#words from Kayla

[awxcoffeexno]

ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they’re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

--

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

--

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy

[neo-nomatrix]

Sunshine and Midnight Rain

Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!Reader

word count: 851

summary: Luke castellan and the daughter of apollos love story

a/n: “remember who the enemy is” IM TRYING

Luke Castellan held your heart since the day you met, and you held his.

You arrived at camp a few months after Luke. You were one of the lucky ones, claimed within an hour of being there. Your godly father is Apollo, god of poetry, the sun, music, narcissism, idiocy, stupidity, all that. You had assumed the gods would act superior to all, no matter if they were or weren’t. But Apollo was on a completely different level. You didn’t know why he had taken such a liking to you.

“You remind him of himself,” Your half sister, Kayla, had told you, “an archer who never misses, healer who fixes every wound, gifted singer, and somehow picked up the lyre in a day. And yet, you still ask why Apollo loves you the most?”

“I wish he wouldn’t,” you twirl the golden arrow he gifted you.

“y’know, that hermes boy has been staring since the moment you stepped foot here,” she smiles, nodding to the tan boy sitting on a picnic table.

“Great, more attention,” you keep your sights on the boy, lucas? Luca, maybe?

“His name’s luke castellan,” kayla says, ah luke, that’s it.

“He’s handsome,” you say matter of factly.

“Don’t trust those Hermes boys, all they do is lie,” Kayla leans back and rolls her eyes.

“It’s a good thing I play the lyre.”

——————

“You’ve got a great shot,” a deep voice says from behind you.

You’ve been at the range for around an hour, it’s 4:30, you always practice when no one else is around.

“The whole reason why I come out here this early is so i can be alone,” sure, it sounds mean but you swear you’re not trying to be.

“Sorry, once I see you it’s hard to look away,” you’re not looking at him but you can tell me has the biggest smirk on his face.

“Funny,” you tell him bluntly.

You set down your bow, keeping the arrow in your hand, and sit on the nearby grass. He lays down beside you, you follow his lead and put your hands behind your head.

“That arrow, it’s like it’s made of the sun,” He says amazed.

“A gift from dear old dad. No matter how far I shoot it’ll always come back. Supposed to be a sign of his love or something. But I think he just constantly wants me to be annoyed by him,” you inform him possibly too much.

“Most people would be grateful if their godly parent cares that much,” he says.

“It’s different with Apollo, there is no such thing as true altruism with him,” you bite your inner lip.

“I get that, I’m just tryna say- Hermes never showed up for me, and I'd kill to just have him tell me he cares,” His eyes furrow.

“Guess we both have different priorities,” you smile.

“Opposites work best don’t they?” He smiles back.

“Isn’t it opposites attract?” You wonder.

“Hey, your words, not mine,” he laughs.

“That one’s Orion,” You point up at the constellation.

“He was always my favorite,” he adds.

“Mine has always been Cassiopeia, but you can never see her over here,” You look back up at the sky.

“That one’s Taurus, and then Sirius below, and Gemini above,” you point each of them out.

Even though he hums in acknowledgment his eyes are locked on you.

“You’re staring, again” You mention.

“I told you I can’t help it, especially when you glow like that,” he reaches out and touches your face.

You reach out and grab his hand, running your fingers against his slender digits.

“I’d like to be a constellation when I die, maybe my father will fulfill that wish,” you say to him.

“That’ll be my last wish too, we can lay in the stars together.”

——————

It’s been a day since Percy Jackson came to Camp Half-blood. It just so happens to be your favorite day of the year, capture the flag. You have led the archers on the blue team for years, you’d say you’re doing well for what you’re given. Besides your siblings in Apollo the rest of the kids weren’t as gifted in archery.

As the first conch shell blew you were preparing for your mock-battle. Annabeth in charge of the plan and Percy, Luke with company, and you with the archers. You knew you could, no- would win. The archers took the trees, helping stray company from the skies.

“Today feels like a winning kind of day?” Annabeth asks luke.

“I’ll see you on the other side,” He smiles.

“Luke!” You pull him aside for a moment.

You cup his face the best you can through his armor. “You don’t get hurt okay? I don’t feel like healing anymore wounds from you. Understand?”

“Oh but I love to see you healing” he holds your hand and smirks

“Archers! Move out!” You call your team, eyes still locked with his, smiling.

“so… you and her?” Percy asks the taller boy.

“how could I not? She's perfect. I mean, I genuinely believe I could live without the sun if I just had her.”

And maybe, just maybe, he could.

[ohbueckers]

YOUR SECRETS ARE SAFE WITH ME. she a good girl, for me she a slut.

ONE-SHOT! pairing, paige bueckers x reader. notes, march madness p has been heavy on my mind, like the EDITS and when this song was trending mmm so mayyybe you can expect some stuff. this is also her song idc idc. warnings, cheating, sexual content 〔 absolute filth i’m sorry. 〕

your heart stutters. you’re not ready for this. not with her eyes on you like they’ve always been—hungry and knowing. but there really is no avoiding it now. you’ve put it off for too long.

he’s already pushing himself off the bar, motioning for you to follow. you catch sight of paige from the corner of your eye—leaning against the far wall, her broad, all worked-out shoulders relaxed, fingers tapping against the neck of a half-empty beer bottle. she’s surrounded by her teammates, some friends, but it’s like none of them exist in her orbit.

she sees him before she sees you walking toward her, but once your boyfriend’s hand finds its place on the small of your back, her eyes lock on yours, and you could’ve sworn they flared darker. she looks like she’s been waiting all night, lips curling into that slow, lazy smirk—the one that knows exactly what you’re trying so hard to forget.

shit. you swallow thickly, feeling the heat crawl up your neck. you’re steps away now, too late to back out.

“yo, bueckers!” your boyfriend calls out as you approach, his hand squeezing your hip like a casual claim. he’s smiling like there’s nothing in the world wrong, like this is just a chance meeting with one of uconn’s basketball stars, particularly onehis girlfriend has been spending so much time with. he doesn’t know. he doesn’t have a clue.

he’s pure. too pure, and too fucking oblivious.

“what’s up?” her voice is calm, and you hear the smile in them as you avoid her gaze. she sounds way too happy. when you look up, you see it. it’s the same look she gave you hours ago, right before her hands had your legs shaking.

you try to stay steady, plastering a neutral smile on your face. “this is, uh… this is paige.” you clear your throat, hating how awkward you sound, but you can feel her sizing you up. “paige, this is, um—”

“nylan,” your boyfriend cuts in, extending his hand, all confidence. paige stares at it for a second, like she’s deciding whether or not to play nice, before finally gripping his hand. her grip is firm, controlled, but the look in her eyes tells a whole different story. azzi and kayla wave at you, and you wave back, silently wishing by the grace of God they’d come interrupt this conversation.

“the paige bueckers,” he laughs, pulling his hand back. “she’s always talking about how great you are, but i was starting to think she was hiding you or something.”

paige’s eyes move to yours, then back to him. “she says i’m great?” she leans forward just slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching. “that’s funny. she’s never mentioned you.”

your stomach drops at the lie, a cold sweat breaking across your skin as you throw her a sharp look, willing her to shut up. but paige just shrugs, like she’s enjoying watching you squirm. you’re glad nylan’s too pressed into the moment to notice.

“how’d y’all meet?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink, curiosity growing. “i mean, you never really told me,” he mumbles to you more than anyone else.

paige shifts her weight, tongue swiping across her bottom lip before she starts speaking. “we met at a party last semester.” she pauses, letting the words sink in as her eyes shift to you. again. “she was a good girl back then, real sweet.” you feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff.

your boyfriend laughs, slinging a tipsy arm around your neck.“yeah, she’s always been a good girl.”

paige’s crosses her arms over her chest, eyes boring into you, and it’s like they’re trying to make sure you haven’t forgotten. how could you?

earlier that evening …

the room is warm, and your initial visit to past some time before seeing your boyfriend had turned absolutely filthy. the scent of her sweat mixing with yours, your legs tangled in the sheets. paige’s fingers press into your stomach as she thrusts into you, lips pressed against your neck, her breath hot and heavy against your skin.

you were trying to keep quiet, but it was worth nothing. paige didn’t care. she was relentless, her hips grinding into yours, her hand sliding between your legs to rub circles over your swollen clit in order to get you off quicker. for the third time. the pleasure was too much, too intense, and you couldn’t help the moans that escaped you as she filled you over and over.

“fuck—paige—” you whimpered, gripping her biceps, manicured nails leaving crescent shaped indents in her skin. you try to push her away, hands pressing weakly at her chest, but paige isn’t having it. she furrows her eyebrows, lifting her body to hover over you as her grip tightens, keeping you pinned right where she wants.

“i can—t.” you try to remind her you’ve got somewhere to be—nylan waiting for you in just a couple of hours—but it’s useless. paige knows you. knows exactly what your body craves and how you can’t resist her, even when you want to. especially when you want to.

“sure you can,” she replies, easily able to make out your words. she thrusts into you again, deep and slow, and you catch sight of the veins in her hands—the way they bulge under her skin, tensed with the effort of holding you still. she’s holding one leg up now, hitting you at an angle. “i’m right there, ain’t i, baby? give me one more.”

your back arches off the bed as you nod, even when your body’s screaming that you can’t, a choked cry slipping from your lips before you can stop it, and paige’s lips curl into a smirk, her eyes dark as she watches you fall apart.

it’s too much—you’re so close, and she’s not letting up, not giving you a moment to breathe. “such a slut. take that shit.” she’s biting down on her bottom lip, eyebrows knitted together as she takes in the wetness between your legs. she swears she can feel you, past the vibrations coursing through her on her end.

you’re mumbling something, but you can’t even remember what it is—your mind’s too scattered, too fucked out to form any coherent thoughts. her thumb brushes over your bottom lip, almost teasingly, before slipping two fingers into your mouth. “suck,” she orders, and you do. without thinking, you’re sucking on her fingers like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. and even if you were thinking, you’d obey anyway. you’re sure you’d do anything she said, because before you met paige, you’d never once questioned your sexuality. never thought twice about how a girl could make you feel.

but paige? paige has made you feel things you’ve never felt with a man in your whole twenty-two years of life. nobody could fuck you this good. you’d said it before and you’d say it again.

she chuckles low, clearly satisfied, hips still moving against you. “my good girl. go ‘head and gimmie that,” she orders, clearly referring to your orgasm.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!” before you know it, you’re coming hard—too hard—your entire body shaking. her blonde hair forms a curtain around her face, falling gracefully over her shoulders as she’s right there with you, quieter, but feeling it just as intensely.

you’re biting down on her fingers, moaning around them, as wave after wave of pleasure crashes through you. paige pulls her fingers from your mouth, slipping them to your jaw, forcing you to look at her. “fuck, y’look so good like this,” she breathes, breathless, moving her digits between your legs to collect some of your slick, bringing it to her lips for a taste. “messy as hell.”

she finally collapses next to you, the bed shifting under her weight. you’re still catching your breath, chest heaving as you stare up at the ceiling, trying to ground yourself. after a moment, you roll your head to look at her. “p,” you start, your voice soft, a bit raspy. “if you meet him later… you can’t…” you trail off. “—tell him.”

paige lets out a chuckle, her head lolling to the side as she grins at you, like the thought had never crossed her mind. “you think i’m stupid?” she teases.

your eyes trail over her, letting out a small, relieved breath, your lips twitching into a smirk as she reaches out, gently brushing some of your disheveled hair out of your face. her touch is almost tender, a definite contrast to how she’d just wrecked you.

she leans in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she murmurs, “i won’t tell, baby. y’secret safe with me.”

at the bar …

she’d kept her promise, precisely.

nylan presses a kiss to your temple, but you don’t feel the lingering wetness of it like you normally do. not when every inch of your skin still burns with the memory of paige’s touch.

paige stands there, staring at you with a smirk, still leaning against the wall like she’s done absolutely nothing wrong.

and maybe she hasn’t. because after all, she’s the only one who knows just how good you can be. not to mention how well you both can keep a secret, too.

[d3arapril]

[reup] birthday girl | p.b

pairing: paige bueckers x f!reader word count: 4.6k warnings/tags: alcohol consumption (they're tipsy), switch!paige, oral (r!receiving), fingering (p&r!receiving), sex toys (p!receiving), spit, language, assplay (r!receiving) ᡣ𐭩 as many of u are aware i accidentally deleted my account - luckily i have managed to recover this gem! if you're thinking hm i swear i used to follow her - YOU DID! please re-join me on this journey and please re-indulge yourselves in this dirtiness for BDB PB's birthday. reblogs are appreciated more than ever given the circumstances lol ! :D love u all x

You sway slightly on your feet, the alcohol making your head feel lighter than it should as you fumble to light the candle on the heart-shaped cake. Your socks shuffle on the cool kitchen tiles, the slight friction grounding you as you flick at the lighter.

"Need help?" Azzi peeks over your shoulder to watch you flick at the lighter. When the small flame finally ignites, you both let out a victorious "Ah!"

"Nope," you pop the p, turning to smile at your friend. "I got it!"

You'd organised a small get together with close friends for Paige's birthday at her request. Not too much, she'd insisted when you'd first asked her what she wanted to do. So, of course, you made a list of those she actually liked and invited them over.

Now, you're standing behind Azzi as she leads you out of the kitchen and shuts off the lights. You hold the cake up with both hands, lips in a tight line as you focus on holding it steady. Admittedly, you'd all had a bit more to drink than originally planned. Tiktok's were filmed, drinking games were played and shots were consumed.

The girls break out into an out of tune rendition of happy birthday as soon as you enter the room, toothy grin plastered across your face when you lock eyes with Paige. She's smiling right back at you and although the room is dark you can just make out the blush on her cheeks.

She blows out the candle and her index finger swipes through the icing decorating the edge of the cake. She sucks it into her mouth, eyes still trained on yours. "Mm," she makes a noise in her throat. "Tastes good."

It's almost like slow motion, the way her mouth closes and her tongue comes out to lick at her lips. It's all you can focus on– her. You shake it off, not letting yourself get lost in the moment in front of all of your friends. You place the cake down onto the table and just like that the party continues, more drinks are poured and the night wears on.

A few hours later, most of the girls have called it a night. Now, it's just you, Paige, Azzi, Kayla and Kk remaining. You're squished between Paige and Kayla on the couch, Paige's right leg slung over yours. You're trying your best to listen to the conversation going on around you, but the mere feeling of Paige's skin on yours makes it harder to concentrate.

"You want another?" Paige’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. She gestures to the red cup loosely clutched in your hand.

You glance down at it and shake your head. "Nah, I’m good. I think I’d actually like to remember tonight," you say with a chuckle.

Paige laughs softly, her hand giving your thigh a playful squeeze. "Smart move." She turns to Kayla, nudging her gently. "What about you? Tapping out?"

Kayla glances at her phone, her eyes widening slightly as she reads the time—1:29 AM. "Wow– I didn't realise it was that late." Kayla yawns as she stands up, ruffling at Paige's hair. "It's not your birthday anymore, Bueckers."

"It's still my day, though." Paige pouts, leaning her head back to look at Kayla. Always such a big baby.

"Yeah, yeah, birthday girl," Kayla laughs, ruffling Paige’s hair before heading to the door. She glances over at Azzi, who’s now half-asleep, sprawled across Kk’s lap. "You guys heading out too?"

Azzi and Kk exchange tired glances before they, too, gather their things. After a round of group hugs, the door finally closes, leaving you and Paige alone in the now-quiet living room. You survey the aftermath; red cups litter the floor, empty bottles are stacked haphazardly on the coffee table.

“Jeez,” you mutter, shaking your head at the mess. “This’ll be fun to clean up tomorrow.”

Paige hums in agreement, her arms suddenly wrapping around your waist from behind you. She pulls you back against her, resting her chin on your shoulder. “I had a good night,” she says softly, her breath tickling your ear. “Thank you.”

"No need to thank me," you smile. "I had fun, too. Did you have a good birthday?"

"The best," her arms squeeze you a little tighter, nose nudging at your cheek. You lean back into her, hands covering her own. "Thank you baby."

"Anything for you," you smile, tilting your neck back to look at her.

"Really?" her head tilts towards you as she presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Always."

She hums, her hands sliding down to your hips, squeezing gently as she leans in closer. "Not to be greedy," there's a pause as she gives you another squeeze, lips ghosting down your neck. "But where's my gift?"

Paige grins against your neck, the curve of her lips brushing your skin. “Maybe,” she murmurs before her teeth lightly nip at the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

"You gonna give me something good?"

Her lips are against your pulse point now, sucking the sensitive skin into her mouth. A sigh escapes your lips and you reach your hands up and back, fingers tangling in her hair. Paige's hands roam your body, trailing up and down your sides before one cups at your breast.

"Paige," you moan softly, her name escaping your lips as her mouth finds yours. The kiss is slow and deep, both of you still tasting faintly of vodka and cherry, the alcohol mixing with the heat between you. Her hand cups your jaw, angling your face just right as the kiss intensifies.

She pulls away first, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. Her breathing is ragged, voice low as she pants, "Bedroom."

Your fingers interlock with hers, feet padding softly against the floor as she leads you down the hallway. Her thumb rubs soft circles into the back of your hand and it's a subtle reminder of how much she loves you.

Paige stops outside of her bedroom door and pauses. Her eyes are soft and there's a smile gracing her lips. "What?" you smile back, free hand reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Nothing, just." her hand lifts and squeezes your wrist. "I really love you, s'all."

You roll your eyes, playfully. "You're such a sap,"

"You gonna let this sap eat your pussy, orrrr..?" she smirks as she drags out the word, opening the door to her room and pulling you in. She pushes it shut behind you, tipsy fingers fumbling with the lock.

The room is surprisingly bright, the main light still on from when Paige must've last been in there. "You left the light on," you say monotonously which earns you an eye roll from Paige. She doesn't respond, just flicks her head towards the bed as an instruction for you to get over there.

"Someone's eager." you grin, walking backwards until the back of your legs hit her bed.

"Mhm," Paige hums, stepping closer to you. She pauses for a moment, as though she's figuring out her next move. "Turn over."

Your knees are weak as you flip yourself over, resting on your hands and knees. She wastes no time, making quick work of pulling your leggings and panties down your thighs. She lets out a moan at the sight of you, exposed and waiting.

"Damn," she mumbles under her breath, hand running along the curve of your ass cheek, giving it a squeeze. "Now this is a birthday cake."

Your head drops between your shoulders, laughter shaking your frame. "Wow, P. That's corny."

"Shut up," she's giggling, too, but there's a tone of authority in her voice. The sound of her kneeling behind you is audible and the feeling of her presence looming over you is enough to keep you quiet.

