#writing this was more difficult than i thought

[leia-writes]

not sure if you’ve wrote this before but Frontmanxfem reader maybe she’s like nervous for him to go down on her and he reassures her🥹

Movement

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: movement by hozier

note: thanks for your request!! I'm so happy to finally be writing again. more to come with season 2 out!

warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY

“Fuck!” you exclaimed under your breath, elevator doors closing in front of you. You pressed the button to your floor and impatiently waited for the elevator to take you to your residence. As soon as the doors opened, you ripped your mask off and stormed down the hallway.

You passed the main living room, furnished with two leather chairs facing a large screen and a table with a half drunk glass of whiskey on it. Another mask like yours laid neatly on the table next to the glass. You hurled yours across the room in a fit of rage.

Storming into the nearby kitchen, you saw In-ho pouring a glass of your favorite wine.

“I hope that’s for me,” you sighed as you approached In-ho.

He gave you a sympathetic look and handed you the glass. “I heard what happened.”

You finished the glass off in a few seconds, slamming it down on the counter. In-ho approached your hunched over figure but you stood straight again, pointing at him.

“I could kill them all. Every last one of them,” you seethed. 

He knew exactly who you were talking about, and gave you a soft, pitying look. “I know, I know you could. You’d be really good at it too.” He caressed your cheek as he praised you, a playful smirk flashing across his face for a moment.

You huffed, rolling your eyes but softening at his affection. “I’m fucking serious. I’m done with these pretentious assholes.”

Before you joined In-ho in your shared residence that evening, you’d spent your entire day with the VIPs. Handling impossible requests and battling egos was the most insufferable part of your job. You’d run around so much that day trying to appease every demand that you could’ve probably traversed every inch of the island in the same amount of time. 

In-ho spent the day in Seoul, working with the recruiter to find the next batch of players, and was therefore spared from dealing with the VIPs. Your muscles ached with fatigue and jealousy.

In-ho embraced you, stroking your hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure you don’t see them for a while, alright?” You sighed heavily in response, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his warm torso.

He smiled as you melted into his touch. “My poor darling. Let me make you feel better.”

He swiftly picked you up and carried you to one of the leather chairs in the main room, setting you down gently in front of him. Before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, distracting you from the tension that wracked your body and mind.

In-ho leaned over you, pressing your back to the chair. You gently pulled away. “In-ho, I-”

He gently pressed a finger over your mouth, caressing your cheek. “Shh, just let me take care of you now, alright?” 

You sighed as he dipped his head down to kiss your neck, your skin becoming flushed and warm. He brought a hand down your side, gently starting to coax your shirt upwards. 

You knew exactly what he was after - you’d done this for him more times than you could count. The job you two held was a difficult one, and you had no problem being an outlet of stress relief for each other. 

He brought his hands to your pants, carefully undoing the buttons and lowering the zipper, before slowly dipping his hand into your underwear. He released himself from your neck and looked at you, gauging your reactions.

You leaned forward and kissed him hard as his hand dipped into your warm core, soaking his fingers as he explored you. He groaned at the warm wetness on his fingers. You sighed, desperate for more, but a confused feeling of embarrassment was starting to cloud your lustful thoughts.

He brought his hand from your core to his mouth, obscenely tasting your juices on his fingers. He groaned, a sound that would’ve normally made you feral but instead made you feel vulnerable. You felt your breath catch in your throat, unsure of how to react.

He roughly grasped the waist of your pants and began pulling them down before you grabbed his hand to stop them. He immediately looked at you with concern.

Your face flushed red with embarrassment. “I… I’m, uh…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, not that, I just… I…” You internally slapped yourself for sounding so stupid.

He playfully smirked at you. “You know I’ve seen it, right? There’s no need to be so bashful.”

You scoffed. Of course you’d known that. You’d had sex with him many times before, that was nothing new. But having his fingers on you, and the thought of having his face down there, made you more self-conscious than you knew how to deal with. In the past, you’d redirect his attention elsewhere quickly to avoid dealing with the imaginary shame you might feel.

And that’s exactly what you planned to do now.

“I know… I’m just too tense right now. I’m sorry.” You started pulling your pants back up, looking down in guilt.

He quickly tilted your face towards him, giving you a concerned look and caressing your face. “It’s alright, darling. You don’t have to be sorry.” He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to take a hot bath?”

