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cadavercowboy · 11 months

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In Too Deep — Part One

Pairing: Stepfather!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s marriage is falling apart and he’s desperate for something familiar to cling to. He knows you’re the wrong thing, but you don’t exactly make it easy for him to keep his distance.

Word Count: 6.9k+

Warnings: Explicit content (18+ only). Allusions to emotional abuse. Inappropriate relationship. Implied cheating & cheating. Age difference (reader is over 18!). Brief/vague description of reader’s hair. Moral dilemma. Coercion. Daddy kink. Size kink. Innocence kink (if you squint). Mutual masturbation. Fingering. Handjob. Unprotected sex. Minor degradation. Creampie. Cum play. Cum eating.

A/N: This has been collecting dust in my docs and then this post reminded me of it so I had no choice but to finish ‘er.

Shutting the front door as gently as you can, you wince when your keys clatter loudly against the hardwood floor. You curse under your breath, though the sound of tinny voices floats towards you from the next room and you realize you don’t need to worry about the noise. Bucky is still awake, up late for what seems like the hundredth night in a row. You pick up your dropped keys and toss them on the counter as you pass by, padding quietly down the hall towards the blue glow which reflects off the walls.

You poke your head into the living room and there you find him; slumped into the couch and bathed in the light from the screen in front of him. Even from this distance you can sense the air of defeat in Bucky’s posture and the slight pouting of his full lower lip. A pang of sympathy twinges in your chest as you observe your poor stepfather. All you’ve done lately is go on dates in search of a relationship and all Bucky has done is try desperately to maintain a hold on his; neither one of you seem to be having much success.

While you’re accustomed to your mother’s mistreatment of those around her, he’d innocently and unsuspectedly married his way into what is likely to be the most toxic relationship he’ll ever be a part of. Night after night, Bucky sits there waiting for her to return from her shift at work. Whether or not he truly believes that’s where she is, you’ve yet to determine. Unbelievably — though he deserves much better — Bucky hasn’t left her. Though the man is kind and sweet and has never treated your mother with anything but love, he is too kind or perhaps too stupid and oblivious to stand up for himself.

“Late night?”

Bucky’s rough voice draws you from your musings and you sigh airily as you step around the wall to shuffle towards the couch he sits upon. While you’d much rather head upstairs and take care of that which your date hadn't bothered to, it would be rude not to at least talk to Bucky. You throw your bag onto the unoccupied armchair, rounding the piece of furniture to join him.

“You too,” you observe as you plop down beside him. “Can’t sleep?”

He offers a half-smile as he leans forward and the bottle of beer he’d been nursing thunks onto the coffee table. When he turns your way, his smirk falters; his cerulean irises flicker briefly down the plunging cleavage of the skimpy shirt you’re wearing. Your lips seem a bit swollen, though he can’t be sure the light flashing across your face isn’t just playing tricks on him. Bucky shifts against the cushions and sits up a little straighter, his arm stretching along the back of the couch.

“Never can these days,” he admits, the laugh that follows is weighted with bitterness.

His tone is soft, yet ice cold. You meet his eyes and behind them simmers an ember of pain, the gaze that meets yours is that of a man lost. Maybe Bucky is aware after all. He sees the understanding in your expression and smiles sadly before his lips flatten into a gesture of acknowledgement, of knowing. As you sink into the couch, so too does your heart. You felt bad when you thought Bucky didn't know the truth, though now you feel worse knowing that he does. He turns back to the television with a sad sigh.

“How did your date go?” he queries.

It’s just like Bucky to put aside his own troubles and be curious about your life. You smile fondly as you observe him, shadows dance across his handsome features and the screen illuminates the glassy shine that coats his distant eyes.

While not your father, he’d certainly taken well to filling the role; being supportive and loving and present in a way your own dad never could. You love Bucky like family and that only makes it more difficult to rectify the unspoken and unidentifiable feelings that simmer just under the surface. Something you’ve never once explored, but you’re almost certain Bucky has taken notice of, too. It would be too dangerous, too wrong for either of you to ever acknowledge; though it’s simultaneously impossible to ignore. Good looking and attentive as he is, any woman would be liable to fall victim to Bucky’s charm.

You continue to observe Bucky, noting the distinct heat which rises in your cheeks. You study the way his thick lashes flutter when he blinks slowly, the way his full lips glisten when he licks them, the way his Adam’s apple bobs enticingly along the thick column of his throat. Bucky turns your way and clears his throat expectantly, smiling when you chuckle guiltily and apologize.

“That bad, huh?” he jokes, referring to your lack of a response.

“No, it was…fine I guess,” you offer unconvincingly. “I don’t know. He was kind of boring, actually. There was just no spark. No fire. No passion.”

His teeth sparkle even in the dimness of the room when Bucky laughs at the dramatic way you haughtily enunciate the end of your declaration, extending your arm forlornly towards the ceiling. You laugh along with him, though the sound stops short when the warmth of his hand circles the curve of your knee where your bent leg nearly touches his thigh.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he consoles. “Plenty of fish in the sea though, right?”

“No worries,” you assure him as you flop sideways and prop your head on the back of the couch, pouting sadly. “I’ll just die a lonely and horny old spinster.”

You regret the words almost instantly, blaming your loose lips on the three drinks it had taken for you to soldier through your date. There’s no other explanation for why you would say such a thing to your stepdad.

Although Bucky snorts in surprise at your bold statement, he cannot deny the warm knot that begins to form low in his belly. He’d known your dates weren’t going well, but the confession about your sexual frustration sends his mind reeling down a road he’s well aware he should actively avoid traveling. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he pats your thigh in a gesture you suppose is meant to be soothing but only makes you painfully aware of how keyed up you are tonight.

“That’s alright,” he consoles. “Some guys just suck.”

“Some women, too,” you breathe.

Your proclamation elicits a tense moment between the two of you, not a sound in the room beyond the dialogue droning from the tv and the apropos ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. Bucky’s eyes search yours in the interim, your own mimicking the action as you look for some sort of sign or indication that his mind is careening in the same treacherous direction as yours. You’re certain yours is spinning more wildly out of control than Bucky’s ever could.

His hand remains on your thigh, igniting an unbearable blaze of impermissible desire in your veins that makes you squirm. The only sign of life from Bucky is the gentle flexing of his strong fingers. When the silence grows suffocating, Bucky’s tongue flicks out between his lips and his eyes finally leave yours to instead journey towards your slightly parted mouth. He leans in almost imperceptibly and as he does, his palm slips higher up your thigh until his pinkie finger draws perilously close to the seam of your jeans. Your pulse thrums in your neck and between your legs and the spell is broken by your own startled gasp.

Without a word, you spring to your feet, Bucky’s hand sliding down your leg as you all but leap from his grasp. Your feet thump loudly as you flee from the room, thudding their way up the stairs. You barrel through your bedroom doorway and swing the door behind you, not bothering to make sure it shuts all the way.

You’re inside the safety of your room no more than a few seconds by the time you’ve shed your shoes, socks, and pants; tossing the garments aside while you pace at the foot of your bed and drag your fingers through your hair. Your cheeks puff and you breathe a rush of air as your palms slap against the bare skin of your thighs.

The tight shirt you were certain would show off your body just enough to tempt your date is shed in haste as well, leaving you in only your underwear; sexy and lacy and regrettably unappreciated. In your head, you’re chiding yourself for what an insanely inappropriate notion it is to be so turned on at the touch of your own stepfather. Still, your heartbeat pounds demandingly between your thighs and your need refuses to be ignored.

Climbing clumsily into your bed, your bare skin burns against the coolness of your mussed sheets. Your control is crumbling as you gnaw anxiously at your lower lip. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable any further so you delve a hand beneath the elastic of your panties and sigh contentedly at the immediate relief of your warm fingers. Already surprisingly wet, your fingertips slip easily along your slick and puffy lips.

“You left your—”

Bucky’s presence is preceded neither by a knock nor an announcement; he simply eases the door open, his shocked face disrupting the shadows in the doorway. Your bag tumbles from his hand and thuds dully against the carpeted floor of your bedroom, Bucky’s jaw falling with it. His eyes burn hot and dilate without delay, nostrils flaring as he tips back on his heels; knocked off balance by the depravity of what he’s accidentally happened upon. He knows he should say something, anything; he should apologize, most certainly. But his lips won’t move. His lungs won’t inflate. His throat won’t dare release the words he knows should come.

You scramble frantically, grabbing the small decorative pillow you’d crushed beneath your shoulder blade and pointlessly use the satin square to maintain even a bit of modesty. Speech evades you as well and you’re left staring dumbly at your unmoving stepfather, eyes wide and doe-like in a way that is making this situation much, much worse for him.

Bucky’s lungs finally release the imprisoned oxygen trapped among his ribs and he nearly chokes as he swallows shakily. He tells himself to look away, but his eyes refuse to obey. How could they when they are so graciously being given the privilege of caressing such excess of your beautiful skin; the perfection of your bra-clad breasts swaying with each rise and fall of your chest, the slope of your waist and hips beckoning him to traverse the ethereal lines of your body, the nervous shifting of your shapely legs as you shrink behind your pillow and prudishly attempt to hide yourself from him?

Every part of Bucky’s body screams at him, beseeching and begging for him to turn away; to leave you alone before he steps past a point from which he can’t truly return. Every part aside from one. He cannot ignore the rush of blood that swells his cock beneath the constricting fabric of his jeans. He should, but it is all too overwhelming. Too tempting.

His knees threaten to buckle as he mentally pleads with his booted feet not to move from where they’ve planted themselves in your doorway. The place where the wooden floors of the hall meet the plush carpet of your room serve as an all too literal line he knows should never be crossed. Two little words is all it takes to drag him willingly across that moral divide.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the breathy, wavering voice or the diffident way you bat your big eyes at him, but your tiny utterance draws him in like a moth to a forbidden flame; the inferno of your taboo light prepared to singe his malleable wings. Your next words further erode his dwindling ability to bite back his most loathsome desires.

“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” you murmur, eyes growing teary with apparent embarrassment at having been caught in such a vulnerable position.

Bucky wants to ask, but he knows precisely what you mean. Even if he longs to hear you say the words and admit that you had scurried away to your room to get yourself off, he will spare you the humiliation. At least for now. The quiver of your lip — chewed raw and plump with irritation — and the needy hunger which still clouds your eyes nearly crumbles Bucky to the floor; where he knows he’d find reverence at your feet, clinging to you like a man lost at sea.

His legs carry him trance-like until he stands mere inches from your bed, practically within arm’s reach of your restless and rigid frame. Bucky knows what you need — can read it boldly written in every nuanced flutter of your distraught visage — and he’s willing to dive headfirst into the illicit debauchery to provide. He only hopes you’ll fall with him.

“Can I help you out?” he prompts, knuckles popping as he curls his fists at his sides. “Let me help you, baby.”

Bucky’s own desperation is woven like an intricate tapestry within the inflection of his beseeching words, your stomach tightens at the prospect that he may be just as troubled as you are by the oppressive yearning that has been silently establishing itself between the two of you.

As if attached to a string beyond your control, your head nods disjointedly. Your heart pounds with deafening force in your ears and the rush of blood drowns out all other sound around you. Bucky exhales sharply and you worry for a moment that he’s changed his mind, that he may have come to his senses and might dare to leave you here in this wanton state.

Much to your relief, he kicks off his boots then lifts one knee and presses it into the mattress near your shaking legs, his eyes glued to yours as he looks for any sign of distress. He finds none, instead only able to identify the blazing want that swirls in the blackened pools of your pupils as he settles in and kneels at the foot of your bed.

The warmth of a palm grasping your leg just above your calf makes you flinch and you gasp as if you’ve been burnt. Bucky is quick to hush you, holding your gaze as he gently pulls your legs up and directs your tensed body until you’re eased onto your back, your feet flat and situated between his parted thighs. Bucky’s body is considerably larger than yours, but in this position, his broad frame is even more powerful and formidable than ever. You clutch firmly to the pillow that barely covers your body, your little fingers aching from the force of your grip.

“You’re okay,” Bucky assures you, his voice dipping low and vibrating like a ricocheting shot through each of your nerve endings. “It’s just us. Let me see you, sweetheart.”

He senses your hesitation, though he can see how eager you are to please him as well. The corner of his mouth quirks knowingly and he caresses each of your knees, sliding his calloused palms over your skin in gentle circles before he scoots closer so he can reach the soft plushness of your thighs. His touch settles there for a moment, then moves inward and upward until your legs are forced to part to make room for his sizable hands. Your breath hitches as Bucky inches closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, then changes direction until his hands find your ankles and pull your feet out to bracket either side of his own thighs.

Bucky asks again, tenderly requesting for you to open up for him. And you do; unfurling yourself like a blooming flower, your petals fragile and delicate as you reveal the softest parts of yourself to him. Uncertain what sort of grasp he has on his waning restraint, Bucky defies the ever-present voice that calls out in the back of his head and allows his eyes to fall to the space he’s opened between your legs.

Tucked amid the velvety flesh of your thighs, he finds a light-colored portion of fabric; the gusset of your panties peeking out and undeniably damp. The thin material clings to you like a second skin and he can make out the distinct seam of your cunt through the moist spot that stains it. Bucky swears he could cum from that obscene sight alone. He stares unabashedly at your wet panties and the mere suggestion of what lies just beneath them as if it’s the last sight his eyes will ever have the honor of seeing; devouring each and every detail of the ripe fruit he longs to know the flavor of.

Although he’s done nothing irredeemable just yet, Bucky knows what has already happened will forever change your relationship regardless. For God’s sake, he’s perched at the end of his half-naked stepdaughter’s bed like a lascivious demon of lust, claws prepared to dig deep into her as he fights the urge to drag her off to Hell with him. He gratefully consumes every bit of your nubile body that you present to him, a sacrifice on an altar which he can only hope will be enough to sate the beast inside him. Deep down, he knows it isn’t.

“Do you want to touch yourself for me?” Bucky implores, offering you the option to accept or deny his indecorous solicitation.

Without much further thought, the relentless throbbing in your core prompts you to extract one hand from the pillow still held tightly in your arms. Though the fingers of one hand still hold tight to the silky fabric, the others trail delicately across your lower belly and over your pelvis. Your touch stutters when your fingertips reach the soft cotton of your plain panties, but the flash of triumph in Bucky’s azure eyes encourages you to keep going.

You’re unsure and arrhythmic at first contact with your sensitive folds, fingers pressing apprehensively through the thin barrier of your underwear. When Bucky’s lips part on a heated sigh and his fingers knead your thighs, you swirl your digits more confidently, breath catching in your throat as pleasure prickles under your skin. Your hips twitch upwards into your own touch and Bucky’s jaw tightens, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight of the hand between your gorgeous thighs, much as he wants to look up and see the veil of gratification he knows must grace your face.

Bucky takes all you offer with greed and haste, praying that he possesses the strength not to take more. But more is all he wants. He craves it, he needs it. Palming himself through the detestable material of his jeans, Bucky absorbs every precise flick of your wrist, his mind cataloging each little sound and simper you make beneath the ministration of your own hand. Just as he feared, it isn’t enough.

“Pull your panties to the side,” he demands, his voice sharp and commanding. “I wanna see all of you.”

You both know if you do this — if you allow yourselves to get carried away in such a manner — then there is no going back. As it stands, you can still change your minds and salvage some semblance of a normal relationship; show some discipline and save yourselves from the bitter reality of the betrayal and sin you’re so painfully close to the precipice of.

“I won’t touch you,” Bucky says, as if he senses the source of your worry and his promise might serve to assuage your fears.

And perhaps it would have if your doubts were borne from a place of morality. But they aren’t. You need him to touch you because — loathe as you are to admit the ignominious truth — you want more, too. You want anything and everything he’s willing to give you and then some. So you heed his order and curl your damp fingers around the even damper material of your panties, slowly easing them to the side to reveal your slick center to his ravenous stare. Bucky growls at the sight.

“You’re already so fuckin’ wet, baby,” he grunts, teeth clenched so hard they could crack. “Rub yourself.”

His voice takes on a tone of impatience as he squeezes the girth of his painfully swollen cock through his pants. You obey his request without hesitation this time, gently dragging your fingertips through the juices that have spilled from your core as you rub them up and down. Bucky is keenly aware of the way your fingers seem to avoid your clit. Pushing your legs wider, he settles deeper into his haunches to unlatch his belt and lower his zipper to relieve some of the steadily growing pressure.

“Touch yourself here,” Bucky demands, one hand reaching for your wrist and drawing your hand higher. “Show me how you’d do it if I wasn’t here. Make yourself feel good.”

Admittedly, you’d been avoiding direct stimulation of the bundle of nerves. You’re terrified of losing yourself completely and falling apart beneath Bucky’s scrutinous and watchful eye. It’s obvious from the way he licks his lips and stares you down with intensity that this is exactly what he wants. Even more obvious when you do as he asks and he shoves a hand behind the open zipper of his pants, burrowing under the tight elastic of his underwear to grasp his swelling length.

You begin to wriggle as you touch yourself, your toes curling restlessly into your sheets as your fingers swirl around your sensitive clit. Bucky’s eyes are glued to the motions of your hand, entranced by the subtle sounds of your slick folds as you massage them intermittently. His heart slams against the walls of his chest, beating to the same rhythm of your frantic little breaths and feminine sighs. Your eyes had shut as you slipped into ecstasy, but they fly open when you hear the jingling of Bucky’s dangling belt.