Her hands grip at your ass again and squeeze, nails digging into the soft skin. Your fingers curl into the sheets, a gasp leaving your lips. A stray finger traces a pattern across the dimples in your lower back, lower, lower until it brushes over the puckered hole you're both yet to try. Yeah, she's pressed her thumb against it more times than she'd like to admit but she's never 'breached the surface' as she'd say.

"You gonna let me have here?" she leans down, pressing a chaste kiss to the base of your spine. "It is my birthday, after all."

You hesitate, hand letting go of the sheets to reach back for her. "What about you?"

Paige squeezes at your forearm, "I'll get mine, don't worry."

She moves your arm back down beside you, hands coming to rest on either side of your ass. She pulls your cheeks apart, breath warm against you. "Can I?"

You moan out a yes, dropping your forehead against the mattress. Paige wastes no time, head dipping down and licking a fat stripe up your pussy, tongue sliding between your folds. She's sloppy, spit mixing with the slick that now coats her chin. She's moaning into you and you wish you could see how this looked from the outside.

You're shaking in front of her, fingers twisting and tugging at the sheets. She pulls away for a second, gathers the mixture of her spit and your juices in her mouth and spits it back onto you. She rubs it in with her thumb, digit ghosting over the ring of muscle.

"Fuck, Paige," you groan, shaking hand blindly reaching back to pull her closer, push her away- you weren't even sure at this point.

The girl hums, thumb stilling. "You want me to put it in?

You nod, cheek flat against the mattress.

"Speak to me."

"Please, please." you beg.

"Please what?"

"Fuck," you groan, inhibitions leaving your body. "Do anything, please. Eat my pussy–my ass, please, please–" You're so desperate you can barely even recognise your own voice.

"Relax baby," Paige coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your ass cheek. "I got you."

You feel her pull away and you're about to protest, kick your feet out at her and cuss her out until you feel her shuffling around on the bed behind you. You use the little strength you have remaining to push your head off of the bed and you see her lying on her back, half of her body hanging off of the bed. Damp fingers squeeze at your ass, dragging you back just enough so your pussy is directly over her mouth.

She's back at it like she never left, sucking your clit into her mouth and massaging her tongue over it. Her thumb finds home against your ass again, pressing against your hole as her tongue teases over your folds. The pressure is immense, the tip of her thumb slipping past the tight ring of muscle and you choke on air. You're not sure if it's a good or bad thing that you can't breathe, everything in you constricting, heart hammering against your chest.

You press against the mattress and hold yourself up, now fully kneeling over Paige. You brush the blonde strands from her face, your girlfriend's eyes fluttering open to lock onto yours. As soon as you make eye contact you hear feel her moan into your pussy, thumb sliding an inch deeper.

Your hips grind against her at their own accord, fingers now knotted in Paige's hair as you moan out into the cool air of her room. Your stomach tenses, thighs working overtime to hold you up. The chord in your stomach grows tighter and you open your mouth to warn Paige that you're about to cum but your words get lost in the mess of moans and pants and incoherent syllables.

It washes over you like a tidal wave, orgasm rattling your entire body. Paige moans into you the entire time, tongue messily sliding over your pussy as she laps you up. Her thumb leaves your ass with a pop and she presses her head back into the mattress just enough to be able to breathe out a "You good?"

Shaking legs shuffle you down her body until you're sat on her stomach, grimacing at the stickiness between your thighs. Paige can't help the laugh that leaves her, hands rubbing up the fronts of your thighs as she takes you in.

"You look fucked."

"Well," you pinch at her side, "You fucked me good, birthday girl."

She wiggles her eyebrows at that, hands leaving your thighs to grip at your ass cheeks. She squeezes, tongue licking around her lips. Her lids flutter shut as she tastes the remnants of you against her, lashes fluttering against her cheek.

You watch her silently from above, fingers trailing across her chest. Her shirt sticks to her skin slightly, sweat beading across her body. "Want this off?"

She nods, eyes opening. "Please."

You clamber off her and watch as she pulls the shirt over her head, throwing it into a random corner of her room. Her sports bra follows and she mindlessly rubs her hands over her chest, grateful she's no longer constricted by the material.

"So," you start, pushing her back by her shoulder and ghosting your lips across her nipple. She's flat against the bed again and you're perched beside her, ass up and feet kicking out as your tongue peeks out to lick at the sensitive nub. "How do you plan on 'getting yours'?"

You recite the words she'd said to you earlier and she snickers, back arching slightly when you suck her nipple into your mouth. "I got something-" she sucks in a breath when your teeth bite into the swell of her breast, pink mark left in their wake. "Something in the drawer."

Your eyebrows perk up at that, leaving one last kiss against her tit as you climb off the bed and saunter towards her bedside drawer. You pull open the rickety drawer and there's a purple wand staring right back at you.

You turn back to look at her, watching as she shuffles up the bed, head now resting on the pillows. "How long have you had this?"

Paige shrugs, a smug look on her face. "Got it a couple days ago. A gift from me, to me."

You fish it out of the drawer and inspect it, it's fairly heavy- three heart shaped buttons on the purple rubber handle. "Have you used it?"

"Nah," she taps her fingers against her stomach, nonchalant. "Wanted to use it with you."

You let out a hum of approval, turning back to face her. She's propped herself up on her elbows, legs bent at the knee and open. Her thighs are spread wide, fabric of her navy shorts stretching across the expanse of the muscle.

You sit at the end of the bed, turning the toy on and letting it vibrate against the palm of your hand. "It's intense," you muse, not able to mask the smile growing on your features. "Did you deliberately choose this?"

Paige's blush deepens, feet kicking out to hit your thigh. "Shut up, no."

You can't help but laugh at her, crawling forward and leaning down to press a kiss just above her bellybutton. She's watching you carefully, waiting to see what you're going to do.

"This is new," you say, watching the way her breathing changes with every gentle touch. "I usually have to work to get you like this, but you're so–" you bite down on her skin, letting her feel the dull ache before sucking at the mark. "Are you becoming needier in your old age?"

"Fuck you," she spits, but there's no real venom in her words. Her abs are drawn tight and she's got her hands fisted by her sides; she's clearly desperate. "It's my birthday, be nice."

"Need I remind you," you flick the waistband of her shorts and boxers against her skin, pulling at them slightly to hint at her to lift her hips. She does as you wish and you slide them off of her, abandoning them at the end of the bed. "It's not your birthday anymore."

Paige makes a sound in the back of her throat, hips raising as she tries to get you to touch her. She's been on the edge since she saw you walking towards her with that cake in your hands, the amount of love you have for her so evident in your expression that it drove her fucking insane. She feels her entire body burning up, thighs shaking as her hands clutch at the sheets.

You settle comfortably between her legs, head dipping down to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

"What do you want me to do? I'll let you pick, my treat."

She rolls her eyes at that, breath shaky as she answers. "Use the thing."

You lean forward, lips ghosting over hip bone. You breathe out a laugh, tongue licking against the skin. "The thing? Like the movie?"

You feel Paige tug at your hair, an annoyed whine leaving her throat. "Stop fucking with me, please."

That's enough to satisfy you, dipping down lower to place a chaste kiss against her clit. She sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling, hips canting up to catch your mouth. Your tongue peeks out to lay flat against it, slowly moving your head up and down to provide just enough friction to make Paige's toes curl.

"Fuck," she breathes out, head tilted back against the pillow. "Need more."

Your right hand blindly fumbles around the bed for the wand, left hand now busy rubbing slow circles into her clit with your thumb. Her abs ripple, chest heaving from the feeling of it all. It's so much, yet nowhere near enough at the same time.

As soon as you press the on button the toy springs to life again, loud vibrations humming out into the air of the room. It almost makes your entire arm shake from how intense it is but you prevail, sitting up slightly to trail it between the valley of her breasts.

"What're you-" Paige cuts herself off, the both of you not able to contain your laughter because she sounds like some sort of fucked up robot when she speaks, the vibrations distorting her voice.

"Just," you lift the toy away from her chest to press a kiss to her lips, both of you smiling against each other. "Relax, enjoy it babe."

You trail the wand further down her body, letting it rest just above her clit. Her hips tilt up again, head lolling forward so she can watch. Your free hand presses against her stomach, keeping her flat to the bed.

"I said, relax."

"I am relaxed."

You scoff, not giving in to her attitude. You keep the wand where it is, just out of reach from where she needs it most. You move the hand from her stomach and let your fingers tickle against her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to her pussy. Your fingertip trails against her folds and, as you expected, she's soaked. It wasn't too often you'd swap roles like this, let her fully relax whilst you took control of the reigns but you knew she enjoyed this. Loves letting you do whatever you want to her.

You let a single finger dip between her folds, sliding up, down and then sinking inside of her. It's not much of a stretch from how wet she is, slides in easily. You pump the singular finger in and out slowly, eyes trained on Paige's face.

She's got her eyes screwed shut, head still lolled on her shoulder. Her eyebrows are furrowed, lips in a slight pout. You hover the vibrator just above her clit and when you press it down against her, her eyes shoot open and eyebrows raise in shock.

"Holy shit," she gasps, one hand wrapping around your wrist whilst the other shoots up to grab at the pillow beside her. "That's– fucking hell."

Her mouth is wide open, tongue hanging out just the tiniest bit in a daze. The room is filled with the sounds of the toy and her moans, her hips lifting off of the bed to chase the sensation. You press the wand down harder, letting it buzz against her clit. You can feel it vibrating through your arm and the vibrations are strong, making you wonder just how powerful it is. You make a note to get her to use it on you, next time.

You move the toy against her in slow circles, slipping another finger into her pussy and curling them up. "Good?"

Paige's chest is flushed, heaving with each deep breath she takes. It's almost like she doesn't know what to do with herself, head tipping back to the pillow and then tossing to the side. "Yeah," she breathes out, voice hoarse. "Good."

Your thumb reaches up to press at one of the buttons to increase the intensity, vibrations now pulsing against her. She whines, high pitched and strained as it all becomes too much. Your fingers curl faster inside of her, the squelching from her pussy just audible over the vibrations from the wand.

Her hips tilt up faster, feet slipping against the mattress as she chases the feeling. If she could see herself she'd be embarrassed by how easily she's succumbed to the pleasure, scrambling against the bed pathetically. She can't think straight, only able to focus on the feeling of her orgasm approaching.

"It's-" she can barely get her words out, sweat making her body glisten. You watch her with a smirk on your face, satisfied. "I think-"

"What's wrong, babe?"

Paige's eyes are rolled back in her head, head tipped back and neck on show. There's a blue vein stretching across the length of her neck and you find yourself leaning over her and dragging your tongue against it. Paige jumps at the feeling, broken moan leaving her chest. The hand that was wrapped around your wrist moves to your shoulder, blunt nails biting against your skin.

You're still moving the toy in slow circles, rubbing it against her clit. Paige is moaning, groaning- gravelly noises leaving her throat as the hand on your shoulder moves to your hair. She moves her head to face you, watery eyes boring into your own.

"Gonna cum," she whispers against your lips, barely audible over the noise from the toy. "Fucking–feel it in my chest."

You bite at her bottom lip, teeth pulling at her pout. Your nose presses against hers as you watch her unravel, watch a tear spill from her eye and drip down her cheek. "Yeah, birthday girl?"

Your fingers speed up, curling so quickly you fear they might end up cramping. Your wrist begins to ache from holding the toy, too but you keep going because it's all worth seeing your girlfriend like this.

The blonde lets out a combination between a cry and a moan, thighs squeezing around you and keeping you trapped as she cums. The vibrator slips a little from how wet she's become but you're quick to put it back in place.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she's chanting out to nobody in particular, thighs tightening and feet kicking against your back. You let her do it, let it happen as she goes silent. You feel it before you hear it, her hips rolling up and thighs shaking against you as she floods your fingers, and then- "I'm fucking-fucking cumming, oh shittttt."

The words leave her through gritted teeth, fingers finding their way under your shirt to scratch against your skin. You lean back to watch her in all her glory; head craned back against the pillow, nipples hard and hair matted against her forehead.

Your fingers slip out of her first and you sit them on your tongue, licking around them and moaning from the taste. You turn the vibrator off and chuck it beside Paige who is breathing so heavily you think she might pass out, eyes closed and lips dry.

You rub a comforting hand against her thigh, a soft touch to keep her grounded. You cast a glance down to her pussy and you can see the wet patch underneath her on the bed, dark and soaking into the cotton sheets.

"Wow," is all she says, body relaxing against the bed. Her eyes open and she softly smiles as soon as she sees you, shaking hand resting atop of your own. "Happy birthday to me."

You opt to lay beside her, leg kicked over her thighs with your head resting on her shoulder. "Feeling okay?"

"Honestly," she tucks her chin in to look down at you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Best birthday gift ever."

"Doesn't count if you brought it for yourself, though." you counter, tilting up to look at her. You catch her rolling her eyes at you, the hand she'd settled around your waist digging in below your ribs.

"'Kay, where's my gift from you then?"

"Don't be greedy, Bueckers." you tease sliding out from beside her and walking towards where your bag was abandoned several hours ago. Paige lets out a whistle as she watches your ass as you walk away from her, rolling onto her side.

"Where you goin'?"

You ignore her, rummaging through your back to look for the jewellery box you'd so carefully wrapped last weekend. Much to relief you find it still intact and spin around, holding it behind your back as you saunter back towards Paige. You make sure to grab her clothes on the way, throwing them in her direction.

She raises an eyebrow at you, pulling just her boxers back up over her legs and an oversized t-shirt over her head. You do the same, keeping the box in your hand as you put her shorts on.

"A gift for little old me?"

You have to resist rolling your eyes at her, crouching down so you're at the same height. You hold the small box between you both and hold your gaze with Paige, watching as her eyes light up in anticipation.

"I remember looking at them a while ago," you start, thumb stroking against the patterned paper. "So I got 'em."

Paige frowns, unsure of what you're talking about. She takes the box from you, unsteady fingers pulling at the wrapping paper. She discards the paper beside her on the bed and opens up the box slowly, eyes widening when she sees what's inside.

"You didn't-"

"Don't say a word." you cut her off, knowing she was about to go on a spiel about how she didn't deserve this, how you shouldn't have spent the money, blah blah blah.

"How did you remember?" there's a hint of shock in her voice, as though she couldn't believe you'd remember something that she thought was so insignificant.

You smile at her, taking the box from her and pulling out one of the rings. They're just two simple silver bands with a small heart etched on the inside; nothing too flashy but you vividly remember Paige fawning over them in the store. "We should get matching," she'd suggested to you, nothing but a passing comment.

The ring slides onto her finger with ease and you thank the Gods above that you'd picked the right size. "Feels like we're gettin' married," she snickers, holding her hand up to admire the ring. "Lemme put it on you."

"Nuh-uh!" you whip your hand away from her, wiggling your fingers in the air. "I need to wash my hands after your little performance."

Paige laughs, shoving at your shoulder with no malice. She stands up from the bed, groaning from the ache in her legs. She wraps hand around your arm and pulls you up and into a hug.

"I love you," she mumbles against your shoulder, squeezing you tight. "Thank you, for everything."

You pull back slightly, scratching at the nape of her neck.

"I love you too," you lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"Happy birthday, baby."

[munsonsfairy]

only have eyes for you 💍

author's note: request by @urantisocialgay <3. i accidentally deleted your ask when i finished the fic. thank goodness that it was saved somewhere else too!! anyways, thank you for your request!! i love weddings and proposals!! you can never annoy me with writing this au. 🥹🥹

content: so so much love.

word count: 1.5k

song: i only have eyes for you by the flamingos

wedding au. | fic inspiration. | proofread by: @katemartinis <3

The ring was perfect. It was a vintage style emerald cut signature solitaire with double claw and details on a 14k yellow gold band. All Paige could do was imagine your ring finger wearing it. She knew it was the one when she saw you admire it at the jewelry store.

Paige needed to take her chains and earrings to get cleaned. Your favorite thing to do was imagine what your engagement or wedding ring would look like. You always thought engagements, weddings, and all the planning involved were magical. Plus, wedding cake is always so yum.

One thing you made sure to always tell Paige is that you don't want to suspect you were getting engaged. You wanted to be completely surprised. Planning the proposal was not a breeze for her. Paige knew you better than anyone. She knew your favorite sunset was in San Diego. She remembers how you danced around in the sand and water that night.

To keep you oblivious, Paige surprised you with weekend getaway trip with your closest friends. Your friends were told to let you have all the fun you wanted. The day of the proposal was the last night of your trip, so all of you get ready for a nice dinner by the water. Well, at least that is what was supposed to be happening.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Azzi called Paige panicking because you noticed your girlfriend's location was off which never happened before, and as an overthinker everything you could think of ran through your mind. You would call Paige, and her phone would go straight to voicemail. The thought of going out was the last thing you wanted to do.

"She's not budging! You need to call her if you want to be engaged by tonight." Azzi whispered loudly over the phone.

Paige sighs, "Okay, okay let me call her. Hopefully she can't figure out that I'm lying to her." She knew you were smart enough to piece everything together.

After so much convincing from Kayla, you were finally getting ready when she Facetimed. “Heard someone missed me,” she smiled teasing you.

You sigh starting to feel silly for worrying, “Mhmm. Did you forget to charge your phone again?”

While you were putting the finishing touches of your makeup, Paige was admiring you. She couldn’t stop staring and thinking about spending forever with you. A part of her couldn’t believe an angel like you could love her.

You look from your mirror back to your phone when you didn’t hear an answer from her. “You’re staring.”

“You’re so gorgeous.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

“Look who’s talking. Such a pretty girl with her bun and braids.”

Now it was your turn to make Paige shy making her cover her red face. "Yooo, I'm talking about you right now." She says with her face in her hands.

“Ughhhh, get a room!” You heard KK and Ice yelling from the phone.

Paige rolls her eyes and hears Kayla ask you if you’re ready. “Call me before bed, princess?”

The way she’s looking at you right now makes you want to melt. Your favorite feature of Paige was always her eyes.

“Now look who’s staring,” she laughed.

“Shh, I’ll call you before bed. Keep your phone charged!”

She laughed again, “Alright, alright. I love you, *kiss kiss*. Bye.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

You and your friends were all going to wear white to dinner. They thought it was a good idea to match to keep you from questioning anything. Before you left the room, you stood in front of the mirror to make sure everything was okay. For some reason you had a feeling you couldn’t describe. All day felt magical and dreamy.

The ride to the “restaurant” was filled with whispering and giggles. Kayla was documenting the whole trip with her camera, so it was no surprise to you when she leaned forward to the passenger seat and took a video with you.

Paige’s proposing went through your head just for a second. You don’t know why but your intuition is never wrong. All the pieces started coming together; the random planned trip, dress, & her being MIA all day? You started to feel a mix of excitement, happiness, & sadness. You always dreamed of this moment, but this meant a chapter of your life is closing. The last time you’ll be a girlfriend. The last time it’s just you. You closed your eyes and quietly said goodbye to this chapter of your life and to the little girl in you.