“Yes."

~~~

After taking your relaxing hot bath and washing the day’s stress away, you climbed into your shared bed with In-ho. You already felt a million times better. In-ho was immersed in a book he was reading, but wrapped his arm around you when you climbed into bed next to him.

“Are you feeling better?”

You gave him a happy, dazed smile. “Very much so.”

He smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, diverting his attention back to his book. You grabbed the one you were currently reading and began to do the same next to him.

After a short while of getting comfortable in bed, your thoughts began to wander as you read. You thought about In-ho touching you before, how good it felt and sounded to you. The overwhelming embarrassment and anxiety you felt at the time was now closer to a distant memory. You felt much more comfortable in your body, more intrigued than embarrassed about the thought of In-ho’s mouth on you. 

You felt the familiar flush in your skin again and set your book down. Warmth was spreading throughout your body but you weren’t sure how to express what you wanted, so you snuggled up to In-ho, resting your arm on his chest.

He glanced at you as he read. “Getting tired?”

“No, you’re just so warm.” A believable lie.

He smiled and continued to read, oblivious to the dirty thoughts starting to cloud your mind. You wanted him bad. How was he not able to read your mind and know exactly what you wanted at that moment? You glanced at him quickly and started playing with the hem of his shirt, hoping he’d get some sort of hint from your mixed signals.

In-ho eyed your hands on his shirt and set his book down. “What are you thinking about, darling?” He had a naughty glint in his eye, suspecting he knew what you might be after.

At the first glance from him, your newfound confidence faltered. “Nothing. Just laying here with you.” You feigned innocence - but he knew better.

He turned his body towards you, your hand unintentionally slipping underneath his shirt. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope. Nothing.” You began to gently caress his warm skin, avoiding eye contact.

He gently sighed at your touch. “Hm. You don’t want anything?”

You gave him a pleading look but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything except for a quiet hum.

He leaned forward to kiss you, gently, before slightly pulling back, testing how much you wanted. You quickly leaned forward to return his kiss, deeper and more needy, twisting the hem of his shirt in your hands.

He sighed and pushed you on your back, slightly hovering over you as he deepened the kiss even further. After a few moments, he pulled back, observing your beautifully flushed face.

“Do you want me to make you feel better? Like before?”

Your breath hitched again, and all you could muster was a small nod, silently begging for his lips to be on yours again.

He crashed his lips into yours, kissing you more fervently now, and positioned himself completely above you. Your fingers found their way into his hair, gently tugging, eliciting delicious, soft moans from his throat. It drove you insane.

You wanted so badly for him to feel good, for him to enjoy every second with you, it was hard to understand how he’d want to solely focus on you and your pleasure. You know he’d do anything for you… but your own self-doubt clouded your mind in these moments.

As if he knew what you were thinking, In-ho pulled away and looked at you with a fierce intention. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “But… you have before.”

“Not like this. Not like I’ve wanted to. Not like you deserve.” 

He gently rubbed your cheek, hoping you could feel the sincerity in his words. It felt like your heart was in your throat, you could barely express how he made you feel in that moment. Your eyebrows furrowed and you leaned towards him for a harsh, needy kiss before guiding his hand to your underwear.

Without any pants on, he swiftly pulled your underwear down, leaning back in front of your raised knees as he pulled the blanket off. He placed his hands on your legs to spread them, but the sudden exposure made you feel vulnerable and hesitant for a moment, and you froze.

You let out a pitiful moan, your body conflicted on what to do. In-ho gently caressed your legs and leaned forward, giving you a sweet kiss. 

“Let me make you feel better.” He echoed from before.

You silently nodded and spread your legs, and In-ho quickly settled his head in between them. He gently kissed around your inner thigh, taking his time on each side, intentionally avoiding your wet, aching core. Although you couldn’t ignore the involuntary waves of self-consciousness, you focused on the anticipation rising throughout your body, your need for his mouth to be on you.

In-ho’s mouth hovered over your core, the sensation of his hot breath on you driving you crazy. You squirmed beneath him as he placed a firm arm over your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he instructed. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for your permission. 

The moment you looked down at him, he placed his mouth on you, his tongue flat on your core, gently sucking. 

The sudden wave of pleasure immediately wracked your body. You threw your head back with a surprised moan, your hands instantly grabbing at the sheets. 

In-ho groaned loudly in satisfaction, as if he’d been hungry for you his whole life and just now, finally, got a taste. You felt his groan through your sensitive clit, making your hips twitch under his movements. He continued to work his tongue over your clit and your aching entrance, tasting every inch of you, relishing in your gasps and moans.

You felt possessed, unable to control your sounds and movements as he all but consumed you. His hands grasped at your sides, your thighs, anything he could get his hands on. You felt yourself relax into this position and spread your legs further, wanting more and more of him.

He kept his mouth on you as he splayed his hands on the back of your thighs, pressing them down, following your lead and spreading you out even further for him. You looked down again at him ravenously devouring you, the sight of it almost undoing you.

You cried out in pleasure, starting to twitch and grind beneath him, feeling like your release could come at any moment now. You’d never felt like it had been this easy before. In-ho briefly stopped to look at you, a slight, satisfied grin on his face.

“You’re doing so well. Do you feel good, darling?”

You let out a soft cry. “Yes.” You gave him a needy, pleading look. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

The thought of it made you clench, you could barely make out words. “Mhm.”

His head was spinning with those obscene sounds you were making. “Good. I want you to cum on my face, okay?”

You cried out in pleasure and frustration, and pushed his head back on you, gripping his hair for dear life. He groaned at your unrelenting neediness, just egging you on even further to the edge.

You felt your body chasing release, pressing In-ho’s face to your aching cunt, grinding beneath him, using him solely for your pleasure. His incessant moans seemed to vibrate throughout your entire being, setting your skin on fire, bringing tears to your eyes.

With a few more swipes of his tongue, you came absolutely undone beneath him.

You felt a white hot wave of pleasure explode from your core, your muscles involuntarily shaking, and you cried out in pleasure and pure emotional release. Tears flowed down your face as you allowed the pleasure to take over, allowed yourself to feel good. In-ho diligently kept his mouth on you as you rode out your orgasm.

As you slowly came to consciousness, In-ho leaned back and watched you, all of you. You wiped the tears from your eyes and watched him in a daze. He was completely enamored by you, his hands wandering from your thighs to your core, spreading his fingers over your sensitive clit and your aching entrance.

You suddenly felt… empty. Quietly whimpering, you grabbed his wrist, keeping his fingers on you, silently begging for more. He gave you a bewildered look.

“Did that feel good?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You pressed his fingers further towards your entrance.

His eyes darkened. “Hm. Do you want more, darling?”

You nodded again. Even though you felt spent from your orgasm, you couldn’t deny the aching need to feel him inside you.

“So needy, hm? You can’t get enough, is that right? Need something to fill you up too?”

You looked away and groaned, a mixture of embarrassment and desire swirling in your mind. 

“Please,” you whispered.

In-ho slowly moved to hover over you, gently turning your head towards him.

“Tell me what you want.”

You whimpered, kissing him and reaching for the prominent bulge in his underwear. You could feel his cock straining against the fabric. In-ho groaned above you, his cock painfully aching to feel you.

He let out a harsh breath through his teeth. “Fuck… do you feel what you’ve done to me?”

You continued to massage him, feel him twitch under your fingers, his moans becoming more reckless every second. You felt all your senses go on edge again, responding to every single sound he made. He quickly swatted your hand away and pulled his underwear down.

“If you keep doing that I won’t last much longer,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse and primal. He quickly lined his cock with your entrance and thrusted into you, your hips meeting his thrust and your warmth enveloping him completely.

He stopped for a second, too overwhelmed to move. You were so deliciously warm, your flesh so sensitive from before. The feeling of his cock stretching you made a wave of pleasure sink into your body and you couldn’t help but let out a feral moan.

In-ho leaned himself further over you, pressing your legs up, and began to pound into you relentlessly. You grabbed at his arms and shoulders, any part of him you could hold onto as he fucked you through the bed. He was relentless in his movements, completely focused on the pleasure building between the two of you.

He roughly grabbed your jaw. “Fuck… I could’ve come undone just watching you before.”

You cried out beneath him, clenching on his cock as he fucked you with a determined pace.

He continued. “That pretty fucking pussy, clenching and gushing just for me… you loved it, didn’t you?”

You moaned and nodded.

“That’s right,” he huffed. “My pretty fucking girl loves to cum on my face, doesn’t she?”

His words send shockwaves throughout your body, and you could only cry out and continue nodding.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his pace quickening. You could tell he was close.

“Fuck. And you’re gonna cum on my cock now, aren’t you?”

You squeezed your eyes. “Yes, fuck, yes I’m going to right now I-”

You felt the familiar wave of pleasure crash over your entire body again, your walls clenching on In-ho’s cock as he stuttered in his pace. You cried out, feeling In-ho release himself inside of you with a loud, guttural groan. He thrusted into you slowly, chasing any remnants of pleasure for both of you as you both calmed down. You held each other close, heavy breaths slowing into satisfied sighs. 

In-ho laid down next to you and pulled you to him, kissing the side of your face and brushing his fingers through your hair. Your entire body felt exhausted, but not like before. 

In-ho leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Are you alright now?”

You sleepily nodded. “Yes. Very much so.”

He smiled, satisfied, and rested his head near yours. As he stroked your head, he whispered.

“You know I would do anything for you, right?”

You gave him a concerned look. “Of course.”

He looked at you fiercely. “So don’t be afraid to ask for what you want.”

You sighed, almost pouting. After a few moments, you nodded. “Okay.”

He smiled, pulling you close and the blanket over you two, both of you quickly falling into a satisfied slumber.

[uconnwbbcrashout]

last winter break

chapter iii: “i think i’m gonna kiss you”

paige x azzi

word count: 6.5k

content: swearing, some fluffy banter, and a healthy dose of angst

chapter list: here

author’s notes: after a long wait, it’s finally here!! i wanna apologize for the 100th time for how long this took me to write. as you can tell by the word count compared to chapters i & ii, this one kinda got out of hand. but i'm happy w/ how it turned out and i hope it's worth the wait!! :) enjoy!

Winter 2022-2023

AZ: hey, i saw the news

AZ: about your acl i mean

AZ: i hope you’re doing okay p

p (IGNORE): thanks. good as i can be yk

p (IGNORE): surgery went well and all

p (IGNORE): but hey

p (IGNORE): delayed not denied right ?

changed user’s contact name to “p”

AZ: right

AZ: you’ll be okay

AZ: i know it

p: i hope youre right

*****

p: did you see the schedule

p: we play you guys

p: dec 11

p: well i wont be but

AZ: i did!!

AZ: you guys don’t stand a chance btw

p: damn way to kick a girl while shes down az

AZ: sorry?

*****

AZ: happy birthday paige

AZ: you’re so old

p: shut up

p: thank you azzi

*****

p: happy bday az

p: yOu’Re sO oLd

AZ: ok i had that coming

AZ: but thank you :)

*****

p: just saw the clip

p: hope you and your knee are ok <3

p: rest up azzi

AZ: thanks p

AZ: looks like we’re both gonna be on the bench next week

AZ: we’re still beating you guys though

p: well see bout that

*****

AZ: told you so

p: i couldnt even play bro

AZ: and i could??

p: whatever

p: we beatin you in march idc

AZ: sure p sure

*****

Azzi sighs, stretching her thumbs again where they hover over the keyboard on her phone. She’s laid out on her parents’ couch, legs propped up on a pillow, feeling utterly ridiculous as she tries to muster up the courage to send a text to Paige. She scrolls back up through their conversations from the past few months for what must be the eighth time today, overanalyzing every word.

It shouldn’t be this difficult, really—it’s hardly the first time this year that she’s been the one to reach out and text Paige. And she’s literally just trying to ask her if she’s going to a party. It’s an extremely low stakes conversation topic.

And yet here she is, practically ripping her hair out at the thought of pressing "send."

In all honesty, it’s a pretty good way to sum up what this year has been—so much more difficult than it ever needed to be.

And to say it’s been a weird fucking year would be an understatement.

After a disappointing tournament run in March, Maryland’s team changes significantly, so much so that Azzi has a hard time keeping track of it all. Graduations, transfers out, transfers in, new freshman—they're basically an entirely new team by the time the season starts up again in the fall.

And then she meets a girl, Maya, late one night in February when she’s cramming for an exam in the student union. She’s on the track team—a sprinter—tall, and devastatingly pretty. She’s unwaveringly confident, too, sitting across the empty table from Azzi and striking up a conversation with her easily. They end up talking for so long that night that the cleaning staff have to kick them out.

Things just click after that.

It's nice. It’s safe. It’s fun.

It’s sneaking into team housing well past curfew. It’s study dates at their favorite coffee shop on campus. It’s stolen hoodies and cold winter nights, huddled together for heat. It’s good luck kisses and lingering hugs before away games or meets. It’s late-night FaceTimes when there’s hundreds of miles separating them. It’s flower bouquets and greeting cards left on kitchen counters.

It’s something that feels a lot like the beginning stages of love.

And, above all, it makes Azzi happy.

There’s just one persistent, unavoidable problem—there's never enough time. Differing practice schedules. Basketball games and track meets. Press conferences and weight training. Midterms and March Madness. Conference championships and long flights across the country.

And it’s unfortunate, really, because a big part of Azzi thinks things could’ve been different. That maybe in another life—one where they met at a different time—things might have stuck. Things might have been long-term, could have worked out.

But in this life, they don’t.

After that it’s fairly quiet. Some random hookups here and there over the summer. A couple dates that fizzle out by the end of the night.

In the end, nothing she really regrets, but nothing that's as real as those few months were with Maya.

And then she reinjures her knee in December, forcing her to be sidelined. An unfortunately familiar seat on the bench with her name on it.

And then, of course, there's this weird situation with Paige. One that Azzi herself more or less created when she first reached out in August after Paige tore her ACL. It isn't like texting a stranger, but it also isn't like texting the old best friend she once knew. It's something in between, some strange acquaintance-like relationship that leaves Azzi entirely confused as to what she should or shouldn’t say.

Even if it is a bit strange, and maybe not quite ideal, she has to admit that it's still nice to have Paige back in some capacity. And enough time has passed, enough people have come and gone, that Azzi's just starting to warm up to the idea of someday calling Paige her friend again. Just a little bit.

Oh, and maybe Azzi also still finds her to be incredibly attractive.

But that's hardly relevant.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, catching her so off guard that she nearly drops it on her face. Her heart starts pounding in her ears, her stomach fluttering with anticipation—

Damn, it’s just from Diamond.

Azzi groans, clicking the notification.

d💎: you text her yet

Azzi rolls her eyes at her friend’s impatience.

AZ: almost

d💎: you’re actually killing me here

d💎: gimme her number

d💎: i'm gonna text her if you don’t

AZ: absolutely not

AZ: i regret telling you anything

d💎: no you don’t

d💎: now quit stalling and text. her.

AZ: oh my god FINE

Azzi swipes out of their conversation and taps back into her one with Paige.

Here goes nothing.

AZ: hey, you going to that stupid party again this year?

She turns her phone off immediately and slams it face down into the couch cushions, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Her phone chimes not more than 30 seconds later, and Azzi half expects it to be another text from Diamond asking for updates.

But it isn’t.

p: yo

p: the one at that football players house??

p: maybe. ion know yet

“Oh my God,” she mutters, fingers already flying over her keyboard.

AZ: dude

AZ: it’s literally tomorrow

AZ: how do you not know

p: dude

p: ima busy person

p: my time is valuable yk

p: wbu tho

Azzi tries to fight the smile that’s forming on her face. She thinks for a minute, deciding to answer honestly.

AZ: i was thinking about it

Azzi watches with bated breath as the three dots on the screen disappear and reappear several times.

p: then maybe i will

Azzi sighs, closing her eyes and pressing the side of her phone into her forehead.

I’m never getting a straight answer out of her, she concedes.

*****

If anyone were to ask Azzi, she would argue that a cropped cami tank top with a pair of ripped jeans is perfectly reasonable attire for a casual house party in early January. The below-freezing temperatures are simply irrelevant.

It, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Paige is likely to show up tonight. Azzi doesn’t think about how Paige had hugged her from behind and mumbled, “Looks so good, baby,” the last time she wore this shirt in front of her. She also doesn’t think about how Paige always seems especially distracted when she wears her hair up in a bun like this, blue eyes constantly straying to the lines of Azzi’s neck and collarbones.

She absolutely does not, under any circumstances, think about that. At all.

Azzi just likes to feel and look good is all. She’s got the former down easily, and she thinks she’s managed the latter, too, if the number of people who have come up to her tonight is any indication. Guys, girls, people she recognized and people she didn’t—it didn’t really seem to matter. It felt like there was an endless stream of drinks being offered, numbers trying to be given out, and suggestive conversations directed at her. It was flattering, sure, but none of them had the right tint of blonde hair, the exact shade of blue eyes, the correct build of muscle she had been searching for all night.

She downs the last of her drink, crushing the plastic cup in her hands and tossing it in the trash can behind her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking the time. No texts.

Lifting a hand up to rub at her eye, she yawns and scans the room one more time, debating whether she should just call it a night at this point.

And then she feels it—the soft graze of fingers along her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans. A warm, featherlight touch, then the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood and a low voice in her ear.

“Azzi.”

She spins towards her quickly, her breath catching in her throat at the proximity of Paige’s face to hers, just inches away. Azzi leans back a bit, mostly to give herself a chance to breathe, and feels the hand on her lower back slide to lightly press on the side of her hip.

Azzi drags her eyes over Paige then, unable to help herself, taking in the tech fleece pants hanging low on her hips and the black fitted T-shirt straining against the muscles in her arms. Azzi’s a bit surprised to see that she’s wearing her glasses—it’s not something she does very often. Paige is smirking, her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and Azzi swears she must have gotten taller since the last time she saw her.

She manages to catch her breath for a moment, flashing a smile that she hopes doesn’t reveal the nerves that she’s feeling. “Hi, Paige.”

Neither of them seems to know what to do after that because, honestly, what are you supposed to do in this type of situation?

To Azzi’s surprise, Paige makes the first move, stepping into Azzi’s space and snaking her other arm gently around Azzi’s waist. It takes Azzi a few seconds to respond before she leans into Paige and circles her arms around her shoulders. Azzi’s heart rate picks up even more when she feels Paige’s breath being released heavily against her, the tension leaving her shoulders.

“This okay?” Paige asks, her breath hot against the outside of Azzi’s ear. Azzi hums in agreement, settling her head to rest on Paige’s shoulder.

It probably should be awkward, and it is for just a second or two, but muscle memory kicks in and it ends up being more comforting than anything. It’s a hug after all, something they’ve done probably hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years.

They could be there for a few seconds or a few minutes—Azzi really isn’t sure. At some point she feels someone bump into her as they walk by and that snaps her out of it, makes her realize that they are still at this party and people are definitely looking. She takes a step back and clears her throat, patting Paige’s shoulder once before dropping her arms to her sides.

“You look good, P,” Azzi admits, smiling softly.

Paige coughs and looks over her shoulder for a second before turning back to face her and—

Is she blushing?

She coughs again before saying, “Thanks. You do too, Az.”

Azzi smiles appreciatively, looking down at her hands. “Couple people here seemed to think so, too.”

Paige chuckles. “Yeah, saw ‘em all lined up for you.”

“You been talking to anyone else here?”

“Nah, not really,” Paige replies, waving her hand, and Azzi glances up to meet her eyes. Paige shrugs. “Only really came here for one person, you know?”

Azzi doesn’t have to ask her who that person is—the way Paige’s eyes are trailing across her face tells her everything she needs to know.

“Is that so?” Azzi crosses her arms in front of her, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Mhm.” Paige glances around the room before leaning into Azzi’s space again. “Hey, wanna get outta here? We can go somewhere else or somethin’.”

“I guess I can swing that,” Azzi agrees, hoping she comes across as indifferent as possible.

“Aight, cool.” Paige pats her pockets, searching for her keys. “You take your car here?”

Azzi shakes her head. “No, I walked.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at her, an incredulous look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Azzi tries again, patting her own pockets to prove that they're empty.

“You walked here,” Paige repeats, still disbelieving. “In this weather.”

“It was only, like, 20 minutes.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s better for the environment!”

“You’re insane.”

“Oh my God, can we just take your car or not?” Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Always the passenger princess.” Paige remarks, looking smug. “But, yeah, let’s go.” Paige beckons for Azzi to follow her to the coatrack. Paige holds the door open as they pull on their coats, both of the waving their hands over their shoulders as some people call out to them.

The short walk to Paige’s car is quiet, the occasional crunch of footsteps on snow the only sound. Azzi slips into the passenger seat and clicks her seat belt on, watching as Paige does the same in the driver’s seat. Paige drums her fingers quietly on the steering wheel, and Azzi glances out the window to look back at the house they just came from.

“So, uh, where to?” Paige asks, breaking the silence.

Azzi thinks for a moment before turning to Paige with a grin.

“Slushies?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

*****

“There’s just no way he said that,” Azzi giggles, readjusting her feet where they rest on Paige’s dashboard. They’re parked outside of Azzi’s parents’ house, heat blasting through the vents, SZA playing softly through the speakers, conversation flowing freely, half-drunken slushies melted and abandoned in the cupholders between them.

“I swear it’s true!” Paige promises.

“He for real told you that you have ‘the shittiest shooting form he’s ever fucking seen’?”

“On God, he did,” Paige laughs, running a hand through her hair. “Coach can be ruthless when he’s pissed off, man.”

“And you wanted me to come to UConn because?”

“Oh, c'mon, Az. You know no one can stay mad at you.” Paige reaches out and pokes at Azzi’s cheek. “Not with that face.”

Azzi pushes her hand away, flustered. “Shut up, P.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Whatever.”

A comfortable silence stretches on then, the two of them taking a moment to enjoy each other’s presence.

Azzi glances down at her watch. “I should probably get going,” she admits regretfully, turning around and rummaging in the backseat for her coat.

“Lemme pull up for you,” Paige insists, putting the car in drive and turning into the driveway.

She feels Paige put the car in park again just as she manages to find her jacket. “Thanks,” Azzi starts, pulling the door handle—

It’s locked.

What the hell?

Azzi yanks on it twice to be sure before turning to level her a stare. There’s a mischievous glint in Paige's eye that she doesn't trust. “So, are you letting me out or what?”

Paige keeps smiling widely at her, not moving or saying anything.

“Paige.”

Azzi watches Paige nod her head towards the front of the house, and Azzi follows the motion to see Curry and Stewie poking their heads through the curtains, their barks echoing off the window. Azzi shakes her head and glances back at Paige. “What is it?”

Paige shrugs, bringing her hands up to rest on the wheel again. “You gotta at least let me see my kids, Azzi.”

“Are you inviting yourself inside my house?” Azzi feels her eye twitching.

“Please,” Paige begs, and then she honest to God pouts at Azzi. “Think I’m due a visitation.”

“You are actually so annoying.” Azzi leans her head against the cool glass of the car window, closing her eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Paige asks, her voice lifting excitedly.

“It will be if you unlock this.” Azzi pulls on the door handle repeatedly.

“Ha, let’s go!” Paige exclaims, pressing the "unlock" button immediately and sprinting out of the car. She’s on the front porch and jumping in place before Azzi even has the chance to close the car door behind her.

“Alright, chill out,” Azzi mutters, brushing past her and turning the key into the lock. Paige pushes the door open the rest of the way and stumbles through the doorframe, kicking her shoes off. She makes it about five feet into the house before she drops to her knees and starts petting and hugging the two dogs racing around her.

Azzi locks the door behind her, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face when she sees Paige laid out on the ground, Stewie and Curry clambering over her to lick her face.

“My kids,” Paige coos, cradling Stewie in one arm and scratching Curry’s chin with her other hand. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s home now.”

Shaking her head, Azzi tears her eyes away from the scene and flops onto the couch. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and makes herself comfortable.

Paige stands up after a few minutes and stretches her arms above her head, groaning dramatically. Azzi catches a glimpse of her shirt riding up and her boxers peeking out before she pulls her phone closer to her face, fighting the heat creeping up on her cheeks. Paige doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she luckily doesn’t say anything about it. She moves to peek her head in the kitchen and the hallway before she reenters the living room.

“Nobody home?” Paige asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Azzi grabs a throw pillow off the couch and hurls it at her, but Paige catches it easily. “Stop. They went to a family holiday party thing I think.”

“And how the hell did you get outta goin’ to that?” Azzi feels the couch shake as Paige hops over the back of it and settles in across from her.

She puts her phone down and looks at Paige more fully then. “Like you said, no one can say no to this,” she explains, flashing her signature dimpled smile and pointing at it with both hands.

“I was jokin’ when I said that,” Azzi thinks she hears Paige grumble as she hugs the pillow she’s still holding to her chest.

Azzi goes back to scrolling on her phone, and she sees Paige throw the pillow up in the air and catch it a few times in her periphery.

She hears a heavy sigh, but she ignores it, opting to respond to a few texts from her teammates instead.

Then there’s another sigh, somehow more emphatic than the last, and the push of a foot against her own.

“Azzi.”

Maybe if I ignore her for long enough, she’ll stop, Azzi considers.

“Azzi.”

Just pretend you don’t hear her.

“Azzi Fudd.”

When has that ever actually worked, though?

“Azzi, please.”

Oh my fucking God, why did I let her in my house?

She clicks her phone off and drops it at her side, glaring daggers at Paige. “What?”

“Dude, I’m bored,” Paige complains.

“Dude, you literally do not have to be here,” Azzi points out.

“Entertain me, please.” Paige is practically begging now. “Aren’t you supposed to do that for your guests?”

Azzi closes her eyes and throws an arm over her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely annoying?”

“Yeah, you. Multiple times today, actually.”

“I was so right about that.”

“Okay, but can we do somethin’?” Paige asks again, kicking at her foot. Azzi kicks back, sliding her arm off her face.

“2K?” she suggests, gesturing to the controllers on the coffee table.

Paige’s eyes light up and she’s up in a flash, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “Fuck yes. Imma be the Lynx, though.”

“Whatever you want.”

*****

“Damn, you letting me win now, Paige?”

“Bro, ‘course not.”

“What’s your excuse this time?”

“Not my fault you keep distractin’ me, Az.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off me, P.”

“Shut up. One more, I swear. Then we can quit.”

“Only if you win though, right?”

“Bro, just play.”

“Fine.”

*****

It’s many, many, games later—the clock on the wall having ticked over to the A.M. hours long ago—before Azzi has to tap out, eyes bleary and energy drained.

“Alright, I’m done,” Azzi sighs, tossing the controller on the coffee table and standing up slowly to stretch her back.

“Finally givin’ up?” Paige challenges, raising her eyebrows at her. Amazingly, somehow, she doesn’t look tired in the slightest.

“No, I’m not 'giving up.' I’ll literally fall asleep if we play one more.”

“If you say so.”

“Paige,” Azzi whines, pouting at her. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Aight, let’s be done then,” Paige agrees, setting her controller aside and standing up to stretch out.

“Are you awake enough to drive home?” Azzi questions.

“Me? Imma be just fine,” Paige assures her, moving toward the door. She bends down to pick up her shoes and pulls the curtain aside with a finger to peer outside. “Yeah, it’s no problem—oh, shit.”

Azzi strides over, reaching for the curtain to open it. “What is it?”

“Uh, well,” Paige starts, voice slightly muffled behind the thick fabric. “There’s a—”

Azzi grabs hold of the curtains, yanking them away to reveal the scene outside. Her jaw drops.

“—blizzard,” Paige finishes.

A fresh layer of snow, several inches deep, covers the ground. The wind lifts it up, blowing it around wildly, creating near whiteout conditions. Azzi can barely see Paige’s car parked in the driveway, a mere ten feet away.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Azzi mutters, staring disbelievingly out the window.

Paige furrows her brow, seeming to think something over for a minute. “Nah, I’ll still drive home.” She sits down on the recliner, untying the laces on her shoe.

“Like hell you will,” Azzi scoffs.

Paige looks up at her, pausing her movements. “Bro, chill. It’s, like, a couple blocks.”

But Azzi is persistent, moving to guard the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not letting you go out in that.”

“I can drive slow.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” Azzi retorts, readjusting her arms. “Just stay, please. It’s too dangerous.”

“If you’re sure,” Paige concedes, tossing her sneakers behind her.

“I am.”

“Cool,” Paige stands, stretching her arms again. “I got the couch then.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, punches Paige’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t be stupid, P.”

Paige brings up a hand to rub at the spot Azzi hit, wincing in mock hurt. “Ow. Stupid ‘bout what?”

“You can just sleep in my bed. You are a guest after all,” Azzi points out, referring back to what Paige had said earlier.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows for the second time tonight, and Azzi considers punching her again, harder this time. “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Oh my God, stop. Look, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed? That fine?” Azzi offers, rubbing at her eyes.

“That’s dumb. You’re not gonna sleep in your own bed?”

Azzi throws her arms up in the air exasperatedly. “What do you suggest then?”

“I’on see why we can’t both just sleep in the bed,” Paige shrugs, not really meeting Azzi’s eyes.

How the hell did we get here?

“Whatever, sure,” Azzi relents, even though every fiber of her being is urging her to do the exact opposite. “I’m too tired for this. My family is gonna be home soon and I wanna sleep at least a little before they barge in.” She turns away and starts dragging her feet down the hallway to her room, hearing Paige padding quietly behind her. She pushes the door open with her shoulder and immediately goes to her closet, searching for something more comfortable to change into.

In the corner of her eye she spots Paige, shuffling about the room, eyes roaming over her pink bed sheets, the assortment of unicorn stuffed animals on her desk, the rainbow decals on her mirror. “Haven’t really changed much, huh?

Azzi grabs a pair of fleece pajama pants and a T-shirt, chuckling. “I don’t exactly live here anymore.”

“Good point.” Paige nods her head, running a finger along Azzi’s trophy shelf. Her eyes spot one item in particular and she takes it off the shelf. She flips the medal over to study the engraving on the back. “‘2018 Minnesota State Tournament: Class AAAA Champions’,” she reads with a scowl on her face. “Still can’t believe you guys beat us.”

Azzi walks up to her and snatches the medal from her, setting it back in its place. “Still can’t believe you’re not over it. This was, like, five years ago.”

“Aw, c’mon now. That last foul call was bullshit and you know it,” Paige grumbles.

“I think you’re just mad I dropped 30 points on your ass,” Azzi teases.

Paige frowns, crossing her arms. “No one was helpin’ me on defense.”

“Uh huh. Look, I’m gonna get dressed and stuff,” Azzi calls over her shoulder on her way to the bathroom. She pauses in the doorway and points a finger at Paige accusingly. “No touching anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige promises with a mock salute.

Azzi changes into her pajamas and gets ready for bed as quickly as her fatigued body will allow, which is to say not very quickly at all. By the time she’s done, she’s so drained that she’s sluggishly dragging her body back to her room.

She’s rounding the corner into her room, dirty clothes from the party in hand, when she happens to look up. She chokes on air, clothing falling out of her hands, and stumbles to regain her balance.

Paige is sprawled out on her bed, hair splaying across her pillows, the light of her phone screen lighting up her face.

But none of that is the issue here.

The issue here is that Paige is wearing a sports bra and pair of boxers and that’s it.

The lines of her hips are visible, her abs pulled taut, and Azzi suddenly feels like she needs to cover her eyes, unless she wants to start choking on air again. “What the fuck are you doing?” she squeaks out, hands covering her face.

She hears Paige laugh. “It’s hot as hell in here. I’on know why you keep the temp at, like, 75 degrees all the time.”

“So you had to take your clothes off?”

“It’s nothin’ you haven’t seen before anyways.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

Azzi leans against the wall, dropping her hands from her face but keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. “Can you—God, can you at least put a shirt on or something?”

I’m not sleeping a wink tonight if she doesn’t.

She hears the bed creak slightly and assumes Paige must be sitting up now. “If I gotta.”

Azzi takes that as agreement and blindly feels her way to her closet, searching for the closest T-shirt she can find and pulling it off the hanger. She tosses it behind her in the direction of the bed.

“Okay, Imma get ready too then, I guess,” Paige is saying, the sound of her footsteps becoming more distant as she exits the room.

Azzi expels all the air out of her lungs, finally allowing herself to open her eyes. With shaky legs she makes her way to the bed, tucking herself under the covers. She takes a few more steadying breaths.

Pull it together, Fudd.