“Gotta touch myself, baby,” he confesses as he pulls his cock free, the weight of it making it bob between his thighs as a fresh rush of blood flows through his veins. “You got me so goddamn hard.”

As he wraps a fist around the thick base of his cock and begins to stroke it firmly, Bucky can’t help the loud and raspy moan that bounces off the walls. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes light up and you lick your lips at the sight of him fondling his impressive manhood; can’t help wondering how little it would take for you to let him have you. When he shifts closer and slides between your parted thighs, he sees the flash of apprehension.

“We can touch ourselves together, right?” he states softly. “I won’t do anything to you.”

He wants to add ‘unless you want me to’, although he allows the amending words to remain unspoken. Your doleful eyes tell him everything he needs to know: you need him — are desperate for him, even — and you’re so deliciously close to breaking. Your whispered request only assures him of that.

“W-will you kiss me?” you peep nervously.

At first, Bucky isn’t sure. You’ve already come this far, but he worries making physical contact with you will rip his shaky control of this situation right out of his hands. Still, he can’t say no when you’ve asked him so sweetly in that innocent little voice of yours and he ultimately gives in.

Leaning over you, Bucky brushes a strand of hair out of your face and tucks it behind your ear; ghosting his fingers along the edge of your jaw until his hand hovers over your mouth and his thumb hooks over your lower lip. You accept it easily, swirling your tongue and suckling gratefully at the long digit as Bucky presses it shallowly in and out of your mouth.

“Is that what you need?” Bucky breathes. “You promise you’ll keep being good for me if I kiss you?”

Nodding both dumbly and eagerly, you pout when his spit-soaked thumb slips free and leaves a trail of saliva down your chin. Though your disappointment is quickly forgotten as Bucky braces a hand on either side of your head and lowers his torso close to yours. His lips part and his warm breath washes over you as his face settles an inch from yours.

He kisses you chastely at first. Several short and slow pecks which you gladly accept are pressed to your soft mouth and you moan against him as you continue to work your fingers over your pulsing center. When he tries to pull back, you chase his lips; your teeth nipping at the plush flesh until he ceases the retreat. Your earnestness causes Bucky to grow impossibly harder and he mashes his mouth against yours. Unsure how you pluck up the courage, you force his lips apart and plunge your tongue into his mouth the second you have the opportunity to do so.

Bucky sinks further into the heated kiss and as he does, the leaking tip of his heavy cock brushes along your thigh, leaving a sticky trail of pre-cum in its wake. He groans brokenly into your mouth at the contact with the silky warmth of your flesh, his abs clenching as he gnashes his teeth against the unexpected stimulation. He looks down at you, nearly snapping when you peer up at him as if you’ve done something wrong.

“Is this okay?” he wonders, steadily pushing his hips forward so his dick grinds against your thigh more firmly. “Feels so fucking good, honey.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for a response or permission, rather he kisses you again and continues to use your soft skin to pleasure himself. It doesn’t matter to you, you’re more than happy to acquiesce in the interest of Bucky’s satisfaction. He assaults your mouth, leaving you panting and breathless as he shifts his hips and his cock moves lower until the crease of your thigh cradles the mass of the thick appendage. Your shocked inhale prompts him to back off only because he knows he’ll have more success if he eases you into it.

You nod your approval when Bucky asks if he can take off your panties, watching with rapt attention as he eases the dampened fabric along the curve of your legs; he lifts them and pushes your knees towards your chest to drag your underwear over your ankles and discard the crumpled material. Heat rises in your face when your legs fall open again and you’re bared entirely to Bucky.

“Wanna see you fuck yourself with those little fingers,” he breathes, barely managing to stop himself from exploding when you nervously bite your lip and wither slightly as you divert your wide eyes. “You gettin’ shy on me, baby girl?”

“A little,” you manage to giggle.

The urge to cover your bare body flees when Bucky swirls his thumb over the head of his cock and curses under his breath. His unflinching stare beckons you to continue obeying him and the way he looks at you as if he wants nothing more than to devour you whole is incentive enough for you to slip your fingers down low and circle your dripping entrance.

Bucky jerks himself with vigor as your delicate digits bury themselves in your pussy, pornographic sounds emanating from your center as you slowly fuck yourself. He burrows a hand under your hips and draws your body closer to his. Heat pulses off of your flesh and he angles his cock so close to your core that he swears he can feel the humidity of your pussy. As you rub yourself more frantically, your knuckles occasionally brush his swollen head, leaving behind slippery beads of pre-cum that seep between your fingers.

You’re dripping wet by now and Bucky notices the tumescence of your flooding arousal shining in the pale moonlight that splashes across your squirming body. He’s so enthralled by the beautifully naughty picture you make that he doesn’t even protest when he feels your curious fingers dancing along the firm ridge of his cockhead. Both of you are too far gone, too torqued up to consider the consequences or even the immorality of what you’re doing.

When you gather some of your slick and smear it over the spongy tip of his dick, Bucky swears he could see sound and taste colors. His ears ring and his head swims, frozen in place by the ineffable sensation of your timid touch. A shiver wracks his body when you begin to wrap a hand around him, pushing his fist out of the way to stroke his cock for him. Your juices smooth the way and the distinct veins that decorate his length pulse angrily beneath your palm.

Feeling bold, you lift your hips slightly upwards and swirl the turgid flesh through your folds, twitching when Bucky’s tip hits your swollen clit. The stimulation paired with your audacity to behave so rakishly pushes him uncomfortably close to a premature release, prompting him to grab your wrist and wrench your hand away from his aching erection. You whine unhappily, but he’s quick to soothe your disapproval.

“You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praises. “I’m just gonna rub on you like this.”

Buck demonstrates by sliding his cock through your folds, you slick coating the underside of his length and squelching audibly when he draws his hips back again. He keeps grinding himself along your needy pussy until you grow dizzy and frantic with need. The friction of his hot flesh is driving you insane and the pressure of his hardened, bulbous head rutting against your clit nearly sends you over the edge.

“Bucky, I—” you choke out, unable to voice the inconceivable appeal you want to make.

Your moaning and wriggling sets his teeth on edge and his muscles twitch with the restraint he forces himself to exert. He coos over you — smug and condescending — watching the rapturous way in which your eyes roll as you bite your lip until it bleeds. Bucky can see the words you want to spit out as if to rid your mouth of the acrid taste of them, but you fight it. He’s determined to hear you voice them.

“What is it, little one?” he whispers. “Do you want more?”

Suddenly unsure, you smile shyly and shake your head, though Bucky can still see the indecision burning in your eyes. It won’t be long before you change your mind. In fact, he intends to make certain that you do. He needs to touch you, to give you what he knows you need. He wants to make you fall apart. You’ll beg for release, from his fingers or his mouth...and he tells himself that that’s okay. That’s acceptable. He wouldn’t really be doing something wrong if he gets you off without burying himself in your young, willing body...would he?

When the blunt head of his cock catches on your neglected hole, your pussy spasms and your brain short circuits, prompting you to blurt out without thinking about or considering the impact of your words.

“Please fuck me, Daddy,” you whine, your plea shaky with unshed tears.

“Don’t,” Bucky barks instantaneously.

His sharp tone surprises you as Bucky has never once raised his voice, let alone been stern with you. You cower beneath his unexpected firmness, your eyes growing wetter.

“We can’t do that,” he insists, his resolve even weaker than his flimsy voice. “I can’t fuck you, baby girl.”

The forlorn way you whimper immediately has him questioning his own convictions and when you reach for his cock and mash it even more firmly against your drippy cunt to force your sodden lips to separate and hug the girth of him, he’s never believed in something less. And when you wrap your fingers around the base of him to guide the shiny, reddened tip to the entrance of your pussy where you just barely breach yourself and cry out at the tight feeling, he knows then and there that he is going to fuck you.

“Is that what you really want?” he bites harshly, taking his weight on one hand so he can press the palm of the other against your throat, finger curling around your esophagus until he’s sure he has your full attention. “You need your daddy inside you, huh?”

“I…I want you,” you blubber.

The tears that finally trickle from the corners of your eyes snaps what little sanity Bucky has left, he surrenders any desire to uphold some level of propriety with you. He picks up where you left off, guiding the tip of his cock to your weeping, wanting cunt and drives his hips slightly forward. Offering only a few short and shallow strokes, Bucky fucks you with just the first inch or so of his cock; the stretch is dizzying nonetheless.

You’re satisfied with the initial drags of his cock only for a moment before you writhe beneath him and try to take him deeper with all the subtlety of a brick. But Bucky pulls away, denying you the satisfaction of feeling more than just the tip of his fat cock. Somehow, he manages yet again to convince himself that if he doesn’t fuck you any deeper than this, he’s still done nothing wrong. If it’s just the tip, he isn’t truly fucking you; he isn’t cheating on his wife or corrupting his sweet, young stepdaughter.

He maintains his composure for significantly longer than he thought possible before he can resist no longer. You gasp and moan in a way befitting of the filthiest of whores and your back arches when he dares to slip you another inch.

The heat of your tight cunt swallowing him up and hugging his cock snugly seeps so deep into him that he feels the warmth in his bones. You squeal loudly in surprise when Bucky lurches forward and impales you, his thickness splits you open and stretches your pussy with almost unbearable yet fulfilling pressure. He places a hand on each of your hips, stilling your fidgeting and wiggling as you endeavor to ease away from the overwhelming sensation of his cock sliding all the way to the hilt. Bucky keeps you in place, reveling in the way your slick walls ripple and squeeze as he makes sure you go nowhere.

“I’m so sorry, sweet girl,” he soothes with slight condescension, curling his body over yours to capture your lips in a fervid kiss. “You felt too good, I had to feel all of you.”

You can only whimper in response, altogether unaccustomed to feeling so full. Bucky carefully cradles your head, pressing his forehead to yours as he begins to fuck you with deep and steady strokes. His cock feels indescribable as it drives into you, coated in your slippery cream and hard as steel. With each plunge into your clenching pussy, Bucky grunts deeply in your ear. His fingers thread more tightly in your hair, harshly yanking the strands as he pumps his hips with more and more force.

The head of his cock bumps your cervix on each downstroke and it knocks a wavering cry from your lungs with precise reliability, Bucky becoming more and more certain that you utter the pathetic noises with the intention of taunting him and egging him on. He turns his head, swallowing your salacious cries as they grow in volume.

You’re caged in by his muscular arms as he presses your chest to his, ensuring that you take every inch he’s forcing into your pliant body. He just about loses his mind when he can feel you using your feet for leverage to drop your hips and meet his every thrust, extending his arms so he can look down and watch you greedily engulf his cock.

“Tight little cunt…feel so much better than your mother. You’re being so good for me, baby. My nasty little girl, huh?” he encourages. “Just like that, I’m so fucking close. Gonna cum on these pretty tits.”

To drive the point home, Bucky claws at the cups of your bra to release the bouncing globes. He palms the flesh, grinding his palms into your sensitive nipples and adoring the way your pussy constricts in kind. Your arms had pulled up and come to rest against your ribs and your little hands curl and unfurl atop your torso, blindly searching for something to grasp.

Bucky snatches up the pillow you’d tossed aside earlier and presses it to your belly, encouraging you to grab hold of the plush object. You do so gratefully, fingers digging forcefully into it to hold it tight as Bucky shoves your knees towards your chest and his cock slides in and out of you with ease.

While Bucky did have every intention of pulling out and blowing his load on your breasts as promised, the feral sound that rattles deep in your throat like an animal in heat makes him rethink the option. The sight of you powerless and tiny beneath him — pathetically clutching your pillow with both your eyes and lips opened wide with ecstasy as he watches the thickness of his cock disappearing within your little pussy, spreading and stretching you out with each swivel of his hips — leaves him without much choice.

“Don’t stop,” you beg. “Please don’t stop.”

He can’t hold back now, can’t deny either one of you the delectation of him leaving you completely full and sated. Especially not when he feels you grind your hips to sink further down onto him until the thatch of hair at the base of his cock tickles your clit and your legs pull tight around his hips.

The weight of Bucky’s body crushes the pillow between your bodies as he leans in to bite your neck, growling in response to your lamenting wail. The room is filled with the sound of raucous slapping as your skin makes sharp and consistent contact, the backs of your thighs slamming into Bucky’s hips with every violent thrust he imparts on you. You’re practically screaming by the time your orgasm overtakes you and the constriction of your pussy relentlessly gripping his cock flings Bucky over his own precipice.

“Ohhh, fuck…that’s it, honey. Just like that. Such a good fuckin’ slut,” Bucky hisses, beginning to ramble as the first spurt of cum spills, his balls pulsing with force. “Stay right there. Daddy’s gonna fill you up so good.”

You know you should refuse, push Bucky off and stop him from burying his seed in your pussy. But you cannot deny the fact that somewhere deep down, this is what you’ve wanted all along. To be his and to be marked as such. When you feel his cock jump inside you and the noticeable warmth of his cum seeps into your womb, you do exactly as he requests and you stay put as he pumps his hips shallowly and fucks his spurting cum even deeper.

Tipping your head, you latch your teeth into the collar of Bucky’s shirt as his body spasms above you, muscles twitching and rippling with his powerful release. He pins you in place with his body, focusing his weight against your wiggling hips until he’s positive you’ve milked every last drop of cum from his slick-soaked dick. You squeak in discomfort when he presses his pelvis flush to yours, the depth of his cock making your insides ache.

Bucky remains there — buried as deep as he can physically get — until he can catch his breath and his dick begins to soften. When he pulls out, the thick white trickle of cream begins to spill out immediately. You’re vaguely aware of the sound of a car outside and while you know you should be rushing to cover up and Bucky should be slipping away unnoticed from your bedroom, he seems to have other ideas.

Thick fingers sweep through the stickiness of Bucky’s spend, smearing it all over your puffy folds and coating your swollen clit in a layer of cum. He spends a dizzying amount of time focusing his touch on the over-stimulated bundle of nerves, only stopping when you begin to flinch and whine beneath his touch. Once you do, he chooses instead to gather the rest of what drips from your wrecked pussy on his fingers before slowly and methodically stuffing the long digits inside of you, shoving his cum back inside.

Satisfied with how his cum is now smeared over every inch of your pussy — both inside and out — Bucky brings his slippery fingers to his mouth, lewdly sucking your combined juices from his skin. He licks his lips for good measure, then hops gingerly from your bed to tug his boots back onto his feet. Bucky turns to you, proudly observing your limp, satiated body and the look on your tear-streaked face as he lovingly caresses the inside of your right thigh where some of your fluids have smeared. He fights the urge to bury his fingers knuckle-deep in your leaking pussy when he spies the cum that starts to seep out again.

“Come say goodnight to your mother,” he directs as he carefully stuffs his softened length back into his pants before looming over you to speak against your parted lips. “Be a good girl and I’ll come back later to tuck you in.”

With that, Bucky kisses you sloppily then exits your room without another word. You’re left lying there, alone and exhausted; legs shaking and your stepfather’s cum oozing from your sore pussy as you hear the distant sound of your mother’s voice downstairs.

Part Two

• Series Masterlist •

Sebastian Stan Masterlist ✦ Writing Masterpost

#i used the word cock 24 times i'm so sorry #barely edited this so i'm sorry for that too #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fanfic #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #stepfather au #stepfather!bucky barnes #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan

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loveinhawkins · 11 months

Text

The birthday gift Robin gets from her parents is that they’re gonna help her fund a three month solo trip to Paris. Steve thinks she should be delivering this news with much more excitement than she currently is.

“Okay, but you’re going, right?” he says, as she bites her nails for the third time. When she doesn’t reply, he lifts his eyes to the heavens, despairing. “Oh my god, are you kidding? Robin, you’ve wanted this for—”

“Years,” she confirms, so quietly. “I want—” She swallows. “I want it so badly, Steve.”

He pauses, drops their usual teasing schtick. “Okay,” he says, a little softer. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just…” She moves her hand away from her mouth, tugs on a hangnail. “What if—what if something… happens. And I’m not…” She gestures vaguely. “Not here.”

Steve slings an arm over her shoulder. “Rob,” he says, “nothing’s gonna happen.”

Robin nods. “I know, I know.”

But then she sighs, and Steve understands: it’s one thing to know something objectively, another thing to feel the certainty in your bones.

He has a wave of gratitude for Robin’s parents, for them knowing that she needs this, for letting her have a year out, maybe even two, without judgement. It’s something they all need, really, in different ways: some time to let the weight of everything settle, to catch their breath.

Steve’s honestly been relishing the mundanity of it all, the comfort of routine—easy days where the biggest ‘disaster’ is him being late for their opening shift at Family Video.

“Keith’s keeping your job open for you, right?” Steve asks, just in case that’s a sticking point.

Robin nods again, laughing. “Yeah, mom arranged that all before she even booked the flights. Well, I think she just basically told him that—”

“So it’s gonna be a super long vacation.” Steve gives her knee a reassuring little shake, before tickling the back of it. “Jesus, Robin, if you don’t go, I’ll go for you.”

Robin snorts and wiggles out of his grip. “Shut up.”