You took a deep breath and processed how surreal this is. The possibility of becoming a fiancé gives you goosebumps and butterflies. The girl you love with your whole heart could be waiting for you with a ring reading to give you, her heart.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

"Kayla just texted me letting us know they are about five minutes away." KK came running out of the house full of excitement as she should be since her and Nika introduced her to you, but that is a story for another time.

"Okay," Paige deeply sighed trying to release any worry and anxiety. She knows you love her and vice versa.

"She loves you, Paige. Everyone knows and sees it," Nika reassured and hugged her twin.

Tears welled up in Paige's eyes as she was hugging Nika. She laid her head on Nika’s shoulder squeezing her tight.

“Nah, you aren’t going to cry yet!” Paige laughed and finally felt all her nerves leave.

KK heard car doors slamming coming from the front of the house, "Okay, they're hear. Are you ready?" She asked Paige.

Paige nodded letting the two girls run back to the house to watch from inside. She took a deep breath and prayed a small prayer to release any doubt she felt.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Instead of arriving to a restaurant as you thought, you were standing in front of a beautiful baby blue house. The front of the house was decorated with tickseeds, cosmos, and sunflowers. There was a white porch swing with pillows covered in seashells.

Your friends started walking through a garden gate that was to the right of the house. You gasped at the beautiful garden in front of you. For a moment, you thought you were in a fairytale storybook.

The further you walked you started seeing the beach. When you finally reached the middle of the garden, you saw Paige standing there surrounded by white roses. She was wearing a lace short sleeve shirt and shorts with blue adonis flowers. Her hair was in a bun with her two signature braids.

Kayla took all of your things and let you walk to your girlfriend while everyone else went inside. You felt like you were floating those 30 seconds you ran towards Paige. All the moments you thought this only happens in movies vanished. You pinched your finger to make sure you weren't dreaming. Nope this is real and ouch.

All the nerves and doubt were gone when Paige saw you standing in the garden. You looked like an angel in white surrounded with flowers. She swears she saw you glowing. Both of you were giggling and crying so much Paige almost forgot to ask you.

You ran into Paige’s arms, and she lifted you spinning you in a circle. The both of you couldn’t stop smiling and laughing. The love you had for each other radiated off you.

Paige put you down and grabbed both of your hands. She brought them to her lips and kissed both of your knuckles.

She squeezed your hands three times silently saying I love you. “They say when you know, you know, and I’m so glad I know. I can’t possibly describe how much I love you in a short time. You’re the light of my world and the stars of my universe. Every day I am so blessed to be loved someone as precious as you. I can’t imagine my life without you and your love. You’ve shown me how beautiful love is. I admire you and how strong and intelligent you are. I love the love we share and want to do it forever.”

Tears were rolling down your face as you looked into each other’s eyes. You and her laugh at how much of mess you both are. “Thank you for always showing me a love that is so magical. I never want to find it anywhere else. You show me a genuine adoration that I will forever cherish.”

Everything felt like a fairytale. You couldn’t believe how lucky you were to be hearing such beautiful words coming from someone who loves you. You felt so many emotions all at once. Your heart was full of love and happiness.

“I love you so much and I promise to always for all of my days.” Paige took a breath before getting on one knee. Although you knew she was going to propose, it still felt surreal seeing it happen in front of you. You aren’t dreaming.

You cover your mouth from shock when you saw the ring. THE ring!! The one you tried on weeks ago. You vividly remember how right everything felt when you wore it for those few seconds. The same feeling you feel right now with Paige.

“I want to share every moment with you. The good and the bad. I want to laugh and cry with you. You’re my sweetheart, best friend, and soulmate. You’re my person. Will you marry me?”

[nanivinsmoke]

❥ fantasize

 logan ‘wolverine’ howlett x fem!reader

♪ i fantasize about it all the time, if you were mine ♪

tags: wet dreams, logan’s with someone else, love at first sight, drinking, explicit language, daddy kink, age gap ( the man’s over 200) betrayal fingering, raw sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, squirting, creaming, etc.

note: heavily obsessed with this song and hugh/logan just bombards my mind. reader has the power to enchant/control anything with her voice. up next: PYSKINKTOBER

“you’re staring again, sugar!”

“you should just tell him how you feel.”

“is this what they call eye fucking?” kurt asked, shocking you and causing a giggle from rogue. you elbowed the blue mutant—face flushed with embarrassment once you finally cut your eyes away from logan.

“i was not eye fucking him! and I can’t tell him how i feel, ororo. he’s with her…” you glanced at kayla as she passed by, before looking back at your friends.

you had been in love with the wolverine for months now. it started off as a friendship, the two of you becoming best friends as time moved by—but then you started to catch feelings. and you wanted to tell him, you really did, however you couldn’t because she came about.

kayla was his ex girlfriend and when she appeared at the academy, they reconciled. preventing you from admitting your feelings. ever since she came, you decided to keep your distance from him; because you wouldn’t be able to face him without telling him about your feelings.

“but you can’t keep this bottled up, sugar. if remy and i were in your shoes, i would tell him how i felt. i don’t think i can handle him not knowing.” rogue advised, earning a head nod from kurt and ororo. you sighed in response and sipped on your tea.

“i will when the time is right. but that time is not now.”

—

“come on! don’t hold back on me!” logan shouted as he dodged your attacks. the two of you were in the danger room, training and honing your skills. you tried your best to get someone else to spar with you, but everyone else was busy. or so they say.

you huffed and gripped your sword, whispering more words to enchant it before swinging at him again—which he easily dodged. he smirked and charged at you, tackling you, sending you both down to the mat hard—your sword flying across the room.

he had you pinned to the ground, his hand gripping your small wrist while his other held your chin; forcing you to look at him. “the hell was that? you’re usually on par with me. something you got on your mind, princess?”

you pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation you felt when he called you princess. it always did something to you, everytime—you craved to hear it. “nothings wrong….just tired.” you lied, avoiding his eyes and looking at the wall beside him. he knew you were lying. he knew you like the back of his hand.

you could feel his hazel eyes boring holes into your face, making you shiver. you turned your head slowly and scanned his face, eyes dropping down to those lips you wanted to kiss so much—before back up to his own. logan moved his knee upwards, pressing it right into your core; making you moan softly—but you quickly pressed yours lips together.

you knew he heard it, but you didn’t want to acknowledge it. he had a girl after all.

“let me go,” obeying the command of your powers, logan let your wrist go and you immediately got up and grabbed your things—leaving him in the danger room to process what the fuck just happened.

when you made it to your room you immediately stripped out of your clothes, ignoring the cool stickiness that sat on the bed of your panties, and walked into your adjoining bathroom; running a hot bubble bath for you to relax in. once the water was at a comfortable temperature and height, you pinned your hair up and stepped in, sighing from the steaming waters hitting your skin.

you leaned against the cool porcelain, eyes closed, while the bubbles danced on your skin. everything about this bath was exactly what you needed. you needed to relax. to forget about logan. forget about reality….

that is until you felt a dip in the water. your eyes shoot open and you saw logan sitting on the other end of the tub, his brown trail of hair that sat on his chest now covered in suds. “logan? what the fuc—what are you doing here?”

you were glad that the water covered your chest, so you didn’t have to cover them—but you couldn’t help yourself from looking at his. he smirked and inched closer, spreading your legs apart and immediately submerging his fingers through the water and down to your needy cunt. you melted into his touch, gripping the edges of the tub—rolling your hips into his palm.

“doing what needed to be done, princess.” was this really happening? were you about to get finger fucked by your best friend? whatever the outcome was, you were going to enjoy it.

you whimpered and spread your legs wider, feeling him insert another finger into your sopping wet hole—the water sloshing around with each flick of his wrists. you loved the feeling, but you wanted more—no, you needed more. you pulled him out of you and pushed him back, making his toned back hit the other end of the tub. you stood up, the clear water dripping down your beautiful nude body, before you squatted over him—reaching down to feel his hard cock.

you glanced down and your eyes widened, “knew you were huge.” he watched as you angled his tip at your entrance, causing you to suck in a breath once he pushed your walls past its normal position—until he grabbed your wrist stopping you. you rose and eyebrow and held the edge of the tub for balance.

“need you to wake up, doll.”

and that’s all it took for you to shoot up out of the tub, eyes strained and red with sleepiness, while you shivered from the cold waters below you. you had fallen asleep, which made your mind play tricks on you.

you had it bad for your best friend.

—

ever since that day and your wet dream, you did your best to avoid logan. backed out of missions with him in it, trained by yourself or with kurt in the danger room and during your usual night time routine where you’d stay downstairs and have a glass of wine while he sipped on his beer; you avoided doing that as well. you stopped anything from happening, but what didn’t stop was your dreams.

they kept happening more frequently and you’d wake up with a wet spot either on your panties or your sheets. sometimes you couldn’t help but touch yourself at night either, mind plagued with thoughts of him pounding you into your mattress each and every night.

you would let him have your pussy every day if he’d let you, wanted to have your walls molded into the shape of his cock—a perfect match for him.

why the fuck did everything have to be so complicated?

you found yourself grading papers after the dismissal of your last class, the red ink pink tapping at your bottom lip as you went over a student’s paper—when logan came walking in. the heavy sound of his boots sent shivers up your spine.

“been avoiding me princess, don’t lie either.” you chewed on the cap, avoiding his eyes. he knew you all too well. “not avoiding you….just been busy.”

liar.

he moved closer to your desk and leaned over to cup your chin, his rough calloused hands felt amazing against your skin. you wanted him to ruin you with those same hands. have them wrapped around your throat—.

“busy with what? you don’t go on missions anymore. barely see you at night and dinner too.” you roll your eyes, pretending to be upset but you found it cute that he was worried about you.

“fuck logan! you aren’t my daddy and you’re damn sure aren’t my boss. i don’t have to tell you everything that’s happening to me,” your words coming out harsher than you intended, making him close his mouth in response. you pulled your eyes away from him and over to the door, where kayla came waltzing in; her shoes echoing on the old wooden floors.

“I’ve been looking all over for you—oh, hi!” she peered over his shoulder, waving at you a smile on her face. you waved back, however the look on her face held something different; like she was telling you to stay away.

he leaned down and kissed her, your heart sinking as you watched. turning your attention back over to your papers, you continued to scribble on it with red ink—before she pulled your attention back over to them both. “we’re hitting up a club tonight, you should join us. probably get someone’s number too.”

that’s when you finally looked at logan and smirked, a plan forming into your mind. “ill be there.”

—

your hips moved to the loud music. your hair bounced with each step you took, ass jiggling as you bounced to the beat. that shot you took earlier had mad its way into your stream, exciting you. each time you moved another pair of eyes fell onto you and that little black dress you wore didn’t make it any better.

practically almost all the guys as the club was watching you dance, including logan.

he watched from the club’s section, sipping in his whiskey, watching for anyone who decided to get frisky with you; so he could chop their fucking heads of the moment they touched you. he was supposed to be with kayla tonight, but she ditched himc making up some kind of excuse. leaving him here with to watch over you.

the other xmen were sprawled around the club, leaving you two alone with each other, even if he was inches away. as the song changed, a random guy came up to you and asked you to dance. you glanced at logan and smirked, accepting his request.

for some reason you wanted to make him jealous. wanted him to keep his eyes on you and low and behold; it was working. the guy held onto your hips while you grinded your ass against him. the beat of the song and the effects of the liquor you downed, hyping up your every move. making logan clench his teeth and grip his beer bottle.

and when he saw you bend over and let the man dry hump you, he had enough. the bottle erupted in his hand, tiny brown shards crashed to the floor along with the matching brown liquid; bruising his hand. logan ignored the blood that cascaded out of his fresh wounds, sauntering over towards you and gripped your wrist—tugging you away from your dance partner.

before the man could even protest, logan shot him a look making him back off. he ignored your protests and pulled you outside of the club; rain immediately starting to soak your dress and ruin your hair. once the two of you were a nice distance away from the club, logan gave you an earful.

“what the fuck is your problem, huh?!” his voice was stern and his eyes held so much anger, sending chills up your body and a knot to form in your stomach and throat. you had never seen him anrgy with you, until now. and it frightened you.

those tears you tried to fight back, won, and poured out of your big doe eyes—meshing with the rain and your mascara—causing big streams of black to run down your pretty face. “you wanna know what my problem is lo? my fucking problem is you!–“ you got close and pointed your manicured finger in his face.

“i can’t get you out of my fucking head. i can’t sleep, can’t eat, I can’t even breathe without thinking about you! it’s driving me insane. i love you so much, it’s hurting me.” logan opened his mouth to speak but you immediately shut him down.

“no, let me finish this. let me say this….please.” you voice cracked, never straying your eyes away from his. he nodded in response and you continued.

“before kayla came about….i wanted to tell you. i thought about how i would tell you for days, but then she came and the two of you got back together and that broke me. i couldn’t tell you, not when you’re in love with somebody else. but, then it got to the point where you were all I could think about….and i had to push you away. i love you, logan howlett.”

you gripped his jacket and stepped in his space, peering up from him down below. you searched his eyes and then his lips, hoping he would say something or kiss you—but he didn’t. he didn’t move or say anything. he was silent.

“lo….say something. please?” you begged, more tears leaving your eyes. hoping he felt the same, hoping he wouldn’t break your heart.

but, you weren’t lucky and he did just what you hoped against.

“gotta go.” he shrugged you off and walked off in the opposite direction, the rain splashing against his boots, leaving you there.

“wait! logan—“ you called out to him, trying to go after him, but it was too late. he was gone. leaving you with a broken heart.

rogue and the rest of the crew came out of the club a few minutes after and saw you standing there, crying and shivering from the night’s cool air. “sugar! what happened? where’s logan?” gambit had wrapped his jacket around you while rogue and storm pulled you close, trying to warm you up.

“just take me home….please.”

—

never in a million years did you think it would come to this. you knew you should’ve just kept your feelings to yourself, if you knew it would cost you the relationship of your best friend.

you spent more of your time in isolation. only coming out to teach a couple of classes or bringing food to your room, making sure you didn’t run into him. you rarely hung out with your friends and they understood why. you were hurting and the best thing they could do for you was give you space, while showing that they still cared.

it was a cold, rainy wednesday and the mansion was empty. the kids were on an overnight field trip with scott, ororo, kurt & jean, the professor was at a convention and rogue and gambit were out celebrating their anniversary—which meant you were home alone. you knew he wasn’t here either, so that meant you could finally leave your room without running into him.

you spent the day finishing up lesson plans before hitting the danger room; opting for a simulation to train, before heading back to your room for a nice steaming hot shower. you washed your hair, shaved what needed to be shaved and got out to rub a vanilla scented body oil all over your skin—with your radio playing sade in the background.

after taking care of yourself, you put on your long, dark blue babydoll robe— before you went down stairs, trying to figure out what you wanted to eat and poured yourself a nice glass of wine; when the doorbell rang. raising an eyebrow, you placed the glass on the counter before walking towards the front door.

everyone who lived here had a key, so who the hell was at the door?

you grabbed the fireplace’s poker nearby and got ready to enchant it, just in case they weren’t friendly, before swinging the door open—only to reveal logan standing there. his blue button up was soaked from the storm and stained with a faded crimson color, what the hell happened?

“logan….what—“

“it’s you….always been you.” he closed the door behind him and scooped you up, bringing you into a passionate kiss; which you gladly accepted. your lips moved in sync while he made his way up the stairs and into your bedroom—gently placing you on your bed; back up to take a look at you.

you were breathtaking and he wanted to have all of you. he could see one of your mounds slipping out of the robe and reached to pull it back; only for you to stop him. “logan, wait. what’s going on—why are you bloody? where’s kayla?” you sat up on your elbows and watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his beautifully sculpted—hairy torso, tossing the wet fabric across the room.

“she was using me. now, can i get back to kissing the woman that i love?” your heart swelled hearing those words. words that you’ve been waiting to hear for months. deciding to press him about what happened later, you pulled him down by his belt loops and let him kiss you. his big hands roaming all over your body, pulling the soft fabric of your robe back—revealing your sweet, soft breasts.

you moaned, feeling his warm mouth envelope around your nipples; sucking them with aggression—which made your head spin. “logan~” you breathed out, grinding against his knee, needing more of him.

“i know baby, could smell how bad you want it. smelled ya in the danger room a few weeks ago. god, I couldn’t stop thinking about it—fuck.” you whined, watching him kiss down from your lips all the way past your belly button—stopping once he reached where you were begging for him.

“pretty girl. all wet for me?” you gushed at his words, knowing he wasn’t talking to you, but towards your sopping wet pussy. “oh fuck! baby!” you yelled out, hands immediately sinking into his brown locks as he proceeded to eat you out; sucking on your clit and teasing your needy hole with his tongue.

the vibrations from his grunting in between your legs had your eyes rolling back, while you tried to back away from the intense pleasure—only for you to get a slap on your thigh and being pulled closer.

“stay. fucking. still.” he growled, hazel eyes dark with lust. you whimpered and he continued to lap up all your juices that dripped out of you, swirling and spitting on your cunt; making a sloppy mess out of you.

the more he ate you out, the closer you were to an orgasm. the intensity of it, tipping on the edge and when he added two thick fingers inside of you. you couldn’t stop yourself from gushing all over them. he growled and didn’t stop pumping in and out of you, lapping up your juices, sending you in cloud 9.

you were a mess when he finally pulled away. your sheets were tangled underneath your fingers and your hair was now sweated out, thanks to the amazing orgasm he just gave you. you watched with low, lidded eyes as he started to undo his belt. the platinum belt shining under the moonlight, before accompanying his shirt along with his denim jeans and underwear following suit.

couldn’t help but to follow his happy trail that led to his boner, which was angry red and leaked globs of his precum. both of your lips salivated at the site and you couldn’t wait to have him inside of you. “be a good girl for me and take it~”.

“yes—daddy!” you hiccuped, feeling him stretch you open after he aligned himself with your entrance. “shit,” he muttered, making you clench down on him—slick coating him as he eased in.

“fuck, doll. should’ve prepped you ages ago if i knew—are you fucking squirting?!” he watched with an eyebrow raise as a small stream of clear liquid sprayed out of you, once he fully pushed his fat beer can shaped cock inside of you.

you nodded and bit your lip, earning a grunt from him. you had fantasized about this moment, thinking about cumming and squirting on his cock just from him pressing into your cervix, and rubbing against your spot the moment he entered you. nobody had ever made you squirt just by sticking it in. guess that means you two were meant to be.

logan looped his arms underneath your thighs and fully thrusted into you, causing you to scream. he pulled back out and repeated the process, slamming into you every other second. you couldn’t help but to drench his cock even more, driving him insane.