Paige is back sooner than Azzi is ready for her to be, but she stops a few feet into the room and gestures at her shirt. “This funny to you or somethin’?”

Azzi takes a moment to actually look at the shirt she unknowingly picked out for Paige and barks out a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

The shirt has "St. John’s – State Champs" written across the chest in bold letters, her old high school’s logo below it.

“Okay, I promise I didn’t mean to pick that one,” Azzi swears, unable to contain her laughter.

“I’on believe you,” Paige grunts, sliding into the empty side of the bed. “You know I’d get beat up if anyone saw me wearin’ this, right?”

“Good thing it’s just me then, huh?”

“Guess so,” Paige grumbles, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“Don’t worry,” Azzi says, smirking. “Your secret is safe with me, Cadet.”

Paige glares at her before rolling over and turning her back to Azzi. “I’m actually done talkin’ to you. Night.”

Azzi turns her bedside lamp off, encasing the room in darkness, save for a few bands of a dim streetlight poking through her blinds. “Night,” she echoes, settling to lay on her back.

She wills herself to sleep then, waiting for the exhaustion she’s been feeling for the past few hours to finally take over.

It doesn’t come.

It shouldn’t be this difficult.

But Azzi’s mind is racing, all thoughts on her former best friend stretched out beside her. Paige, lying in her childhood bed, clad in one of Azzi’s old basketball T-shirts and a pair of boxers, the warmth radiating from her enough to scorch Azzi’s skin even from half a foot away.

“Hey, P?” Azzi whispers, her gaze still glued to the ceiling.

She sees movement in her periphery, Paige angling her head back slightly in her direction. “Hm?”

Azzi swallows hard, attempting to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.

There’s been one question turning itself over and over in her mind all day. A thought that wouldn’t leave her head no matter how hard she tried to shake it out.

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Did you have a New Year’s kiss this year?” she hears herself ask.

Everything is silent then, and Azzi can’t think of many other times in her life where she’s felt as vulnerable as she does now.

The quietness stretches on for an agonizingly long amount of time. It lasts for so long, in fact, that part of Azzi begins to wonder if Paige might have fallen asleep.

“Nah,” Paige mumbles, breaking the silence. She turns fully back onto her side to face Azzi, resting her hands together underneath her head. Azzi feels her heavy stare piercing through the darkness and shivers. “You?”

Azzi shakes her head, sighs, “Me neither.”

She moves to face Paige, mirroring her position, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.

Azzi wets her lips, locks her eyes onto Paige’s.

Fuck it.

“Did you want to have one?” she breathes out.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting. Maybe for Paige to shove her playfully or smile at her or something like that.

But Paige brings her bottom lip into her mouth, waits a beat, then nods her head.

Oh.

She wants this, too.

Azzi isn’t sure which of them is leaning in, but suddenly Paige’s face is just inches from her own, her breath warm against Azzi’s lips.

“Are you sure?” Paige whispers.

Am I sure I want this?

Absolutely.

Am I sure we should be doing this?

Well...

Despite her doubts, Azzi swallows and nods her head.

Paige is the one to close the gap between them, hesitant, at first, and gentle, just the soft press of her lips against Azzi’s own. A tentative reunion, two aching souls finally coming back home to each other.

And then the kiss turns needy, hungry, and Paige is bringing a hand up to cup her face, sliding the other down to Azzi’s waist. Azzi does the same, tugs slightly to bring Paige to hover slightly over her. Paige is kissing her hard now, pressing her into the bed, exhaling heavily, making Azzi’s heart flutter uncontrollably.

Azzi makes a decision then, pulls back just slightly and uses her tongue to part Paige’s lips, shivering when she feels Paige sigh against her mouth. The action seems to spur Paige on further because she’s shifting again, slipping her leg in between Azzi’s, applying just a hint of pressure, building up a low heat there.

Paige is relentless, kissing her with such fervor that it makes her head spin. Azzi feels a thumb dip below the waistband of her pants, caressing against her hip, and for some reason that snaps Azzi out of the dizzy haze she's found herself trapped in.

Azzi breaks the kiss, lightheaded, because if she doesn't do it now she thinks they might never stop.

Paige rests their foreheads together for a moment. She leans back, shifts her body off Azzi’s, her pupils blown out and her chest heaving.

“There,” Azzi hears herself say, breath uneven. “Happy New Year.” Then she rolls away from Paige, heartbeat still erratic in her ears, shaking hands pulling the covers back over herself.

She feels the bed shift a minute later as Paige wordlessly turns away from her.

Azzi brings her fingers up to touch her mouth, the sensation still lingering there.

It’s hours before sleep finally finds her.

*****

Azzi wakes to the afternoon sunlight hitting her square in the face, and she pulls a pillow over her head to block it out. Groaning, she blindly sticks an arm out beside her, feeling for a warm body next to her to shake awake.

Her hand comes up empty.

She shoots up in her bed, panic swarming her as she scans across the empty room. Her chest tightens, her throat constricts.

Fuck, she’s gone.

Tears are just starting to prick at the corner of her eyes when the sound of boisterous laughter bounces off the walls of the hallway.

Curious, Azzi follows the sound, finding its source relatively quickly.

The sight is strange enough to raise Azzi’s eyebrows—her dad and Paige, seated on opposite sides of the dining table, laughing over empty breakfast plates.

Paige notices her first, nodding her chin towards her in acknowledgement. “Hey, Az.” She pats the chair next to her. “Sit.”

Azzi doesn’t move, eyes moving skeptically between her dad and Paige. “Hi. What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” her dad says, but the snickering between the two of them afterwards is saying something completely different.

“This.” Azzi points a finger back and forth between the two of them. “This I don’t like.”

“C’mon, we’re just messin’,” Paige assures, still grinning devilishly.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Azzi responds sarcastically, opening the fridge door and sticking her head in it, searching for something to settle her rumbling stomach. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Packing, I guess?” Paige replies.

Azzi picks her head up at that and closes the fridge. “Huh, why?”

“Got a flight to Connecticut in the mornin',” Paige shrugs, and Azzi’s heart drops to her stomach.

“You do?” she asks, failing to keep the sadness from creeping into her voice.

Paige looks apologetic, casting her eyes downward. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Forgot to mention it. Speakin’ of, I should head on out soon.” She stands, putting her dishes in the sink before clapping Azzi’s dad on the back. “Good to see you as always, Tim.”

He smiles up at her fondly. “You too, Paige.”

“Imma grab my stuff,” Paige says, brushing past Azzi into the living room. Azzi moves on autopilot, trailing behind her.

It takes Paige all of three seconds to get ready, having only really come here with her phone and the clothes she wore yesterday, which she must have changed back into at some point. Azzi watches her pull her sneakers on, shrug into her jacket.

“Guess this it then,” Paige starts, eyes looking anywhere but at Azzi.

Azzi wrings her hands together, trying to figure out where to go from here. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around then, P.”

Azzi is going to leave it at that, moving her arms to give Paige a quick hug, but then Paige is grabbing her arm and pulling her in closer, lowering her voice. “Don't we need to talk 'bout somethin'?”

“Last time you said that you broke up with me.” Azzi pries Paige’s fingers off her arm.

Paige bristles at that, rubbing at the back of her neck nervously. “Okay, but still. We need to talk.”

“About?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows where this conversation is going. She looks at Paige expectantly.

“We kissed, Azzi. You don’t think we should talk ‘bout that?” There’s a crease between her eyebrows. “I mean, like, what does it mean, you know?”

There are two ways Azzi can play this. She can be honest, tell Paige that she lost hours of sleep over it, that it’s the only thing she’s thought about since she woke up, that it shifted her world off its axis. Can tell her that all those feelings she tried to push down have risen rapidly back to the surface, demanding all of her attention. Can lay it all out in front of them, knowing it could be months before the next time they see each other again.

And then there’s a second option.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Azzi is saying, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

Maybe it's time for the ball to be in Paige's court now.

Paige shakes her head exaggeratedly, her face screwed up in utter confusion. “It doesn’t?”

“Not unless we want it to,” Azzi continues, making her expression as unreadable as possible.

“Well, do you?”

Azzi hums noncommittally, looking down at her nails. “Probably easier if we just forget about it, right? I mean, it was only one kiss.”

There’s conflict painted clear across Paige’s face, her mouth opening and closing several times like she can’t quite figure out how she’s supposed to respond to that. She bites her lip hard, so hard that Azzi is a little concerned that she’s about to draw blood.

“I—I, uh,” she stutters, and Azzi can’t remember the last time she saw her look this flustered. “No, yeah. For sure. Just a kiss.” She nods her head once, like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Good, I’m glad we agree,” Azzi replies, even if she doesn’t really mean it.

Paige scratches at the back of her neck again, clearly not anticipating the conversation to go like this. “Yeah. So...maybe I’ll see you in March or somethin’?” She offers a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Azzi shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

*****

She doesn’t.

[elstattoo]

Closet Fun: Vi x Reader

☆*:.｡.

MEN DNI, MDNI

Summary: A heated game of seven minutes in heaven with Vi.

WC: 3K

Warnings: fingering(r receiving), praise, pet names

Author’s note☆: This is my first time writing for Vi and I went overboard with this idea… lmk what you think and next is pitfighter Vi because I need her internally😋

The smoke from people’s cigarettes and weed made the air thick and heavy. You pushed past the sweaty bodies of ongoing partygoers making your way further into the party. Music roared through the speakers making it impossible to hear yourself think.

Vi was hot on your trail, having no interest in anyone but you at the party. “Fuck I could go for a beer right now.” Vi thought to herself as she followed you like a lost puppy. Her eyes immediately snapped down to your legs and ass when she noticed the view.

A low groan escaped her parted lips as she watched the sway of your hips as you walked. She couldn’t recall you ever wearing something like that to a party, let alone such a short skirt.

The more she stared, the more she felt her boxers lightly dampen, she shook her head slightly trying to snap herself out of the daze. It was hard to shake off your effect on her, she never could even if she tried.

But for both your sakes, Violet kept quiet about her feelings for you. She pursued nothing but a friendship with you, too consumed with the fear of losing you, the one person she cares about the most in the world.

She continued following you into the kitchen, both your eyes scanning the assortment of drinks left to offer.

Violet’s eyes practically sparkled as she saw beer tucked away in a red cooler. “Beer here I come,” Vi muttered, speed-walking over to the counter and grabbing a cold beer out of the open cooler.

A smile spread on your face, “Of course, that’s the first thing you drink. I’m doing vodka and soda,” you shrugged, grabbing an empty clean cup. Easily you poured yourself your drink and took a sip, and the tang of vodka a little too much. The alcohol washed over you, making you feel a little less jittery than before.

Vi let out a little scoff as she watched you pour your drink. “Of course, you’d go for vodka. Me? I’ll stick with the beer.” Her body leaned forward against the counter as you fixed more soda into your drink to lessen the amount of vodka. Her eyes roamed your body quickly again, taking in the way the skirt looked so damn good on you.

You smiled hearing Vi’s little complaints, shaking your head at her. As you mixed your drink to your liking, you caught Vi leaning closely towards you on the counter, beer in hand. “I think I’m ready to see what Jinx, Ekko, and everyone else are up to,” you said. You felt yourself grow hotter the more you felt Vi’s burning gaze.

“Sounds good to me,” Vi agreed with a smile, taking one last swing of the beer before holding it tightly in her hand. “Lead the way, cupcake.”

Your heart swelled a little at the nickname, she always called you different names. Each one makes your heart skip a beat, time and time again. Quickly you made your way towards the living room, the first area you hoped you’d find either Jinx or Ekko. Neither were in sight, you hummed, wondering where either of them could be. Vi reached out and grasped your shoulder.

“I think they’re probably in the next room huddled together smoking or something,” Vi snorted.

You giggled, the sound made Vi freeze for a second as if you two were the only ones in the room. Your laugh was genuine, one that rang throughout the room, and made others smile. Your smile was just one of the many things that made Violet fall so hard for you, not that you knew how you made her heart swell.

“Let me just text her, that's easier,” you said, your free hand already stuffed into your pocket and pulling out your phone.

As best as you could with one hand, you typed out a message to Jinx. It was very difficult, but you managed, too stubborn to hand your drink off to Vi.

You: ‘Where are you?’

Vi turned her head, watching as you put your phone away. “I shot her a text now to await her response, hopefully, it’s fast,” you shrugged, sipping away at your drink.

Violet hummed, “I dunno, sweetheart. My sister is an avid texting but probably wouldn’t be at a party.”

The phone vibrating in your back pocket would say otherwise, and you connected eyes briefly with Vi. A smile made its way onto your face, and swiftly you brought your phone out and read the recent notification. It was from Jinx.

Jinx: ‘Upstairs with a smaller group, meet us losers :P’

“You would be wrong, Violet,” you sneered, “She just answered.”

Violet rolled her eyes dramatically at your teasing tone, “Yeah, yeah whatever, sweetheart. Where are we meeting them?

“Upstairs! Let’s goooo,” you whined, grabbing for her hand after stuffing your phone away. Your hand met Violet’s, her colder hands a stark contrast to your warm ones.

Vi followed you, hand gripping yours as you led the way upstairs. The music drifted with you, people crowded the top of the stairs and chatted away. The pair of you squeezed past more people before reaching a room filled with more people, couches placed about, and a gigantic TV hung mounted on the wall.

You both paused for a moment, taking in your surroundings to look for a sign of Ekko or Jinx. A flash of blue crossed your vision, which had Vi groaning as you tugged her forward.

“Jinx! Over here!” You yelled, trying to raise your voice louder than the booming music throughout the house. Jinx’s head snapped from her conversation with Ekko, towards you, hearing your calls. Ekko himself sees Vi’s pink tufts of hair behind you, and the two of you, hand and hand. Not a surprise at all.

“Hey, you two!” Jinx waves, a grin cheekily on her face. Ekko follows behind her waving at you and Vi. “There’s some people back there playing spin-the-bottle but whoever it lands on goes into a closet for seven minutes and it's locked.” Jinx directed where the people were with the point of her painted fingertip.

Vi let go of your hand, moving from behind you so she can talk to everyone more closely. “Pardon?” Vi quirks an eyebrow, “Seven minutes in heaven and spinning the bottle combined? Alright, fuck it, what do ya say, sweetheart?” Vi’s head turned to you, she licked her lips anticipating your answer. She only would indulge in this silly game if you did.

At the sudden question, you felt yourself grow hot, “Sure! Let’s have fun, what do you guys think?” You ignored the creeping thoughts growing in your head hoping, somehow, that luck would be on your side for once. And… if you played this game, you’d end up, alone, locked in a closet with Vi.

“Hell yeah! I mean, I am the one who told you about it,” Jinx laughed, turning to playfully poke Ekko in the side. He laughed at her, shrugging off her antics.

You all politely asked to join the game, which had the people already playing, clapping, and nodding their heads excitedly. People muttered about restarting the game with the new addition of people, and so a new game began.

“I’m sooo excited,” Jinx whispered, bumping your side as you all watched the people fumble to reset the bottle.

“Wait! Let one of the newbies take a turn,” one guy insisted. His eyes landed on you, “Hey! How about you try it out?”

Your lips parted, not knowing what to say before you nodded. “Yeah, okay,” you breathed, leaning forward to spin the bottle. The time within you spinning the bottle, and then waiting to see who it landed on felt like a lifetime. You felt your stomach doing somersaults, you gulped, seeing the bottle beginning to slow and eventually come to a halt.

The air felt thick, as if time paused at that moment, the bottle stopped and pointed at Vi. A smirk emerged onto her face, your eyes falling from the bottle to her piercing one. Your eyes held contact for mere seconds, the chatter of people drowned out, and you zoned out and only focused on Violet.

Suddenly, you were snapped out of said trance when someone, Ekko, poked your shoulder gently. “Hey, you good?” he murmured, seeing you space out, only mere seconds ago.

You nodded, giving him a thumbs up to reassure him. “Yeah, just surprised. Guess I better go to whatever closet with Vi, at least.”

Ekko smiled, watching you get up as people muttered at you to “hurry up and go.’” Those people were the least of your concerns when you’d be locked in a closet with Vi. The fact it was reality and going to happen had your heart beating wildly out of your chest.

Vi was already standing up, waiting for you and someone to lead you both to the closet. “At least it landed on someone you know, sweets,” Vi added, poking your side. Your head snapped towards her, shooting her a glare.

The girl in front of you, the one leading you to the closet cleared her throat. “Are you guys ready to go now?”

“Yeah, sorry. Let’s go,” you shared a glance with Vi before the two of you followed after the girl. You were brought to a room only a few meters away, the closet tucked in the corner. The girl brought both of you right to the closet door.