“And I’ll speak French so badly that I’ll just get banned for life, like, right outta the gate, it’ll be tragic—”

“I’ve got the picture, dingus,” she says, and she’s smiling—finally, finally there’s a spark of excitement in her eyes.

And that excitement only grows as her flight date gets closer, as she calls Steve the week before, begging him to be the one to take her to the airport, because, “My dad took one look at my suitcase and burst into tears, please Steve, the man can’t do this.”

And then Steve’s pulling up to her driveway, and she’s already waiting for him, perched on her suitcase. She’s wearing a cobalt blue beret, and Steve loves her so much he thinks his heart might burst with it.

For a while, it’s all grins and laughter, Steve giggling every time he edges out of the driveway, and Robin’s mom stops him, frantically waving, asking if Robin’s got everything, did you pack that other coat, honey?

Then it feels like time rushes forward—they’re at the airport, and Steve gets out of the car to fetch Robin’s case from the trunk, but she’s already got it, is already standing in the parking lot, eyes wide.

“What’s gonna happen now?” she whispers.

Steve’s heart clenches; the last time she’d asked that had been as they sped to the hospital, Robin gripping his hand so tightly as Eddie lay unconscious.

Steve puts both hands on her shoulders. “You’re gonna have the best time,” he says, deadly serious, “and then you’re gonna come back and tell me all about it.”

She laughs, right on the edge of becoming tearful. “O-okay.” She blinks several times.

“Don’t,” Steve says, faux-warningly, “or you’ll set me off, too.”

And it’s only partly a joke.

“Okay,” Robin says again, and then she’s hugging Steve tight, pressing a damp kiss to his cheek. “I’ll miss you.”

“God, me too. Every day.” Steve rocks her back and forth, makes sure her beret doesn’t get dislodged with the force of the hug.

When they break apart, Robin picks up her case—she pauses, then grins.

“Now, if you’ll just point me in the right direction…”

Steve chuckles. He spins her around so she’s facing the airport, then pats her on the back.

She starts walking.

Steve stays right where he is; he knows she’ll look back right at the last second—ah, there she goes. He shakes his head, laughs. Waves.

He drives back alone.

When he gets home, he barely has time to even think about it, because the kids have biked over after school, clamouring for him to order pizza from the moment he opens the front door, and Eddie’s shrugging apologetically with a grin, and it’s only later that Steve realises that the whole thing was probably coordinated beforehand.

And he’s fine, really, he’s absolutely fine until he steps into the hall to use the phone, and he unthinkingly orders the pizza him and Robin usually share: one half with pepperoni, the other half with mushrooms.

And then he has to finish the rest of the phone call with a lump in his throat, and when he hangs up, Eddie is watching him with a sad kind of smile.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

“Don’t. Don’t be nice to me, goddamn it.” Steve shuts his eyes. “I was fine, I was fine.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Eddie knocks their foreheads together gently. “I’ll miss her, too.”

And God, missing Robin does hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the joy Steve feels whenever he receives a letter from her. He laughs himself stupid the first time, because instead of just using sheets of paper, she’s sent multiple postcards wrapped in an elastic band, her handwriting all squished so she can fit everything in.

She writes like she talks, all rambling enthusiasm, and Steve cherishes every word.

He can tell she’s having so much fun. She enthuses about little cafés she’s found, a bookstore near Notre Dame; she spends multiple pages on art galleries, how she has the time to wander, to look at a painting again and again until the meaning reveals itself, it was like when I solved that ‘crossword’ in the mall, it suddenly just clicked, you know? I need you here next time, you’ll look at it from another angle, I wanna know what you think.

She sends Polaroids, too. There’s one of her in a white shirt with a trilby hat at a jaunty angle—Steve can tell she’s been in the sun, because there’s freckles all over the bridge of her nose. On the back of the photograph, she’s written Had a carefree kiss!

And Steve cries when he reads it, because he knows what it means: that Robin’s often spoken wistfully about how she’s never got to have that fleeting summer kind of love, where nothing is all that serious.

But she’s still so young, and life is finally light, and she gets to have it now.

Other photographs are sent to Eddie, with instructions that he should translate the French Robin’s written on them, à force de pratique, on y arrive, mon cher Édouard!

“I said literally once that French at school wasn’t, like, the worst,” Eddie says, pouting. “Didn’t realise that meant she was gonna torture me from across the world.” He frowns at a picture of Robin petting a grey cat, a bowl of food at its little paws. “And I tried translating whatever the fuck she’s written here, but I can’t work it out.”

“Not even a guess?” Steve says.

“I mean, yeah, but it sounds so stilted, man, I know it’s wrong. Like, who actually says where the silver cat feeds—you dick, stop laughing! What’s so funny?”

Two months pass, and Robin’s back soon, but not soon enough to catch Steve’s birthday. It’s not like he wants to have a huge party, anyway—he goes to Wayne and Eddie’s for dinner, and discovers Dustin leading a not-so successful ‘secretly bake a birthday cake,’ meeting at Max’s.

Everyone’s on their second slice of cake when the phone rings, and Steve knows instantly who it is from the way Eddie shouts, “Huh? What?”, like there’s a delay on the line. Then he beams and shouts, “Steve! Got a long distance call for you.”

Steve’s over in a flash.

“I promise I’ve got you something,” Robin says, slightly muffled—every so often a word will cut out, but Steve gets the gist. “I swear, I’m not awful, I was gonna post it, but then I had no idea how many stamps I’d need, and I didn’t wanna risk losing it forever to, like, the nightmare limbo of customs, so I thought when I come back, I can—”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Steve laughs, “you didn’t need to get me anything. This is the best present ever.”

“Oh, gross,” Robin says cheerfully. “You’re all sentimental in your old age. Happy Birthday, Steve.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, and the lump in his throat is back, but it’s not so bad; he can breathe through it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And then there’s a sound that Steve at first thinks is just from the bad quality of the line, but then he realises it’s Robin trying to stifle a yawn; “Wait, Jesus, isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there? Go to bed!”

She doesn’t listen, of course—they keep chatting, everyone in the room wants a turn on the phone, Robin teasing Eddie relentlessly for his French pronunciation.

And as Steve ends the call, he finds that the hurt of missing her has faded away into something else—knowing that there’ll be comings and goings in their lives all the time, adventures they’ll share and adventures they won’t. But they’ll always, always find their way back to one another.

Steve sets the phone into its cradle, pictures Robin doing the very same so many miles away.

Yeah, we’re gonna be just fine, you and me, Steve thinks, and feels the certainty of it right in his bones.

#steve and robin #steve and robin fic #steve and robin ficlet #robin buckley fic #steve harrington fic #eddie and robin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #eddie munson #background steddie

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hongism · 4 months

Text

SWEET JUICE - s.mingi (18+)

➼ genre; fantasy, smut ➼ pairing; mingi x fem!reader ➼ au; strangers to lovers, magic au, witches/warlocks au ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 10.7k

the new apothecary in your small village is harboring a dark secret, you're certain of it, if only because he bears a starkly familiar crest on his shop sign - one that denotes the presence of magic.

part of the ...and it's snowing collab.

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➼ smut warnings; sex toys, unprotected sex, comeshots, begging, fingering, multiple orgasms, size kink, hand kink, mention of belly bulging, dacryphilia

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Normally, you aren’t one to be so deeply entrenched in the petty gossip going around town, especially when newcomers are not exactly scarce in these parts. This one in particular — the young man who moved here by himself and immediately set up an apothecary shop in the heart of the village — has been on the lips of almost everyone you’ve bumped into for the past week. Ever since the Summer’s End Festival, it seems all your neighbors can think to talk about is this mysterious lone wolf. Unfortunately for you, that means your interest has been piqued both out of nosiness and out of a potential opportunity.

“You said he’s nice?”

“Yeah! I mean, I didn’t meet him personally. I was busy running the stall while Yunho was doing all the socializing, but Gerda came over and she said he’s a rather nice and charming young man.”

You appraise the man across the counter with a far less enthused grin. It doesn’t deter Seonghwa from his egregious nods of encouragement, however. So, you continue to pack away the little bundles of herbs that you’ve been preparing all morning into the man’s satchel.

“She says that about everyone under the age of fifty. I think it’s her duty as an old woman to say that. What did Yunho say about him?”

“Hm, what did Yunho say about him…” Seonghwa brings a neatly manicured nail to his chin as he mulls over your question. You snap the buckle of his bag into its proper place now that you’ve given him all you need to and set your hands down on the counter. “He was fairly charmed too, I believe. I mean, in terms of the guy’s personality. You know his gaze goes in one single direction for all other aspects of things.” He flattens his palm against his cheek and doesn’t even bother to hide the smugness that creeps over his expression.

“Don’t get cocky now,” you cut in before Seonghwa can redirect the conversation towards himself.

“Is it being cocky if I’m just repeating what he says all the time though? Oh my Seonghwa, you’re so pretty, the only man I could ever look at, I never grow weary of seeing your darling face. It’s truly romance at its finest.”

“Back to the new guy, Hwa.”

“Hmph. You’re more interested in him than you were in me when I first moved here!”

“You didn’t run a shop when you first got here. Otherwise, I would’ve been just as eager, promise.” Seonghwa narrows his eyes at you, lips drawing into what must be an attempt at a frown but it’s so half-hearted and soft around the edges that you can’t be sure. “I’m trying to establish a financially beneficial supply line with this guy. Thus, I need to know what he’s like so that I know how much bargaining I ought to prepare for before going to speak with him.”

“He’s nice, not much of a talker from what I could tell watching him from a distance, and he mostly stuck near the bonfire. Though it was still damp from the rain earlier that day, and autumn was already sending in her cooler breezes. Anyone who hasn’t acclimated to our lovely finicky weather acts like that when they first arrive here. Spoke to everyone who approached him. Talks with his hands a lot. Very—” Seonghwa makes a few vague gestures consisting of him just waving his hands in the air a bit “—big. Not quite taller than Yunho, but broader and like… meatier, I suppose. I wonder if I should give Yunho bigger meal portions actually, he might need it. Really, how does he stay so skinny even doing all the heavy lifting around the house? Do you have any herbs good for muscle growth?”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of you, that’s it.” Seonghwa’s protest comes immediately. “No, because last time you did this, you started asking me about concoctions to make his semen taste better, and that is not a conversation we’re going to be repeating!” He grabs his satchel off the counter as you hop up from your stool, though he still tries to appear very upset over the matter while pulling it over his head.

“Well, tell me when you’re planning on going over there at least. I can give you a meal before you go home since it’s a bit of a trek to get back here.”

“I’ll go tomorrow. There’s still some inventory left over from the summer that I need to sort out. And I need to prepare some decor for the Autumn Festival sooner rather than later. Ugh, I got so behind on my work it’s infuriating.” You’ve been slacking a little more than you usually do this past week on account of being bedridden for five days straight. You thought you were going to avoid getting sick at the end of summer for once, but your body had other plans for you and decided to push it into the start of the fall season instead. That’s the only reason you need this information about the newcomer from Seonghwa so desperately: otherwise, you would have been at that very festival and been able to witness the man for yourself.

“Oh, speaking of, everyone missed you last week! And told me to send you well wishes, which are obviously not needed anymore, but the sentiment is the same nonetheless, no?”

You send Seonghwa off with a few extra herbs pressed into his hands and wishes for safe travels. It ought to only take him fifteen minutes to walk back to town, but he came by rather late and the sun is already setting so you don’t want him to get caught alone in the dark on his way. He is kind enough to allow your nagging, only pinching your cheek when you tell him once more to quit asking about recipes and herbs to use on Yunho’s dick.

Once you’re content seeing him reach the end of your garden path, you flick your wrist in the direction of your crops. The drizzle that suddenly starts falling from the sky is light enough to not be much of a hindrance to Seonghwa, though you’ll be certain to bring down some heavier rainfall after he disappears over the edge of the hill. Though your closest friend in the village, you still haven’t had the heart to tell him what exactly brought you to this remote place or what you were running from when you came. He only knows that you came here nearly eight years ago on your own and with nothing to your name, and by the time he and Yunho came along, you were already three years into building your business of selling herbs year-round.

In truth, your witchcraft is not illegal by the nature of it being magick. Rather, you yourself are the problem being a witch in name instead of the formally accepted term warlock. Should anyone with any sort of agenda against you discover that you are a defector using your magick when you are no longer a practicing warlock, then you would likely lose everything you have here in this place. It took you two years just to find a town secure and remote enough for you to feel comfortable living in, and eight more to reach this point of stability. You don’t consider Seonghwa to be someone driven by monetary promise or swayed by others’ opinions, but there is just enough doubt that’s crept into your heart over the years to keep you silent.

“How depressing,” you mutter, turning back to your cottage and heading inside. You make the rain fall just a little harder to go along with your sudden decline in mood.

…

Perhaps, you think, there is some goddess out there who is keen on causing you inordinate levels of distress. Because although today was supposed to be nothing more than a calm and friendly meeting in the hopes of establishing a business partnership, you cannot push yourself to even approach the door to the new apothecary. The name of the shop is insignificant on its own — Mortar and Cauldron — and you wouldn’t think twice about getting up from this cursed bench you now find yourself on if that was all there was to it. Yet for some godforsaken reason, this man has deigned to put a symbol behind the name, one that mimics one of the crests belonging to the House of Ballads (the very one you defected from a decade ago). Some deity must surely be playing a sick prank on you.

There are a few routes you could take in this situation. You could pretend you never came and forget the idea of creating a supply line, missing out on some revenue sure but it’s not like you wouldn’t be able to make up for it in other areas. You could go in and confront the newcomer, demanding to know who he is and what he’s doing here on the off chance that he’s truly some bumbling idiot who has no clue what symbols he’s drawn into his signs. He could very well be a defector himself, you suppose, although it would be suicide to use one of the House’s official crests as one. Or you could simply play the part of the fool yourself, act none the wiser, and pretend to be the normal citizen you are. Even if this man were truly from the House, he would not recognize your face because you were never formally entered into the place. You had been merely part of a small church sect on the outskirts of the capital, far from the House of Ballads and all its operations. The name you held while there has already been burned to ash and nothingness, likely stricken from all their records as well the moment you disappeared. If they wanted you dead — well, they would have had you killed long ago. So, you seem to have your best course of action.

“I know my decor isn’t the most appealing, but I don’t think it warrants such a foul expression.” The voice resonates so close to your ear that you truly feel the vibration in your teeth, but moreso, it startles you out of your skin, and you all but launch yourself off the bench with an embarrassing yelp. Just behind the bench where you were, there stands a man you don’t recognize. Tall, with sharp features and equally piercing dark eyes, and dressed in black from head to toe complete with a scarf draped over his head to mimic the hood of a cloak. It doesn’t fully shroud his borderline psychedelic hair — an unnatural yellow shade that blends into a fiery orange-red and makes his head look more like a torch than anything else. “Hello. Sorry for surprising you like that, it wasn’t my intention to make a first impression in such a way.”

Ah. If not for your racing heart, you would have put two and two together far sooner, because obviously, this would be the mystery owner of the apothecary, considering how you recognize everyone in town.

“Would you like to come in and look around? I was simply across the street to get some bread.” He tilts his head back in the direction of none other than Seonghwa’s shop. One glance at the storefront gives you enough of a clue as to whose fault it is that you’re having this unsavory first encounter because said man is pressed up against the window and staring through it directly at you. You have to fight the urge to scowl at him until after your newcomer steps out of your line of sight. Seonghwa tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear and sends you a far-too-cheery thumbs-up. You turn away with a less subtle middle finger.

Despite the muggy weather and cooler temperatures, the inside of the apothecary is warm. It almost feels a bit humid thanks to the rain outside, but not unbearably so. And considering how long you were sitting out there getting rained on, you welcome the heat quite a bit.

“You wouldn’t happen to be the friend Seonghwa mentioned, would you?” He catches you with the question as you’re undoing the knot holding your cloak around your shoulders. “I don’t recall seeing you at last week’s festival, though I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself to everyone then.”

“Oh, yes, that would be me. I wasn’t there because I was recovering from a nasty cold. Y/n.” You jut a hand out in his direction, pushing a smile to your lips as you look him in the eye, though thanks to his height, you feel as though you have to crane your neck just to do so.

“Song Mingi. It’s a pleasure to meet you, y/n.” He doesn’t take your hand the way you expect; instead, he pinches the tips of your fingers and bends at the waist, lips grazing your knuckles so softly that you almost don’t feel the contact at all. What’s more startling is how hot his touch is, especially considering how he was just out in the cold. You catch a glimpse of his hand as he’s pulling away, but he’s simply wearing gloves. Knowing Seonghwa, he probably kept the man hostage with conversation for a long time before sending him out to speak with you, and your friend always keeps the house warm because of the ovens, so that’s likely where all the excess heat is coming from. Your staring lingers too long, and Mingi clears his throat quietly, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Likewise,” you spit out, placing your cloak on the coat rack by the door.

“Were you looking for something in particular, or did you just want to see what sorts of things I have?” Mingi wraps around the back of the shop’s counter, and you take it as an invitation to approach. The glass cabinet serving as the surface is filled with a variety of things both familiar and not. Potions, vials, bundles of powders, and even some gemstones that carry a glow at their centers. The presence of magick here is undeniably strong, and it is not yours alone. There must be dozens of magickal objects here, though the ordinary person wouldn’t sense a thing. You don’t let your gaze linger on any of them for long before pulling focus back up to the man’s face.

