests as close as possible until you both become undone.
• afterwards, he’d run you both a bath to soothe your worn out bodies.
• he gently massages your boobs with soapy hands while whispering about how good you make him feel and not just in a sexual sense.
• he’d want to get you pregnant to see your boobs grow even bigger.
• he’d dress you in a sheer, satin nightgown that he bought you.
•he you got seven of them in different colors.
• when you cuddle in bed, he loves to be the big spoon, so that he can slide his hand under your top to caress your erect nipple.
• boobs aside, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.
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