“feels sooo good. please don’t stop.” you praised, never breaking eye contact with him as he fucked your pretty cunt sloppy. he pinned your legs back by your head, testing out your flexibility, while slipping his thumb into your mouth for you to suck on.

the lewd squelching noise from your cunt that echoed each time his balls met the base of your cunt, had made him fuck you even deeper and harder. his pretty eyes started to roll back in head, feeling you clench down on him—trying to milk him for all his worth. the more he pounded, the more your orgasm built up inside of you and soon you couldn’t hold it anymore.

you let go of his thumb and moaned in his ear as you came hard all over him, gushing while he continued to pump his girth inside of you. “just like that, princess. cum all over this dick.”

rolling his hips into yours, he rubbed against your spot again, making you squirt once more. “fuck, you’re like a fucking fountain. think i can push one more out of you?”

he didn’t wait for you to answer, flipping you over on your stomach and pressing your back down—deepening your arch— before he drilled inside of you.

the creaking of the bed and the loud thunder outside couldn’t compare to the monstrous noise of your ass clapping against his pelvis, each time he made you throw it back on him. you cried into your pillow beneath you and tugged on your sheets, drooling from the overwhelming sensation. you could feel him twitch inside of you, signifying that he was going to cum and you wanted inside of you so bad.

turning your head slightly, you caught his eyes and you gripped his arm—continuing to fuck him back—before you spoke, “inside. please daddy, want it inside.”

hearing you plead for him to fill you up, had him bottoming out inside of you, pouring his thick warm load inside of you—filling your tummy up with his seed.

he didn’t stop pistoning his cock either, triggering your third orgasm for the night. you clamped down on him, milking him as you creamed and squirted on his cock—messing up the sheets below you—a puddle of both of your fluids stained the soft fabric. logan pulled out of you after one more thrust of his hips, falling into the empty space next to you; the both of you trying to catch your breaths.

logan reached over and pulled a cigar out of his pants and placed it into his mouth, watching as you lit it with the use of your powers. he exhaled and you cuddled next to him, before he handed it to you. you repeated his actions and handed it back over to him, laying on his hairy chest—when you remembered the question from earlier.

“you wanna tell me what happened? don’t give me no half ass answer either, lo.” you cursed and he chuckled, removing the cigar from his lips and holding it in the air. the pungent smoke filling up your room as a result.

“she was using me. stryker sent her. never loved me a day in her life. but, you—“ he paused and turned his head to look at you, eyes softening once he met your gaze. “you’ve loved me for a long time now.”

you nodded and inched closer to his face, glancing at his lips while he spoke. “before she even came to the mansion, i knew i was in love with you. hell, it was driving me crazy not being able to kiss you everyday. and when you told me that night at the club? i couldn’t say it back to you, not with her around. not sure if I deserved your love either……”

“you do deserve it baby. you do~” you finally pressed your lips onto his, the taste of the oak flavored cigar dancing on your tongues as you made out with one another. you pulled away and climbed on top of him and sat right above where his semi-hard cock laid; grabbing his cigar and puffing on it.

“and the blood on your shirt? was that yo—”

“theirs. i had to do what I had to do. they wanted to take me and make me their weapon. im not a weapon,” he growled and you frowned, seeing how his eyes started to well up with tears; knowing he was starting to remember his past.

you leaned down and kissed the corners of his eyes, kissing away his tears that pricked it. “you’re not a weapon or a monster logan. you’re you. the man that i fell in love with. your past doesn’t make you, what you decide to do in the present makes you. i love you and i'm always going to love you for being you.”

your words did something to him. he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you close, hugging you and kissed your cheek multiple times, earning giggles from you. he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you.

you reached behind you and pulled his cock towards your wet entrance and slid back down on it, making him squeeze your torso a little harder. you leaned back and smirked at him, slowing rolling your hips; a soft moan leaving your kids bitten lips.

“gonna drain you tonight. this is what i thought about doing every night.”

and that’s what the two of you did. fucked until the sun came up, before sleeping in each other’s arms.

[keerysfreckles]

lay all your love on me — LN4

pairing: lando norris x piastri!reader

summary: the aftermath of y/n's worst date she's ever been on, lando comes to pick her up.

warnings: one curse word, not proofread

a/n: dedicated to kayla bae 🤭🤭 comment if i should make a part 2!!!

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n can't remember the last time she went on a decent date. in the past year she's been on five dates, none of them doing any justice.

two of them were too busy staring at her chest from the low neckline of her dress. one wouldn't stop talking about the football game plastered on the tv behind her at the sports bar he dragged her to. one didn't even show up.

and now, the fifth date, he isn't taking anything she says seriously.

she tried explaining how she's able to travel a lot due to her brother being a formula one driver, and the bloke just laughed in her face. claiming "girls can't be that into racecars".

y/n's never wanted to punch somebody as hard as she wanted to punch the man in front of her.

he then started talking about his own career, which lead y/n to talk about hers. however, to the man across from her, having a degree in communications does nothing to improve y/n's future.

this man was suffocating. every word he uttered just made y/n's blood boil.

it got to the point where y/n simply left. she left the man there, at the restaurant, with the most dumbfounded look displayed over his features.

she couldn't stand to be there another five minutes, so she simply left. no apology, no goodbye.

the chilly monaco air did not help her sour mood, in which she didn't bring a jacket with her. the walk to her apartment wasn't far, maybe twenty minutes.

the more and more the girl thought about her date, and the previous ones, she couldn't help but feel sorry for herself. the past five times she's gotten dressed up, and was excited to learn about someone new, she just left disappointed every time.

y/n didn't even know why she wore the heels she has on. she's never worn them, so she's praying she doesn't get blisters the next morning.

groaning, she pauses to take off her black heels. her shoulders slightly relaxing as the pain from her feet falls into the pavement with every step.

now y/n wasn't sure if the rumbles she heard behind her was thunder, or just the roaring of engines passing in the streets.

she pushed the thought off for now, and went back to thinking about her failed dates. she didn't think it was her fault, but maybe she was just unlovable. there was a chance it wasn't the people she dated, and that she was the one with the problem.

the over consuming thoughts had now gotten best of the girl. before she knew it tears were welling up at her bottom lashes. she didn't care about her makeup anymore, choosing to wipe at the tears now mixing with her mascara.

seconds barely pass, and it was final that the rumbles y/n heard earlier was thunder. meaning rain would shortly follow after. she groaned again, wanting to do anything but walk home in the rain.

she could easily turn around and wait the storm out in the restaurant, but she didn't want to face the man she left at the table again.

she then decided to call her brother.

however her plan quickly backfired once she remembered oscar and lily went out tonight, somewhere over an hour of where y/n is now. so calling oscar was out of the question. the phone didn't even let out a full ring before she hung up.

to make matters worse, y/n felt big drops of rain hit her shoulders.

there weren't many other options y/n could give into tonight. her close friends were all in france for god knows what, oscar was busy, and y/n just wanted to go home.

call her pathetic, but y/n couldn't help but cry. her night has only gotten worse, and she couldn't do anything about it.

after mere minutes, her hair was soaked from the now heavy pouring rain, she had no doubt her makeup was fully ruined, and she was sulking underneath a flickering lamppost.

she let out a dry chuckle after scrolling through her contacts once again, now seeing the only person left to call. the only person who'd answer her tonight.

on the third ring, he picked up.

"y/n? is everything okay?"

y/n hasn't gotten asked that in a long time. so she simply let out a choked sob. she tried answering, but her voice failed her again.

"lando," she managed to get out, only to have her cries over power her words.

he was quick to ask her what happened to make her this upset. to which he only got small answers in between more cries and jagged breaths. he knew he had to do something.

"can you tell me where you are?" he asked, while slipping his shoes on before running out of his apartment towards the parking garage.

he was glad to finally get a normal answer out of y/n, as he pulled out of his parking space with a loud screech of his tires. his windshield wipers did almost nothing to help him see in the rain, only making him driver faster, wanting nothing more than to get y/n in the warm and dry comfort of his car.

he drove carefully down the street address she gave him.

then he saw it. his heart broke at the sight in front of him.

y/n sitting on a bench, with her head in her hands. heels discarded by her feet, and her wet hair sticking to her back and shoulders.

her head picked up at the headlights of lando's car, and the sound of his driver door opening.

"god, y/n are you okay?"

lando kneeled down in front of her, placing his warm hands over her knees.

all y/n could do was lean forward into lando, wrapping her arms around him for some form of comfort.

lando couldn't care less if his shirt was getting wet, he could easily put on a new one once he got home. all he cared about right now was the girl in his arms.

he helped her get to the passenger side of the door, before jogging back to the bench to grab her heels. as he threw them into the backseat his eyes moved to an extra jacket. he was internally thanking his past self for leaving this inside.

y/n shivered out a thank you, for the hoodie and at his action of turning the heat on.

the ride back was silent. a comfortable silence, mostly because lando didn't want to pressure the girl into talking about exactly what happened tonight.

after lando turned left, y/n spoke up, "wait, lando you made the wrong turn. my apartment's that way."

she pointed out the window, but lando simply shrugged it off.

"y/n you haven't had the best night," he starts by pointing out the obvious, "so you can crash at my flat tonight, okay? we can watch as many rom-coms as your little heart desires. i know how much you love those."

y/n chuckles at his ending sentence, but can't agree with him more.

as soon as lando pulls into the parking garage, he helps y/n up the stairs to his apartment door. he successfully opens the door with one hand, as y/n's shoes are hanging over his fingers in the other.

he watched as y/n crossed her arms over herself once he shut the front door.

"do you want a hug?" he held out his arms with a small smile adorning his lips.

y/n walks closer to him, her barefeet hitting the hardwood with each step before she rests her head on his shoulder.

one thing y/n loves about lando's hugs is how secure they feel. his arms always end up wrapped tightly around her, and she swears she feels her bad mood leave her body whenever she's in his embrace.

after a few moments, lando speaks up, "do you want to change? i bet i have some clothes that'll fit you."

y/n nods before ridding her face of any tears. she then follows lando to his room. she sits on the edge of his bed, watching carefully as he grabs a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"i'll be out in the living room. take your time," he speaks softly, kissing the top of her head before he leaves the room.

y/n finally lets out a sigh. a sigh filled with many different emotions. too many to count, so y/n distracts herself by changing into the much more comfortable clothes lando grabbed.

she tried running her fingers through her damp hair as she exited his room, but her hair became too tangled from the rain.

lando's small smile made it's way to his face once y/n came into the living room.

"you feeling any better?" he pats the spot beside him on the couch.

all y/n does is nod, but lando senses that something's still bothering her.

he brushes off the thought for now, as he and y/n search for a movie to watch.

after eight minutes of flicking through netflix, y/n breaks the silence.

"lan, do i seem unlovable to you?"

the question certainly caught the brit off gaurd. he took a moment to think about his response before answering, but no certain response would be the right one.

"woah, what makes you think that?"

y/n gets more quiet, becoming more self conscious of herself as she sits beside lando.

she shrugs before responding, "every date i've been on in the past year has gone wrong. i can't help but think if it's something i'm doing. that i'm the one with the problem, not all the guys i've seen."

lando's heart breaks at y/n's statement. how long has she been feeling this way about herself?

"you're not unlovable y/n. it's all those idiots that don't know what they're missing out on. you're one of the greatest people i know, and if any guy you date can't see that, he's not worth it."

lando wasn't sure where his small speech came from, but the look from y/n made his heart beat faster than it did before.

she looked at lando with nothing but adoration. a blush covered both of their cheeks now, and before y/n could really register anything her brain was processing she leaned over to quickly kiss lando.

yes, she was kissing her brother's best friend. yes, she was kissing lando after she had a horrible date.

was it a bad idea? probably. but y/n needed one thing to go right tonight. she could only pray this was the thing.

just as lando got used to the feeling of her lips against his, she pulled away.

she couldn't read the emotion on his face, making her start to ramble.

"i'm sorry. i'm so so sorry lan. i- i just needed one thing to go right tonight. and i thought maybe kissing you was the right thing to do. shit, i'm sorry. i can leave-"

y/n's sentence was cut off, now by lando pushing his lips against hers. his hand found it's way to the back of her neck, as hers balled up the material of his shirt to try and bring him closer to her.

their panted breaths mingled together as they were only centimeters away from each other. their eyes filled with adventure and lust, both wondering where this thing could lead to.

[greedyhoneyz]

Judgement Day

.ೃ࿔* pairing: armando aretas x reader .ೃ࿔* synopsis: the aretas name carried weight in miami. it was a name which symbolised power and carried a notion of fear. to mess with an aretas, was a call to an early death. .ೃ࿔* wc: 3k words. .ೃ࿔* cw: angst. assault. violence. blood. harrassment. threats. .ೃ࿔* authors note: another fanfic for a piece of media i have yet to watch. this is long but i hope it doesn't come off juvenile.

The hot Miami heat bared the warmth of a deep-emotion smile at dawn but as night fell, it raged into an inferno, chaotic and wild. It charred and blistered the abode floor, once chilled by seasonal rains and engulfed the city with a tragic blaze.

Even in the heatwave, Miami bustled with life, men and women toiled across the dancefloor, their bodies weary and scorched beneath yards of thin fabric. They jived and boogied to the setlist with as much passion as their drunken states could emote and drank to their hearts' content. At the end of the night, they busted through the doors into the artificial glow of street lamps, staggering, failing to hail an Uber or move on to the next attraction. In the charcoal night, Miami Beach weaved together crowds of partygoers and workers alike, as the early morning sunshine threatened to peek through the sky.

(name) hissed and hollered her way out of the nightclub as her heels clicked onto the pavement.

She had worn them for the sake of fashion. The open-toed stilettos were to die for; they matched perfectly with her mini dress and petite shoulder bag. But now as she waddled, her feet were paying the price. The four-inch stilettos were not meant for walking, the leather straps dug into her skin and the arch pinned tiny knives into her feet. Each step she took sent a shockwave of pain through her feet.

Adjusting her stride, (name) attempted to distribute her weight more evenly into the shoe. It made little difference but she would make it work– the night was young and she had a couple more hours in her.

Straightening her shoulders, (name) fixed her bag and quickened her pace, walking in conjunction with her friend.

“Where are we going?” She had spoken out between anxious breaths, inwardly wincing at the pressure dented into her toes.

“Um…..” Kayla stared into her phone. “Nightingale, Candace said she’ll meet us there.”

“How far is it?”

“Just a couple blocks down. We’ve been there before, remember?”

“I do,” (name) huffed. “It's just– my feet are killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can take this Kayla. I’m tired.”

Kayla stopped, causing (name) to falter in haste as she slowly turned. She faced her friend, boring her eyes into hers, her lips forming into a hard line. She gripped her friend’s arm, holstering her close and darted her pointer finger to her.

“You,” She began slowly, her voice was low at first but grew louder and more boisterous as she glared into (name). “Are not going anyway, do you understand? Today is our night, our night to go out, get drunk and do something stupid, okay? No shoe and no bitch is ruining our night, comprende?”

“Sí. Sí. I understand.” (name) replied shortly, hiding a smile between her teeth.

“Good.” Kayla nodded, tucking her arm around (name’s).

The pair beelined across the strip, accustoming themselves amongst the crowds of partygoers pulling and pushing their way across South Beach. They found Candace waiting by the entrance, looking radiant in a yellow, mini-dress, her wind-tousled hair fell over her shoulders.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, giving them each a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

The bouncer let them in without hesitation, ushering the trio past the long, ascending line trickling across the street, and they made their way towards the bar. The music blared and pulsated from wall to wall and the stage lights flared and spun above them.

“So….where’s this boyfriend of yours at?” Candace asked inquisitively, sipping on her margarita. She wriggled her eyebrows playfully and passed a simple glance at (name’s) phone as she placed it on the bar, a picture of her boyfriend printed on her lock screen.

“Somewhere,” (name) shrugged. “He wasn’t home when I left for Kayla’s place.”

“So you snuck out?” Kayla jeered, propping her chin atop her hand. “You never told me that.”

(name) shook her head. “Nah, it's nothing like that–”

“Wait— this means you can stay out!” Candace bellowed happily.

“Of course I can–”

“No more talking, let’s dance!”

Candace shot up from her seat, slamming her drink on the bar counter, and reigned her hands around Kayla and (name). She wrung them out from their seats with the strength of a colossal giant and tugged the two towards the dancefloor, declaring the two move to the rhythm of the song.

It took a while – a couple of short seconds before Kayla and (name) joined Candace in dance. The three danced in conjunction with each other, keeping close to their circle with a light bounce from side to side and trigger fingers.

As the night wore on, the air grew thicker and (name) and her friends were tipsier. The club music had grown louder and more intense as the DJ turned to play Sexyy Red and the crowd had begun to surge forward in retort to the sharp change in tempo and pitch. The crowd was like a tide, rolling in and out, its rhythm intermittent to the beat.

No more did the throbbing of her feet cloud (name’s) mind; the blend of a rhubarb fizz and vitality was a deterrent. With her closest friends surrounding her, (name) felt at ease, her smile so wide and bright, that she feared it would become permanent.

She rocked her hips, her hands travelling across her thighs and slowly craned forward. She held onto her legs, shaking her thighs as motion rippled across her calves and ascended towards her ass. (name) shook her bottom with a smize, moving her cheeks with such fluid, curvaceous motions it left nothing to disguise that the skirt of her dress began to hike. Undaunted, she continued to move, placing a careful hand between her cheeks as the other tugged her dress down.

So young and so free, (name) craned herself upwards and placed her hands against her chest. She bopped from side to side, twirling her hips gingerly and scored her hands across her breasts and middle. She looked heavenward at the ceiling, the club roof clouded by bright, neon lights and flashes, she squeezed her eyes shut in retort. She dropped her head and opened her eyes, bouncing on the balls of her feet before letting out a raring shrill.

The night flew by in a blur of music, laughter and good company. And by 2 am, the club slowed and the crowd began to disperse. Exhausted but exhilarated, they left the club and amidst themselves between the sea of bodies flooding out from the club.

Letting out a refreshed sigh, (name) turned to her friends. Her hair was dampened, her hot-rod curls once full of life and shine, had dropped, now frizzy and weightless. The fabric of her dress had clung to her sticky skin and her bag was hung at the edge of her shoulder.

“I’m so lit right now,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She wobbled on her two feet, swaying from side to side, pressing her weight onto one shoe and when she threatened to stumble to the side, hauling her weight onto the other.

“Me too,” Kayla replied, stumbling over Candace. She clung onto the woman, grasping onto her dress and pressed herself against the wall.

“I….I think–” Candace couldn't help but giggle to herself, dropping her head.

(name) smacked her lips, her eyes slowly peeling open and peered at the two women. She swallowed deeply, curling her lips in practice before she spoke. “You girls….wanna head off to Oasis?”