“Well, I intended to come introduce myself first since we didn’t have a chance to meet at the festival. But beyond that, I wanted to let you know I grow all sorts of herbs and ingredients in my garden. I supply many of the local shops and stalls, especially during the winter seasons. The ground is particularly fruitful thanks to all the rain we get here.”

“Oh? Yes, I noticed rather quickly that there’s near-constant rainy weather here.” As though on cue, a bout of thunder rumbles in the distance.

“You truly chose a summer lover’s nightmare moving here,” you laugh. “Charybid is always in rainy season.”

Mingi hums and grins a little, looking to the window before saying, “I’m quite alright with it really. The heat of my homeland is far more unbearable in my opinion. You can tell how little I went outside there just based on how pale I am.” He flashes the back of his hand that’s still enveloped by a glove like he wants to prove his point, only to realize his little blunder and fall into a bout of awkward laughter instead. “But you said you’re a supplier? Do you have a local shop as well or…?”

“Local, though not here in the heart of town. If you follow the west road up over the hill, you’ll see a string of cottages. Mine is the one with the big front garden! Oh, and there’s a sign as well, of course.”

“That would be immensely helpful especially since I don’t have much space here to grow my own things. It’s a bit difficult to outsource supplies in this area too, isn’t it?” Mingi glances down at the open notebook sitting on his counter and skims the contents. “Would it be alright if I came by at the end of next week? That way I can finish unpacking and taking stock of everything I have.”

“Yes, that’d work just fine. You can come by any time you need, though I always advise against coming too close to nightfall because walking in the rain at night is an easy way to get sick.” You offer a smile, perhaps a little too pleased with how smoothly your business proposal went, but your enthusiasm seems to be received well given how brightly Mingi smiles in return. The air has begun to get more stifling, and you can feel sweat clinging to the back of your neck. It’s unpleasant now, a kind of warmth you’re not used to experiencing all the time because you don’t keep your home so toasty, but it reminds you of evenings shared with Seonghwa that always end with you wanting to escape out into the rain just for some respite. “I won’t take up more of your time, though. I promised to go see Seonghwa myself once I was finished here. I bid you well.”

“Thank you, and have safe travels home yourself. I look forward to doing business with you, Miss y/n.”

…

You leave your cottage in the wee hours of the morning, intending to water your crops before the sun rises, but those plans are dashed the moment you spot the man waiting outside your fence. You’ve seen him several times since your first meeting, though not here and solely in town. He hasn’t come this far yet despite his insistence that he would come over two weeks ago. Autumn is in full swing now, four weeks since the start of the season and five since the new apothecary came to town. You had not quite lost hope that he would be true to his word, but you must admit that you are caught off-guard seeing him at this hour and at your gate.

“When I said not to come at nightfall, I didn’t mean that you needed to come at the break of dawn!”

“I wanted to come before opening hours,” Mingi replies in a far clearer voice than your own. You’re still wiping the sleep from your eyes after all, and it seems he has been up for some time considering how he doesn’t appear tired in the slightest. The lantern at the end of your walkway is lit — strange because you thought you had remembered to blow it out the night before — and the glow combined with the first few rays of sunshine over the horizon is enough to illuminate the space between you and the man. “I was also out on a morning walk, so I figured it would be smart to find out how to get here before making a fool of myself. Beyond making plans to do so several times over and not once making good on those plans.”

You did gather much from your first impression of the man. Seonghwa’s word proved correct: Mingi is quite friendly, although a tad clueless but his kindness makes up for that, and you heard as much from your fellow townsfolk after you left his apothecary a month ago. After all, newcomers will be the talk of the town for weeks after their arrival, so you got to be privy to much talk about his character just from spending five minutes milling about the streets. He’s cordial each time you happen across each other in the village on top of that, full of never-ending apologies about his delay in coming to see you (to the point where you have to demand he stop apologizing three times before he takes the hint).

“Considering how I didn’t even make it to the front door, I’m assuming I did not wake you?” he continues when you reach the edge of the fence. You shake your head, undoing the latching and pulling the gate over for him to step through.

“No, you simply caught me coming out to check on the crops before the rain starts.” You didn’t sense any rain coming today, but a little trip down to the pond can easily be arranged once Mingi departs. “This is only the front garden. I can show you the back as well, if you’d like, I have far more plants there.”

“You take care of this all by yourself?” he inquires, voice edging on awestruck, and your chest swells with pride.

“Yep! It is my livelihood, after all. But I am very enamored with the work too, so that helps me as well. These plants need more sun, and thanks to the location of this cottage, they receive it at least eight hours a day. Same goes for the plots on the left side of the house, but the ones on the right are not as sensitive to the sunshine. I keep the least temperamental crops in the back, along with some gourds that shops have a hard time finding at this time of year. My more cold-sensitive plants are in planters indoors, I have that small little greenhouse attachment on the side of the house as well as fungi and the like in the basement.”

“It seems you truly have a bit of everything then?”

“I try to at least. Whenever traveling merchants come for market days, I make a point to collect whatever seeds I can. I also like picking up gardener’s pamphlets! There are always good tips for how to make certain plants thrive, and occasionally they’ll mention ones I’ve not heard of so I know to be on the lookout for those things. If there’s ever something you’re in need of that I don’t have, I’d be happy to collect some samples for you from some merchants and we can discuss planting them too.” When you glance up at Mingi again, his jaw is hanging slightly open, eyes still bearing into you with that same wonder and disbelief. “Oh, sorry, I’m being a terrible host. Did you want to come inside for some tea or coffee? It’s still quite early.”

“That’d be great. Do you happen to have a catalog of all your crops as well?”

“Of course, of course.” You motion for him to follow you up to the house just as a few drops of rain start hitting your skin. Maybe you won’t need to go down to the pond after all. “It seems you came at the perfect time. Do you have some sort of potion that lets you predict the weather?”

“If only,” he laughs, ducking his head a bit to avoid the doorframe. He shrugs his cloak off upon getting inside, and once again you’re regaled by the sight of him dressed in all black. Though, today he’s forgone gloves and simply stuck to a long-sleeved shirt that extends past his hands.

“You’re welcome to look around as I get the water on and all!”

“I’d be happy to do that for you.”

“Please, you’re a guest, that’d hardly be fair of me.”

“But I did accost you before dawn, so I’d like to think of it as a fair bargain.”

You purse your lips. “Okay, I’ll relent and allow you to do the water, but I’ll take care of everything else.” He drapes his cloak over the back of one of your chairs, very careful and meticulous about the way in which he lays it down, but you only watch him long enough to see him reach the sink. Turning your back to him, you busy yourself with finding mugs and prepping the coffee Seonghwa gave to you a few weeks back. You should’ve thought ahead and asked him for more since you were just over there, but it slipped your mind completely. Perhaps he needs some more lavender and rosemary, you could pack some and use that as an excuse to go back to see him.

When you turn around next, Mingi is already sitting at the table in the seat where he set his cloak down, and you make a small noise of surprise.

“Did you get the stove figured out already? I swear it takes me four or five tries to get it to come on right every time.”

“Hm? It came right on when I turned the knob. Is it not supposed to do that?”

You let out a huff of air while shrugging and set the mugs down on the table. “It never does that for me but that very well may be user error.” The sharp whistle of steam interrupts your thoughts. “Ah, and it’s heating up quickly too? Those remedies of yours are becoming more and more appealing by the second. You might be the town’s new miracle worker at this rate.”

In truth, it’s making your skin itch a little. There was some odd presence of magick back in Mingi’s shop, and even now you feel something sharp prodding at your own magickal energy in your own home. It’s not a threat, not one that you can concretely act on yet at least, but it’s enough to make you wary. To let a witch into your safe haven is a dangerous and risky game to play, especially if it’s where the source of your power is. Thankfully, you were not so foolish upon moving here to do something as juvenile as that — yours is safely kept away in that pond down the opposite side of the hill and tucked into a small grove in the surrounding forest.

“Oh, let me grab that catalog for you real quick!” You bolt up from your chair at the sudden realization, and Mingi seems to accept it as simply that. You grab the book from your shelf, also snatching up the charm you keep near it and slipping it around your wrist while you’re out of sight still. It won’t be enough to fully shroud your energy, but if Mingi is indeed poking and prodding at your aura in search of something, it ought to at least throw him off enough to sate his curiosities. You usually only use such an item when strangers come to town for those market days you mentioned to Mingi before, and it certainly is a first for you to have to use it in your home.

He’s not budged an inch by the time you return, which is nice to see because he could either have started snooping around in places he shouldn’t or bolted without a trace. You set the book down before him, still wearing a faint smile on your lips.

“I just updated it at the start of the week too, so you have the freshest copy.”

“Wonderful, I’m starting to understand the name on your gate post more and more.”

“Ah, that.” Wonderland was simply a silly little name you came up with on a whim because that’s what this place is to you, but it stuck and everyone in town loved it so much that you could not escape the urgings to keep it as a name even if you are not a shop owner in the way that people like Seonghwa and Mingi both are. “It’s nothing terribly special,” you opt to say instead. The kettle starts whistling more egregiously, saving you from having to explain the name any further. You stand and go to grab the handle of the pot, only to scald your palm so badly that you nearly fall over backward. Mingi scrambles to get up, chair clattering against the ground as he rushes in your direction.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I—”

“You’re sorry?” you blurt through gritted teeth, clinging to your hand and trying to will the pain away to no avail. “What are you sorry for?”

“I-I should’ve — I should’ve gotten that, I mean, my hands are…” he trails off, and you glance down at the now exposed hands that he’s put between you. From the tips of his fingers down to the first knuckle on every single digit, Mingi’s skin and nails both are the color of charcoal, like they’ve been permanently stained that way. Were you anybody else, you would not know what it means.

“I’m fine,” you say. He’s a warlock after all, it seems. Of course he is. You have been teetering on the confirmation for weeks at this point, and it was silly of you to ignore the obvious so many times over. His uncomfortably warm touch and the stifling heat inside his shop were both dead giveaways. You did not forget to extinguish your lantern last night, nor did the stove simply come on by way of Mingi being deft at using the knobs. He lit the lantern himself, lit the stove himself as well though because he was unaware of how your finicky stove works, he made the flame too big and too hot, thus leading to the quick boil and unfortunate accident of you burning your hand. The symbol on his door sign should have been enough of a clue.

“Please, at least let me make you something to treat the burn. It’s what I’m good at after all, and it’s the barest of minimums I could do.”

If you kick him out now, then it will surely be obvious that you know something about his identity. Only daft idiots or people with something to hide would turn down the help of a healer such as himself. In the past decade, you have lost all semblance of good judgment because no amount of mental gymnastics can get you to refuse his help right now. You’re dooming yourself if he already knows what you are, but if he’s got even the slightest hint and you turn him away, then you would confirm it for him. You have to take the risk.

“Okay, I would really appreciate it,” you whisper, easing yourself down into your chair once more. Mingi’s shoulders visibly relax. “All these plants and I’m afraid I’ve barely got enough knowledge to make tea on a good day with them. Everything you need ought to be on the shelves behind the counter. Those are all freshly picked too.” When he turns his back to you, you let your meek expression drop and glare at the welt that’s already formed across your palm. Mingi’s magick does not appear to be volatile, meaning that he must have had some sort of formal training in his life. It’s common for fire warlocks to bear the same charcoal-looking scars that he has, mostly from overexertion of their kind of magick. You produce more sweat than is natural for a normal human being thanks to your affinities too.

Would the House truly send someone here for you after so long? And to go through the effort of having them set up a shop in the heart of town? If they wanted someone to watch you, then it would have been easier and smarter to have someone take one of the cottages closer to you. Besides, Mingi has not been taking every opportunity to come find you or learn about you. Nor does he wear any ring to indicate his affiliation with the House. A sanctioned mage would surely make use of such benefits. Could he be a defector like you? Or one that never made it into the House’s grasp?

He returns to the table with a mortar and pestle filled with some sort of salve that he’s already beaten down into a mush.

“Does it hurt badly?”

“Quite a bit,” you answer truthfully, only wincing a little when he turns your palm to the ceiling. It feels as though his fingers alone could sear your skin.

“I made extra for you to use over the next several days as well. All you need to do is store it somewhere cool and apply a little to the burn twice a day until the pain stops.” The mixture is so blissfully cold on your skin that you could cry, and even with Mingi’s warm touch massaging it into the burn, it feels like a heavenly relief. “If the pain doesn’t stop by the time you run out of salve, then please come visit me. I can make more and give you something to keep it from scarring.”

“Understood.”

“And y/n…” He squeezes your hand ever so slightly, and your breath catches in your throat. “You do not have to hide what you are around me.” His gaze finds yours. “You are a witch after all, are you not?” A witch. The word feels like a slap in the face.

“Are you associated with the House? Did they send you? What is it you want from me?”

“The House? Absolutely not. I left their good graces many years ago. I wouldn’t give them even an ounce of my time anyway.”

“So what? You’re a witch as well?”

“Yes, I suppose I am though I don’t make a habit of calling myself that. Simply an apothecary, much like how you are simply a farmer. Of sorts.” Mingi fidgets in his seat and looks closer at you. “I am genuinely not here to cause you harm or disrupt your life. I imagine we came here for the very same reasons in fact. I simply want to live by my own terms, not anyone else’s.”

“Get out,” you whisper. Perhaps there are hundreds of better ways to handle this, but you have never had to do such a thing in all your time here, and you cannot be faulted for acting out of panic and fear now. Your voice comes out louder now, “Get out of my home then! Get out and don’t come back d-don’t dare tell anyone.”

“The energy is permeating the entire house.” Mingi keeps his tone quiet as he continues to speak through your distress. “Your garden too, I felt it immediately. The rain — it’s in there as well. Sure, it’s always rainy season here but how much of it is because of you?”

“You know what the other name for my kind is, right?”

“You’re a water witch.”

You retract your hand from his with a scoff.

“The House tends to call us Scyllans. Sweet temptresses of the deep, killers of foolish men.”

Mingi somehow has it in him to smile.

“Then I ought to be safe, for I am neither foolish nor a mere man.” He stands without saying another word, collecting his cloak off the back of his chair and slinging it around his shoulders. You can’t help but to stare at him, wary and on edge with every movement he makes even when he reaches the door. “My words hold true, y/n. I hope you think them over at least. And your secret is truly safe with me.”

…

You avoid going into town for so long that Seonghwa seeks you out five days after you go into self-imposed seclusion. It’s easy to keep him off your back at least, and from what you can tell, Mingi has not sought him out to expose your dirty secrets as of yet. The logical part of you understands that you ought to avoid angering the man because he does hold quite a bit of power over you right now. Fear keeps you captive instead, however.

Two weeks and a day after that fateful encounter you had with Mingi, you dare to leave the comfort of your home. Not to go into the village — that is a step you are not prepared to face — but rather to visit your precious grove in the forest. You should have gone last week as it’s always been your habit to go once a month to rejuvenate your magick; however, you were so on edge that you couldn’t get beyond your back fence and promptly turned right back around. Tonight, you’re determined.

The skies are clear, not a single cloud marring her starry expanses, and the moon hangs high near the center of the sky. Even better yet, it’s a full moon. Ideal conditions for you to bathe in the pond and restore some much-needed energy. You set out forty minutes from midnight even though your trek will not take that long. You need only be there for the highest peak of the moon, so giving yourself this little bit of leeway should allow you all the time required to reach your destination. Despite yourself, you do glance over your shoulder several times on your way out of the house and garden. When you’re content with your loneliness, you set off down the hill.

It’s not as though you decided to dismiss Mingi’s words altogether once he left. You have put much thought and consideration into them, in fact, especially after Seonghwa came to see you and nothing had changed between the two of you. It’s no guarantee that Mingi didn’t tell anyone, but it’s something. The matter of him being a witch like you, well, that has been a contentious debate in your head. A true warlock calling themselves a witch is considered heresy to many, so you have to believe that Mingi is being truthful with you. You know enough about his magick to know for certain he is either one or the other. But at the end of the day, there is no way for him to prove as much. All he has is his word to back him up, and all you can do is either accept it as truth or deny it.

Long ago, you had settled on the knowledge that you would likely be a rather lonely creature for the rest of your days. Finding Charybid and its people was a welcome blessing, but not a permanent one, and the friends you’ve made (especially Seonghwa and Yunho) cannot understand what it is you are or relate to you on any matter concerning witchcraft. You’ve long since accepted that loneliness as a part of you even if there are pieces of your heart craving warmth and understanding from another like you.

If it were possible, could Mingi be that sort of person in your life? Does he crave the same thing? Is that why he confronted you to begin with?

You reach the grove with a heavier heart than anticipated. Moonlight creeps in through the canopy of branches overhead, glistening off the half-circle of rocks around milky green waters. The moon has already been charging the pond for hours, and you feel the pulse of magick resonating deep in you from the bottom of it.

Stripping down to nothing, you drop your clothes into a pile near the rocks with your satchel and toe at the water. It’s frigid as expected, thanks to the encroaching winter that is coming closer and closer still. You sink into it fully and submerge yourself in the charged waters. Several meters down at the bottom lies your precious black pearl, glowing a deep purple shade to show exactly how much magick she’s stored since you last came. You let the waters hold you for some time until the dull thrum you feel around you turns into a hum that makes your skin feel like it’s full of electricity.