“Alright, hurry in, the timer starts when the door closes,” the girl smiled, opening the closet door, and ushering the two of you inside. Vi snuck another glance in your direction, herself still not believing the situation. “Try not to be too loud!” She winked, closing the door, and fiddling with the lock.

The closet was small, the two of you huddled together, trying to sit comfortably within the small space. The darkness of the closet provided another challenge and made it impossible to see or navigate your surroundings.

“Shit, why couldn’t this stupid closet have a light?” Vi mumbled, blinking her eyes to adjust to the darkness. “Where are you even?” Her hand reached out into the darkness feeling for you, her fingertips met your thigh, your breath hitching at the touch. “There you are.”

You could imagine the stupid, cocky smirk on her face saying that. You were on the opposite side of the closet of her, body huddled together, knees against your chest. “Yep, here I am… Weird game for friends to end up in, right?” You joked, the word ‘friend’ making you feel sour.

Vi squeezed her hand against your thigh, the plump flesh squeezing in her firm grasp. You gulped feeling the grip. “Mhm, sweetheart friends are all we are,” she leaned closer, her grip on your thigh still firm. You made no effort to move her hand, which enticed her further and helped prove you did in fact like this. “I think we’re a lot more than friends, and it’s pretty clear at this point. So quit the bullshit and c’mere,” her voice was low and husky.

Her words put you in a trance, you leaned forward, scooting closer to her, to close the distance. Her hand lets go of your thigh, and before you can complain at the loss of contact she cups your cheek and brings your lips in for a fiery, hot kiss. It was messy and filled with passion, you immediately returned the kiss. Almost feeling greedy at how you nipped at her lower lip, gliding your tongue against it, before she eagerly opened her mouth allowing you to overtake her mouth. Your tongues lapping against one another, you moaned softly into Vi’s mouth feeling relieved to finally be kissing her.

Vi noticed your spread legs, allowing her to slot herself between your thighs, and forcing you to twist your legs around her. She mentally noted the time she had left with you, slipping her free hand in between your legs and going oh, so dangerously close to your panties.

Your hands were wrapped around her neck, you pulled away to breathe and felt Vi’s sneaky hand near where you needed her most. “W-what are you doing?” You panted out, still trying to catch your breath from the heated kiss.

“Wanna finger you, right here, right now. Can’t help myself, princess,” Vi admitted, chest rising and falling steadily. If you could see her right now you’d see the way her face was dusted lightly, lips red and blotchy from the kissing.

You whined, gripping the overgrown hair at the back of her head, Vi groaned softly loving the way your feelings felt gripping at her hair. “We can’t do it here..” you said in a hushed voice. You so badly wanted it, but here of all places?

“Please… want to please you, princess,” Vi pleaded, and she kissed your lips. Your panties dampened even more and you felt yourself let go, giving in to her frantic kisses.

You pulled back for a second, nodding, “Please… do it before they come.”

When those words left your mouth that was all Vi needed before she moved her hand to where you needed her. Her fingers moved your thong to the side, sliding two into your wet, aching hole. She cut off the loud moan that almost escaped your lips with her lips sealed against yours, you eagerly returned the passionate kiss.

Vi curled her fingers slightly, angling to get deeper inside of you, and hit the spot that felt so good. You needily swiped your tongue against Vi’s, the two of you exchanging saliva in between the messy kisses. Vi pumped her fingers faster, groaning at the wetness pooling around her sleek fingers.

The two of you only had a few minutes left, Violet pulled back. Hurriedly pumping her fingers deeper, before she stilled for a moment to slide a third one in. Feeling her insert the third finger, then pumping them in and out of you, curling to hit your g-spot, had you craning your head into her neck. You muffled the cry of pleasure, hands still gripping her pink hair, and Vi loved it.

The sounds you were making, the muffled sounds of the music playing outside the closet door were long forgotten to her by the smacking of her fingers drilling in and out of you. Along with your wetness squealing in the small space of the closet. She fucking loved it.

“God, pretty girl… you’re so wet just from kissing and my fingers? Gotta get you home after this,” she sighed, smirking to herself at the ideas popping in her head.

“Please, Vi only have a few minutes left and I’m close,” you mewled against her.

“Yeah? We gotta hurry then, pretty girl,” she pumped her fingers faster, if possible, her fingers hitting your g-spot over and over until you felt your stomach clench up, your vision went white, and you swear you heard yourself whine loudly like never before. Surely, the sound alerted people outside the room, but who the fuck cares? With how your muscles spasmed and clenched as the waves of the moment overtook you.

“O-oh my god,” you gasped, clutching onto her shoulders, pretty painted nails digging in as you tried to roll your hips into her hand to ride out the intensity of your orgasm. Vi softly kissed your neck, leaving small marks along your neck as you clung to her.

“Holy fuck, you just came all over my fingers,” Vi uttered with her fingers still curled tightly inside of your cunt. You whined at the sensitivity from your previous orgasm, Vi begrudgingly took her fingers out of you understanding you were sensitive. Her digits were coated in your slick cum, she brought her fingers to her mouth and moaned at the sweet taste of you. She cleaned the mess away off her fingers before pecking your lips. “You feel alright?”

Your chest swelled, your body still recovering from the post-orgasm. “Yeah, that was… Fucking amazing, Vi,” you smiled, your fingers coming up to cup her cheek and passing over the small tattoo under her eye. The one that marked her name… Vi. Your Vi, the one that you love.

Before either of you could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. “Time’s up, lovebirds!” You hurriedly pulled away from each other, you fixed your skirt, smoothing the material as Vi wiped her mouth and fixed her wrinkled clothes.

The door opened, Jinx being the one to open the door this time. She saw your appearance, both your lips red and swollen from the kisses. She smirked and wiggled her eyebrows, “You guys finally confessed and… did a lot more than that!”

You dashed up and playfully smacked her side, your face feeling hot. “Please shut up! And keep it down,” you pleaded. Embarrassment rushed over you, but Vi got up and coddled your side.

“It’s fine, pretty girl. Nothing to be ashamed of,” she shrugged. She acted as if her sister wasn’t right there and didn’t quickly infer what the two of you did. It also didn’t help that she confidently wrapped her arm around you, a smirk adorning her face as she pushed past Jinx and walked out of the room with you.

You were left speechless even when she led you out of the party and to her car.

“Wanna come back to my place or yours?” She whispered, eyes gazing into yours from the driver’s seat.

“Mine,” you grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Please, I want you all to myself.”

Vi hummed, starting the car and nodding. “I know, pretty girl and you will, I promise,” she squeezed your hand in reassurance. “Wanted you… long before this.” Vi never thought she would admit it, but now she could care less knowing you both felt the same. She brought your hand up and kissed it.

Your heart swelled, your hand felt warm and clammy, and you almost felt like you were floating. “Me too, Vi,” you whispered. She put her hand back in yours and drove the two of you back to your closer apartment.

The two of you did a lot more than fingering for the rest of the night.

—

Author’s note: I hope you guys enjoyed… please spare me

[celestiamour]

Hi, Could you write more about semi x fem reader, maybe the reader helps her not to get murdered? I love semi a lot but there aren't many fanfics about her🥺😭 please

ft. se-mi x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ preventing her untimely demise┊0.6k words

setting: season 2, episode 7 contains: canon-typical violence & murder, sorry nam-gyu fans, it’s one or the other, friends to lovers

➤ author's note: i was so mad when she died, why do the squid game writers hate lesbians

it’s difficult to see anything going on with the bright white fluorescent lights constantly flickering, but the sound of screams piercing through the night was enough to tell you that the “special game” had started and it was dangerous to remain in bed. you watched as one of the women next to you cried out in terror as a man used a broken bottle to stab at her chest,, and you immediately jumped out and hit the floor running before he could turn his sights on you. 

the first people who came to your mind to search for where your allies were to make sure they were alright, particularly min-su and se-mi whom you’ve become close over the past few days and knew would be targets of their previous group after voting to leave. 

you heard her familiar voice yelp in surprise just a little ways from you, the same voice that so often threw compliments at you like they didn’t fluster you so bad you wanted to hide under the blanket and comforted you when you cried about the people who lost their lives earlier that day when everyone else was asleep, sending you into a panic. 

as resilient as se-mi was, she was no match to overpower nam-gyu physically as you watched him corner her against the wall, his bloodlust so powerful you could almost smell it with one of the forks given out during dinnertime in hand. you could see a glint of red shining off the metal, indicating that it was already used to take a life. 

a glass bottle suddenly came in between them, shattering against the concrete floor. you didn’t even bother to look up, just seizing the opportunity to jump the man from behind and trying to steal the silverware from his grip while he was still in shock. while you couldn’t fully take it from him, you did manage to knock it out of his hands. 

you were smaller than him, but you used all of the strength in your body to keep him pinned down once se-mi kicked him in the stomach and picked up the utensil. without hesitation, she began to repeatedly stab him in the neck with it, over and over again, both of you ignoring his pleas and screams knowing that he would have done the same to her without so much as batting an eye. you only got off him when he stopped squirming under your grasp, ignoring the blood that splattered all over your hands, clothing, and face.

it hasn’t hit you yet that you just held a man down for her to murder and you’re sure the guilt will consume you later, but all that matters is that both of you have survived to see another day together. you’ve never been so happy to see those damn guards in their hot pink uniform, even if they were shortly taken down in a matter of minutes to steal their guns for the planned player revolt. both of you 

neither of you were allowed to join due to a lack of experience with firearms and being women, but due to the clear determination in your eyes, they did leave a walkie-talkie to call for backup if they needed it.

once the shots fell quiet and were no longer ringing in your ears, se-mi looked at you with a little smile on her face and reached out to caress your face, “you know, i always thought you were really pretty, but i think you look kinda sexy with the blood everywhere.”

“do you really?”

“of course, i do, but we really should wash up”

[fushiguruuzzzz]

+ CHAPTER TWELVE // LIKE SOMEONE IN LOVE 

series mlist 

Tags — reader believes she isn’t fit for love lol, short chapter again, can you tell I’m sick of writing this series, no smau  Words — 0.7k 

Deep in your soul, you always knew something about you was… wrong.

From the moment you were old enough to look in the mirror and see the hollowness of what stared back, you made a promise to cover it up. You smiled at people in the street, bounced around in your pretty pink skirts and your Mary Jane’s, desperate to fill that gaping hole inside by overflowing it with honey. You told everyone that your favourite holiday was Valentine’s Day, you scribbled messy hearts into the empty space in your worksheets, even when you felt as if you lacked one of your own. 

Some might say you were the love you yearned for, but nobody had any idea how difficult love came to you. It barely came at all. 

Your head whipped around just a little too fast to be casual when a voice broke through the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. 

“You okay?” 

Toge’s voice was gentle, not pushy, but like a humble offering of a chance to respond. He tried to sound casual because he knew he didn’t have much of a right to question you, not after your recent misunderstanding, but the furrow in his brows told you enough. Toge always cared, maybe even too much. He cared about everyone, but he always had a special sort of concern for you. Why? He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but it surely had to do with the warmth in his chest every time you were near. 

You nodded. “Mhm.. yeah, sorry. I just zoned out.” 

He mirrored your action, though unconvinced. It gnawed at him inside, every passing second a chance for the grimness to consume him. He turned his gaze back to the movie in front of you, trying to pay at least an ounce of attention to the plot, but your inner monologue radiated from you and loomed over him like a shadow. 

He glanced at you again, suddenly feeling nervous. His hands twitched and ached to reach out to you, but he had to hold them back. Not yet. He wasn’t deserving of that yet. He still had to win back your trust, to crack away at the boulder chained to him by the ankle. Even if you forgave him, the impact of his foolishness wasn’t nearly as merciful. It lingered, whispering recounts of that night into his ear when he least expected it. 

Your eyes caught on the fidgeting of his hands. Toge wasn’t all that hard to read, not once you got close enough. That flicker in his violet eyes was clear as day, may as well have been loud as a firework. 

Your fingers crawled over the space between you, inching closer. They slipped into his, slotting in like this was nothing other than a reunion of two halves. He glanced to you, shoulders easing just barely. He let out a breath, and he looked back at the screen. 

Your hand was squeezed reassuringly in his, just a silent reminder of his presence. It made your pulse quicken, your heart race faster than sound itself. It was a reminder that you had one at all. 

Love never came easily to you, but Toge was more than a four letter word, more than the butterflies in your stomach and giddiness that pulled at your lips. He flowed into your heart like the smooth breeze of a summer night, seeing the fragile girl before him and inviting her in anyway. 

He looked at you again, a shaky breath leaving him as he braced himself for an impact that had already came and went. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I know technically…” 

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I know you’re sorry. I forgive you. You don’t have to do any grand gestures, just… just stay with me for now.” 

Just stay. Just prove you’re here to do so, prove you aren’t the fleeting memory of a night at the bar. Prove you’re more than one love song. 

You caught a glimpse of his eyes before you pulled away in cowardice, but the soft, compliant twinkle in his eyes was burned into your mind. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, I’ll stay.” 

The end is near and I’m sorry it’s been so shitty lately, I’ve been sick and unmotivated and just trying to get this series over with <\3

I’ve given up can you tell I’m sorry to the people that like this series because I DONT … lol I appreciate the love and support so much obviously I love u all so bad, that’s why I’m so sorry like actually

Taglist — closed 50/50

@anotherwriternamedclara @ruruisru @adoresia @auroratumbles @sh0ot1ngst4r @soobin1437 @mystic-megumi @cinnamxnangel @lizbix @s3ns4ti0n4l @anonnieghost @s4toruz @gumims @bubybubsters @k4ss11333 @rreveurdoll @kaged-kitty @rwura @aldebrana @hqnge @good-mourning0 @daisies-and-domming @vi0let-writes @dazaisfavgf @hearts4aloise @coolgirl458 @keyaea @jealovsie @sirenla @academiq @mammoanlmao @moonchhu @ichcocat @blubearxy @hayl09 @q2uq2u @potteraep @fiannee @lailakys @jxisnwaol @treeguzzler @yatiimariiee @zayuriluvs @kr1nqu @cloudxox @azinniyaa @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @rottingvxmpire @gradmacoco @spkyssn

[hemlockesprings]

Helloo! I hope you're having a good day today!

But may I ask you? You can ignore this or whatever.

Is there any advice you can give to a person who's beginning/starting in music? Like in the aspects of melody making.

When I sung it's good but when I try to create a melody with it I just crash out.

That's all!

Thank youu!

And one more thing, can I be chai latte anon?

-chai latte

<3

hiii chai latte! ☕️ (there's not really a good emoji for this haha) 👋🏾

Well, there are many resources that can teach you how to make catchy melodies, how to write lyrics, how to make a song, etc. I'm not gonna lie, I haven't dug into any of them 😭

The best advice I can give you from my personal experience is that music is about feeling and intuition. In order to get to that one idea you really like, often times you have to cycle through tens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of ideas you either don't like, feel neutral about, or kind of like but it's not quite there.

You have to get rrreeeaaaaaaaallll comfortable with sounding stupid, not liking what you're making....honestly, you gotta get real comfortable with being UNCORMFORTABLE!

The crashing out you're experiencing? Every artist does that, they just may not show it. Expect to feel that way about 99% of the time when making music!

Melody-making can be as easy as breathing air and as difficult as finding a needle in a haystack. I've found it to be the latter quite often!

I guess what I'm trying to say is if you're main objective is to make a catchy melodic song, there's definitely YouTube videos that can go into more depth and detail than I can 🤣

BUT ALSO, ain't nothing wrong with a good crash out. Or two. Or a hundred. Or a thousand. In a way, you're subliminally doing a POE! You know how you DON'T want the song to sound. Having multiple DON'TS can lead you to a DO!

I don't know if I helped any, but I will say this is advice I wished someone gave me when making songs, so I thought I would pass it along haha

-🔒💕

[nokk0]

"You could say that, pon... There are also updates to refresh a device, pon... Anyway... Before updating a cell phone, the first thing to do is back up the data. Updates might cause data loss, so it's important to protect things like photos, videos, and documents, pon... Of course a data loss is rare to happen since most people make back-ups or follow the regulations without major problems, pon... But... Fal case..."

Fal went silent for minutes before letting out a nervous "pon"

"... With Fal there wasn't any back-ups and the procedure went wrong, pon... Now you get it, pon?"

Dotty appeared from behind Fal.

“Boo!”

“Hey, robot! I brought my notepad with me.”

“Oh, you look… different.”