“Yeah.”

Both Kayla and Candace hummed in agreement and staggered to height. They adjusted themselves, sheepishly picking at each other, one fixing the other’s hair and the other fixing her dress as (name) collected her belongings into her bag.

“Aye!” A voice began. It was deep and hoarse, breathy as his mouth approached a few more words. “Aye miss!”

Though inebriated, (name) couldn’t mask her quickening discomfort as his heavy footsteps rattled behind her.

She tensed, hiking her shoulders and carefully turned. She wore a tight smile on her face, a mask of politeness.

“Yes?”

The man was tall, handsome, and smelt good. And yet, he failed to strike (name). As she stood before him, swaying from left to right, he grinned, bewitched by her charming features and supple figure.

He smiled at her, his eyes never leaving hers. “I just wanted to tell you that you looked good.”

(name) shook her head and waved her hand, feigning appreciation. “Thank you.”

“You know, I was watching you, inside, dancin’ and shit,” He laughed, tossing his head back. “You can shake that ass pretty good.”

“Thank you–”

“And I– lemme get your number.” His words were quick and sharp; his intent was clear.

“Oh,” she tittered, throwing a glance at her friends. “Well…I’m sorry but I’ve got a boyfriend–”

“You’ve got a boyfriend….” He repeated sullenly. He laughed heartily as if (name) had said the funniest thing ever and shook his head.

“Listen,” He began, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I promise you I ain’t no weirdo. No bear here.”

Kayla was prompt in grabbing (name’s) hand, making no effort to hide her disgust. She moved from behind her, Candace following in tow, and attempted to pull the girl along. “C’mon (name) let's go.”

Like a colossal giant, both the man and his voice grew towers tall. He gripped (name’s) arm and jerked her back. “Aye, I wasn’t done talkin’!”

(name) yelped, stumbling over her feet and sharply jeered her head at the man. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Just give me your number.” He demanded, digging his nails into her skin.

(name) profusely shook her head, quickly sobering up and attempted to pull away. “Let go!”

No more did the nice guy act continue, the man once cheerful and hopeful, sneered at (name), puffing out her chest and flaring his nostrils. He was quick to insult her, hurling a hail of curses aimed at her figure as he fiercely yanked her backwards, swinging her frame towards him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cursed at the top of his lungs, splatters of spit flailing out from his mouth. “You bitches are always too full of yourselves! Wanna act all uppity when a man wants to talk to you!”

“Then fucking let me go! The fuck!” By then, amidst the chaos, a crowd had gathered. Like a mob of meerkats, they gawked, gasped and videoed in disbelief at the rage pelting from the colossal of a man. They watched, uttering words of discomfort and dismay as (name) attempted to rear herself away from the man, thrusting herself against Kayla as she pulled her forward.

“I didn't even want to holler at your ugly ass anyways!” He roared, his voice loud and menacing.

“Oh my fucking god! Let me go! I don’t want to fucking talk to your stupid ass!” (name) shrieked back. Her eyebrows furrowed together and her lips pulled into an irritated scowl.

“Nah you fucking listen to me, bitch!” His voice erupted out from the vessels of his throat like a disgorging volcano, propelling a warcry in the wake of a lava-filled avalanche, in the form of a fist.

In a few short seconds, the colossal revolved free his arm, balling his into a fist and drew it back. He reigned his fists forward, fuelled with fury and humiliation, and swung at (name), striking her in the jaw.

She staggered to her floor with a loud yelp, the contents of her purse pooling across the floor. Both Kayla and Candace circled (name) in protest, pulling into their embrace as the colossal hovered above, jeering.

Candace gasped, her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she held (name’s) face between her palms. “(name)!” She cried, fretting her fingers across her face. “Are you okay?”

Sore but unharmed, (name) could manage a nod, nursing a hand to her swelling jaw. “I’m…I’m okay.”

Candace shot her head up and leered up at the colossal begrudgingly, shrieking. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Rapidly, she climbed onto her feet, jumping between the colossal and her friend’s dazed figure, and glowering, waving her pointer finger and screeching like a banshee. “Do you like putting your hands on fucking defenceless women?! Huh! Do you think that’s okay?!”

“Aye, shut the fuck up! That bitch got what she fucking deserved—”

The neigh of engines and the screeching of hot tyres hailed across the strip, and the sound had bequeathed a play of silence across the beach.

The once vivacious party strip, nestled with drunk partygoers and deafening music, had quickly shimmered into silence. And all that sounded was the row of heavy footsteps mounting from the street onto the sidewalk. The footsteps marched into the crowd, dispersing the tide and began to section off each corner one by one as the clatter of a single pair of boots trotted forward.

Armando stared at (name), his face firm, and carefully crouched to his knees. It was a while before he spoke, his voice deep and guttural, his eyes boring into hers. “Are you okay?” Slowly, he brought his hands to her face and brushed his thumb against her jaw, the surface of her wound spreading purple with yellow blotches, and when she cowered back his expression darkened.

(name) could only utter a wary whisper, her eyes darting between him and the colossal behind him. “…yes.”

Inhaling deeply, Armando rose to height, hauling his girlfriend up to her feet. He held her hand in his, offering a forgiving glance and turned.

He clambered away from (name), his shoulders taunt and chin heavenward. Armando was angry– enraged. He did a good job of hiding it, but (name) knew the signs.

He wired his neck, rearing it from side to side and heaved slowly, his chest rising and falling. Every muscle on his face tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his chin jutted outward.

He approached the colossal, his arms pinned behind his back and gave him a once-over, sizing him up.

He blinked, parting his lips slowly, and then blinked again. “Do we have a problem?”

The colossal shook his head and feigned a hearty laugh, his pupils flared and mouth twisted. “Nah man, we’re cool–”

“Let me ask you again,” Armando snarled slowly, gritting his teeth together. “Do we have a problem?”

“Listen, man, I can assure you there’s no problem here–”

Armando sucked at the air like it had suddenly become thick and shut his eyes. He’d become deaf to his galling words, his rapid chatter professing a tale of ignorance and regard, a rapid back-tracking to his previously tough stance. And by then, his anger was irreversible.

He lunged at him; pummelling, hitting. Each hit landed with a sickening thud, the blow between skin and fist astounding. The man had swung back, wailing his fists in the air, but succumbed to the force of Armando’s blows. His movements were swift and silent, spectral. The pivot of his feet from place to place was incorporeal. He was impenetrable evading each wild blow before he swung again.

Armando flitted around the man, his movements a blur of speed and precision and winded his knee upwards. It prodded into his middle, driving into his chest, and sent him stumbling backwards, off-balance. His tumble left an opening, a gap between his face and Armando’s revolving leg.

He took the opening, rearing his leg upwards and swung it forward, striking. A rapid combination of punches and kicks followed, each came and landed with more precision and power till the colossal succumbed to near-coming death. He crumbled to the ground, in a grotesque mess of blood. His eyes were swollen over and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws. He was now as revolting as he should be, finally, the outside reflected the spoiled man within.

Armando stood victorious over the bloody mess that was his adversary and sneered at him with such venom and disdain. He crouched down, his knuckles wounded with welts and stained with blood, not of his own, and grabbed his shirt, his grip like a vice.

He pulled him towards him, his face taut with rage and displeasure, and glowered over him. Under his grip, the man hung like cattle, his limbs astray as blood sputtered from out his mouth.

Armando rubbed his lips, swivelling on the balls of his feet, and gnashed his teeth together, chiding grimly. “You see..” he shook his head, his nostrils flared. “If it wasn’t for her…”

He turned to (name), lugging the man along and pointed. He leaned into his ear, his voice began small as a whisper and bubbled into a rue of senile and ghastly distaste. “…I’d kill you….”

“Consider this a warning–” Armando released his grip, the man flailing back onto the ground, and stood back on his feet. “You fuck with her, you fuck with me.”

He scowled, whipping his hands and leered at the crowd before him. In a stop-start fashion, one by one, the crowd fizzled out in groups of threes, fours, and fives. Song and chatter fizzled back across the strip in small bites and vivid hues flashed across the beach.

Armando turned to (name), his face closed up and extended his arm. He reached for her, placing her hand in his palm and grasped it tenderly. He held her hand to her face and wrapped her wound beneath her hand. He looked at her as her gaze trembled, her shoulders shivering and tugged her towards him. He held her in his arms, his tight embrace swelled around her middle and carefully coaxed (name) away.

Despite the return of vibrance and euphoria flooding across the party strip, an unsettling mist hung over. A monochrome of silver glanced over the black night. There was an uncharacteristically grim line etched across the faces of those among the dispersing crowd, a sense of sadness, remorse, dismay and dread.

Armando Aretas was not to be toyed with— and neither was she.

[moonstruckme]

hii! I was wondering if you could write something about James meeting reader for the first time when he finds her crying at a party or something? and just takes the time to comfort her and get to know her?

Idk that idea just came to me and I think it’s so sweet and adorable 😭🙏🏼

Thank you for requesting lovely!

cw: alcohol

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You thought you came in here to be alone, but it’s just like a boy to come and ruin your plans. And just like James Potter to be drawn to the sound of your weeping like a superhero towards sirens. 

“Hello?” You cover your mouth with a hand as the bedroom door creaks open. “Is someone in here?” 

You recognize the voice even robbed of its usual levity, cautiously softened for your benefit. Your stilted breaths continue puffing out of your nose despite your attempts to be quiet, and James’ footsteps come closer to your hiding spot. 

“Hey,” he says, crouching in front of you, “you alright?” 

“Mm-hm,” you hum pitchily. Your shoulders shake silently as tears continue gushing out of you. 

James’ forehead creases. “What’s wrong, love?” 

Your bottom lip wobbles at his concern, but you stay strong. “Nothing.” You wipe your cheek with the butt of your palm. “M’fine.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear.” He offers you a smile. The effect, you know, is dizzying when you’re sober, so you’re not too frightened when it works the same now. “Would you like a tissue?” 

You nod, and James reaches for the nightstand behind you. He pulls open the top drawer, one hand protecting your head from bumping into it, and procures a box of tissues. You take it from him, holding it in your lap. 

“How did you know where to find that?” 

“This is my best mate’s room,” he says. “Sirius. I’m James, by the way.” 

You blow your nose. “I know. I know who Sirius is, too.” 

“Yeah?” James grins. You fold the tissue and start wiping under your eyes. It does nothing to erase the mascara tracks already running down to your chin, but James doesn’t think telling you that will help anything. “He’ll be happy to hear that. I know you, too, though I don’t think we’ve had the chance to speak before.” 

“Sorry,” you say, patting the floor beside you for your drink. James subtly moves it beneath the bed. “I’m usually better to be around, I think.” 

“I don’t know,” he replies, “I’m having a good time hanging out with you.” 

You snort. “You must have a low bar.” 

James’ eyebrows raise, surprised mingled with amusement. “Can I ask you something?” 

You’re feeling for your drink again, not having processed its absence. “Um, sure.” 

“How’d you end up in here?” 

Immediately, your doleful mood returns. “Kayla’s mad at me.” 

“Kayla Chapman?” James tries to catch your gaze again as you nod at the floor. “Why’s that, darling?” 

“Sh—she—” Your lip wobbles again. When you don’t take a new tissue yourself James does it for you, pressing it into your hand. “We were together, and she was talking to this guy, and then she just disappeared,” you say while blowing your nose. “And she’d been drinking, so I was worried, you know?” 

You look to James for approval, and he nods. 

“Right, you didn’t want her to get taken advantage of.” 

“Exactly! So I had to look for her forever, I was totally panicking, and when I found her I tried to ask if she was okay and she said—” your voice cracks “—I embarrassed her. She was s—so angry with me.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James’ hand lands on your shoulder as you hunch over your lap. He rubs it consolingly. “I’m sure she’ll feel differently tomorrow. You were only trying to look out for her.” 

“She won’t,” you cry, having long forgotten your reservations about doing so in front of James Potter. “And she was the only person I knew here, so now I’m all alone.” 

“Well, that’s not true, is it?” He continues rubbing your shoulder steadily, as if comforting drunk girls at parties is something he does every night. It might be, you don’t know. “You know me.” 

You sniffle. “I meant my only friend.” 

“What, you don’t think of us as friends?” James sounds appalled. “I’m wounded, sweetheart. I thought we were getting in some quality bonding here.” 

You miss the humor in his voice completely, looking up at him through still-glossy eyes. “Are we friends?” 

“I’d like to be.” 

“Why?” 

James' expression does something funny. “Do you ask everyone who wants to be your friend that?” You tilt your head, unsure how to answer, but he goes on. “I like you. You try to keep your friends from being assaulted and you’re clearly conscious of your use of paper products—” You follow his gaze as he glances pointedly at the two tissues you’ve been folding to use over and over again “—what other qualities does a person need?” 

Your lips quirk just a little. James’ smile blooms all over again for seeing it. “You’re really nice,” you tell him. “I mean, I knew you were, s’what everyone says, but it’s still good in person.” 

A little laugh sputters out of him, but James doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. 

“I’m tiresome,” you warn him gravely. “You’ll get sick of me.” 

“I know we’ve only just met,” he replies, still smiling in that always-sunny way of his, “but I don’t really see that happening. I’ll be sure to let you know if it does.” He regards you for a moment. Your face is a mostly dried-up watershed of makeup and snot, collecting to a point around your chin, but James is happy to note no fresh tears seem prepared to spill. “Would it make you feel any better if we cleaned your face up a bit?” 

You blink and touch your fingertips to your face, brow scrunching when they come away sooty. “Oh,” you say. “That would be nice.” 

“I’ll be right back.” 

James takes your drink with him, grateful you don’t seem to notice as he dumps what remains in Sirius’ sink and tosses the cup in the bin. When he returns with a washcloth dampened with warm water, you’ve leaned your head against the side of the mattress and are staring into the middle distance. You still look heart-wrenchingly sad. James wonders if your friend is anywhere near as inebriated as you, and whether she realized that by leaving with that guy she was leaving you like this. Whether it was really you who needed to be looking out for her or the other way around. 

“Back.” His voice comes out quieter than he intends, reduced to nearly a whisper at the sight of your pensive state, but your eyes lift to his anyway. You raise your head as one corner of your mouth tilts upwards. It’s a greeting and, in James’ opinion, a decided improvement. 

He squats in front of you, palming one side of your face. “Close your eyes.” 

James has always made fun of Sirius for his “angsty towels,” but he sees their true purpose now; your makeup hardly shows on the dark material. He swipes it over your skin gently, extra careful around your eyes. 

“This is really nice of you,” you say. James decides not to let you know you’ve already expressed this sentiment. “This is, like, best friend level of niceness.” 

“Best friend,” he repeats, delighted. “Well, if I’d known I was going for the promotion, I would’ve gone above and beyond. Lavender oils on the washcloth and everything.” 

“Mm, you earned it on your own, though.” 

James grins. Your eyes are closed, but you’re smiling too.

[wcters]

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗟𝗟𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗦

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 1.9k+

summary: you run into daniel at a race, completely oblivious to who he is and what he does ━━ or ━━ a spilled coffee turns into a lot more than you thought it would

warnings: readers job is a crime scene investigator (it’s important, i promise), some awkward moments (i know nothing about flirting), some swearing, violence, sexual innuendos | may not be the best writing as it is my first time writing for f1 and i’m still new, first time trying instagram dm’s and things like that so let me know what you think!

The sound of the apartment door opening fills your senses as you wake your way into the apartment, pulling your shoes off and putting your keys in the bowl. You brush a hand through your hair as you breathe out a big sigh. When you get home, you finally let the days stress hit you, then you brush it off, and separate yourself from your work. It’s important not to bring home what you do. It would be damaging. As you make your way to the kitchen to refill your water-bottle, your phone rings from inside your pocket.

Setting your bottle down, you answer it without checking who it is. “Hey!” Your friends voice chimes out. By the sound of it, she needs a favour. “Hey. What do you need?” You ask her, lightly laughing as she gets out a “what do you mean?” “I know your voice. Now spit it out before I reconsider.”

“You know how I was going with Kayla to the Miami Grand Prix?” You nod, forgetting she can’t see you. “Yeah ━━ what was that again?” “It’s a formula one race being held.” You hum in response. “Well, she came down with a cold, no one else is available, and these paddock passes were too expensive to not use. Will you go with me?” You can hear her smile over the phone. “I don’t know . . .” “Come on y/n, you never go out unless it’s grocery shopping, work, or when I drag you out. This will be good for you. Plus, it may get you into formula one so I have another person to talk about it to.” You chuckle at that.

“First of all ━━ you are dragging me out, and second of all you do talk to me about it.” She lets put a huff that you know means “you know what I mean”. You do never really go out. It’s not that you’re a hermit and don’t want to, you just don’t get a lot of opportunities to and when you do, you can’t help but remember places you’ve been to at work and what happened there. At least at these Grand Prix thing nothing bad has happened as you know. “Fine.” She squeals and says thank you a million times before telling you when it is and when she’ll pick you up.

That’s how you end up in the paddock at the Miami International Autrodrome, following your friend around as she explains different things to you and fangirls over people. You remember some names that she had told you during one of her rants, and you smile when you see the smile on her face. You’re glad that she’s having fun, that makes you happy and makes this more enjoyable. During your walk, you stop at a coffee bar and grab an iced coffee while she gets a redbull coffee ━━ whatever that means ━━ and explains how the redbull team has it at every race. “You’ve wanted to try that since forever right?” You ask her, trading coffees and taking a sip. “Yeah. It’s supposed to taste amazing and also gives me the boost of caffeine coffee is supposed because it doesn’t from how much I drink.”

As you sip and she chugs her drink, you stop in front of a bathroom and she instructs you to wait as she goes in. You wait a little ways away, tucked out of the way and scrolling through your phone. It seems the person coming your way was also doing that as he accidentally bumped into you. You drop your phone, coffee lid opening and spilling down your shirt. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

The first thing you note is that this coffee is incredibly cold, and that the man who bumped into you has an Australian accent. You bring yourself back and out of the cold feeling, facing the man. He must work here because he has a RB racing shirt on and a lanyard. “It’s alright.” You politely smile and pick up your phone. It’s not. It’s cold as fuck and it’s wet. “I wasn’t watching where I was going and,” his voice trails off as you look around for an area to get something to clean you up.

There’s a pause before “I have an extra shirt in my room if you want.” The man offers. You’re a bit puzzled as to why he has his own room but you’re too concerned on the feeling of coffee in your shirt. “You sure you wont murder me?” You asked, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.” You stare at him for a little longer before you nod and tell him to lead the way. “I’m Daniel,” he tells you. You introduce yourself as you wrap your arms around yourself, feeling self conscious at the way people are staring at you two.