It’s only then that you decide to emerge once more, breaking the surface of the water and letting air replace the magick in your lungs.

Yet, you find that you are not alone.

Bent so far over the pond that he looks one slip away from tumbling down into it, none other than Mingi sits crouched at the edge. It’s far too late to pretend as though you haven’t made note of each other. Depending on which direction Mingi came from, he may not have even seen your belongings behind the rocks. You sink lower in the water until it comes up to cover your lips.

“My apologies. I did not know you were here.” Just his gaze is enough to make your body warm. You tilt your chin up.

“Is that so?”

“I came because of the magickal energy, yes. Not because I knew you would be here.” He’s not far from you. The moon shines her pretty rays down around him, and you blame her for the insatiable tug in your gut that’s making you want to pull him into the waters with you. “I have been thinking about you though,” he admits under his breath. You imagine the words are not meant for your ears, but he doesn’t seem to realize he’s spoken them out loud. It takes little movement on your part to swim closer to him, and you only stop when he is perched directly above you.

“Do I look the part of a temptress now?” you inquire, hand breaking through the surface of the water to caress his cheek.

“Incredibly so,” he murmurs. “I see why foolish men fall. Perhaps I am no better.”

“You know nothing about me.” You trace your fingers down to his chin.

“I know enough.”

You shush him with a laugh and a finger placed directly over his lips. “The sun gives you her power during the day, but on nights like these, the moon offers me a fair exchange. Her power for my sexual energy. That is where a water witch’s magick comes from, and it’s what has earned us all those myths and urban legends about eating men. Now that you know that of me, should I trust you in return?”

“I am what I say I am. I am a fire witch. I defected from the House of Ballads five years ago. To answer your question, though, if…” His gaze has become lidded, focus drawing down to your lips with each word he tries to speak. You feel just as overwhelmed and foggy yourself, the excess magick seeping into you from all angles as the moon inches ever closer to her peak. “…you deem it wise.”

“I think some part of me might.”

“Did you consider what I said to you last time?”

“But of course. It wasn’t so long ago that I’ve forgotten already.” A sigh escapes you as you look up to where the moon can just barely be seen through the trees. “I’d like to give you a chance, if only because of morbid curiosity and the fact that I have made it a decade without finding another like myself.”

You inch up and graze Mingi’s lips with your own. His fingertips tickle the surface of the water, and the effect is nearly instant. Warmth surrounds you and draws a gasp out of you that has you curling away from Mingi’s face. He leans back.

“I cannot restrain myself well enough tonight. Not in the presence of such potent magick.” You are equal parts pleasantly surprised and grossly disappointed by his willpower. With a smile, you push away from the edge of the pond and head further into the water. Mingi almost makes the mistake of following you, teetering at the grassy bank.

“You are welcome to visit again. So long as I am not nude or compromised.”

“I-I—” His cheeks are stained a deep red by now.

“I do not intend to put on a show for you tonight, Mingi, but I am in desperate need of the moon’s energy. If that is all, then…?” Were the circumstances any different, you would consider your wording to be crude in that you are essentially asking him to leave so that you can fuck yourself with the crystal you brought along with you in your bag.

He clears his throat and sits completely back on his heels, gaze wandering across your face. Licking over his lips, his eyes linger on the water droplets running from your hairline to your jaw.

“I will come to you when the first snow falls,” he says. “So that you may have time to contemplate things further. My decision is already made, and I'm sure you're aware of it. Please… please let me know then what your choice is.” You want to retort that he doesn’t have the best track record thus far, but instead leave well enough and wave him away with a grin. A bout of laughter leaves your lips as soon as he passes through the clearing and out of sight.

“Are you testing me?” you whisper to the moon, receiving nothing but her monotonous glow in response. You wade over to the rocks where you left your belongings and quickly rifle through your pack in search of the rose quartz you brought along. It’s cold to the touch, unpleasant in comparison to the warm body that you just had with you and within your grasp. While the shape isn't perfect, it gets the job done in the absence of the real deal, and it serves its purpose just fine. Not like you have any other options as it is.

Part of you entertains the idea of having Mingi still here — from a practical standpoint, consummating the ritual with another magick user would be far more effective than using a crystal charged by the moon. But from a pleasure standpoint…

You dip your fingers between your legs, letting your body fall back to rest your head on the edge of the pond as you seek your core between your folds. The magick at your fingertips pulses through you and sends a jolt into your system just from the slightest brush. A soft mewl falls from your lips. You feel Mingi’s magick still permeating all throughout the water, clinging to your skin, and on your lips, you taste fire from that minute little kiss exchanged in a fit of passion.

No matter how hard you try, you cannot get your fingers deep enough inside your cunt. Instead, your thoughts are plagued by the visual of Mingi’s hands, his long fingers, the searing heat that emanates from them, and the all-consuming desire to know what it would feel like to have them inside you.

You cannot even bring yourself to waste time right now; slipping your fingers free, you plunge the toy in your other hand into yourself and sink it all the way in until the pressure in your gut is eased the slightest bit. It's blissfully cold against your walls; the coolness eases the burn that seems to be wedged beneath your skin and brings some clarity back to your mind. It does not, however, chase every thought of Mingi from your brain. In the haze of your vision, you can hallucinate him before you still, imagine him in the spot where he was not long ago watching you with those fiery intense eyes and urging you on. A louder cry of pleasure tumbles out of you as you're forced to twist and brace yourself on a rock to keep increasing the pace of the toy's thrusts inside you.

It ought to fill you with some degree of shame, you think, because who lusts so strongly after a stranger who poses something of a threat to your well-being and livelihood? But when your mind goes back to the idea of his large hands gripping your waist and hips as he splits you open on his cock, you can't be bothered in the slightest about the speed at which you're becoming invested in this man — all that matters is the speed at which you're thrusting the crystal dildo in and out of your pussy as an orgasm creeps up on you. You have to bury your face in the crook of your arm to have some semblance of sanity to cling to. And when you unravel soon after, it’s his name on your lips.

…

The first snow of the season is late.

You have been trying to avoid thinking about it solely on account of the superstition that mulling it over will only delay it further, but those attempts are futile. Because when you tell yourself to not think about it, you only end up thinking about it more, then you devolve into a sick cycle of reasoning with yourself and the moon and any deity out there who will give you the time of day.

While you could set your pride aside for the sake of what it is you’re waiting on exactly, that is simply not in your nature. Additionally, you want to see whether Mingi will uphold his end of the bargain. He promised to come at the first snow. So you will wait for that day.

Your gardens are thriving thanks to the lack of snow and the amplified support of your fully-charged magick, which is the only positive you can find in this situation while you essentially sit on your hands and wait. The downside is, however, that the temperatures are still steadily declining, and you always struggle in the winter to keep your home warm enough. Your specialty may be in water magick, but that does not mean you have any control or power over the temperature of said water, and everything around you tends to skew a bit cooler as it is. The thought of how cold you are and your house is and everything in between only pushes your thoughts more towards the lack of warmth and a potential source of it that will not come unless the fucking snow does first.

If you have to put up with seeing Mingi’s smiling face across the street while you’re pestering Seonghwa one more time then you may truly snap and lose all semblance of self-respect.

…

You’re knelt in a bed of rosemary when the first flakes of snow start to hit your skin. At first, you think it to be just rain but then a flurry touches one of the purple blossoms on the herb. The shout you let out is a terrifying mixture of joy and exasperation because at long last, your agonizing wait can finally come to a close. The way you scramble to pull yourself out of the dirt and rush indoors ought to be more embarrassing. It takes you all of five minutes to change out of your grimy gardening clothes and into something cozier and cleaner, though all you do is park yourself at the kitchen table with a mug of hot tea and stare out the window waiting for any sign of movement on the hill. The snow is coming down harder already, a billowing cloud of white that cloaks the dirt and grass on the ground. It doesn’t even occur to you to think that Mingi might not come at all, that he might have forgotten or worse — simply not chosen to come at all — because your patience has worn so thin over the past weeks that you feel relief just seeing the snow.

And luckily for you, Mingi is far more timely and true to his word than he was before. You neglected to keep track of the time, though you haven’t finished your tea yet by the time his lanky figure comes over the crest of the hill. You know it to be him instantly because his fiery hair is visible through the white all around him.

You’re at the door before you can think twice, flinging it open and making your way down the path to the gate as though you aren’t in the biggest rush of your life. Behind him, there’s a trail of footsteps where the snow has melted under his feet, and the closer he gets, the better you can see how not even a single snowflake sticks to him in any way. Every flake that touches even the outside of his cloak simply melts upon contact, leaving him pristine in the sea of white falling around you.

“Did you wait long?” he asks upon reaching your gate. Somehow he manages to maintain a lilting tone that makes your brain itch. You want to kiss him so silly that all that smugness dissipates like the snow on his skin. “Y/n.” The breathy exhale of your name is all it takes for you to grab him by the collar and yank him down to your level. The warmth is so blessedly welcome. “Have you made your decision?”

You slot your lips against his, licking at the seam of his lips without waiting for further invitation. He scrambles with the latch on the gate, though you’re of no help at all with how you’re trying to pull him over it, but once that pesky barrier is pushed open just a little bit, he slides through the gap and seals his body against yours. Even though the cold doesn’t seem to be affecting him much, his breathing still comes out in pants, like he sprinted the whole way here from town without rest. He clasps his hands around the back of your neck, thumbs caressing the underside of your jaw, and each kiss he plants on your lips is more searing than the last. It takes all you have to not trip over backward on your feet with him guiding you back towards the door of your home. The two of you don’t even make it through the door before he’s pushing you up against the doorframe and slotting a knee between your thighs.

“Please, y/n, let me hear it from these pretty lips,” he begs. Your whole body is alight with something — either magick or lust or something in between those things that you can’t distinguish at present. The heat radiating off his body makes your head spin, and it’s such an intoxicating sensation that you reach your hands beneath the fabric of his cloak to be closer to skin.

“I trust you, I need you, I want you to have me,” you murmur back. Mingi pushes his lower lip out with the tip of his tongue. His gaze carries the same heat you’ve grown used to seeing all the time when you look at his eyes. Now, the weight of it feels heavier. Your breath hitches in your throat as he wraps an arm around your back, and his fingers dig into your side briefly. You’re pulled away from the doorframe and into the house only for him to slam the door shut and lock the snow out. What you aren’t expecting is to be flattened to the surface face first mere seconds later.

“I want to have you right here and now,” Mingi growls behind you. Every brush of his hands over your body leaves goosebumps in their wake along with the heat of his magick seeping into your skin. He takes apart your bodice carefully, pulling each string with a startling amount of care compared to his desperate rush to have you. A sort of fever takes hold of you, and with each piece of clothing he removes from your being, the more the fire in your belly roars. Glancing down, you see your clothes fallen into a heap on the floor, along with his cloak, then his coat, his shirt — each piece of fabric goes to join the pile until you feel bare skin against yours. The bliss of the contact is so immense that you let out a pitiful moan.

“Mingi.”

“Raise your arms over your head for me, y/n.”

“Mingi,” you utter again, following the instruction without a breath of hesitation. He takes both of your wrists between just one of his hands and pins them to the flat surface of the door. Your chest trembles under your breaths.

“I will not be rough with you unless you allow it. How I take you is up to you… whether it be me taking you apart gently or fucking you hot and raw right here and now.” You can’t take the sensation of his breathing down your neck without squirming. No matter how hard you squeeze your thighs together, there’s no relief for the pulsing need for pressure there. The moment Mingi catches onto your attempts, he wedges his knee between your legs and leaves you to rock back on his muscled thigh for some sort of escape.

“Please.” It’s as though there’s cotton in your mouth keeping you from fully forming any kind of sentence because although your thoughts are running at a mile per minute, you cannot seem to get more than one word out at a time. Mingi nudges you forward into the door once again. He replaces the pressure of his thigh with his unoccupied hand, cupping your cunt and dragging his middle finger along the slit of your folds.

“You’re coming undone already, my little witch.” Mingi suddenly flicks his finger forward over your clit, and your knees buckle. Your reaction delights him so much that he repeats the action two more times, and your body truly becomes putty in his hands. He keeps you up between the hand holding your wrists to the door and the one cupped around your sex, but you aren’t sure your muscles could keep you up on their own without the help. Especially not when Mingi gets more daring and pulls a second finger into the mix to tease the ring of your entrance with small, methodical circles.

“Put them in me, put your fingers in!” you cry out only for Mingi to roll over your clit once again. His cock is twitching against your ass, firm and big, and part of you wants to forget everything else solely to have him in your mouth and down your throat.

“Is that how good girls ask for things?” He pinches your clit between his fingers until you’re whimpering out an apology and smearing drool across the door. “Ask again. Nicely this time, sweetheart.”

“Please f-fuck me with your fingers, please open me up for you, I w-want to feel you so badly.” Nonsensical babbling is enough for him, blessedly, because you’re not confident that anything more coherent than that could make its way out of you right now. He rolls the pads of his fingers up against your clit again before going any lower. His laugh is borderline sadistic when you curl your fingers into the wood, nails clawing for some sort of grip that will help you ground yourself. “Wanna come so—!”

“That’s it, come for me, lovely. Then I’ll fuck you nice and loose on my fingers while you’re coming.” Mingi retracts his fingers right when your gut clenches, and as your walls squeeze tight around nothing, he slips two digits into your cunt. Your lips part in a silent scream, moans caught in the back of your throat. Your vision goes white behind your eyelids though it lasts so much longer than what you’re used to getting from your own hand and toys. Perhaps it’s because Mingi doesn’t let up on you even in the throes of your orgasm, or thanks to your magickal energies intertwining in the most raw and intimate way imaginable. “Let me open you up some more first, then I’ll give you what you want.”

You blink your eyes open and look at Mingi out your peripherals, mouth wide open and cheek still pressed harshly into the door even though you’re the one keeping it there.

“Do you want it too?” you ask out of the blue. Your voice is tight and strained. His fingers curl inside you.

“So badly,” comes his quick reply, “that it’s taking everything in me not to put my dick in you right now. But I don’t want to hurt you.” As though to emphasize his feelings, Mingi rolls his hips forward, and his cock rubs hard against your ass. “Doesn’t even look like it’s gonna fit in you, fuck.”

“Mingi, I need you in me now, like right this instant now, not in five minutes now.” The first orgasm has your vision hazy and legs wobbly, but that’s far from a concern to you at the moment. Your urgency pushes the man behind you to have the same sort of franticness, hurriedly slipping his fingers free of your cunt and readjusting his hold so that he can grip the base of his dick. You hold perfectly still for him as he lines himself up with your waiting hole that’s already sopping with arousal. Your pussy takes him in like it’s greedy for it, each inch sliding in and spreading you wider to accommodate to his size. One thing’s for certain: Mingi has a stupidly big dick, so big that it makes you wonder if you’d be able to feel it through your stomach if you put a hand there.

Whatever shreds of patience he had left in him turn to ash the second he’s fully buried balls-deep in you. He doesn’t wait even a second before he pulls out about halfway, and the only stutter in his rhythm comes from him trying to find it. You’re suddenly rather glad that he’s keeping your hands up for you because the drive of his cock inside your pussy would bring you to your knees otherwise. The sounds of pleasure fill your ears — his low baritone moans tangled alongside your more throaty ones that crack here and there, the slap of his hips hitting your ass, and the thumping of the door as he fucks you so hard against it that it trembles.

“Y-You’re so deep, I feel you in my stomach,” you choke out between moans. It devolves into a sob as Mingi shifts his angle upwards a bit and hits a new spot deep inside you that has you seeing stars.

“Yeah? Your pussy is clinging to me nice and tight, lovely, I think you like it a little too much.” He has enough composure to still speak without crying, meanwhile, tears are starting to pool at the corners of your eyes as the overstimulation of your senses and nerves reaches unimaginable heights. “Bet your pretty little toy isn’t even half as big as me.”

Mingi thrusts so hard into you that his grip on your wrists falters, and one of your hands falls free. He doesn’t bother correcting it, nor do you try to keep it up any longer, instead rushing to get your fingers around your clit again. You’re so hyperfocused on chasing the high of another orgasm that you don’t warn him it’s about to hit you this time. He knows well enough when your body seizes for a moment before releasing every bit of tension in your muscles. Your walls flex around his cock, working him in time with the waves of your euphoria, until he can’t take it anymore and pulls free of your hole. He rests his length atop the cleft of your ass and thrusts a few more times there, then comes his release. Hot ropes of come shoot out from his cock, painting your naked back into a messy canvas of come and sweat.

Despite the sudden quiet filling the house, your hearing is hypervigilant and clings to every slight noise that comes from your partner, from his fight to get air into his lungs to the hand he now rubs over his spent cock.

“You…” Your throat is too dry and you end up coughing instead of getting a sentence out. Mingi’s fingers trace small, unknown patterns into your hip. “You’re welcome to stay through winter. That’s my answer.”

“Through winter?” Mingi hums. He slips his hand around your waist and flattens his large palm over your abdomen. “What about spring?”

“Then too.”

“And summer?” He’s teasing you again. Somehow he still has the energy to do that.

“And summer and autumn then winter again. But maybe by the spring after that, I’ll be sick of you!”

“You won’t be,” he says through a laugh, lips brushing against the side of your head. You’re going to need better retorts if he plans on sticking around that long.