Fal retreats in fear, with his little claws ready for anything that the intruder is going to do, alert but extremely anxious for the presence of Dotty, who by their sudden appearance and single big eye gives Fal an intense fear

"W-WHO ARE YOU!? WHERE DID YOU...!? H-HOW DO YOU KNOW FAL, PON!?"

But... There's something familiar...

[na0koz]

can you pls write more toxic vi🤤

yes i Can!

the moment vi realised she actually likes you, your relationship instantly became impossibly more difficult. she avoids you even more and if you do hang out, she tries her best to keep your interactions to a minimum (fucking then leaving your apartment while you’re asleep).

after a couple of weeks of her acting up - somehow even more than she already had been - you called her about a thousand times until she picked up.

“the fuck do you want? christ…” she practically barked, running her hands through her hair as she leant on the front door of her apartment.

“i want you to hang out with me, violet! you’re acting even more like you hate me than usual recently, and i do not like it. if you want this to be over, just say it ‘cus i’ve had enough of you honestly,” you gush, sitting up in your bed and waving your hands around as if she was really in front of you.

there was a beat of silence, and you briefly thought she hung up on you when you brought your phone away from your ear. surprisingly, her contact was still displayed on the screen with the call still running.

“don’t call me violet,” her voice sounded softer than when she first answered your call. she sounded upset.

you scoffed loudly, “are you fucking kidding me? that’s all you have to say?”

more silence followed, and your patience was running thin.

“hello? i asked you a question.”

“don’t really know what you want me to say.”

you groaned at her tone of voice, bored and uninterested. “well for starters-“

vi was quick to interrupt you. “i don’t really have the energy for this. see you,” she hung up before you could even get a breath in.

in the following two weeks, you only saw vi once. even that was a result of her physically running into you by accident on a street near your apartment.

her eyes widened as she realised it was you who she’d bumped into, quickly changing her ‘watch where you’re fucking going’ to an ‘oh sorry’. she grimaced slightly at the way you gave her a horribly dirty look, clearly not too pleased to see her.

she swiftly made her way around you and hurried away. you could’ve sworn you heard her mumbling ‘fucking idiot’ to herself as she walked away.

about a week after that, you heard some loud knocking at your front door. groggily grabbing for your phone, you see that the time reads 4:23am. who the hell is at your door at this hour? you whine as you drag yourself up to answer.

swinging the door upon while rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re faced with a slightly drunk vi leaning on your door frame.

“um?” you rasp, sleep clouding your voice.

“hey…” vi mumbles. “i.. i need you, [name].”

she slumped forward into your shoulder as she babbled, you trying your absolute hardest to hold her muscular form upright, hearing her whining out a ‘please’ as you reluctantly shut the door behind her.

“you can’t just show up asking to fuck after barely speaking to me for three weeks, vi.”

“what-? no no. i’m not here to fuck you. i need you, please.” she squeezed her eyes shut and groaned at the sudden brightness as you flicked the light on.

you couldn’t even muster anything to say, pushing her to sit down while you stand opposite her. she squints up at you in return, looking completely helpless. sighing at her messed up state, you decide to join her on the sofa.

“what?” you question, trying your best not to get annoyed with her for showing up unannounced like this for the millionth time.

“just-“ she interrupted herself with a burp. “just like… hold me. please.”

before you can react, she leans herself onto you, resting her head in the space between your shoulder and chest. her weight pushed you to lie down on your sofa and she took the chance to make herself more comfortable.

her leg wrapped around you as she clutched your waist with one hand, using her free arm to push you to put your arms around her. she sighed shakily as your hand relaxed onto her back.

“sorry princess, i jus’ need this, okay?” she said quietly, her eyes drooping in time with the rise and fall of your chest.

you don’t say anything in return. you know she’s drunk, you can smell it on her, but a small part of yourself feels like she’s serious. drunk words are sober thoughts, right?

but of course, you wake up cold and with vi nowhere to be found. the only proof you have of her even being there was a faint smudge of her black eye makeup on your shirt.

she got scared and bailed in the middle of the night. again. she’s embarrassed, and toys between the ideas of either blocking you, changing her number or going back to your apartment and telling you how she really feels.

in the end, she doesn’t choose any of them. she can’t lose you completely, but she’s way too much of a coward to express her true feelings towards you. shocker.

[tamayula-hl]

Recently, I’ve been feeling a strong urge to write fanfiction, but as a Japanese person, I can’t help but feel the immense barriers of language and cultural differences standing in my way.

I’ve always loved writing fanfiction and have more experience as a writer than as an artist. But I don’t know any English at all. The Japanese short story collection about Seb and Omi that I posted on AO3 over a year ago still has zero bookmarks (which isn’t surprising 😂). In other words, as someone who can only write in Japanese, my value as a writer in this fandom is practically zero. I have so many stories I want to tell, but since I can’t speak English, I can’t even stand at the starting line 🤣🤣🤣. Even if I started studying English intensively now, it would probably take years before I could write stories in English on my own 🤣.

On top of that, I only have a Japanese perspective shaped by Japanese values and ways of thinking. For someone like me, it’s impossible to depict Western characters’ personalities, thoughts, and actions without them feeling off. The more I read fanfiction written by Western authors in this fandom, the more I realize how significantly values and ways of thinking differ between Japan and the West. I notice these differences so often that I’m genuinely shocked. With art or comics, I can at least visually mask these cultural discrepancies to some extent, but with novels, where detailed psychological descriptions are key, there’s no way to gloss over these differences.

Foolishly, I’ve been thinking about translating my stories using ChatGPT, just as I do with comic dialogues. But even with AI tools, translation takes an enormous amount of time. And more importantly, translating between Japanese and English is incredibly difficult—no matter how advanced modern tools like DeepL or ChatGPT are, they can’t produce truly accurate translations. This fandom is already filled with amazing, beautifully written stories in natural English. So who would ever want to read a poorly translated story in unnatural English produced by tools like ChatGPT or DeepL? 🤣🤣🤣

With art or comics, I know that I can improve with practice. But when it comes to mastering English and capturing the nuances of cultural values, no matter how hard I try, I will always fall short compared to Western creators. I recently became painfully aware of this reality, and now I feel so sad and empty. Even so, I can’t suppress this foolish urge to write stories. Someone, please give me the final push to give up on writing fiction 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣.

(I couldn’t find the right term, so I used the word “Western” in this text. But I do understand that there are many people in the West who aren’t fluent in English, and that cultural values differ greatly from country to country.) (And to all the non-native English writers who work hard and create amazing stories, I have the utmost respect for you.)

[st4rboyloser]

@wolfstarmicrofic — January 5 — First Date — word count: 520 (not how i originally planned on writing this but oh well)

➽──────────────❥ 

Sirius had been on loads of dates with plenty of girls, and they were easy. Throw on a leather jacket, smile, be flirty and charming, and maybe take them home later. 

So, why was this so difficult? Remus had asked him out. On a date. That was the first thing that threw him off, as he was used to being the one to ask out others. But Remus had asked. The second thing that threw him off was that Remus asked him out. Remus John Lupin. He supposed it shouldn’t be a huge deal; after all, they hung out all the time, and sometimes it definitely felt more than just a friend hangout.

But this? This was an official date. And Sirius was losing it.

He hadn’t even gotten ready yet, and he was supposed to walk with Remus to The Three Broomsticks in an hour. He couldn’t seem to get his hair to frame his face just right or get his makeup to look good. He sat on his bed with a groan, running his hand through his wavy black hair. What was happening to him?

He grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his trunk and was about to light one when James came in.

“Oi mate, you alright?” James asked with a smirk. “You look like you’re having a crisis.”

Sirius cut him a glare. “Shut it, Prongs.” He sighed, looking down at his hands. “I think I’m nervous for this date with Moons.”

James gasped, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly. “Nervous? You? The great Sirius Black—the Gryffindor Casanova—is nervous for a date.

Sirius just glared at him again, muttering under his breath. “This one is different, prick. I think I actually like Remus...”

“I know, mate,” James relented. “And he likes you too, you know that, right? He practically trips over his own feet when he sees you; it’s almost cute.”

Sirius can’t help the way his heart beat seems to speed up a bit at that. “I just... don’t want to mess this up. With everyone else, it’s been like a one and done, and I don’t want it to be like that with Remus. I actually want to be with him. I want this date to go perfectly.”

James shook his head in light exasperation. “Pads, no date goes perfectly. Just be yourself. Remus seems to like that guy.”

Sirius scoffs. “Yeah? Thanks, Prongs, I’ll keep that in mind.” He sighed. “Right... well, he’s probably waiting in the common room for me, I should go meet him.”

“Yeah, you should,” James gave his friend a reassuring smile. “It’s gonna go great, mate. Now, get out of here.”

Sirius grinned, taking a breath as he left the boys’ dorm room and trudged down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.

Just as he thought, Remus was there, his nose buried in a book. He was wearing a dark brown sweater over a white button-up and black slacks. And he looked beautiful, as always. Sirius took another breath to calm his nerves before walking up to the boy, holding his hand out.

“Ready, Moons?”

[goorehound]

Viktor x Silco Fic Idea

chapter 2

ao3

Okay, I need beta readers here. Not so much looking for correction on grammar and such, but wondering if this is worth writing more of! Please give me your thoughts! This is a random thing I banged out quickly, and I’m feeling like I could turn it into a full fic. Feedback very much appreciated!!

Summary:

Silco, a newer (and far from proud) resident of Piltover, is struggling to raise his freshly teenage daughter Jinx in the uppercity after a messy divorce. Teenagers are difficult, and a new school is always an adjustment.

Viktor, a begrudging and very overqualified high school teacher (after a falling out with his old business partner) is desperately trying to keep his promising student afloat. If only her father were not such a stubborn bastard that refuses to work with him.

Attending a meeting at a stuffy, Piltie high school was the lowest of concerns on Silco’s priority list. They would learn to cope with Jinx’s rowdy behaviour eventually, she was simply a bit hyperactive - they only jumped to conclusions because she was from the lanes. Thus it all felt blown out of proportion, what could she possibly have done so early in the school year to warrant a conference on her behaviour? Likely nothing of note.

Silco had no qualms about further postponing, claiming his business hours kept him far too occupied to be able to bend his schedule to allow a meeting. So far, the exaggeration had worked - not a full lie. His hands were very full with work, yes, but he could always nip out for an hour if need be. Silco only relented when words like suspension and expulsion were thrown about. The distaste he held for these institutions and his reluctance to involve himself in frivolous concerns about Jinx’s supposed bad behaviour, according to the Pilties delicate sensibilities, was not stronger than his want for Jinx to have every opportunity available to her.

A diploma from this school would open more doors for her, in future. Though he wished deeply that she would not want to continue life in the upper city after school was through, he would not want the option to be closed off to her. Silco knew that she was smart beyond her years, unblinded by the pride of a father and merely an innate fact. She was a genius and that was completely unarguable, she would do incredible things in her lifetime - of that he was sure.

So, what was one stuffy little meeting in the grand scheme of things? He could wipe the disgust off his face, listen with faux concern to whatever pompous asshole had taken issue with his daughter, then be on his merry way. Simple.

“Silco, was it?” A lilted and accented voice drew him from his musings. What he did not expect when being welcomed in to the cramped office adjoining to a spacious classroom was - well. A sump rat just like he, if he had to speak ineloquently. Which was all his bewildered brain could manage at the moment, dichotomous eyes flickering about as they took in the lanky form in the doorway. There was a quality that was difficult to hide up here, he’d discovered.

A certain look. A specific, guarded look that swam just beneath the eyes. The accent had given him away like a massive billboard proclaiming his origina, and yet the quality in which he held himself was familiar. Even without speaking, Silco would have spotted it instantaneously. Like recognizes like. No matter the time spent above the fumes, one could not erase their upbringing. Certainly not enough to hide from those who understood.

“You are Jinx’s father, yes?” The man asked, something like steely defiance flashing in his eyes. Oh, perhaps Silco’s staring had been misinterpreted.

“Correct.” Silco offered a smile that did not quite crinkle the eyes, detached and smooth. “And so you must be Viktor.” He offered a hand. Politely, he offered the hand Viktor could shake without releasing the grip on his cane. Pleased by the short and firm grip he was given in return, Silco was swift to follow Viktor into the room without an ounce of hesitation. His attention had officially been caught. Unless this man had been corrupted by his time above, there may be actual reason for concern for Jinx’s actions.

“It is not usually so difficult to convince a parent to come in.” Viktor expressed as he sat down at a modest desk, cane clinking against the wood as it was propped up. Blunt. Silco appreciated that.

“I am a busy man.” Silco spread his palms in an appeasing what-can-you-do manner and smiled the same, disingenuous smile as before. “But with your persistence, it must be urgent. What is it you believe Jinx to have done?”

Believe. Suspect. Accuse.

There was a heaved sigh, and Viktor adjusted the papers in front of him as if to bide time. “She has been,” he seemed to try to parse the correct wording out of the air, face contorting just the slightest. “Disruptive in classroom settings. She has a short temper, a very passionate disposition.”

Silco stared expressionless as he processed the statement. Yes, that was Jinx in a nutshell, and his frustration mounted at being dragged in due to his daughters personality. He prayed there was more to this, and it was not a complete waste of air for Viktor to share this observation. “Go on.” Silco urged, legs crossing one over the other as he leaned back in his seat.

“Well.” Viktor cleared his throat, apparently struggling to maintain eye contact. “There are suspicions that she is involved in some vandalism.”

Of course. Why would she not immediately climb her way to the top of every suspect list? The burning ember of rage that had made itself a nest in his chest after their move above the smog flared, a righteous anger flickering below his sternum. “Hmm, I see.” Silco hummed diplomatically. “Any proof of this?”

“No.” Viktor sounded almost as though he was attempting to reassure, eyes finding their way back to Silco’s own. “What kid does not enjoy a little vandalism? It could have been anybody.”

The following silence was thick.

“But Jinx has to be more cautious than any student, I’m sure you understand.” Was that sympathy that Silco felt in the undercurrent of those words? “She is- she will be scrutinized more heavily. I worry that she may be painting a target on her back.”

Silco highly doubted that Viktor had gotten the go ahead to share this sort of sentiment in this meeting. The man truly held his curiosity in a firm grip. Be careful, he seemed to say, they will be harsh with her. But Silco did not need that sort of warning, fully aware of the prejudice that she would face in this environment. It was a dialogue he held openly with her and was comfortable answering any and all questions she had regarding it, as he had done repeatedly. She was just as conscious of this fact.

“Your concern is much appreciated.” Silco assured, voice not betraying any of his frustration. What did this man expect him to do? Train Jinx to abide entirely by this society’s rules, and subsequently erase her personality? He had absolutely no inclination to do so. The vandalism he could discuss with her, because he had no doubts she was the culprit. Not on school grounds, perhaps, don’t get caught. Lessons he’d taught before. But the rest, the Pilties would just have to adjust. “But there is not much to do in the way of her disruptive nature. I will not dim her-“

“I am not asking you to dim her.” Viktor interrupted, seeming insulted at the implication. What an interesting little man, he must have such a big heart. Had Silco not been so frustrated about the whole predicament, he may have taken a moment to be glad Jinx had a teacher like him to turn to.

“-And the school will adjust to her.” Silco continued with certainty, as if he had not been interrupted. “Having a mind like hers topside will only benefit them, and they will see that.” Her exemplary grades had been a marvel at her elementary school, and Silco knew Piltover’s need to exploit her gifts would win out. Playing the system, as it were.

Viktor’s lips parted as though he had more arguments, eyebrows broadcasting his displeasure at Silco’s response. Despite the obvious disagreement, Viktor seemed to compose himself before speaking. “I urge you to get on top of this before it grows into a larger problem.” When he reached for papers this time, it was not listless fidgeting. He grabbed a pamphlet and slid it across.

“She is acting out,” Viktor did not say this with the judgement those words would normally carry. “And a place to vent her emotions, that is not during classes, could help.” With that said, the paper was now thrust towards Silco more insistently.