“Straight to murder, eh?” He joked as you followed him. You shrugged, “it’s my first instinct. My job revolves around it.” He looked at you with a puzzled look, as if asking you to explain. “I’m a crime scene investigator,” you revealed as you got to a door and he led you in. You take in the surroundings as he opens a closet and digs around to find you a clean shirt. “My job is to determine ━━ well, more like make an educated guess ━━ on if the person was assaulted and how.” You thank him as he passes you a shirt he finds. He stands waiting for you to continue until he lets out an “oh!” and turns around, blush on his cheeks as he apologizes.

“How do you do that?” He seemed genuinely interested in your conversation, not just making small talk to cover the fact that a woman he’s just met is changing behind him. “The main thing I do is blood pattern analysis,” you start, voice slightly muffled as you skip your shirt off, “blood behaves to specific scientific principles as all liquids do, and so i use that information and what blood there is at a crime scene to do that.” You grab the RB shirt from between your legs and slip it on, telling him he can turn around.

“So we can analyze the size, shape, distribution, location and use the behaviour of blood, physics like the velocity and capillary action, math to determine things such as where did it come from, what caused the wounds, and how were they positioned to make a guess or determine what happened.” Daniel makes a slightly shocked face. “You can do all that from a blood splatter?” “Yeah, just like any other pattern,” you shrug while smiling, you feel proud, “I took a course on it. It’s really just looking at what’s around you. It takes a trained eye.”

“I think you’re one of the smartest people I have ever met.” He tells you, and you blush. “Thanks.” You mumble. You both stand there before you mumble about having to get back. “Oh right, of course. I’m sorry.” Daniel apologies as he reaches for the door and opens it, allowing you to go first. You walk side by side as you continue to talk about your work. When you get to the end of the garage, you say goodbye and you head to try and find your friend.

You eventually bump into her at the same coffee station. “Where were you?” she almost yells, “I was so worried!” “A guy spilled coffee on me and then offered to get me another shirt. I think he worked her. His name was Daniel.” Your friend finally notices the shirt you’re wearing and a look comes across her face. “Daniel Ricciardo?” “I don’t know. I didn’t get his last name.” You shrug, not realizing what the big deal is. Who’s this Daniel Ricciardo and why is he so important.

“What did he look like?” She pestered. “Tall, curly brunette, Australian,” she interrupts you with a gasp. You look at her confused. “That was Daniel Ricciardo, the F1 driver?” You look confused until you remember how she was talking about him a couple weeks ago. “Oh . . . Cool.” “I can’t believe you’re being so chill about this.” She shakes her head with a small smile. “I just don’t know that much about this, and don’t really care if he’s famous. He bumped into me and ruined my good shirt.” You tell her, lifting up the shirt. You laughs and let’s put a “true.”

You continue the day as you would’ve, her telling you more about Daniel Ricciardo, and pointing out his car during the race, as well as the other drivers. You’re starting to understand a little more. She gets a couple photos signed from other drivers and you both leave happy. You happy that you learned some new things and got a break from being inside your house and her happy that she got to do this. You knew it had been something she wanted to do forever.

When you go to bed that night after throwing your dirty shirt in the laundry with another load, you hang up the shirt that Daniel gave you and went to bed thinking about what happened that day, and that you also didn’t get a refund for your coffee.

yourusername

liked by yourfriend, kayla.k, and 238 others

yourusername had a fun weekend! thank you @yourfriend for the tickets and to the guy who spilled my coffee: you are forgiven because of the new shirt you got me, but i want a refund for my coffee 😌

view all 27 comments

yourfriend can’t believe you met daniel ricciardo and yet you want a refund for your coffee

↳ yourusername that was a good shirt :((

↳ kayla.k you met daniel ricciardo?!

kayla.k never been more mad at myself for being sick

user1 rip coffee

user2 so jealous

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 556,927 others

danielricciardo miami was great. not sure if he is alive but very happy for lando norris. and to the girl who’s coffee i spilled: i am very sorry but at least you got a t-shirt out of it 😄

view all 1,763 comments

landonorris i’m not sure if i’m alive either but thanks mate

↳ danielricciardo always

user3 that last photo 💀 you know he messed up something

user4 you spilled someone’s coffee? how’d that happen?

charles_leclerc from the videos i have, i’m not sure he’s alive either 😂

yourfriend @yourusername

↳ yourusername what?

↳ yourfriend he talked about you!

↳ yourusername i guess so 🤷‍♀️ i still want my refund

user5 he’s too cute

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 62,947 others

f1gossip daniel ricciardo was seen out for dinner last night in miami with mystery girl a couple days after the miami grand prix. who do you think she is? 👀

view all 2,286 comments

user1 maybe that’s the girl who he was talking about in his instagram caption

↳ user2 i doubt it. it’s not like their meeting was a big thing, he just spilt her coffee

user3 i’m just wondering why we’re still getting all up their personal lives

user4 you can tell it’s daniel from how tall he is . . . or the girl is incredibly short

↳ user5 i think it’s just daniel’s giant frame

user6 don’t crush my dreams 😩😩😩

yourfriend @yourusername girl what

yourfriend @yourusername text me asap

You didn’t even have time to see your friends comment on instagram before she’s calling you. “Hello?” You asked, making your way to your apartment. “Was that you in that post?” “What post?” You heard a scoff of disbelief. “The one with daniel and a girl who likes strikingly similar to you on a date last night? You just told me you were busy. Not busy with daniel ricciardo!” She yelled the last bit and you had to pull your phone away from your ear.

“I didnt know I had to! It was just a date.” You explained as you opened your apartment door and took off your shoes. “It doesn’t matter if it’s just a date, and it doesn’t even matter that much about who it’s with, you haven’t been on a date in forever.” You could tell she was genuinely happy for you when she said that and you smiled and blushed. You shrugged even though she couldn’t see you. “You have to meet me at a coffee shop and spill.” “Alright. Twenty minutes?” You replied. “See you soon girlie.”

You were there within fifteen minutes and were greeted with your friend smiling at you. You hugged her as she got up to greet you and then you sat down, taking a sip of the coffee she ordered you. “Besides the fact that he’s a famous driver, i am really happy for you babe. It’s good to see you happy and taking some time for yourself.” She told you as she grabbed your hand across the table. You smiled at her as you thanked her. She gave you a look as if asking you to start talking. “He’s really nice.” You gushed.

Her smile got wider than you’ve ever seen. “That’s so good! What happened? Where did you go?” “He picked up from my apartment almost 10 minutes early,” “ooh he’s early, gentleman.” Your friend teased. “He held the door open to the car and the restaurant. We went to that place on the corner near the diner we always go to. It wasn’t too fancy, it was like he knew what I liked.” You continued to ramble, your friend becoming more and more excited. “Yeah, so, I think we might be doing it again.” You finished, your coffee almost done.

“Y/n. Oh my god. You have to text me after and let me know. I want to know if this works out. I really hope it does.” “I will text you immediately after, unless we end up watching a movie or something.” She winked at you when you said that.

yourusername posted to their story!

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, yourfriend, and 23,294 others

yourusername all because of spilled coffee ☕️ p.s. i got my refund

view all 1,836 comments

yourfriend I KNEW IT

yourfriend i’m a mastermind 🤷‍♀️

user1 is that daniel ricciardo

user2 so cute!

danielricciardo ❤️❤️

↳ yourusername love you 🤍

user3 is this the coffee girl?

↳ user4 i think so, it has to be right?

user5 WE FOUND HER Y’ALL

kayla.k i’ve never been more jealous but also happy i couldn’t go to that race

danielriccarido

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 538,465 others

danielricciardo never been more glad to spill someone’s coffee

view all 20,719 comments

landonorris WHAT

user1 she’s an icon already, i can tell

yourusername you really outed me in the last one 😧😔

↳ danielricciardo that’s my job!

maxverstappen1 why didn’t i about know this??

↳ danielricciardo i’m sorry babe 😭😭

user2 y/n is really just a third wheel

↳ yourusername i love my boyfriend and his boyfriend

↳ user3 ICON

georgerussell63 next you’re going to announce that you’re secretly american and from texas

↳ yourusername 🤫🤫🤫

↳ user4 you’re joking.

user5 i don’t know if i want to be him or her

[nofingjustaninchident]

just a little drunk - hoo boys

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

content: percy jackson, leo valdez, jason grace and frank zhang x drunk!reader, best friends to lovers

warnings: mortal!au, alcohol consumption, dirty jokes, weed consumption, probably cursing.

a/n: i just discovered that i have a massive problem with writing. i literally took half an hour (at least) to write EACH one of those. terrible. just terrible. but i swear im trying to write more, it’s just cause i don’t have much creativity to write 😭

⛧° 。 ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆༺♱༻⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ 。°⛧

now playing… party in the USA - miley cyrus

Percy Jackson

He was at the party. Of course he was at the party. Everyone says a party without Percy Jackson is not a party. But he was the DD of the night, so he was completely sober - which was a hard task for the party king.

That, until he saw you. On top of a table. Striping down- wait. Striping down?! Jesus Christ, he left you alone for five minutes- oh, you’re taking your shirt off.

Of course there’s a bunch of assholes standing there, telling you to keep going and screaming obscenities at you. But Percy didn’t have the time to be mad right now, he was too focused on you.

If he got there one second late, he and everyone else in that room would see the black lacy bra you was wearing, but thank goodness he got there before you did it.

“Alright, that’s enough for today, isn’t it, sweetheart?” He said, hugging you from behind and taking a very giggly you off the table. All the boys in the room started ‘booh’ing him, and he just flipped him the finger.

“Perce! I was having funnn!!” You complained, your words sloppy and smudgy as he basically dragged you back to his SUV. He just rolled his eyes and chuckled slightly.

“Y/n/n, you were about to strip in front of a lot of people. I’m sure you’d kill me tomorrow if i let that happen.” He said as he pushed you onto the car and pulled the seat down so you could lay against it.

“Hmm.. Yeah, i’d probably do that.” She said, the smile never leaving her face as she started mumbling random words.

He closed the door and walked towards the driver’s seat. He knew he couldn’t drive you back to his house now, since he had to wait for his friends, so he just turned the air conditioning on and pulled a blanket over you shoulders.

“Sleep for a little. I’ll take you to my home, hm? I’ll take care of you.” He said, taking the loose strands of hair off your face. You were just so pretty it was unbearable.

“Fine.. Thanks, Percy.” She said and drifted off to slumber.

After a few minutes of watching you sleep, he remembered that you’d hate to sleep with make up on, so he looked into the glove compartment and- aha! Of course you had left a few of your wet wipes there.

He started softly running the cloth against your face, cleaning it. When he was finally over, he kissed your nose slightly and smiled to himself, waiting for his friends so he could drive you home aswell.

Jason Grace

He was sleeping, as any normal person would at 2 am. But he was a light sleeper, and he woke up suddenly with his phone raining in his nightstand. He groaned and searched for both his glasses and the phone so he could see who was calling him so late in the night.

When he looked at the phone screen, he frowned in confusion. Why was Kayla calling him, out of nowhere? She usually didn’t call him, unless-

“Kayla?” He said as he picked up the phone, sitting in his bed and rubbing his eyes so he could try and forget the sleepiness that was threatening to win him over.

“Hey, Jason.. uh… i’m sorry for waking you up but, uh… i’m in a party with y/n-“ Y/n and parties? Never ever a good combination. “-And she doesn’t accept to go home unless it’s with you. She’s… drunk. Maybe high, too. Can you pick her up?”

Oh boy, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do that. “I’m on my way. Just… send me the address and i be there as soon as possible.”

“Fine- shut up, y/n! Stay here, no-“ And then the call was over.

My god, he thought, what’s she gotten herself into this time?

Kayla sent him the adress and he got into his car - a Lambo, gift from his absent father trying to make up for it - and got in the place the party was happening in less than ten minutes.

The first thing he noticed was the loud noise in the party. The second was you, laid down and making a snow angel in the grass. Funny sight.

“Y/n/n? My god, what in hell are you-“ He got cut off with you getting up and jumping on his arms, hugging him.

“Jase! I didn’t think you’d come!” You said, smiling brightly at your best friend. “Come on, let’s go to the party!”

You tried pulling his hand towards the house, but you weren’t already the strongest while sober, and drunk… e didn’t even flinch.

“No, honey, im taking you back to your house. You got enough drinking for today.” He said, pulling you by the waist towards him and placing you inside the car as you tried your hardest to get back to the party.

“As, come on! Buzzkill!” You whined, crossing your arms and pouting at him.

“Come on, i’ll buy you a slushee. What’d you think?” He asked. You immediately smiled. Drunk you was a very easily distracted person.

“Fine. But we’ll talk about that tomorrow.” He said, squeezing her shoulder softly as he drove towards the gas station.

“Whatever you say. Buzzkill.”

Leo Valdez

He was home watching a dumb tv show. He didn’t really bother with sleeping, since he knew his best friend was going to a party. And you plus party equals to a very drunk mess.

So when he finally got a call, he already knew it was you. It happens that he was right.

“Yes, cariño?” He asked, a smile plastered on his lips as soon as he heard your drunk giggles.

“Can you pick me up, fireboy?” You asked, your voice groggy and smudgy. But he knew it would probably be like that, so he was already expecting it.

“Course i can. Send me the address and i’m on my way.”

“Fine. Bye Valdeeezzzz..” You said before hanging up the phone with giggles and smiles.

He got where you were and you were being supported by one of your friends, who seemed pretty annoyed with the drunk version of you, all smiley and clingy to anyone around.

“Oh, thank god you’re here. I can’t stand her anymore.” Your friend said before basically dragging you towards the boy. “She’s all yours now.”

You were all smiles as you held Leo’s neck and pulled him close to you. “Leooooo! I missd’ ya!”

“Hey, cariño. You’re kinda drunk, aren’t you?” He asked before supporting your weight and taking you towards his car.

“What? Me? Nooo…” You said, giggling. You clearly smelled like pure alcohol.

“Sure you aren’t. Get in there, i’m taking you home.” He said, opening the passanger’s seat for you and placing you inside.

He put on your seat belt and kissed you forehead before walking towards the driver’s seat.

When he got inside the car, you were almost completely dozed off in sleep, trying your hardest to stay awake. He chuckled and turned the air conditioning on so you could rest more comfortably.

“Sleep, y/n/n. I’ll call you when we get home.” He said, the smile never leaving his lips.

Franz Zhang

He’s dead worried that you haven’t gotten home yet. Of course he didn’t knew where you were, cause you didn’t tell him.

Come on, you knew that, if you did tell him, he’d try to stop you.

So why bother?

You were having fun. A really, really good time. That was until your best friend came by with a weird cocktail, which was nothing more than a mix of different types of alcohol and syrup. Really fun.

And that’s when you got drunk and wobbly and you just had to call Frank. Common drunk mistake, isn’t it?

He picked up on the third ring.

“Y/n? My god, are you okay?” He asked, his voice laced with concern. He was so worried about you, cause you weren’t home and you didn’t pick up the phone and just called him out of the blue.

“Frankie!” You said and he could hear the smile in your voice. His concern only grew once he realized you were drunk.

“Y/n, where are you? I’m going to pick you up.” He said, already getting up with the car and house keys in his hand.

“I’m at Louis’ house! We’re having a birthday party!” You said, giggling and smiling brightly at absolutely nothing.

“Fine, i’ll… i’ll be there in ten. Just… don’t do anything stupid, and wait for me, outside the house. Don’t drink anything else and please, for the heavens sake, don’t do drugs.” He pleaded.

“I’m not- Frankie! I’m not on drugs. Please.” You said in a fake annoyed tone and giggled again. He rolled his eyes and sighed, driving towards where you were.

When he got there, he immediately saw you on the backyard, playing probably Pokémon Go and yelling when you finally found a pokémon. He smiled at the sight, and then remembered why he was there.

He walked towards you. When you finally saw him, you smiled widely and jumped in his direction, trying to hug his neck. Which wasn’t easy, as he was a little taller than you.

“Hey.” He said as he leaned down so you could hug him properly.

“Heyyy!!! I missed you!” You said, voice muffled by his shoulder. “Can you take me home? Please? I’m tired.” You said smiling cheekily.

“No.” He said, simply. “I’m taking you to my house today, kay? There’s some of your stuff there, and i can borrow you a shirt so you can sleep. But i’m not leaving you alone in this state.”

“Yay! Sleepover!” You cheered excitedly.

He couldn’t deny that the drunk version of you was very cute.

a/n pt2: did you see what i did there? i cut almost all of them in the middle. two reasons: one, for this not be too big and second i have inspiration to write more. lmk if u want a part 2 of those!!

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico wakes up to gagging and a soft glow coming from the bathroom.

His first thought is, bizarrely, that Hazel’s home. But her bunk is still empty, and her shoes aren’t by the door, and she didn’t wake him when she came in. She always wakes him when she comes in, even if it’s four thirty in the damn morning, because nothing makes her cackle quite like Nico choking back curses and tweaking under her smothering pillow.

“Shit,” comes a small voice from the bathroom, followed by more retching. “Shitshitshit, no —”

Nico bolts for the door.

“Hi,” Will says, or tries to. His scarred knuckles clench with every gag, wrapped too tightly around the rim of porcelain to tremble like the rest of him.

Something about the wobbly smile he keeps trying to form in between gags. Something about the sweat that has drenched his t-shirt, something about the deep circles under his eyes, something about his spot in the bed completely cold, wrinkled.

Something is not adding up.

“You’re not sick,” Nico murmurs, pressing the back of his hand to Will’s forehead. Will mutters something about bliss, leaning into Nico’s hand; he smiles again, but it is strained, and at odds with the glassy look in his eyes. The sharp, rapid breaths.

“Just don’t — feel good.”

Every word is punctuated by a big, heaving gasp, like he’s trying to breathe through heavy cotton. On a hunch, Nico slides his hands down Will’s face, brushing the goosebumps on his neck, the irritated, pulsing tendons, and rest flat against his chest, over his heart.

His heart that is pounding, so quickly it is actually challenging to recognise as a beat rather than a buzz.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Nico says quietly.

Will shrugs. He gags again, but clamps his mouth shut before it goes anywhere, breathing deeply and carefully through clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. His heart pounds faster, and the rapid movement of his chest grows shallow, but he manages to choke back his bile, swallow down whatever nausea is plaguing him.

“I’m — fine.” His laboured breathing is the loudest sound in the cabin. In the camp. “I’m handling it.”

Nico watches him. Watches him clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut and make a noise like he is being betrayed, like he is being sold for thirty silver by his own body, his own mind; watches him flex his muscles rigid and hold himself still like he can stop the nails and thorns from coming. He thinks of wide smiles and far away eyes and mental health pamphlets and cheerful slogans on infirmary walls.

“I think one of those things are true.”