────────────

please like & reblog this work and consider leaving a reply or sharing your thoughts in a reblog or ask!

this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez fanfic #ateez ff #ateez fic #mingi fanfic #mingi fic #mingi ff #ateez imagine #mingi imagine #caly.writes #winter fic fest 2023 #fic; and it's snowing #fic; sweet juice

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sadprose-auroras · 7 months

Text

Distraction – Hazel Callahan x reader

Hey, loves! Thank you everyone for all of the love for On Top, I appreciate it so much!! I’m happy to take requests, just send me an ask <3

Content: violence, cursing, kissing.

Summary: Have you ever wanted to be PJ in this scene? Me too! So, I rewrote the final scene as a self-insert. Most dialogue is from the movie.

Please let me know what you think! Word Count: 2.2k

“Oh, now you want a bomb.”

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

Holding your breath, you watched Hazel set up the bomb on the tree across the field. You could only cross your fingers that it would work properly; the last time did not go as expected.

“Hazel, it’s starting!” Annie shouts, as the football team begins to make their way onto the field. Panic setting in, you briefly consider running over to help her out. Suddenly, she’s sprinting over to the group, diving to take cover. You all bow your heads down, grabbing onto whoever is closest, holding your breath. You try not to think about Hazel’s head buried in your shoulder. Now is not the time. After a few moments, you all collectively raise your heads. It didn’t go off.

Everyone begins to talk over each other as Hazel starts fiddling with the remote.

“Maybe turn it on and then back off?”

“Why isn’t it working?”

“Did you set it to 15 minutes this time?”

You remain silent, eyes darting around trying to think of another solution.

“Okay, Plan B!” you say suddenly standing up. “We need to get the cheerleaders to make out with each other!” You begin to stalk over to the cheerleaders performing for the crowd, most of your friends following you. You briefly turn around to notice Josie crouched down looking at something and frown but decide to continue on your mission. You know how much this school fetishizes queer women. This has to work.

You all begin yelling, making cruse gestures.

“Guys, kiss each other!”

“Make out with each other!” Hazel shouts from the stands. Even your best friend saying the words ‘make out’ makes your knees weak. Despite the adrenaline of the situation, you still feel it. You feel every effect she has on you, always. The too-enthusiastic announcer comes over the loudspeaker, so loud it shakes the ground.

“HIDE YOUR CHILDREN, HERE COMES HUNTINGTON!”

Oh shit.

The yellow-clad team begins their entrance, and the crowd goes absolutely wild. The sense of dread that was gnawing at your stomach begins to grow. You have to do something. Now.

PJ nudges your side, giving you a knowing look. You furrow your brows. You were close, but you couldn’t read your friend’s mind.

“Go kiss her,” she says impatiently.

“Who?” you ask, your heart rate picking up.

“Oh my god, just do it! People will watch, trust me. Go, go!” You swallow heavily, your gaze meeting Hazel’s. Somehow, she understands exactly what your panicked, questioning eyes are asking. She gives the slightest nod. Blood rushing to your ears with nerves, you gather all the courage you have to walk over to her, pushing past some people in the crowd. You don’t look away from each other for a second.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” she says, a smile ghosting her lips. You slot your lips together gently, hands finding the sides of her face, hers settling on your waist. The feeling makes your head spin. It takes a few moments for you to find a rhythm, awkwardly bumping noses and hitting teeth a couple of times. Once you do though, desire spreads from the pit of your stomach to your entire body. You had no idea kissing could feel this good.

You’re vaguely aware of people shouting, “look!” clapping and looking at the two of you. Which is what you wanted, of course. It’s the only reason you were doing this in the first place… right? And yet, you didn’t care. About saving the football players, about being a distraction, about anything else. It truly felt like time was suspended and you were the only two people in the world.

As the kiss deepened, you moved closer, bodies pressing against one another. You can feel the coolness of Hazel’s rings on your skin as she thumbs at your hips, your shirt riding up. Just as you were thinking that you could do this forever, an announcement over the loudspeaker brought you back to reality.

“CAN EVERYBODY STOP LOOKING AT THE DYKE PARADE? WHO DO I HAVE TO BLOW TO GET THIS GAME STARTED ALREADY?”

You pull apart quickly, in sync as always, as Hazel’s big blue eyes bore into yours. You touch your lips, which are still tingling, as she rubs the back of her neck which she always does when she feels nervous.

You both rush down to rejoin the others, as they were all frantic about what you were going to do now.

“You guys kissed! With tongue!” Sylvie says, apparently very excited about it. You make eye contact with Hazel as she smirks, your stomach doing a little flip, before looking away.

“Yeah, and we could do it again, if necessary, I mean-if we need another distraction, y’know like I really feel like it worked…” Hazel trails off.

“It certainly worked for me,” you murmur, before you can think about what you’re saying.

“What?” Hazel asks. You open your mouth as if to answer, absolutely mortified, when Josie runs up to you all in a panic. You weirdly find yourself grateful for the distraction, albeit news of the life-threatening situation.

“Look, I found empty barrels of pineapple juice, they’re going to poison Jeff! Where the fuck could it be?” she says frantically, eyes wide. You all look at each other, realisation setting in.

“What if it’s in their mouths, and they’re going to swish it around, and then spit it out midgame?” PJ asks, and you bite back a laugh. You loved her, but sometimes she made no sense.

“I don’t think-“ you begin to say, when Hazel speaks up.

“I hate to say it, but it might have something to do with their semen,” she says, sounding genuinely concerned.

“No, it wouldn’t, what is wrong with you?” you ask, baffled but amused. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Annie moving away from the group, looking out onto the field. You follow her gaze, realisation settling in at the same time.

“They’re gonna spray the field, we’re gonna have to run!” Annie shouts. You take off after her, muttering “oh god, oh shit, fuck fuck fuck, I have a stitch,” under your breath.

“It’s okay, we’ve got this,” Hazel says, voice surprisingly even despite how fast you were all running. You turn your head briefly to smile gratefully at her.

“Yeah, we do.”

“PJ, cover the sprinklers!” Josie yells, picking up Jeff, quite literally hoisting him over her shoulder and starting to run off the field. You were impressed at her strength. As if in slow motion, Huntington began moving towards you in formation. You took a deep breath, turning around to look at your group of friends. Isabel, Brittany and Stella Rebecca appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and you smiled to yourself. Huntington let out a scream in unison, and you all responded by doing the same. It was cathartic, quite frankly.

The next few moments were a blur. As the two groups came together, people paired off to fight each other. One particularly large football player came at you with his arms outstretched as if to push you over, but you dodged out of the way, then swung your elbow at the back of his head with a satisfying crack. He stumbles, coming at you with a raised fist, but he’s too slow. You duck as he misses, then, with all of your strength, you kick out your leg at his knees, knocking him over, hitting his head hard on the ground in the process.

You take the opportunity to glance around and notice that you’re actually winning. There are several Huntington players sprawled on the ground, unconscious, while all of your friends remained upright. (Albeit, covered in blood, but you were trying to be positive)

You scan to look for Hazel, and notice her holding a football helmet over her head, swinging it down on a Huntington player who is choking Tim. The guy rolls off him, and Tim coughs and stands up. You want to rush over to her, grab her, hold her, ask if she’s okay, protect her, before you’re suddenly tackled roughly to the ground by somebody behind you. You scream, try and scramble out of his grip, using your knees and legs to kick out, arms pushing at him, but nothing. He brings his fist down in the centre of your face, and you cry out. The pain is like nothing you’ve experienced. You lock eyes, and the wildness in the man’s eyes makes your heart sink. He wasn’t going to stop for anything.

Just as your life begins to flash behind your eyes, you hear Hazel yell your name, and she brings down the helmet with force on his head. You push him off you, as he lays there unconscious. You look up to Hazel in shock, panting heavily. Her eye is swollen red, blood splattered on her shirt, her hair is mused, and the stadium light just behind her head is casting a glow around her not dissimilar to a halo.

“Are you okay?” she asks, stretching her arm out to help you up. You take it, standing up with a grunt.

“I-yeah- th-thank you.” You notice you’re still holding hands, and drop it, both of you chuckling awkwardly. The brief respite from the dreaded feeling doesn’t last long when you notice a player twice Hazel’s size coming up behind her menacingly.

“Watch out!” You scream, grabbing her shoulders and moving her to the side as she stumbles slightly. Mustering everything you have, you roundhouse kick him with a yell of effort, aiming for his head but getting him in the neck instead. It doesn’t matter though, as he falls to the ground with a thud. Hazel comes up and punches him square in the face, leaving him unconscious.

“Thank you,” she says between heavy breaths, holding onto her fist in pain. You try not to think about how attractive her hands are covered in cuts and bruises.

“Don’t mention it,” you respond, wiping some blood that is dripping out of your nose. You look around, and can’t see any Huntington players left, instead your friends moving around the bodies on the ground, blood covering their clothes and faces.

“Did we do it?” you vaguely ask. Before anyone can answer you, you notice one last player coming up behind PJ who is on her knees on the ground.

“PJ, look out!” you all shout in unison as he moves towards her. Suddenly, he is knocked heavily onto the ground. Josie had come up behind him, swinging a baseball bat. For a few moments, nobody moves. Nobody speaks. You all look at each other, taking in each other’s appearances. You lock eyes with Hazel, breath catching in your throat. The entire crowd is completely still, mouths hanging open. A hissing sound begins, and the sprinklers begin spraying a liquid over the field.

The first person to speak is Tim.

“It’s pineapple juice! Turn it off!” he yells. With a squeak, they stop. Slowly, the crowd begins to clap, increasingly getting louder and louder. Soon, the cheering is deafening.

“Yes, this is the viking way!” Tim yells. You finally allow yourself to let out a breath. The group begins to celebrate, hugging each other. You give PJ a big hug, pulling away to notice Josie and Isabel kissing in the middle of everything. You look at each other and laugh in disbelief.

“Love that for them,” she says, and you nod. PJ moves away to hug somebody else, when you make eye contact with Hazel. You both glance over to Josie and Isabel, then back to each other. She smiled shyly, and your cheeks burn as you look down, unable to help from giggling to yourself. You walk over to Hazel, and you wrap your arms around each other. You let out a shaky breath, holding onto her tightly. When you pull away from each other, you’re not sure what to say.

“I-uh-“ you begin, then chuckle awkwardly.

“I meant it when I said we could kiss again,” she says, her hands in her pockets as she shuffles back and forth on her feet, looking up at you beneath her lashes. Your heart quite literally skips a beat.

In response, you move closer to her yet again, tilting her head up with your fingers on her chin.

“Is this going to ruin the friendship?” you ask quietly. Hazel barely gets her next words out before your lips meet.

“I don’t care.”

Your eyes flutter closed, exhaling through your nose as your lips move together in sync. This time, you know exactly how to kiss one another. You briefly wonder how many girls Hazel had kissed to be this good at it.

“Oh my god,” you murmur against her lips, giving her one last soft kiss.

“I know,” Hazel says, smiling in the way that she does that makes your insides twist in the best way possible.

“Um, so, I have a really important question,” you say cheekily, twirling a piece of Hazel’s hair in your finger.

“Yeah?” she asks, frowning.

“Why the fuck do you know how to build a bomb?” Hazel immediately laughs. As if right on cue, you hear a boom. You whip your head around, gasping to see the tree on fire.

“I still think we were a better distraction,” Hazel murmurs, not answering your question, before she leaves a soft kiss on your neck. You sigh, eyes fluttering at the feeling.

#bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan imagine #bottoms fanfic

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oozedninjas · 5 months

Text

Ghost Bridal

Summary: Rumor has it that the mystical jungle spirit will only resurface if a sacrifice is presented. However, Leo is taken aback. A sacrifice bridal wasn't something he would've expected from the people he vowed to protect. But with his mind clouded by the heat of his mating season, he resolves to accept you as oblation.

WARNINGS: NSFW/ 18+ / MDNI/10 years after the 2007 movie, so Leo 27-29/use of the word slut once/light dirty talk/mention of sexual toys/dry humping /oral (fem receiving) /Xenobiology (knot mentions)/somnophilia (if you read between the lines, squinting) / penetrative sex/chafing, bleeding and bruising/ aftercare/mating cycles/ The reader is referred to with she/her pronouns and possesses female anatomy/ Leo being the best boy despite the situation :')

Word count: 4,522

A/N: I now have an Ao3 account! This, along with other pieces, will be there by tomorrow!

—-------

"Quick, it's about to start!" Mikey exclaimed, gesturing with his arm, urging them closer.

Donatello arrived first, arranging the cushions on the couch for Splinter. Just as he finished, Leo assisted him in sitting down, and Raphael placed a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

"I'm glad my sons make time to watch dramas with their father," Splinter commented.

Observing them all seated, his expression softened. Despite their age, they would always be his boys.

"We'll always have time for you, Dad," Mikey returned the smile.

The drama began. Donnie dimmed the lights with a small wrist device. The room fell quiet, illuminated only by the old television. Leo leaned his back on the sofa with a gentle expression before an itch of incompleteness stinged him again, rough, and stomach-twisting.

“There she is,” Splinter voiced, “I bet she will confess her love for Ma-”

The channel changed. On the screen, the afternoon news.

"Michelangelo!"

Mikey jumped, searching for the remote long lost between the cushions on his side of the couch. Leo got up to help, removing the pillows while vaguely listening to the fast-paced voice of the reporter.

"The inhabitants are desperately sending smoke signals and performing spiritual rituals to summon back the ghost of the jungle, a vigilante spirit who guarded the village ten years ago."

Leo's eyes snapped back to the screen.

"The situation is unsustainable. The factory is damaging the ecosystem. Losing it would signify the beginning of a collapse for humanity," said a doctor with exasperation. He pulled the mic from the news reporter as he approached the camera.

"If somehow you're listening, please come back. The jungle needs you. We need-"

The channel changed back to the drama.

"Found it," Mickey said, waving the remote.

No one cared anymore. Every pair of eyes was fixated upon Leo, whose heart pounded within his chest, echoing throughout his shell.

"You must go," said Splinter.

He tensed, sensing Raph’s gaze over him.

"We must go,” he said, turning to his brothers. “All of us."

Donatello sighed. "I'm allergic to mosquito bites."

Mikey grimaced. "Since when?"

"Since now."

Raphael gave Leo a barely noticeable melancholic smile.

"We aren’t kids anymore. It ain't the end of the world if ya gotta disappear for a bit," he said teasingly.

"Oh, I get it. It's a solo trip," Mikey said, lowering his gaze.

"I won't be far for too long," Leo remarked as if it were a promise.

Donatello scoffed. "We'll survive without you for quite a while. Don't rush to commitment. We know."

At that moment, all he could offer Donnie was a smile. However, as Leo descended from the cargo ship and stepped into the border of the jungle, he finally understood what his brother meant. Taking a deep breath of the fresh, humid air of the greenery, his gaze danced along the flora surrounding him. This was it—the missing piece: nature. The sensation of embracing a certain aspect of himself that could not find fulfillment in the heart of a bustling city.

— – -

It took Leo no more than two months to gradually dismantle the construction site. An appearance here, a couple of blows there, a few noises at night, and a town full of people who convinced the businessmen responsible for the project that the jungle ghost was as tangible as the machinery stripping the trees. And that was it. He could go back after completing the mission.

However, akin to the first time, he stayed. This time not out of fear of not meeting his father’s expectations, but because adulthood had taught him it was okay to take breaks. It was okay for him not to be a leader, an elder brother, or a ninja all the time. It was more than okay to just be Leo.

After another couple of months, plants had claimed the machinery's remains. Some metal pieces still exposed to the sun sparkled, giving it an almost magical touch. The town's inhabitants built a statue resembling an anthropomorphic monk. It wasn't exactly cute, but Leo supposed it was better than revealing his true identity.

Living in the wild brought a new adventure every second, and Leo couldn't stay still. During the day, he collected food and brought it to his old underground hideout, a sort of cenote reflecting sunlight by day and stars at night, with enough space to exist in peace.

With the moon as his guide, he took care of various issues entrusted to him by the community. More than anything, moving heavy objects or patrolling certain areas. Given that most people were elderly, it was understandable.

Feeling free was satisfying. It was nice having a personal sense of purpose, liberated from the weight of carrying a team, and away from the possible repercussions of his decisions. There were no external pressures, no responsibilities beyond those self-imposed, and although there were nights when he missed his brothers, video calls were more than enough, as Donnie had gifted him a high-tech device before he left. Things were far better than alright… until winter wore off.

On the first morning of spring, Leo awoke to a familiar heat rising in his lower belly, prompting a strong urge to relieve the discomfort. He groaned. It only worsened with time. Regardless of the hour of day, he found himself suddenly lost in thoughts about his sexual toys, and all the ways he could be using them. The more he tried to distract himself, the more the memory of the relief they provided infiltrated his every waking moment.

Leo hummed, pressing a hand down his plastron, over the area that ached the most. It was beginning to get pretty sensitive. Bad sign.

Perhaps the villagers wouldn't be alarmed if he missed work for just one night, but as the next night came, and the next, and the next, things showed no sign of improvement. Leo began to feel more than just anxious. To make matters worse, at this point, not even fucking his fist was enough. It helped get his mind clear for the day, but the underskin burning never quite faded.