Therapy. As if she was some broken child from the sumps, as if her eccentric being implicated there was something wrong with her. As if she needed some well-meaning third party to poke around in her brain, and encourage her to subdue any part of herself. She was fine, the way she was. Jinx did not need to change, and Silco would not hear another word of it. He stood stiffly, snatching the paper off the desk. Perused it, hummed under his breath, before crumpling it within his fist. Viktor looked on with evident disgust.

“Thank you, for your advice.” Silco did not plaster on a friendly expression, but his face was not nearly as thunderous as he felt inside. Blessedly neutral, he dropped the wrinkled pages into the bin on his venture towards the door. “Apologies for the disruptions in your classes. Of course, I’ll give her a stern talking to.” Now, the shit-eating curve of lips returned, slicing into his next words with a false sense of cheer. “Don’t hesitate to reach out if any more pressing concerns arise.”

It was only after he exited the that he accepted within himself that he may have given an overdramatic exit. Perhaps, if he really reflected, he was needlessly harsh. Silco felt it was excusable at the moment - he had been right about the meeting being an utterly useless waste of time, and how disappointing indeed. He’d gotten his hopes up when he discovered the nagging emails had come from a devastatingly pretty Zaunite, hoping maybe the tables had turned in his favour. But the conversation had gone just as irritating as initially expected.

At least he could impart some wisdom around committing petty crimes such as vandalism over breakfast the next morning. He supposed that could save Jinx more trouble in the future, so, small victories.

[stars4noah]

HALLEY'S COMET- three.

{WARNINGS}: swearing, drinking, allusions to depression, reader and noah making up yayyyy 🥳🥳

w.c- 2,898

a.n- if you guys couldn't tell by now, this story has kinda turned from being inspired by only halley's comet to being inspired by the entire album! go listen to happier than ever by billie eilish. the album. not the song.

enjoy! <3

{TAGLIST}: @lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @rumoured-whispers @oobleoob

if you would like to be added to the taglist, please comment!

i haven't slept since sunday. midnight for me is three a.m. for you.

three more weeks passed since everything happened. the next day, noah tried to come back. i told him to stay away. forever. i promised him that i would be just fine without him, that i didn't need him to prove to me that he was something he didn't want to be. because i was so convinced he didn't want to be better. he just wanted his photographer back.

i started working at a local coffee shop, the spark in my eyes that was once consistent now gone. i didn't have that kind voice that everyone grew to love. i didn't put any effort into my appearance. i just threw my hair into a ponytail and moved on.

a lot of the time, i was glad i lived alone. i could fall back into old habits without being scolded. like drinking, for example. it was the only way i knew how to handle my feelings. which wasn't working very well.

but you're all it takes for me to break a promise.

i knew the next time i saw his face i would break. i would run back. i would stay. spending years with somebody who you're secretly in love with will do that to a person. so i made it my goal to purposefully ignore him.

every time i would go home, i would scroll mindlessly on my phone. i found out that noah canceled the rest of the tour. mental health reasons, or whatever. i rolled my eyes, turning off my phone and cracking open yet another bottle of liquor, feeling the familiar burn go down my throat that i've grown accustomed to. i walked around my apartment mindlessly, humming some unfamiliar tune to myself.

these past few weeks, music has been my number one savior. aside from alcohol.

NOAH'S POV.

these weeks without her proved to be difficult. having fallen into a depression after alyssa and i broke up, [y/n] leaving only made it worse. i sat in my room, staring at the door. sometimes i would pray that she would walk through. surprise me and say it was all just a cruel prank.

countless bottles of hennessy sat in front of my bed. that was all i had been doing. drinking and working out and writing to ease away the pain.

"but nevertheless, i'm fucking depressed. i hide it with sex, and drink till it's fatal." i murmured to myself, taking another sip from the bottle before letting it clatter to the ground, snatching my pen and paper from my desk.

when i went through things like this, i always liked to write down my thoughts. some of those thoughts ended up in songs. and since we were in the middle of writing a new album, this was perfect.

there was a knock at the door and i grumbled a greeting, my eyes never leaving the paper. a couple seconds later, jolly walked in.

"christ, man, you look like hell."

i hummed, continuing to write as he sat in front of me.

"look, i know you're struggling. because of-"

i knew exactly who he was talking about. i didn't want to hear her name. she hurt me enough. "don't say her name."

jolly sighed. "because of her. but dude, we're worried. you know none of it was your fault, right? she was stupid to do that to you."

i scoffed. "she said it herself, jolly. 'he's richer, hotter, and bigger'" i scowled, repeating her words that she had said to me that night. some part of me regretted walking out of that door. i loved her. for years. and i had grown used to loving her. she was all that i had. she was what made me what i am. she was right, really. i would be nothing without her.

"you're doing it again." he said. at this point, i had stopped writing, staring off into space. "doing what?"

"that thing you do when you get all into your head. blaming yourself for everything. how many times do i have to tell you it's not your fault for you to get it in your head, man?" he said, sternly but gently.

i rolled my eyes. "you're wrong."

"how?"

"because i loved her, jolly. i fucking loved her, and i screwed it all up because i can never do anything right. i'll never be good enough. for myself, or anybody."

i buried my face in my hands, sobs racking my body once more. i never liked to be this vulnerable with anybody, even my closest friends. but honestly? i didn't give a fuck anymore. let them see.

"i know man. i know." he said, rubbing his hand over my back in an attempt to sooth me.

it pained jolly to see me like this. i knew that. but it was better to tell people of my thoughts than to keep it bottled up inside, right?

READERS POV.

i was making that damn song all the way till the early morning. i didn't even realize how late it had gotten until i woke up to my alarm. i had fallen asleep at my desk, my computer still running and everything. i didn't have work today, so that left me plenty of time to do whatever the hell i wanted.

months passed. months without seeing or talking to him. i would occasionally text the others, but i wouldn't dare send him a single text. i caught up a bit with folio and jolly, telling them about my ongoing journey with music. i still pursued photography as a side hustle, but my main focus was getting this song perfect.

it was almost done. almost ready to be released. maybe as an album? no, i can't get too carried away. music isn't for me. but as i listened to the song and made sure everything was right, my feelings began to change.

"i don't want it, and i don't want to want you. but in my dreams, i seem to be more honest. and i must admit, you've been in quite a few."

it wasn't a lie. he had began to show up more often in my dreams. not as nightmares, but as something that we could've been.

"Halley's Comet comes around more than i do. but you're all it takes for me to break a promise. silly me to fall in love with you."

that promise. that stupid promise.

"[y/n], please. let me explain-"

"no, noah! i don't care about your shitty explanations and your shitty behavior and your stupid face! i promise, i'll be just fine without you. leave me alone!"

"i haven't slept since sunday. mdnight for me is 3:00 a.m. for you. but my sleepless nights are better with you than nights could ever be alone, ooh-ooh-ooh. i was good at feeling nothing, now i'm hopeless. what a drag to love you like i do, ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh."

it wasn't entirely a lie. when i imagined him in the bed next to me, it felt like i could sleep better. when i pretended everything was okay, everything felt lighter. the weight on my shoulders seemed to momentarily disappear, only to crash back down when i realized it was all just a fantasy.

"ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh. i've been loved before, but right now in this moment i feel more and more like i was made for you. for you. i'm sitting in my brother's room. haven't slept in a week or two, or two. i think i might have fallen in love. what am i to do?"

as the song ended, i found myself picking up my phone, going to his contact. i laughed softly to myself as i saw the contact. it was still the same. when everything was nice. when i wasn't all alone. i decided to jump the gun, shooting him a text.

i breathed out a sigh of relief. maybe he didn't hate me as much as i thought. i immediately thought back to the time i took it. when things were better. happier.

"come on! put it on!" i laughed, holding out the little plastic tiara to him. we had gone to disney world for a summer vacation, and i won a tiara from one of the game booths.

"i'm not putting that on." he said, his arms folded across his chest.

i pouted, looking up at him with those puppy dog eyes i knew he couldn't resist until he groaned, snatching the tiara from my hands and putting it on his head. despite his previously grumpy demeanor, he still wore a smile when i took the pictures.

i missed that.

the moment i saw him walk through those doors, it was like everything hit me all at once. he looked terrible. i did too, but definitely better in comparison.

"hi." i said softly.

"hi." he said back, sitting down in front of me with his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

i bit my lip as we sat in an awkward silence for a moment before i spoke.

"noah, i-"

"[y/n]-"

i couldn't help but smile softly as we spoke at the same time.

"you first." he said.

i took a deep breath, mentally preparing myself. "i know you've been through a lot, noah. and i should've taken that into consideration when i said all that shit. honestly, i haven't been doing too well myself, if you couldn't tell." i said, gesturing to myself.

"it sounds stupid as fuck, but it feels like theres this void in my chest that's just been so empty since i left. i miss you guys. i miss the band." i said.

he sensed there was something more. "but...?"

"but," i began. "i can't come back as the photographer. after i've recovered somewhat from everything, i realized photography isn't for me. i was to pursue something bigger."

"like?"

"music."

he raised his eyebrows. "you want to become a musician?"

"i know, it sounds absurd and like a child's dream, but i really think-"

"no, [y/n] that's fucking amazing." he said with a small laugh, leaning forward. i smiled slightly. there was that smile i missed.

"yeah?"

"yeah. i mean, i've only heard you sing a handful of times, but you're great. you're gonna make it big, trust me." he said.

my heart warmed at his words. "thank you." i said.

"look, [y/n], i'll be the first to admit how much of a douche i was to you. i've had time to think about it. to get over it and stop wallowing in self-pity. and i'm really sorry. i'm kinda shocked you didn't quit sooner, honestly. but, if you'd like, we could start fresh. you don't have to come back to the band, but we can hang out and shit. maybe i can help you with your music."

his words only made my smile brighten. "yeah, i'd like that. a lot. thank you."

"of course, princess."

after our little friend date, we went to his studio to work on some things. he showed me how different things worked and helped me on writing a song that i had been thinking about.

i bit my lip, jotting down a few lyrics in my notebook as he watched.

i don't really wanna know why you went there. i kinda don't care. you want to kill me? you want to hurt me? stop being flirty. it's kinda working.

i hummed a soft tune to myself as i read the lyrics, trying to figure out what would work right.

did you really think this is the right thing to do? is it news? news to who? that i really looked just like the rest of you.

noah snapped me out of my continuous thoughts, turning back to the computer. "i've been working on stuff, too." he said.

"yeah?"

he hummed in response, pulling up a file full of different songs. "pick one." he said, leaning back.

i bit my lip in thought before clicking on the one titled The Grey.

"evened the scores, then i let it all go fall apart. and every step forward put a little more sword in your heart, yeah. looking sideways when i say i'm okay with the past. but i'm afraid of what i might say if you ask."

i leaned back in my chair as i listened to the lyrics, knowing that this song could be about one of two people. me, or alyssa.

"gave you way too many chances, you ran through them all. got everything i could want but it wasn't enough. nobody left for me to talk to, nobody to call. got everything i could want but i still wanted more. yeah, i still wanted more."

the pure emotion in his voice was enough to make my heart break into pieces and clarify who it was about. i knew after what happened with her, he was broken. and this song was only proof.

"there's not another way, don't let me go. don't dig another grave today. i'll make the same mistakes, i'll never know who i was before i faded away into the grey."

the recording stopped, and my eyes darted from the screen to his face. "that's all i have right now." he said. "we have more sessions later this week to finish it."

i gulped. "noah..."

he looked at me and raised a brow. "what?"

"that was fucking beautiful."

i almost felt like i was going to cry. i always loved his voice, but that was on a whole other level. usually he was screaming. he never had those soft vocals like what i just heard.

he smiled softly. "thanks. now get in there."

i blinked, shaking my head. "sorry, what?"

"go on. get in the booth. i want to hear you sing this. we can figure something out."

"noah, i-" "don't argue. go."

i sighed, getting up and heading into the recording booth. maybe it would be okay. i wouldn't fuck it up. i put on the headphones, looking back up at him through the glass. "which one?" i asked.

he hummed, looking through the notebook i had left on the desk.

"what about my future? start it off strong."

i nodded, mentally preparing myself for whatever the hell was about to happen.

"i can't seem to focus, and you don't seem to notice i'm not here. i'm just a mirror. you check your complexion to find your reflection's all alone. i had to go. can't you hear me? i'm not coming home. do you understand? i've changed my plans. cause i, i'm in love with my future. and i, i'm in love. but not with anybody else. just wanna get to know myself."

it really was a beautiful song. and it was me putting all of my feelings on the line. the lyrics didn't have a deeper meaning to them like noah's often did. their meaning was just laid flat out. i changed my plans for the future, and i'm waiting to sort things out with myself before falling in love again.

"i know supposedly i'm lonely now. know i'm supposed to be unhappy without someone. but aren't i someone? i'd like to be your answer. cause you're so handsome. but i know better than to drive you home. cause you'd invite me in, and i'd be yours again."

the lyrics seemed to flow freely as i sang, my eyes closed and hands moving in random directions. i didn't even notice him staring.

"but i, i'm in love. with my future. and you don't know her, mm. and i, i'm in love. but not with anybody here. i'll see you in a couple years."

i opened my eyes and looked at noah, noticing how his mouth was slightly open. i laughed. "don't start drooling."

he shook himself out of his thoughts. "sorry, that was just. really fucking good. you're a natural, princess. i'm jealous." he said.

i rolled my eyes, stepping out of the booth.

"great, now let's work out a tune."

we spent hours and hours fixing up the song, getting carried away in our musical abilities. last time i checked, it was around 2 am. i didn't want to go home, so i suggested we took a little break and watched a movie or something. he nodded and we sat on the couch, turning on the tv (of course he turned on naruto). my head ended up lulling to the side, landing on his shoulder as i slowly fell asleep. the last thing my brain registered before falling into dreamland was the soft kiss on my forehead and his soft words.

"goodnight, princess."

his lips against mine felt like heaven. it felt like my whole life was complete when i kissed him, when i felt him. he felt like home. something i hadn't known in a long time. i pulled away, breathing slightly heavy as i looked into his chocolate brown eyes.

"noah.." i whispered.

he smiled softly and hummed.

"i fucking love you."

"mm.. [y/n]." he mumbled against my lips.

"princess."

"[Y/N]!"

[therihare]

kind of just rambling here.

i really want to incorporate more of my nonhuman-ness into my life. i never Stop being nonhuman, its always There and if you look hard enough you can see it in my actions and behaviours. but it feels like, as ive gotten older, its sort of been pushed to the back of my life or became 'secondary'. as a kid, it was everything to me even before i had words for it.

i would make tails for myself and my friends, even out of just paper and markers and tape, and we'd all go out and play. i would play in my house pretending to be some sort of creature avoiding being captured. at school id fantasize about everyone becoming their 'true forms' as all sorts of fantasy creatures and animals. in my room id be a dog or a dragon. online id be a cat. out with my friends id be a wolf leading a pack.

but ive grown up and everyone else has, my health has gotten bad that i cant go out and do any of those things again without hurting myself, even if my friends hadnt all moved on years ago and told me that theyre 'too old' for any of that now. its difficult to find other ways. i can write all i want, and draw all i want, change my icon, play games online, whatever. but it rarely gets me into that mindset. im not doing anything physical which makes it so much harder for me to get into a truely nonhuman mindset. and that frustrates me.

i think what would help me a lot with this is meeting up IRL with other nonhumans, and being thought of by eachother as what we are. but thats way harder to do than it is to say.

[goddessofroyalty]

Fandom: Arcane

Pairings: Jayce/Viktor

Tags: mpreg, mention of post-birth pain

I now have two prompt fills that are in progress but not finished (oops). So instead take a “this popped into my head basically fully formed so I had to write it” things – Mel visiting at the hospital after Jayce and Viktor have their first child.

This is a bit more based on modern medical conventions than what I think Arcane would truly be like but, again, not really a thought out thing just words that flowed too easily. Thus it’s really abrupt ending as well. Easy flow stopped then.

---------------

There’s a knock at the door of the hospital room and Viktor is a little surprised to see Councillor Medarda instead of another doctor come to have a final prod at him before they send him home.