“I don’t need —”

Whatever he doesn’t need is forgotten, because he is heaving again, only this time his body finds something to dredge up, even if that something is stomach acid and he cries as it burns its way up his throat, and in between heaving he wheezes, horrible whistling gasping noises, and his hair plasters to his forehead, and his body slumps into Nico’s hold and jerks away from him like rocky waves against a lakefront.

“How long have you been here?”

Will just shrugs again, and he cries, and he says “Leave, please,” and Nico wraps an arm tighter around his waist, and presses a kiss to his sweaty temple, lingering, holding, tasting salt from Will and from his tears both, and squeezing his eyes shut, and holding back the anger. Gritting his teeth and softening his hold, deliberately, resting his fingers delicately on the dip of Will’s hip, the raised pink of the stretch marks along his ribs.

“I hate it when you run from me,” he murmurs, and Will sobs again.

“I can’t breathe,” he says, and Nico squeezes and promises he can. “I’m dying. I’m dying, I’m gonna —”

“I’m here, Will.” He doesn’t say you’re not dying. He doesn’t say you’re fine, because this is the longest they’ve sat together in five days, because it is the the quiet middle of June, because yesterday Kayla spent half her shift screaming at Will to get out and ignoring him when he shouted back. Because the bandage around Will’s wrist has been worn to threads, because Lee’s hoodie has not been washed in weeks, because there is a newcomer named Michael and Will cannot even look at him. Because it has been bad. “I’m here.”

It is as much a reminder as it is a plea as it is a reprimand as it is a fruitless nothing, because when Nico struggles he gets angry, when Nico struggles he gets mean and biting and violent, but when Will struggles he wants the world to kill him. And for all that Nico is halfway to the grave he has clawed and chewed and fought his way to survival. And when Will scratches at the skin around his ears and screams into his hands and opens the chapped over scars on his lips his palms his fingers, Nico can only hold him, Nico can only gently pry his nails from his flesh and tell himself that one day they will get to the point where Nico wakes up. Where Will wakes him up, where he burrows into the place between his arms and his chest and hides in someone else for once. Where he trusts someone outside of himself enough to bare his back.

“I’m here,” he whispers again, and he presses his lips to Will’s hair and holds him as he sobs, “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.”

[alwaysbethewest]

TLOU fic: See Me After

Merry Christmas @auteurdelabre! I'm your Secret Santa for this year's @pedrostories exchange and I have a little gift for you 🥰 Most of my writing is light and fluffy so it was a fun challenge to get a prompt like forbidden relationships and figure out how to spin it, haha. I had already been thinking about sex pollen and then you told me you love that trope, so here we are. I hope you enjoy this, and that you have a very happy holiday!

Title: See Me After Pairing: Joel/f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word count: 2.4k Content/warnings: Pre-series, reader is Sarah's teacher and around Joel's age. Sex pollen, masturbation, sex, breaking of school district policy on multiple levels lol. Unbetaed but thanks as always to @fleetwoodmactshirt and @mourningbirds1 for their invaluable advice and cheerleading.

Mrs. Taylor, the third grade math teacher, had told you about the fraternization policy your first week at the school—and the incident back in ’97 that necessitated it in the first place.

“I’ll tell you what,” she’d said conspiratorially, “I’m not so sure it would’ve made it into the handbook if the dad Miss Kayla was stepping out with didn’t happen to be married to the PTA president’s sister.”

But he had been, and it’s there now in black and white on page 16 of the packet you’d received from HR: District Policy 3A(1) On fraternization with students’ family members. In short, dating parents is not allowed.

Amid lesson plans and curriculum revision, dating is the last thing on your mind anyway and you don’t think much about it beyond the opportunity for break room gossip. You’re too busy learning the ropes at a new school, and when the weekends come you’re focused on getting your laundry done and seeing your friends. Romance falls by the wayside and you barely miss it.

Then the fall term starts, and Sarah Miller joins your class.

Mr. Miller is one of the most attractive men you’ve ever laid eyes on. He’s all broad shoulders and deep brown eyes, thick hair falling in soft curls over his forehead and a comfortable Texan accent from his mouth. He repeats your name as you shake hands and between his deep voice and the large, calloused hand firmly gripping yours, you feel your knees start to buckle and you know you’re fucked.

A little fantasy never hurt anybody. There’s no District Policy 3A(2) On fantasizing about that one hot dad. This is what you tell yourself at the end of Curriculum Night, after you’ve gone home and showered and climbed into bed, ready to decompress from meeting every new student and their parents in one whirlwind evening.

What were those hands so big for if not to imagine how they’d cup your hips, how firmly they’d grip your thighs and part them to discover you? Why have a voice that deep, that little bit rough around the edges, if not to hear it moan in your ear and tell you, come on, baby, just like that?

You don’t mean for it to turn into a fixation. It’s just an easy, unattainable fantasy. Cooking him dinner and him thanking you by fucking you on the kitchen table, coaxing a new orgasm from you until you’re so wrung out he needs to help you to bed. Him picking you up in his truck and driving you somewhere quiet, like two teenagers sneaking off, straddling him in the cramped space to ride his hand, and the beard burn you get on your neck doesn’t even sting. It’s a dopamine boost.

Sarah’s dad is kind of a dick.

You catch him outside on a Friday, waiting to pick up his daughter after school. He’s leaning against the door of his truck, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses hiding his eyes. You try not to let your gaze linger too long on his biceps and how his t-shirt sleeves strain to contain them.

“Mr. Miller.”

He starts when you greet him and you wonder if he’d been dozing behind the shades, despite the cacophony of schoolchildren spilling out onto the sidewalk around you. But he gives you a polite nod in return.

“I just wanted to remind you of the parent volunteer opportunities for this year,” you say, holding out a printed flyer.

He accepts the paper, glances down at it, and grimaces like you’ve asked him to sign up for a root canal.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t crumple the paper but he drops it through the open window of his truck onto the passenger seat, where you imagine it getting lost amid the standard car detritus of fast food napkins and gas station receipts.

You wait a beat, but he doesn’t say anything more.

“Okay, well. Have a good weekend,” you tell him. He nods again, silently, and you think his eyes have probably already shut again as you turn to go. But then you hear a quiet, “you too,” like an afterthought, and for some reason—insanity, perhaps—you feel a blush rising to your cheeks as you walk away.

That night, he turns a little mean. Selfish. He puts you on your knees at his feet, offers you his dick to suck, teases his foot between your legs so you can grind against his shoe for relief. You press hard against your clit and focus on his cock, imagining how he’d fill your mouth, salt-skin-heat on your tongue, and it’s mortifying how quickly it makes you come, alone and muffled against your pillow.

There’s a rumor going around school that the fifth grade chemistry teacher, Mrs. Fontaine, is a witch. If it’s true, she must be one of the good ones, because she’s only ever been nice to you.

It’s a Tuesday and you come across her in the break room, perusing a newspaper and drinking coffee out of a mug decorated with a black cat. She’s never seemed too concerned with dispelling the rumors.

“Ah, here,” she says, nodding hello as you head to the fridge. “Your horoscope. What you are dreaming of will find you, whether or not you think you’re ready for it. Embrace your destiny, even if it means breaking a few rules.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Breaking rules? Are you sure you’ve got the right sign?” you joke.

She laughs knowingly. “The stars are telling you to let loose; maybe you should listen.”

“Maybe these celestial bodies don’t really know my business,” you counter. Mrs. F just shakes her head, like you’re the one being silly here.

Sarah’s dad blows off your scheduled parent-teacher meeting and sends her uncle in his place.

It makes you prickle with irritation.

Tommy Miller is nice enough. He’s younger than you, and a natural flirt, quick with a smile and a polite yes or no, ma’am when you ask him a question. He also has no idea what subject you teach or which grade Sarah is in, but he seems sincerely pleased to hear she’s doing well in your class, and he promises to share your report with her father, who will definitely, definitely follow up.

You’re not holding your breath.

In the final week of the semester, Sarah hands you an envelope on her way to her seat. Your name is scratched on the front in boxy letters. Inside, the note reads:

I’m sorry I missed our one-on-one. I had a work project go overtime and couldn’t get away. Thanks for meeting with Tommy instead. He told me Sarah is keeping up and about your reccomendation for the competition. That’s very cool.

I know you all want parents to volunteer. Ain’t nobody wants to eat my bake sale cupcakes but if you have anything that needs fixed around the classroom I can do that for you. Tommy mentioned there was some loose tile by the door.

Call me to schedule it and I’ll show up this time, promise.

-Joel

The promise gets you. You sigh, thinking you might forgive him after all, and get started jotting down a list of the loose tiles and crooked cabinet doors your maintenance guy has been ignoring for the past year.

He shows up in a tool belt and work boots, on Saturday morning as you’d arranged. The building is deserted and it’s almost serene walking through the empty hallways, silent but for the click of your shoes and the heavy tread of his.

You feel slightly self-conscious, being alone with him in person after all the time you’ve spent with the thought of him in private, but you try your best to push that down so you can appear professional.

Mr. Miller—Joel—seems at ease, rambling about the history of the district school buildings’ retrofits and how many decades it’s been since they’ve been properly updated. It’s endearingly uninteresting, reminding you of countless students who have subjected you to impromptu lectures on their own special interests over the years, and you’re biting back a smile by the time you reach your own classroom.

He takes in the room with an expert’s eye, systematically going through the list you’d made him and making notes to himself, finally tucking his pencil behind his ear for safekeeping when he’s done.

You’ve got your own list to get through, to close out the term and ready for the upcoming one—lesson plans to print and organize, task cards to laminate, books to sort in the classroom library as you swap out this year’s unit for the next. You busy yourself while he gets to work and there’s a companionable silence in the room, broken by the shuffle of papers and books on your end, hammering and the occasional muttered curse word from his.

You allow yourself to watch him when his back is turned. You watch his back, in fact—the sturdy slope of it down to the little patch of bare skin that reveals itself when he reaches forward and his shirt rides up. His skin looks soft. Lush, you think, and you luxuriate in the vision of him until you realize you’re biting your lip and force yourself to snap out of it and get back to alphabetizing.

Coming to a break, you stand up and stretch, then slip off your shoes and wiggle your toes. Yesterday, Mrs. Fontaine had dropped off a tin of cookies and in the rush of wishing your students a happy break, you’d forgotten to grab them on your way out. They’re still sitting on the corner of your desk, and you perch next to them and open the box.

“Cookie?” you offer. “My co-worker made them.”

Joel has been re-hanging cupboard doors to make them sit straight, and he looks up from his screwdriver. “Thanks.”

He washes his hands with care at the corner sink and comes to settle by your side, a respectful distance away. You munch on the cookies, looking around the room to admire his work. The changes are subtle, but for as many hours as you’ve spent in this room, they stand out to you. Little things like the cupboard doors closing properly, and the wooden border around your white board looking good as new instead of cracked along the edge.

“It looks great,” you tell him. “I appreciate your work.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing, but you see the smile on his face and can tell he’s happy you’re pleased.

It hits you first, you think. The strangest sensation, like a ripple through your body awakening every nerve.

“I feel…” you start, unsure.

What is it you feel?

You look at him and you watch as it strikes him too, as his jaw drops and his breathing goes shallow.

Your body feels drawn to his like there’s a magnet pulling you in. The air is suddenly thick, sticky with arousal brewing between you. Your eyes are locked with his and you see his pupils dilate, his gaze turning heavy with intent.

“Maybe we just… need some fresh air,” you suggest. It’s a struggle to turn from him to walk to the door and when you reach it your body aches. You look back at him, seeing the pained expression on his face and how tightly his fingers are gripping the edge of the desk. Your eyes drop—you can’t help it—to see the bulge in his jeans, and as if your body has taken over all decision-making, your fingers reach past the knob to engage the lock instead.

He kisses how you thought he would. Intense and focused. But his hands are nicer, gentler, than in your imagination. They smooth over your curves, settle on your back and your ass to pull you closer, into the space between his legs. His arms are a solid grip around you and your body melts against his until he’s the only thing holding you up.

He turns the two of you around so you can sit on the desk while he stands over you, panting when your lips break apart.

“I’ve never felt like this,” he whispers. “I feel—I need—”

He kisses you desperately and slides his hands under your shirt. The touch of his fingers on your body is like a dam breaking; now that you’ve felt it you need every inch of his skin against yours. Your hands knock as you rush to remove each others’ clothes, and it would be almost comical if you didn’t feel like you might die without him inside you soon.

He’s nudging his cock at your entrance, a spellbound, breath-held silence between you and a wanting ache in your gut.

“Please,” you whisper. It was chilly this morning but now you’re flushed with heat. His skin is glowing with sweat—it almost distracts you, noticing how the hard angle of his collarbone is softened by the sheen of it. You lean forward, set your mouth to his skin to taste him, and he groans.

He grinds against you, the thick length of him riding over your cunt. It feels like a tease, but it’s not; he’s holding himself back.

“Tell me you want it,” he breathes.

“Joel,” you moan. “Please. I want you.”

Your body arches as his cock drives you open, pleasure buzzing through your veins. He bows his head, mouth at your neck, the soft scratch of his beard pressing into your skin. With a gasping breath, he murmurs, “I wanted you—all this time,” and you think you might see stars.

You ignore the phone ringing, but when the answering machine switches on and you hear the urgency in your friend’s voice, you reluctantly drag yourself to the kitchen to pick up.

“Tell me you didn’t eat those cookies,” Mrs. Fontaine says.

You open your mouth, wondering what you should say, but she barrels on without you, explaining the mix-up with the special batch she’d made for date night with her husband and how she’s only just realized the mistake, and maybe she’s making a big deal out of nothing but you didn’t eat the cookies yet, did you?

You look up and see Joel leaning in the doorway to your bedroom, naked but for a pair of shorts, and abruptly you decide you don’t have time for this conversation.

“You know what? I’m gonna have to call you back,” you tell her, and with that, you hang up the phone.

[pedroscurls]

christmas confessions (pt. 1 - day 1)

summary: spending the morning with logan before you go back home for the holidays, you suddenly get bad news that you're unable to fly home due to the severe weather. pairing: origins!logan howlett x fem!reader content warnings: slow burn, best friends (who are deeply in love with each other but don't want to say anything) trope(?) lmao, best friends to lovers, no physical description of reader, no use of y/n. word count: 3k a/n: alright y'all, happy december 1st! i'm gonna slightly deviate from the movie, but otherwise, everything will remain the same. anyway, we're in for a ride for these two so stay tuned 🙂‍↕️ pt 2. | series masterlist.

When moving to the Canadian Rockies almost five years ago, you hadn’t expected to fall in love with the area and you certainly hadn’t expected to befriend one very gruff and very handsome mutant– Logan. A man whose tough exterior didn’t deter you from striking a conversation with him one early morning at the local coffee shop. You could tell from the moment you met him that he was a man who preferred to be alone, that this was a man who had been scarred from traumatic events from his life. 

You were new to the area, Logan knew that much. You had turned to him while in line and asked him what drink he would recommend. Logan had gotten used to keeping to himself, after the events of losing Kayla and then killing Stryker, he just wanted to live the rest of his days in his cabin. Alone, just like how it should be. 

But you had looked at him with the kindest eyes he’s ever seen and a smile that made his heart flutter at the sight. When he lost Kayla, he had vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to commit himself to anyone – that he was better off alone because everyone he cared about, everyone he loved, would eventually get hurt because of him. He had thought Kayla was the turning point in his life, the person that he was going to spend the rest of his days with, but Logan was always meant to be alone. He understood that now. 

So despite the frequent visits to the coffee shop every morning before work, Logan knew that he wouldn’t ever be able to cross that boundary with you. Even though he made sure to arrive every morning at six – just so he can have a brief, five minute conversation with you – Logan knew that nothing could ever happen. 

But as your friendship with him grew, so did his feelings for you. 

What Logan didn’t know was just how deeply in love you were with him. 

The quick morning conversations while in line for coffee soon turned into having dinner once a week. You would normally go over to his place, having fallen in love with the view when stepping out of his cabin, but sometimes, he’d come by to your apartment on the way home from work. Your friendship with him blossomed, but you couldn’t help the way you felt about him. 

It had taken him almost six months for him to tell you just exactly who he was. Logan didn’t know how you would react, but there was a part of him that expected you to realize that you no longer wanted nothing to do with him. So when he told you that he was a mutant, showed you his claws, and mentioned how he had hurt many people, Logan was surprised by your reaction. How gentle and kind you were, the look in your eyes, the light touch of your fingertips against the tip of his claws – you weren’t afraid. He didn’t realize just how much of a relief he felt, how the weight on his shoulders finally lifted when he told you. 

Logan knew that night he loved you, but he knew that nothing could ever happen. So he continued to love you silently, without your knowledge, because not only could he lose you, but he didn’t want to ruin this. 

And now, five years later since you both met, the feelings you felt for each other only strengthened. Neither of you had ever made a move, had ever crossed that boundary from friends to lovers. You were aware of the hurt and pain Logan carried with him – you knew about Kayla, about Stryker, about his past. So you kept your feelings to yourself, held him at arm’s length. Logan was your best friend and you didn’t want to ruin that. 

–

DAY 1 — You pull up to Logan’s cabin, the view just as breathtaking as it was the first time you were here. You wanted to spend the morning with him before you had to leave for the holidays. Logan never was a big fan of Christmas, not really finding the need to celebrate, and he had declined your plenty of offers over the last few years about having him come with you. 

You step inside his home, the warmth from the fireplace radiating throughout his house. You remove your coat and beanie, unraveling your scarf and placing it on the coat rack near the door. Gently stomping on the mat, removing any residue of the snow from outside, you reach down and pull off your boots. 

“Logan,” you call out, walking further into his home and down the hallway. You see him sitting on the couch, dressed in his usual flannel and jeans with a cup of coffee in his hand and his journal on his lap. 

“In here,” he replies, setting his journal on the coffee table and standing up to greet you. 

“It’s coming down out there,” you tell him, leaning in to give him a hug. Your arms wrap around him, cheek resting against his chest as he rests his chin atop your head and his own arms snake around your waist. 

Logan just nods in response, holding you in his arms like this had always been the closest he could get. He would imagine what it’d be like to hold you in his arms while in bed, having you curl against him and –

“Did you make me coffee too?” You ask, pulling him away from his thoughts. You remove your arms around him and look down at his mug, arching a brow up at him. 

“I don’t have all the fancy, sugary drinks you normally like to order,” he teases. “But I did make a pot.”  

“Fancy, sugary drinks,” you scoff, following him into his kitchen. “If I remember correctly, you actually liked one of those fancy, sugary drinks. Even got whipped cream on one of them.”