Leo turned over his leaf-makeshift bed, which now seemed ten times more unpleasant, and tried in vain to suppress the urge to go out and figure out how to make it more comfortable for himself and his ma– Leo snorted at the thought. It was horrible to endure instincts conflicting with rational thought. There had never been such a thing as a 'mate' in his life. A couple of partners, sure, but nothing close to someone who saw him like this. The mere thought of being unable to hold back or keep composure twisted his stomach.

“Fuck—” he sighed under his breath.

His hand closed around his shaft, gripping it deliciously as he moved it fast-paced. Small whimpers fell from his lips, heat spreading through his body. The peak of the season was the worst part of it.

His head fell back as he hissed, hooded eyes locked in the sky as he chased his release. His voice rose more than he'd like as he came loud and long, spilling hot loads all over his plastron.

Leo coughed before catching his breath. He cleansed himself with a rag dampened in cold water, the sensation leaving him slightly dizzy. Every inch of his body ached. As he focused on the soothing coolness, a faint sound of footsteps reached him. He sharpened his hearing; an agitated breath came with it. Someone dared to trespass into his territory.

The mere thought sent anger coursing through his veins, propelling him hastily toward the origin of the sound. He landed with a resounding thud, causing the scattered branches on the ground to snap beneath his weight. The intruder staggered backward. His katana reached their throat, halting mere inches before the tender flesh.

As the moonlight cast its glow, clarity washed over his vision: a woman, draped in an ethereal white fabric, lay sprawled on the ground. The wind carried her scent to his nose, and he instinctively covered his snout with his forearm before retreating, concealing himself behind a sturdy tree. His pupils dilated, taking her in.

"What are you doing here?" Leo rasped.

— – -

You gasped a couple of times before digesting that what you just saw was not human.

It’s okay, you said to yourself, It’s him. It's the same voice, steady, gravelly, and with a hint of sparkle. He who had rescued you so many years ago. He, who took care of everyone in the village. He, to whom the elders held respect and affection. Once you caught your breath, you began to recite long-memorized lines.

"Mighty spirit of the wild, protector of the jungle, I— I have been sent as an oblation for you to do as you please. If that brings you back to our aid."

Leo scoffed, disbelief evident in his expression. "They forced you here?" Anger was palpable in his voice. Perhaps he had been protecting the wrong kind of people.

"No!" you quickly clarified. "I offered myself.”

Your scent was intoxicating: sweet with a hint of spice. He focused on breathing through his mouth.

“Why?”

You gave one step closer, cautiously. “Consider it a payback. For your help to everyone in the village.”

"Payback?" he sneered. “I came back of my own free will. You owe me nothing.”

The urge to approach and tap your cheeks was gnawing at him. Fuck, he hated not to be in his freaking right mind. Hold it, Leo chanted in his mind. Hold it just for one more minute.

"I still want to lend you a hand,” you mumbled. “I- I have worked customer service, so I understand that taking care of other's needs constantly drains energy. I just thought you might want an extra hand."

Why was your voice suddenly so alluring? He huffed, exhausted.

"You offered yourself as a sacrifice bridal because you think I'm burnt out?"

You could hear a certain tension in his voice, stitched with a hint of sass—although, he seemed to be speaking through gritted teeth. Was he in pain?

His tone was harsher than he intended, perhaps due to the embarrassment of enduring his heat in the worst possible way. The branches and dirt cracked under your weight as you approached. Leo tensed, gripping his katana tightly.

“I know I may not have all my screws in place, but I wanted to return the favor for all the times you’ve saved us, that’s all. Help around in any way you see fit, whether it's assisting with chores you're too tired to do or whatever else you wish."

Your voice was as soft as a velvety touch wrapping around him, sensually caressing him like the finest silky fabric. It sent a shiver down his spine. He swallowed a gasp when you reached his side. His heart rate surged, echoing through every blood vessel. Leo moved back, the sharp katana once again mere inches away from your face, yet this time, trembling like he wasn't strong enough to hold it.

You raised your hands, palms showing. "But it's up to you. I really don't want to disturb you further."

You observed him wrestling with inner turmoil, his face taut, burdened by indecision.

"You don’t understand what you’d be getting into." His gaze matched the depth of his voice.

"Tell me."

Leo exhaled heavily, whispering, "I'm burning."

He sounded like he was dying.

“Are you sick?”

You took a step closer, and his face became much clearer.

He let out a sort of sardonic laugh. “No.”

Then you saw it: desire blazing bright in his eyes. You took a deep breath, considering. He remained as still as if he was another three in the green landscape. It hit you right there.

"Spring is when the reproductive cycle of life forms begins, isn't it?" you were searching for toned-down words so as not to make him uncomfortable. “That's what's happening to you," you stated, half matter-of-factly, half realizing it.

"Then you understand what it would mean to stay and help me," he said. "So leave. Run back, I'll guard your flank."

You stood your ground, despite your shaky legs. “I'll help.”

“What?” he gasped in disbelief.

“I won't go back as a failure, and I won't let you suffer when you've broken your back to keep us safe. I will help you.” you stated. The resolution in your voice made him shiver.

"You don’t get it," he said, feeling every ounce of self-control slowly dropping off his body.

Shit, he wanted to just accept. Why was he even holding back? Bet you were such a slut, bet you were thinking how would it feel to have your pretty cunt so fucking stretched by his knot.

“I do. You need reli-��

"No, you don't," he snapped. The blue mask framed the gravity of his expression. "When I start, I won’t stop. Not even if you beg, not even if you cry. Is that clear?"

You swallowed hard, your voice carrying a slight tremor as you responded, "Yeah."

"For as long as it lasts, I won't let you leave. You might get hurt... do you understand?"

"Yes," you muttered, finally mustering the courage to slowly push the sword out of the way. He allowed it, his eyes guarded.

You aimed closer, taking one steady step after the other. Your hand reached out until the tips of your fingers finally grazed his plastron. You slid them until the full palm pressed against it. He shivered under your touch, a faint sound escaping his lips. A moan?

There was a different glow in his eyes when he settled them back on you. They shone like he was seeing something beyond. His hand closed around your wrist, pulling you. Your chest crashed against his front, knocking the air out of you. Another mutant hand gripped you tight on the opposite side. His face landed on the crook of your neck. He growled as he took a deep breath before letting out a sigh. You held your breath.

Leo stopped, his agitated breathing inches away from your ear. Raspy, desperate, needy.

"Wait here. I'll come back for you in an hour," he instructed, reluctantly breaking the embrace to hold your face. You moved with him as he seemed to rock you. His forehead was inches away from yours. "This is your chance to flee."

He let go, and as if he were indeed a ghost, he vanished into the shadows of the night.

—--------

You waited until the thin clouds finished traveling the night sky, clearing it entirely, allowing the stars to shine. For a moment, doubt crept in, making you wonder if he would return.

"You stayed," he muttered in disbelief.

You snapped back, scanning for the source of his voice. He landed before you, a smoother descent this time. His demeanor underwent a subtle change, softer and tinted with a hint of nervousness.

"Follow me," he instructed.

You stood up, shook the dirt off the white cloth covering you, and trailed behind him through the vines and bushes. With his sword, Leo skillfully cut through some overly dense branches, making a path for you.

"Where are we going, ghost?"

"To a secluded place," he said. After a brief pause, he added, "My name is Leonardo."

You snorted. He halted, casting a quizzical look over his shoulder.

"Sorry, I was expecting something less... ordinary," you chuckled. "It's a beautiful name; a bit too formal, tho. Can I call you Leo?"

He smirked, resuming his pace. You were easy to talk to, a quality he found comforting. "Sure. So, what's yours?"

You shared your name, and he said it back. “Pretty.”

His voice, along with the praise, made your belly tingle.

He took you to a kind of cenote a couple of meters below. The surroundings stole your breath. Various shades of green foliage reclined on moss, bathed in the glow of a mellow fire dancing near the shore. The light cast the reflection of the water swells upon the walls of earth and rock.

Beyond the flames of the campfire, there was a makeshift… nest? —more resembling leaves intertwined over the mushy moss— stacked beneath a rock bowl. The scent of flowers lingered heavily. There would likely be more than a couple on the seemingly soft pile. It looked like he had been living there for a while.

The feeling of his hands on your sides jolted you. You turned. He was looking down at you, his gaze intense, silently conveying a question, hungered for answers. His teeth clamped together, still in pain, it seemed. You placed your hand over his.

"It's okay. I'm not afraid."

"No?"

Leo cupped your cheek, his fingers gently tapping. It seemed like something he couldn't suppress any longer. In an attempt to reciprocate, you did the same to him, using both hands.

“No.”

It must have struck a nerve because he yanked you from the spot where you stood, practically tossing you into the heap of leaves. He landed above you, a hand behind your head. It was so sudden that it made you dizzy. You clung to the edge of his plastron as he pressed you against it.

Leo caught your mouth. His kiss was deep, fervent, demanding, exuding an almost fuel-ignited heat. His tongue interlaced with yours, and he moaned when you kept up with him.

You gasped for air when he let go. A pang of bolt-like tickles sprouted and spread from your belly through your veins, and they reverberated through every place he explored with open, calloused palms. He dragged his hand across your side, all three fingers groping your breasts ravenously, pinching your nipples above the fabric. You gasped.

Leo carried his kisses to your neck, nibbling at it right over your pulse line, sucking the soft flesh hard enough to make you yelp. That would leave a mark. He grinned over the bruise before finding another spot near it to make another.

You felt his grip over your thighs as one of his hands had somehow found out how to go past that ridiculously long bride-like dress. You embraced him with your legs, pulling him close to your core and arching your back as if you were in heat alike upon feeling his front so tight against your cunt.

He humped over your clothed slit, pushing your legs wider to accommodate himself, after which he thrust again, this time letting out an earnest groan right into your ear. His hot breath against your skin gave you goosebumps.

You whimpered, seeking a place to anchor yourself. Slipping a hand through the top of his shell, you secured yourself to his broad shoulders as he kept grinding on you frantically.

You spread your legs wider in an attempt to feel the friction better. The lower part of his plastron was soaked, and the slimy moisture seeped through your clothing smoothly. It felt so good that you started clenching and unclenching to increase the sensation.

His voice quivered as a hot liquid damped you down, sticking to the clothes. You remained there, fixed as he caught his breath. Leo got up on his knees. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. You could then notice every perfectly formed muscle on his body. Below his belly, his cock was glistening with the slick of the previous cum. His size was not as intimidating as the knot at the base, swollen and somewhat red. He looked almost immaculate.

Leo removed the blue bandana in one swift movement, and in the next, he ripped off the ruined dress off your body. He panted, gaze lusting over your nakedness. His predatory gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

"Such a pretty little cunt," he said with a half-grin on his face. "Not wide enough to fit me, tho. Gotta fix that first."

He pushed your labia open with raspy thumbs before leaning down. You breathed in sharply upon sensing his snout so close. Leo licked a stripe over your slit, steady and soft. You gaped, holding his head with trembling fingers. His tongue was thick, mushy-like. You moaned when he circled it over your clit, before sucking on it. Your hips snapped up, offering as much of yourself as he was willing to take.

Leo lingered there, feasting on your puffy nub. You closed your eyes, head falling back. Soft whimpers and sighs echoed through the place as you squirmed between his arms.

He slid back to your entrance and pushed in, moaning at the taste. After a couple of testing thrusts, he began fucking you with his tongue: sleek, hot, and skilled in a way you weren't prepared for.

You pushed his head deeper into you so your clit would rub against his snout, building an exquisite warmth inside your belly. Leo sensed you tensing under his grip, and he gave until the hot, sweet spasms of your walls told him you were satisfied.

His cock pulsated more with each passing moment, aching to get entirely sucked by your hot insides, and move. But fuck, if Leo retained yet one ounce of self-control, he committed it to ensure he wouldn't harm you that much.

A fine line of saliva followed him for a fraction of a second when he pulled away, panting. He cleaned his face with his palm to then fist his cock, right above the swollen knot. You lifted your legs by pulling them towards you from behind the thighs, gaze thoroughly hypnotized by the sight of him lining with you.

Leo let out a breathy moan as he pushed into you, the heat, the softness, and the sight taking away the last drops of his rational thought.

The stretch stung slightly, but god, other than that, it was heavenly smooth. He bottomed out. Before he even moved, Leo spilled one hot load after the other, brimming you with cum.

“Fuck—,” he panted.

His chin rested on the crook of your neck. Your hands flew to his back, and you caressed his shell lovingly. His breathing evened with each controlled exhalation, yet the grip of his fingers over your flesh hadn't relaxed one scrap. It gave you the impression that he was holding back. Despite his feral desires, on the verge of losing his mind to pure instinct, he remained steadfast in his commitment not to harm you. Your heart melted.

“It's okay. I can take it,” you whispered tenderly, leaning your head over his, embracing him further.

“No, this is— this is enough.” he gritted, voice sore.

“Hey, I don't like giving half-heartedly. I told you it was alright," you told him, but it didn't seem like it was going through his stubborn head. So you changed the tone to try your luck. "Besides, I like how you feel inside me. I bet you'd fuck me so good."

His breath hitched.

You grinned, clenching around his cock. “I bet you’re wondering how it’d feel, if you pushed your cute knot inside me.”

“Stop it.”

“Why?”

“I can’t— “

“Say you don’t want to.” you pulled his face to make him look at you. Hooded eyes bearing such a delightful dark gaze. He was about to snap, just one more small push. “Say you don’t want to breed me so fucking much it drips off my cunt. Say it, and I’ll shut up and let this to your own devices.”

His pupils dilate entirely. "Say that again."

"Breed me so good."

He kissed you at the same time he thrust, setting a frantic pace. His dick felt heavenly. It effortlessly reached the best spot inside you. You kept him pinned in the right place with the clasp of your legs, getting friction over your clit.

He forced the pulsating nub inward, the stretch sent your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Ah— shit, yes. Yes.” he gritted, his voice drunken-like.

Irrepressible moaning streamed like a pretty song as his pace quickened. Leo sounded so fucking hot, relishing the instant. His orgasm triggered your own. Your back arched, and he slipped his arms underneath you, bringing you impossibly near to him as his dick pulsated deliciously, spreading the warmth within him through you.

Leo didn't stop after that. He continued to fuck you until your inner thighs bled from the continuous chafing against the edges of his shell, babbling something about pretty babies with your eyes. He was thoroughly unbound, mind spinning, burning as much as his passion for you.

At some point, reality became a vaporous reflection on tempered glass. You were facing him at one moment, and then next, Leo held you by the hips as he ravished you in doggy style. His groaning, along with the lewd sound of wet skin slapping, anchored you to consciousness just enough to feel him spilling another hot wave of cum.

— – -

You woke up to the soft symphony produced by the combined sounds of the jungle—small animals rustling their wings, the wind whispering through the branches, a distant echo of a bird's song. The sun bathed the water in light, creating small waves that reflected the tranquil movement of the water all around.

Every inch of your body ached so intensely that the mere contemplation of movement welled tears in your eyes. Perhaps it had been too much. When you tried to shift, you felt something wet adhering to the skin of your thighs. Looking down, you found seaweed moistened with a scent that resembled a subtle mix of herbs.

A firm hand caressed your arm, and you tensed. However, the grip was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid to touch you. Slowly, you turned around. There he lay, gazing at you with bright, guilt-filled eyes.

"Good morning."

“Hello,” you greeted back.

"I'm sorry. It was-"

It's okay," you interrupted, placing a hand over his own. "I signed up for it. I told you I'd tough it out. Don't be too hard on yourself."

His gaze softened.

"Yet, I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You followed his gaze toward the area closed off with herbs. Bruises spread underneath. Then you noticed that, except for those bruises, you were pristine, and so was the place where you slept.

"You cleaned me up?"

"I had to do something for you. Although I know it's not enough, it’s a beginning," he said, fluttering the tips of his fingers near the damaged area.

"Thanks. So, is it over, or…?"

"The worst part is, we should be okay as long as someone keeps her mouth in check," he teased.

You chortled. "Sorry, not sorry."

He shared a laugh with you. Just as it subsided, Leo drew you into a tender embrace, snuggling you in a way that set your heart aflutter.

"I'm gonna keep you safe," he whispered.

You froze, a touch overwhelmed by the unexpected affection. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. The moment lingered until a rumble from your stomach shattered the magic. Your cheeks burned bright red. Leo chuckled softly.

"What would you like for breakfast?"

#tmnt smut #tmnt dark content #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt 2007 #tmnt 2007 leo #tmnt 2007 movie #tmnt post 2007 movie #tmnt x reader #tmnt x reader smut #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo 2007 #tmnt 2k16 #tmnt 2k7 #tmnt bayverse

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sleepyeye17 · 1 year

Text

Is this yours?

Words: 768

Warnings: None

Summary: There’s a bra in Steve’s back seat. He has some explaining to do.

“What’s this?” Lucas says in the back seat of Steve’s car. “Ooooooh it’s a bra!”

Steve looks in the rear view mirror and his eyes go wide.

“Shit.”

Eddie turns around in the front seat to see Lucas holding up an enormous bra. It takes a moment for the implication to hit, and then it punches him right in the nuts. Fuck.

“Don’t touch that, Lucas,” Steve growls.

“Steve had a girl back here,” Dustin crows.

“I did not!” Steve says. “Put that down!”