“I thought I would come visit. If you feel up to it that is,” she says. Only coming in when he gestures that she can. A wrapped box carried in her hands like an offering. “Where’s Jayce?”

“Currently trying to bully the doctors into prescribing stronger painkillers to go home with.” Mel’s face twists in question at Viktor’s explanation. “We are, ah, not well designed for childbirth.”

“My mother gave birth to me on a battlefield,” Mel says. Quietly enough that Viktor does not know if he was actually aimed at him or not.

“I suppose we are not all your mother then.” The boredom of bedrest the closest to a battle Viktor fought in his pregnancy.

“No, of course,” Mel says with a small shake of her head. She takes the seat next to the bed with her usual grace. The box settled neatly in her lap. Viktor sure he looks a mess next to her, the bags under his eyes deep from sleep constantly disturbed by doctors or his and Jayce’s son and the hospital gown rumpled and baggy on him.

“I would offer you something to eat but I would not recommend the food here,” Viktor says more out of politeness than actually caring about being a good host.

“I will take your word at it,” Mel says, looking around the room at all the flowers and gifts that they had taken to piling along the walls to deal with once they get home and figure out a routine with a newborn. “Have you had many visitors?”

“No.” Ximena had visited a few times, bringing things from their apartment so Jayce wouldn’t have to leave to get them. Sky as well, with updates on their ongoing experiments and things for the both of them so they can continue working as best they can from a hospital room. Councillor Kiramman and her daughter had visited once, Caitlyn looking terrified when she was offered the baby to hold. That was it. “People keep sending Jayce gifts.”

“I’m sure they are for you as well,” Mel says as she looks over them.

“Yes. That is why they all have only his name on them.” Viktor had never been naïve about how people saw him, or rather didn’t see him, next to Jayce. But he will admit to some annoying in the situation on account of how he was the one bedbound from having their child yet Jayce the one getting all the gifts.

Mel’s lips purse.

“Well, I suppose this one can be for you then,” she says, handing the neatly wrapped box onto his lap.

“What?”

“That is what the rule is, isn’t it ­­– I bring you a present and you let me see the baby?” Mel asks, her tone light. “Only if you are comfortable with it of course.”

“I- ah- yes. I am. Just-“ Naph is in the bassinette at the other side of the room and getting out of bed still rather painful and difficult to do. Not something he wants to attempt with an audience.

Jayce thankfully returns before Viktor has to decide with Mel getting Naph herself.

“Jayce,” Viktor says before his partner can get too into detail about how the doctor was going to write a script for some decent pain relief. A nod to Mel thankfully distracting him from that train of thought. “Can you bring Naph over.”

“Of course.”

“I see he’s taking good care of you,” Mel says as Jayce goes to get their son and bring him over.

“I cannot complain.” Viktor is sure the doctors would be glad to see them off if only so Jayce could not continue looming over their shoulders as if double-checking their work whenever they are tending to either Viktor or Naph.

Mel gives him a humoured smile at it.

“Mel would like to hold him,” Viktor says when Jayce goes to hand Naph to him.

“Oh. Right.” Jayce easily switches to hand Mel the swaddle that is their son instead. “Make sure to support his head.”

“Already an over-protective father,” Mel jokes but her hands are careful when accepting their child. Her expression soft when she looks down at him. “Definitively one of the cuter babies I’ve been handed.”

Jayce beams at the praise for their son as false as it probably is. Slipping into the other chair by the bed and reaching to take Viktor’s hand.

“He looks just like Viktor doesn’t he?”

“I can see the resemblance,” Mel says with a quick glance up at Viktor. It is apparently enough for her to remember the gift. “Open it. Please.”

Viktor pulls his hand away from Jayce’s to undo the wrappings, revealing a wooden box with holes of various shapes and blocks matching to them as well as a small plastic hammer.

“I thought if he is anything like his parents he’ll want to find ways to fill any gap he finds. And the hammer reminded me of Jayce.”

“Thank you.” It is nice to receive something that wasn’t just the first cute thing the person had seen. Or flowers.

[claraxbarton]

2024 (hrpf writing) in Review

So, looking back on 2024 and the things I wrote, I just wanted to take a moment to be kind to myself I guess and shout-out my 10 favorite fics I wrote this last year.

The list also has a few of my thoughts about the fics, just because like, I want to.

All below the cut - but first! Thank you so so so SO much to everyone who took the time to leave a comment on any of my fics. I can't say enough how much it means to know folx are out there reading and thinking and feeling about my words.

In no particular order, my favorite 10 fics I either started or finished in 2024:

Gold Rush MattDrai, E, 47k. The fic where Leon is very grumpy and very bitchy and very dumb, and also outed against his will and also against his will falls for Matthew Tkachuk. This took more research than I anticipated, because for some reason I am SO fixated on trying to make my fake things fit into canonical timelines. I think I did a good job developing Leon's voice - both in dialogue and internally. It's so difficult for me to write text message things and yet this fic is SO MUCH OF THAT. I think one of my all time favorite comments was on this fic, someone saying that they actually confused my Leon-press dialogue with real Leon-press and that... made me so happy.

Playing Favorites LarsDunn, E, 15k. Adam has a favorite camboy and then that camboy turns out to be a real person who gets a real job with the Kraken. (oh wow, this fic is like the NY Rangers worst nightmare, eh??) Anyway. Probably my first longer hrpf fic??? Technically started in December of 23, I feel so bad that it took 8 months to finish. Thanks everyone who stuck with that one. This fic let me indulge in my favorite thing - previous Adam/Leon, which will always be so so so close to my heart. I think this fic, like most Kraken centric fic (and like not even mine, how many of us get all heart eyes when we think about her?, was written because of the amazing support of @dwisp.

Each Night MattPoMo, E, 3k. Technically I'm listed the entire series, currently at 3 parts and currently the third is still a WIP. Matthew as a sex worker, Paul still comes to Florida to coach the Panthers. I'm enjoying getting to have Paul work through human feelings, Matthew being a brat, and, of course, all the miscommunication. Seriously am I capable of writing a fic that DOESN'T involve miscommunication? Unlikely.

As It Began WyJoMiro (and WyJoRoope in the series and of course WyJoMiroRoope), 4, 2.5k. Okay, of the 4 fics I'm listing, three involve sexwork. Huh. Moving along. Miro mistakes/assumes Wyatt is a sex worker and that, of course, leads to a four year relationship between Wyatt and Miro and Roope (yes again this is really listing the series and not just the one fic). Really enjoyed getting to write the different POVs with each installation, exploring how all three of these freaks evolve and, oh wow, MORE miscommunication??? In MY fic??

Say Yes (To Heaven)NateJo, E, 55k+ - the first WIP to make the list (which, for those of you wondering, WILL get updated this next week). Okay it's been five months of writing this one, a biological BDSM inspired by the amazing and foundational works of @angry-geno-is-score and @droumack. There's just something about Jo and Nate that is SO compelling, no matter the setting, but like, getting to play in this kind of world setting is fun and painful. I think the things I've enjoyed the most are bringing in outside perspectives - like Sid, and even Nate to an extent, and just trying to unwrap all of the mess.

Heavy Focus McMattDrai, M, 2.7k. Space-opera with space brats Matthew and Brady. This was silly and fun and like, I won't say it's the BEST thing I wrote in 2024, but it WAS one of the fics I had the most fun writing. And I know I skew angst like, maybe TOO hard, but, sometimes it IS fun to write the fun things.

Soft Rock WyJoRoope, RoopeMiro, E, 5.6k. Speaking of fun4fun. This WAS just silly. I'm so lucky that @coffeehound91 lets me shout about things, and we'd been shouting about a LuckyNumberSlevin WyJo thing and she had the great line about WyJo killing Bettman with a butterknife and well, it just unspooled into this fic. And like, let's be real, ALL of my fics that feature Wyatt, Roope and Miro in any combination are entirely the fault of CH and like, I am SO so grateful.

French Exit MattOthers, T, 5k. Another bio-BDSM fic. Another series. I just really love to write BratKing Matthew who is actually a total pushover and this series was really fun to write, because who doesn't want to write feral Panthers things and Matthew finding peace and success there lol.

Deep End NateJo, E, 3k. An a/b/o fic and it is... I still maintain, really, really filthy. I don't think I've ever written something that makes me yikes myself as much as this one does, so it's not a favorite for like, reasons that make sense. But still, this was a sharp turn for my usual and I did it. So. Good job me?

Greatest Hits LarsDunn, LarsLeon, DunnLeon, E, 1.7k. Okay, actually, why have I not further explored these three? I know I wrote several fics when them when I first started in hrpf at the end of '23, but I have move away from them and I just really think THIS fic was so much fun and the dynamics to explore between these three are... a lot.

OKAY that's my 10 favorite fics I wrote for 2024. Again, comments and the kudos and bookmarks mean so much. AND the asks!! Thanks to everyone who sends in asks -UTD anon and others, looking at you <3.

For 2025 I want to finish up the current 14?15? WIPs I've got going, and of course along the way write a lot more.

<3

(seems wild to solicit feedback but like, if you have opinions on my 2024 work I certainly won't NOT want to hear them. Or read them.)

[mynicosensesaretingling]

It’s time to say goodbye

Bono x wife!reader

Request: “Peter Bono Bonnington with wife reader. I saw a video of Bono and Lewis doing their last hot lap ever and it's a bittersweet feeling for everyone. For more than two decades he's been with Merc and now leaving the team and having his last race. Everyone thought he would be with Merc forever. But Bono is happy that he's doing what he loves and he has to make ado with it. Up to you how it goes. Angst, bittersweet, 😭 Thanks!! :))”

Warnings: None. Written in my notes app.

Notes: Hi there , thank you so much for your request and sorry for the long wait! Lewis and Bono as a duo mean everything to me and I could still break out sobbing just thinking about them. Hence, writing this was a little difficult for me but I still hope you like it!!

———

The air in the Mercedes garage was thick with emotion. The soft whir of tire guns and quiet murmurs of engineers filled the background, but all of it felt distant, like the hum of life moving on in the face of something much heavier. This was it. The last race for Lewis Hamilton with Mercedes. The end of an era.

Bono stood quietly by his station in the garage, arms crossed, watching as Lewis suited up, preparing for his final race with the team. It was hard to fathom, even now. For years, the two of them had been a fixture at Mercedes—Lewis with his unmatched talent, and Bono with his unwavering support, a constant presence on the radio. They’d been through so much together, victories and heartbreaks, and now, here they were, at the end of it all. A chapter closing that no one could ever have truly prepare for.

You stood beside him, your presence a quiet comfort in the storm of emotions swirling in the pit. Bono hadn’t said much about his thoughts on Lewis decision. Keeping his thoughts to himself ever since the announcement, but especially now you could feel the weight of his thoughts in the silence that had settled between you two. He’d always been the calm amidst the chaos of F1, the steady voice of reason when everything else might have seemed close to crumbling. But today, you saw something different in his eyes. His steady gaze sparkling with a mixture of pride, sadness, and a deep sense of gratitude. 

“I never thought I’d see this day,” you whispered, leaning towards your husband as your gaze shifts to the car where Lewis was currently checking his helmet. Bono exhaled slowly, his shoulders tense as he finally spoke, his voice low but steady. “Neither did I.” You knew exactly what he meant. Lewis Hamilton, the face of Mercedes, had been a part of the team since its most crucial years, the driver who had helped elevate them to new heights. And Bono, who had been by his side every step of the way, probably never imagined the day would come when Lewis would step away.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind outside the garage, the distant hum and buzzing of fans and the track. Then, Bono turned to you, his expression softening with something tender as his eyes found your form. Studying his face you mentally noted how tired he looked. The season hat really left its trace on everyone. 

“I’m happy for him,” he admitted, his voice breaking the quiet. “He’s doing what he loves. And it’s time for him to find the next chapter. I just... I didn’t think I’d have to say goodbye to this.” Bono’s eyes left your face in order to settle on the driver instead. You nodded, understanding the depth of his words. Saying goodbye to something or someone you loved—something that had shaped your entire world—was never easy. And for Bono, this was more than just another race or end of a season. It was the end of a partnership that had spanned years, a bond forged in the fire of competition, of shared victories and defeats.

“Bono, you’ve been with him every step of the way. You’ll always be part of that journey, even if it’s not the same.” Your hand found his upper arm in a reassuring gesture. You could feel his muscles loose at least some of the tension underneath your warm touch. 

Your husband gave you a small, weary smile, his eyes distant as he watched Lewis step out of the garage, helmet tucked under his arm. The weight of the moment pressed in on him, but he never let it fully show. He’d always been the one to hold it together for others, to guide the team with a steady hand.

“I’ve had the privilege of being by his side,” he said softly. “But... I’m going to miss it. I’ll miss this. I’ll miss him.” You gently squeezed his arm to get him to look at you. “And he’ll miss you, too. You know that.”

Bono’s gaze flickered to you, and in that moment, the world seemed to pause around you both. His hand reached for yours, toying with your wedding-band before lacing his fingers with yours. A quiet affirmation of the life you shared together outside of all the noise and the spectacle. It was something real amidst the chaos of the racing world.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I would have done without you through all this.”

You smiled gently. “We’ve got through it together.”

As the team lined up, preparing for the final race of the season, Lewis’ final lap with Mercedes, you and Bono made your way to the pit wall. The engines roared to life, and the moment hung in the air, electric and fragile. You both knew that this was the last time Lewis would take to the track as a Mercedes driver. The last time Bono would call out his familiar commands over the radio. The last time they’d share that unspoken connection that had defined so much of their careers.

But it wasn’t just the end of Lewis’ time with the team—it was the end of a chapter for Bono, too. After so many years of guiding him, of being the voice that kept him grounded during the most intense moments, he had to come to terms with the fact that things were changing. The finality of it all felt like a punch to the gut.

The final lap came and went, the roar of the crowd a distant echo in the background, muffled by the intensity of the moment. Bono stood at his workstation, headset on and eyes fixed on the screen, his gaze unwavering even as the reality of the situation settled in. This was it. The end of a chapter. The end of an era. His hand quietly found yours again, you could feel the tension radiating from his body, the weight of what he had just witnessed settling into his bones.

"He's done," Bono muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice a bare whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines. 

You could see it in his eyes—the quiet realization that this moment, this pivotal end, was something he’d never truly been prepared for. Bono had always been a silent pillar in the whirlwind of racing, but now, in this final moment, you could see him allowing himself to feel the enormity of it all. You squeezed his hand gently.

"He’ll always be part of your story and your friendship will surely find its place in whatever comes next." you said softly. Bono looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction. He gave you a small, grateful smile, his eyes filled with a bittersweet mixture of love for the past and uncertainty for the future. "I hope so. I really do."

The applause in the garage began to swell as the team gathered around, congratulating Lewis, though the air still felt heavy with unspoken words. Bono turned slightly, his gaze scanning the pit, where the engineers were busy with final tasks. The camaraderie, the collective effort that had been the lifeblood of the team for so many years, was tangible. But now, the winds of change were starting to blow through the garage. 

Bono’s lips pressed together in that familiar line of quiet contemplation. The world around you felt like it was moving forward at a pace that he wasn’t entirely ready for, and you could tell that despite the years of stability, Bono was grappling with this transition. You understood that more than anyone. 

“I don’t know what’s next,” he said after a pause, his voice filled with a quiet uncertainty that you hadn’t heard from him in years. "But I know I’m not alone. Not with you by my side." You leaned into him then, feeling the tension of the day finally ease slightly as he held you close. "Never alone," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw, the comforting softness of the gesture grounding him.

And there, amidst the fading echoes of victory and the melancholy undertones of the end of an era, you both found something to hold onto. It wasn’t just the end of Lewis’ time with Mercedes—it was the beginning of a new chapter, not only for the team but for Bono and you, too. No one could predict what the future held, but with each other, there was something you both knew for sure: you would face it together.

As the final checks were made and the garage began to empty out, Bono turned to you once more. His hand finding your waist, gently pulling you into his side. “I think we’ve earned ourselves a proper rest, don’t you?” You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling the weight of the day finally lift as you walked side by side out of the garage, towards whatever the future would hold. “Sounds perfect,” you agreed, knowing that no matter what came next, it was something you would face—together.