Logan rolls his eyes and grabs a mug for you from his cupboard, a small smile lining his lips. “Sure, but I don’t have them as often as you do.” He pours the dark coffee into the mug and gently hands it to you, feeling your fingertips brush against his when you take the mug from him. He clears his throat, looking down at his own cup. He knows how much you love the holidays, how important they are to you and your family, but he can’t help the tug he feels in his chest when you leave. You’re usually gone until New Year’s Day and even though you call him on Christmas and on New Year’s Eve, it isn’t the same as having you here with him. 

“Hey, a vanilla latte isn’t fancy and isn’t sugary,” you reply, once more taking him out of his thoughts. 

“Oh, we both know that’s not the only drink you get,” Logan chuckles. 

You let out a quiet laugh, immediately going into his fridge to grab the carton of sweetener that he only keeps for you. You’ve been at his cabin so frequently that sometimes it feels like you live here, how comfortable and at home you feel here with him. Your family knows about Logan, knows how you feel about him, and every year, they always ask if you’re finally going to bring him home. 

But every year, you come home alone despite your heart yearning to stay with Logan for the holidays. 

“So, you all set for your flight?” Logan asks, resting his hip against his kitchen island. “You’re gone for two weeks, right?” 

“Yup, all set. My luggage is in my car outside.” You nod, pouring the sweetener into your mug. You watch the dark liquid turn into a light cream color, glancing up at Logan who’s grinning at you. “Yeah, I’m gone for two weeks.” 

Logan nods at your mug, a smirk on his lips. “Would you like some coffee with that cream?” 

“Ha ha,” you smile, placing the creamer back into his fridge. “What will you do during the holidays, Logan?” You ask, though you know his answer. 

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “You know I don’t really celebrate the holidays.” 

“But it’s Christmas. You should really decorate, maybe get into the festive spirit.”

“Not my thing, bub, and you know that.” 

“I know, figured maybe this year something would give,” you say quietly. 

Logan bites the inside of his cheek as he looks at you, tilting his head slightly as he watches you take a sip of your coffee. “Wouldn’t hold out hope,” he replies. “I’m not one to celebrate.” 

“What if I said I got you a gift?” You ask, setting your mug down on the kitchen island. 

“I’d say you shouldn’t have and you should probably return it.” 

You narrow your eyes and round the corner of the island to stand in front him. Inches separate your bodies as you stare up at him – gaze so innocent, so inviting, so warm. “What if I made it?” 

Logan sighs. “Bub…”

“You know, we go through this every year,” you chuckle. “I’m always going to get you something for Christmas.” 

Logan looks down at you and he suddenly gets an urge to pull you into him, to tell you that despite his stubbornness, he appreciates you and everything you do for him. He knows he isn’t deserving of you, but he’s so grateful that you decide to stick around, even after all these years. Even after all that you know. 

“I promise I didn’t spend any money on it.” 

“Okay,” he sighs with a nod. 

“But, you’ll have to open it on Christmas Day.” 

Logan chuckles. “Do I gotta call you when I open it too?” 

You grin, your smile meeting your eyes. “Obviously.” 

Suddenly, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and you step back and away from Logan to pull it from your pocket. You look down at the email you received and feel your heart drop, your face falling and your smile slowly disappearing. 

“Everything okay?” Logan asks, brows furrowed at the look on your face. 

“My flight’s been canceled,” you whisper. “They anticipate a heavy snowstorm. I won’t be able to go home for Christmas…” 

Logan bites his lower lip. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. 

“I don’t even think I can drive back to my apartment either.” 

“So, I’m stuck with you?” Logan teases, hoping that it’d lift your spirits, but he doesn’t see a smile on your face. Your eyes are still glued to the phone in your hand and he gently reaches out to rest a hand on your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You can stay here, at least until it’s safe to drive back down.” 

“Logan,” you sigh, looking up at him. “I’m sure you don’t want me staying here for a week.”

Logan shrugs. “Would be nice to have some company,” he admits. 

“I just can’t believe I won’t make it home.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know how important the holidays are for you and your family.” 

You flash him a sad smile and then point to your phone. “I should probably let my parents know.” 

“Right, yeah. I’ll go and fix up the guest bedroom for you.” Logan drops his hand from your arm and turns on his heel, beginning to walk away before he feels your hand gently wrap around his own. 

“Logan?” 

“Yeah, bub?” He responds, turning back around to face you as you keep a hold on his hand. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I promise not to be too festive.” Then, you release your hold on his hand and turn around to walk into the living room.

Logan watches you for a moment, biting his lower lip. He realizes that while he feels an excitement bubbling within him at the thought of you staying here, he also feels anxious. Nervous. Scared. He doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to keep his feelings to himself for the entire week. 

After about an hour, Logan finishes cleaning up the guest bedroom and bathroom. He finds you lying down on his couch, arm draped over your eyes and your phone resting on his coffee table. He bites his lower lip and walks over to you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Hey,” he whispers. 

You remove your arm from over your eyes and look up at him, sitting up on the couch to give him some room to sit next to you. “Hey,” you reply. 

“How’d the family take it?” He asks, sitting next to you. 

“Disappointed, like me, but they did tell me to tell you thank you.” 

Logan arches a brow. “Thank me? Why?” 

“Well, as my dad said: tell him thank you for taking care of my little girl.” You bite your lower lip, unsure of how Logan would react. “Sorry, my dad’s just–”

“Well, when you get a chance to talk to him again,” Logan interjects. “Tell him I’m happy to be taking care of her.” 

You slowly look up at him as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks. When you find that his eyes are already gazing at you, you clear your throat almost inaudibly. You don’t know how you’re going to stay sane this next week, being under the same roof as Logan – a man you’re so deeply in love with. You have to wonder if being snowed in with Logan and unable to go home is the universe’s way of bringing you both together… in a way that neither of you had the courage to. 

“Let me grab your luggage before the weather gets worse,” Logan says. 

“Oh, yeah, of course. Thank you,” you respond, grabbing your keys and placing it in his hand. 

“The bedroom and bathroom are all set for you.” Logan takes your keys, his own hand encompassing your own as he stares down at you. He can see the sadness in your eyes, the disappointment in your features. He then tugs on your hand, pulling you into his chest as his other arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders. 

You sigh quietly, arms wrapping around his midsection as you let your cheek rest against his hardened chest. You shut your eyes – you had always felt so safe in his arms. You can feel his large hand running along your back, causing you to lean further into him. 

“We’ll make the most of this next week,” Logan promises. 

“But you don’t like to celebrate the holidays,” you whisper, pulling back to look up at him.

He shrugs in response. “Maybe I just didn’t have someone to celebrate it with.”

You scoff, pulling away to see him with a teasing smile on his face. “I’ve been asking you to come back home with me for years now.”

Logan chuckles and walks towards the door, pulling on his coat as he stares at you. “Maybe I want you all to myself for the holidays. Ever think of that, sweetheart?” he winks, not giving you a chance to respond before he steps out into the snow to grab your luggage from the car. 

You let out a shaky breath and fall back onto the couch. God, you don’t know how you’re going to survive this next week with him. 

—

Later that night while you’re getting ready for bed, Logan – dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and his white tank top – leans against the doorframe of the bedroom. He crosses his arms over his chest, tilts his head to the side, and lets a small smile line his lips at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” he calls out softly. 

You turn around, hair damp from your shower and dressed in black sleep shorts and an oversized cropped t-shirt. “Hey,” you answer.

“Need anything before I turn in?” Logan asks.

You shake your head and close your suitcase, setting it off to the side. “Thank you,” you whisper quietly. “For letting me stay here.” 

Logan crosses the threshold and steps into the guest bedroom with you, walking towards you. “Better than being snowed in at the airport.” 

“Ah, yeah. That would have been a nightmare.” you bite your lower lip, his body now inches from your own. You yearn to reach out for him, to feel his body heat against yours. “Either way, thank you, Logan. I owe you.”

Logan chuckles and shakes his head, moving his hands into his pockets. “You gonna be okay?” 

You shrug. “Guess the holidays will be different this year.” 

“At least you got me.”

You smile, looking at him from the tops of your eyelashes. “Yeah, I’ll settle for you,” you tease.

Logan laughs, shaking his head. He glances around the room and bites the inside of his cheek, bringing a hand to run through his hair. “Well, just wanted to say good night.” 

“Good night, Logan.”

“And if you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”

“And if you need anything, I’ll be right here.” Your eyes soften at him, knowing that Logan’s nightmares become more frequent at night. 

Logan nods and leans down, gently kissing your temple as his hand rests on your hip. He feels your skin against his fingertips, the cropped shirt you’re wearing lifting just enough for a sliver of skin to be revealed. “I know,” he whispers. “You’ve always been right here for me.” Then, he slowly pulls away and turns on his heel to walk towards the door. He spares you another glance from over his shoulder and flashes you a warm smile before he shuts the door behind him.

Logan sighs and walks towards his living room, taking note of how bare his home looks. He glances at the clock and then looks down the hallway at your closed door. Logan didn’t like to celebrate the holidays, but he knew how important it was to you. He knew the storm was only going to get increasingly worse, so he decides to pull on a pair of boots, a thick coat, and a black beanie before he grabs his keys to his truck – determined to surprise you tomorrow morning.

---

taglist: @kellyxo1 @misscrissfemmefatale @mooneyloveydovey @oatmilkriver @jtheteenagewitch

[bbydoll18xx]

Can you please please please do Paige Bueckers or Azzi Fudd or Nika Mühl x short fem girlfriend please

Short Stuff

Paige Bueckers x Short fem girlfriend

Themes: flufffff

Word Count: 815

Well since you asked so nicely, here you go! I decided to do a collection of little blurbs. Sorry it took a hot min! I am 5’4", so this was fun to write lol 

If you guys have more requests, send them my way!!

~

“I’m not that short!” KK protests indignantly, her arms crossed over her chest childishly. The other members of UCONN’s women’s basketball team giggle at her protests, reveling in the fact that in comparison to the rest of them, she was definitely shorter.

You chuckle from where you’re sitting on your girlfriend’s lap, amused that KK was lowkey getting bullied for being 5’9" when you were much shorter.

“Guys, be nice. KK is very tall,” you defend, giving her an understanding look.

“Okay, so boom, you’re my favorite,” KK declares earnestly, sticking her tongue out mockingly at Paige. 

Paige’s eyes narrow at KK, and she pulls you in tighter to her body protectively.

“Her short ass is mine,” Paige smirks, pulling you in for a kiss, eliciting groans from the rest of the team.

~

“Paigey,” you whine, dragging the syllables of your girlfriend’s name from the tip of your tongue. You had joined Paige and the team for a night out at the bar, and you had gone a little bit past your typical limit. The haze of the alcohol, mixed with the intoxicating feel of Paige’s touch had you feeling woozy. “Can you carry me?” you pout up at your girlfriend, flashing your puppy dog eyes for good measure. It was impossible for Paige to say no to you, and your pleading look and jutting bottom lip has your girlfriend lifting you up into her arms in mere seconds. 

“You’re lucky you’re so cute. And tiny,” Paige mumbles, a fond look plastered upon her features. 

“I’m lucky I have such a nice, sexy, tall girlfriend,” you slur drunkenly, as you enjoy the ride up the stairs back to Paige’s apartment. 

As you enter the apartment, she carries you into the bathroom and sits you onto the counter. 

“Gotta get my pretty girl ready for bed,” Paige says, already pulling out the stuff you kept in her bathroom cabinet. She helps you brush your teeth and take off all your makeup before lifting you back off the counter and taking you to her bed.

“I love you,” you mumble against her neck as she wishes you a good night with a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead.

~

“Hey, baby,” you say, getting Paige’s attention. You show her a tiktok where a couple trades outfits. “Let’s do this!” You exclaim, causing a chuckle to leave Paige’s mouth.

“Babe, I won’t fit in those tiny, little dresses you like to wear. But what the hell, I’m down,” she assents.

30 minutes later, you are setting up your phone, already dressed in one of Paige’s Nike tech tracksuits and a pair of her shoes. You were swamped in her clothing, and her shoes made you look like a clown. 

“Girl, you look hilarious,” Kayla laughs. “I can’t wait to see Paige in one of your dresses!”

“Me, too!” you giggle. “Thanks again for helping out.”

“I would never miss this,” she responds, finishing the signature braided ponytail that Paige wore for game days.

A few minutes later, Paige emerges from the bathroom, clad in a sundress and heels. You had done her makeup, and her hair was down in soft blonde waves.

You squeal in delight, running up to her and gushing at how pretty your girlfriend looked. 

“My ass is gonna be out,” Paige pouts, attempting to pull the dress further over her thighs. “I don’t know how you wear this shit.”

“I’m okay with your ass being out. And I’m like eight inches shorter than you, that’s why,” you giggle.

Nevertheless, the tiktok blew up, and Paige’s fans loved seeing the height difference.

~

It was no secret that Paige loved to tease you about your height. But when she wasn’t resting her elbow on the top of your head or waving down at you, she was relishing in the benefits of your height. 

She took great pleasure in the way your smaller body fit perfectly against hers. Spooning with Paige was utter perfection, and you spent many nights with content sighs spilling from your mouth as she pulled you close to her, a muscular arm slung across you and a large hand splayed against your belly. 

Your shortness also proved to be quite useful in fitting in small spaces. Paige’s lap tended to be your favorite spot, and you spent many nights curled up flush against her chest with Paige drawing shapes on your legs. Your head always ended up in the crook of her neck, your small exhales tickling the sensitive, pale flesh.

And when Paige hugged you, her chin rested perfectly on the top of your head. Your arms wrap around her slim waist, bringing her close to you, and she moans in content at the contact. Your hugs were addictive to Paige, and your height just added to the perfection. The two of you fit together like two pieces of a puzzle.

~

@cosmopretty I hope this is okay! Thanks for your request :)

[goldfades]

Can we get a blurb into the burrow family ten years later (5 kids 😮‍💨🤓)

i forgot that the ask said 5 kids so just... pretend LMAO

the house is full of life on a crisp autumn morning, the kind of chaotic warmth that feels like a hug. sunlight streams through the windows, catching the dust motes in the air as jj barrels down the hallway, still in his pajamas, clutching a football. “dad! let’s go! you promised you’d show me the new play!”

joe leans back in his chair at the breakfast table, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, the other resting casually on the arm of rosie’s chair. “slow down, buddy,” he chuckles, watching as jj skids to a stop in socked feet. “i haven’t even finished my coffee yet.”

“you said after breakfast!” jj insists, the determination in his voice unmistakably burrow-like.

across the table, gigi is meticulously slicing her waffle into tiny, perfect squares, completely unfazed by her brother’s energy. “maybe you should finish your math homework first,” she says with the air of an older sibling who knows how to push just the right buttons.

jj scowls, clutching the football tighter. “maybe you should—”

“enough,” you cut in, sliding a plate of toast in front of joe before smoothing a hand over jj’s messy hair. “dad’s not going anywhere, jj. let him finish his coffee, and then you two can go outside.”

jj groans but relents, plopping into his seat with a dramatic sigh.

rosie, ever the peacemaker, looks up from her art project at the end of the table. “maybe you can help me pick the colors for the sunset, jj. you’re good at that.”

joe exchanges a glance with you, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that way that says he’s savoring the moment. this is your life now—kids with strong opinions, a kitchen table full of crumbs and crayons, and a husband who somehow still looks at you like you’re the best thing that ever happened to him.

“okay,” joe says finally, setting his coffee down and pushing back from the table. “let’s see this new play, jj. but only if you promise to run it right this time.”

jj is out of his chair before joe even finishes the sentence, his excitement palpable. you watch as they head toward the backyard, jj talking a mile a minute, joe nodding along like he’s absorbing every word.

rosie sets down her paintbrush, a thoughtful look on her face. “do you think dad will ever let me tackle him?”

“not a chance,” gigi says dryly, not even looking up from her waffles.

and just like that, the morning continues, a blur of small moments that add up to something much bigger—a life, a family, a kind of love that fills every corner of the house.

later that night, the living room is bathed in the soft glow of the tv, the familiar theme song of modern family playing over the hum of quiet chatter. it’s your usual spot on the couch—joe stretched out at one end, jj perched on the floor by his feet, and you sitting cross-legged with rosie between your knees as you carefully braid her hair. gigi’s sprawled out next to you, legs draped over joe’s lap, mid-sentence about some friend-group drama that seems, to her, like the end of the world.

“...and then she uninvited me from the sleepover because she thought i was talking about her behind her back. but i wasn’t—it was all kayla, and kayla knows it, but she’s just letting me take the blame because she doesn’t want to deal with it,” gigi finishes in a huff, crossing her arms over her chest.

“sounds like kayla’s got you all figured out,” jj pipes up, grinning from ear to ear. “i mean, who wouldn’t blame you? you’ve got that guilty face.”

gigi glares at him, throwing a pillow in his direction. “oh, please. like you’d even understand. you don’t have friends, jj. just teammates.”

“and they’re all drama-free,” jj retorts, dodging the pillow easily. “unlike you, miss ‘kayla said this, and emily said that.’”

“boys are so annoying,” gigi mutters, turning to you with an exaggerated eye roll. “right, mom?”

you suppress a laugh, securing the last strand of rosie’s braid before leaning back. “maybe, sometimes. but, gigi, what exactly did kayla say? like, word for word?”

joe chuckles softly, shaking his head. “let her breathe, baby. she’s already giving you a full debrief.”

“i need the full context,” you reply with mock seriousness, glancing at gigi. “it’s important.”

rosie, ever the observer, lets out a dramatic sigh, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “you’re both wasting your time. kayla’s clearly not a good friend, and gigi should just find new ones.”

“thank you, rosie,” jj says, raising a hand for a high-five. she doesn’t even look at him, just shakes her head with the exasperation of someone much older than her eleven years.

joe leans forward slightly, his voice calm and steady as he addresses gigi. “look, if kayla’s blaming you for something you didn’t do, you’ve got to talk to her. be honest, but don’t go in ready to fight. people are a lot more likely to listen if you stay calm, even when they’re not.”

gigi considers this for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “yeah, maybe. but what if she doesn’t believe me?”

“then it’s on her,” joe says simply, leaning back again. “you can’t control how she reacts, but you can control how you handle it. and honestly? you’ve got nothing to prove to anyone but yourself.”

you reach over, brushing a strand of hair behind gigi’s ear. “your dad’s right. and if all else fails, remember—your family’s always on your side. even jj, as annoying as he is.”

jj groans in mock protest, throwing his hands up. “hey, i was being helpful.”

rosie raises an eyebrow. “if by ‘helpful,’ you mean ‘a pain,’ then sure.”

the room dissolves into laughter, gigi nudging jj’s shoulder while rosie shakes her head like she’s too mature for all of this. joe catches your eye, a soft smile tugging at his lips, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world doesn’t exist—just your family, this house, and these little pockets of chaos that make it all worth it.

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