“This is huge,” Max says, grabbing the bra from Lucas and feeling the enormous padded cups. “Jesus what is this, an F cup?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?” Lucas asks.

“Who do we know with enormous tits?” Max says. She holds it up to herself. “Dustin, is this your mom’s? Ow!”

They’re all laughing and smacking each other and shrieking. Eddie looks out the window and tries to put on his most aloof face.

Steve and Eddie have only been hooking up for a few weeks, and neither of them have said that they were exclusive. If Eddie had assumed, well, that's on him. Always the idiot, and matters of the heart are no exception. He fell in love with Steve like it was breathing. He should have known that King Steve would have a whole flock of women to choose from. Eddie is clearly just an experiment. It wouldn’t be the first time. He’s had a few partners in the past who believed that they could be with a man once and get it out of their system. Eddie is usually happy to oblige. But he really thought that this was different.

“Settle down back there, okay?” Steve says. He’s bright red, and clearly irritated. “It got mixed up in my laundry at the laundromat. Jesus, get your minds out of the gutter.”

The kids calm down a little bit, and they’re friends again by the time Steve pulls into the arcade. Eddie is about to follow them out of the car, but Steve reaches out and touches his arm.

“Wait, Eddie. Can we talk?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Eddie looks wary as he sits back down. He sneaks a glance at Steve, who’s still bright red. Eddie knows that Steve does his laundry at his parents’ house, and the bra is clearly too large for Steve’s mother.

“I can explain–” Steve starts, but Eddie cuts him off.

“You don’t have to.”

“I didn’t–”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Steve looks surprised and almost a little hurt.

“Doesn’t it?”

Eddie shrugs.

“We never said we were exclusive.”

Now Steve definitely looks hurt.

“I thought– Well. No. I guess we never did. Have you–”

“If you have another–”

“I don’t–”

“I just want to know–”

“I don’t!”

“--so I can get tested–”

“The bra is mine!”

That stuns Eddie into silence. He stares at Steve for a second, but Steve can’t meet his eyes. Steve is looking at the ceiling, biting his lip and blinking fast. His fingers drum on the steering wheel.

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asks.

“I’m not– It’s just a thing. It’s just something I do on some weekends. There are these performances. Like shows. On the first Saturday of the month, in Indy.”

“Do you…” Eddie is trying to wrap his mind around this. “Are you a… A woman? In your heart?”

Steve shakes his head fast.

“I don’t think so? I’ve thought about it, and I’ve talked to some people. I still like being a guy, and I like my body and I feel good as a man. But sometimes… I dunno. I just want to be…” Steve gestures vaguely.

“A queen,” Eddie finishes.

“Yeah.” Steve sniffs hard. “I’m sorry. If this is too much–”

Eddie lets out a surprised little giggle, then covers his mouth. Steve looks miserable.

“Sorry!” Eddie says. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… God, Steve, you really couldn’t be more perfect.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Steve snaps.

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear. I thought you were seeing someone else! Fuck, man, this is better than my wildest fantasies.”

“Really?” Steve has a gentle look of hopeful surprise on his face that’s so open and vulnerable it makes Eddie want to bite his own fist.

“Yes, really. What’s your name, then?”

“What?”

“Your drag name.”

Steve smiles shyly and bites a fingernail. Eddie wants to cry, he’s so pretty.

“It’s still in progress, okay. So you can’t laugh.”

“Okay.”

“Connie Cushion.”

Eddie gasps like Steve just dropped to one knee and proposed.

“Concussion!?”

“Connie Cushion, yeah.”

“Can I… meet her some time?”

Steve bows his head, rubbing the back of his neck and beaming.

“She’d like that.”

#steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #drag queen steve harrington #eddie munson #Max Mayfield #dustin henderson #Lucas Sinclair #stranger things #communication

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cowgurrrl · 8 months

Text

What's In A Name?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Author’s note: hey remember when I said I was rewatching daredevil

Summary: You settle on a new nickname for Matthew [1.3k]

Warnings: fluff, lawyer talk, brief mention of Jack, Daredevil things, June’s first time writing Matt so pls be nice, I think that’s it??

He's realized it changes depending on the day. You refer to him in court as your colleague, Mr. Murdock, or even Counselor. You call him Murdock to get his attention or scold him for something. That Idiot in The Mask before you find out about his nightly escapades. That Idiot in The Mask after you find out about his nightly escapades. But more often than not, when he climbs into bed after a long night of being That Idiot, your eyes flutter open, and you murmur a soft "Matthew" before snuggling into him.

Foggy and Karen make fun of you for using his full name more often than Matt, which is undeniably faster and punchier. Every once in a while, you'll pull Franklin out to make Foggy cringe and accuse you of sounding like his mother. Their teasing does nothing to stop you from calling him Matthew. It's the name in your phone, the name you punch in braille in his birthday cards, the name you use to introduce him to others, everything.

It also helps to conceal the specifics of your relationship from other lawyers who may get nosy and try to use your relationship against you in a court of law. What girlfriend wouldn't call her boyfriend by a nickname? The kind of girlfriend who went through seven years of school and refuses to have her JD called into question just because she went into practice with her boyfriend and best friends.

The good thing is he doesn't seem to mind you calling him Matthew. It's very rare that the name doesn't grate on his ears, but when it falls from your lips, it's warm and welcome like the first sunny day after a harsh New York winter. The question, however, comes on a chilly October evening while sitting with socked feet on the couch and working through closing statements.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have heard many pieces of information throughout the past few weeks. Many of them circumstantial," you read to him as you scribble the notes on a yellow legal pad. His hand is resting on your thigh, tracing patterns into your soft leggings, and cocks his head in your direction to show you he's listening. "However, you have also heard from my client-"

"Our client." Matt interrupts, and you look up at him. His tinted glasses are resting on the coffee table amid scattered case notes and copies of evidence, and his brown eyes are cast vaguely in your direction. When you first started dating, he told you people were uncomfortable with his bouncing, unfocusing eyes, and that's why he hadn't taken off his glasses in front of you. Since then, it's been a steady journey of reassuring him how much you love him, love all of him. The fact that all these years later, he's sitting without shame and without his glasses is enough to make your heart soar.

"Is O'Reilly also the jury's client?"

"No, but there are multiple defense attorneys on this case."

"Okay, so what if I gesture to you when I say it?" You ask, and the corner of Matt's mouth quirks up.

"'M sure that'll look very professional, sweetheart." He says, amusement in his tone, and you roll your eyes as you look back down at the paper.

"I'm just gonna say 'my client.'"

"Fine, but I'm telling Foggy."

"Oh, c'mon, we both know you've claimed clients and cases as your own. It's not a big deal."

"I have not!"

"I will pull court transcripts right now."

"Maybe I should be the one to give closing statements." He teases and tries to reach for your papers. You rip them out of his reach and drop them on the floor when he tickles your sides. You laugh and try to fight against his strong hands, but he grabs both your wrists in one hand and tickles you with the other.

"Okay, okay, that's enough." You beg between breathless giggles, and his merciless attack on your stomach stops as fast as it started. The apartment falls silent as he lays half on top of you with your legs bracketing his sides. His hair is soft and a little too long, flopping over his forehead and hiding a yellowing bruise, and his full lips are pulled into a perfect smile that you can't help but kiss. He hums against your lips and releases your wrists, letting your hands graze his waist, narrowly avoiding sore ribs. You feel a full breath fill his lungs before he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.

"We're never gonna finish closing statements like this." He mumbles, his voice raspy, and you shrug.

"Prosecution barely has a case. We'll be fine," you say as you scratch his back. "Besides, I always make closing statements my bitch."

"Can't argue with that." He laughs, and you hum in agreement. It's getting late. The sights and sounds of the city have dimmed just enough to tell you that people have made it home from their work days, settling into dinner and bedtime routines with their families. A certain red suit hidden in the closet pricks at the forefront of your mind, and you take a deep breath.

You knew what you signed up for when you met Matt in your legal history class during your second year at Columbia. You'd had several long-winded conversations with him about defending the working man, upholding the law, and the importance of order in a chaotic world. You knew dating him also meant sharing him with his job, no matter what it was. Still, you never expected his part-time job to be beating up criminals in dark alleys after you went to bed.

"Wanna order Thai from that place down the block and keep working, or do you need to go?" You ask, and he shakes his head.

"'M good."

"You sure?"

"I like working with you." He says sincerely, and a ball of light shines in your chest. You have to fight the smile threatening the corner of your mouth, and you know he can feel it.

"Are you just saying that cause you want me to change my wording?" You ask, and he laughs. He ducks his head to kiss your jaw before straightening back up, not letting himself get too distracted by the taste of your skin.

"No, I'm saying that because I love hearing you make closing statements your bitch."

"Good answer, Matthew." You tap his side, and he kisses you again before sitting back to let you get up and retrieve your phone from the counter. You type in the restaurant's name, your mouth watering at the thought of Pad Thai, and walk over to the back of the couch. Matt leans into you the second you're close enough, and even though you don't have super senses like him, you know he's thinking hard about something.

"You know you may be the only person in the world who calls me Matthew on a regular basis?" He asks out of the blue, and you look up from your phone. His hand finds its way to your waist and tugs you closer until your hips are flush against the couch. You indulge in his sudden neediness by running your free hand through his hair.

"What'd your dad call you?" You ask quietly. A soft chuckle escapes him, and he tilts his head at you.

"Matty."

"Matty," you try to nickname on your tongue and smile. "Gotta give it to Battlin' Jack, that's a pretty good one."

"I'm sure he'd agree with you." He says, the gentle ache of grief settling over the space. You lean down and kiss his head in reverence, like you're thanking him for sharing the memory with you. The feeling dissolves once you get back into closing statements and arguing about wording over steaming piles of food, but the name sticks in your brain. His contact name in your phone goes from Matthew to Matty. You let yourself call him Matty a handful of times to test it out, and somehow, the transition between names doesn't faze either of you. It feels good, intimate almost. Something just for the two of you.

Hell's Kitchen can have Daredevil all they want as long as Matty is the one coming home to you.

#matt murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fic #matt murdock one shot #matt murdock blurb #matt murdock x reader #daredevil #daredevil fic #daredevil x reader

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 25 days

Note

Hello, you’ve asked to send in the prompt when full hc are open so messaging as a reminder

‘M6 reaction to an Mc who has experienced abuse before

Showing signs like flinching or unexplained irritability, anxiety ‘

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC is recovering from abuse

~ thank you for the reminder anon friend! and my own reminder to whoever's reading this, nobody deserves to be broken like this. there is better, and you deserve better. ~

CW for references to memories of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse, (yelling, vague violence, control, emotional manipulation) and to nontoxic behavior triggering those memories unintentionally

Julian

In all the craziness of your whirlwind romance, you two never really got to talk about your own poor relationship experiences

It just didn't come up, and then life was golden, so golden that there wasn't a point to remembering all that pain and and fear

Until he made you flinch

Completely, entirely on accident, of course, but the full-body wince and the wash of fear across your face was enough to make his heart leap into his throat. What happened, what - why?

He's a flamboyant man. He likes large, theatrical gestures, and as entertaining as they're meant to be, sometimes the sight of an outstretched hand hurtling through the air is anything but

And now he's shaking with a combination of overwhelming guilt and white-hot rage. It gnaws at his bones and boils in his veins, pushing him to make things okay and asking if he has the right to

He's immediately switching to a quiet, shaky voice, asking you first to forgive him for scaring you, and then asking if you'd be willing to tell him more about it between apologies

You know your doctor would never willingly hurt you, and you know this is something you can trust him with, but you don't expect how angry he is. He'll rave about how wrong it was if you let him

He does his best to tone down the gestures, and is always, always ready to remind you how cherished you deserve to be

Asra

They already knew about the past before you two began your relationship - there's a reason you haven't seen or heard a single thing about the source of your pain since you came back

And as long as he was your caretaker, and then your friend, you never had cause to worry because of him. But then things became romantic, and well - some things were easier to deal with before

You love their spontaneity and daydreamy presence, but that level of unpredictability is difficult to interpret when the object of your affections regularly forgets to communicate

Are they just that deeply lost in thought, daydreaming for hours on end, or are they studiously ignoring your attempts to connect?

Is this really a sudden "just because I love you" show of affection, or is it time to brace yourself for some awful things to come?

You know with a heart like his beating steadily in your chest, there's no real doubt when it comes to how deeply and faithfully and purely he loves you. All it takes is a flick of magic to remember

But you also know how terrifying unpredictability can be, and you find yourself on occasion slipping into a fawning state out of habit

They catch on almost immediately, hating the way you suddenly seem to be tiptoeing around them, and push past their nature to bring it out into the open so they can reassure you

So happy to adjust it's hard to believe you were ever nervous

Nadia

She picked up on several signals as she was courting you, and while she didn't want to make you uncomfortable, she didn't hesitate to bring them up. Tell her as much as you're willing to

Of course, her first response was to lay out her own intentions and expectations regarding the relationship she wanted to build with you. She wants you to keep her accountable to giving you the best

It really has felt like a thing of the past ever since, with one exception that you really don't know how to bring up

Your beloved Countess has a very commanding presence. It's one of the many things you adore about her, but on occasion, it has the unintended effect of making you feel stifled - controlled

Announcing a dinner that night which you hadn't been aware of. Selecting your outfits for you. Making a strong opinion known before asking for your perspective, challenging you to disagree

Things that you know come from a place of love and respect, but that remind you a bit too much of a time when there was neither

She picks up on it more slowly than she would've liked to, the way you seem to shrink just a little bit smaller when she tries to help

To her, you're a capable, intelligent, strong person, and the thought hadn't occurred that you might prefer your choices be protected, even from herself. She's humbled. And she loves you

Makes extra sure to make space for you, all of you, every moment

Muriel

For such a large man, he moves unexpectedly quietly

Here are the other things he does quietly: thinking, eating, breathing, resting, working, sleeping ... everything ...

And sometimes, all that quiet starts to feel less like you're around an introverted gentle giant, and more like the silent treatment

Which means you must have done something wrong

But you don't know what you did wrong, and when you live with someone as extremely conflict averse as Muriel, you know that getting him to tell you what you did wrong is very hard to do

And so the anxiety spiral begins, attempting to fix a habit or adjust a behavior, only for the silence to stretch on, and on, and on ...

Muriel, on the other hand, knows that something is bothering you but isn't sure what it is. It was easy to pick up during your time together that your life hadn't been all sunshine and rainbows either

But he's not one to pry, or to do anything that might trigger you, and knowing how much space to himself helps him sort things out, he makes sure to give you as much of that as possible

He doesn't realize that it's not what you need until you approach him one day, clearly distressed, and worriedly ask what you've done wrong. You haven't done anything wrong

He's still quiet, but he's picked up a habit of humming now, so that even in the quiet moments aren't completely silent

Portia

It wasn't hard for her to tell that you weren't used to the type of romantic relationship that made your life better and not worse. Curiosity aside, she wants to know so she understand you better

She wants this opportunity to show you the excitement and healing of finally finding your partner-in-crime. And she does!

This woman is nothing if not passionate

Why hide your emotions when they make you stronger? Why hold back? Why suppress yourself when there's so much color and life and excitement in this world?

There's just ... one tiny issue

Her unbridled emotional intensity is one of her strongest assets and one of the things that gives you the strength and courage to push through the darkest moments

However, it does at times remind you of a much less controlled and safe intensity that was often directed straight at you, designed more to frighten you than to communicate with you

Sudden excited tackle-hugs feel a bit too much like being grabbed and pinned. Vocal expressions of anger at another person's poor behavior feel like a lead up to being blamed for it somehow

Being as empathetic as she is, Portia picks up on this almost instantly and barely needs to be told what you need to feel safe

Besides, she can always go rant at her unsuspecting brother

Lucio

There are some things that this delightful work in progress of a man won't notice until he gets hit in the face with them

Examples include things like "if the usual opinion around making deals with demons is negative, it's probably for a good reason" or "oopsies have consequences, sometimes"

There's no doubt that he loves you and that he's wholeheartedly committed to protecting you. These are things that he's loud and proud about reminding you. Emphasis on loud. He likes to yell!

Whether to emphasize a point or to express an emotion, or just because he's in the woods/at a party/going shopping and that's what you do when you're in that space, his default volume is 95%

And as much as you know the volume is exactly that - a default - it too often feels like a warning instead. Like someone wants nothing in your ears except what they have to say to you

Lucio doesn't realize the effect he's having until he starts to feel unheard, ironically enough. It's like you don't talk back to him anymore, like he's back in that twilight zone of being unheard

When he tells you his stories, you don't interject, you don't add your own embellishments, you don't seem caught up in it

It's his question, "why won't you talk to me?", that has everything tumbling out into the open. He's furious that you got so much less than you deserved, and hurt that he hurt you

... Would you like to yell with him, next time?

#ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana headcanons #the arcana hc #the arcana game #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

169 notes · View notes

ladyfocalors · 4 months

Note

Good morning, Focalors-sama, I'm here with my second? request. Please kindly consider this Lyney (yes, I'm also down hard for this Pyro man) request: Your former best friend always had the habit of stealing your boyfriends. Now, she has her eyes set on destroying your relationship with Lyney.

Please also kindly take as long as you need with this request; I have no qualms in waiting. Furthermore, by no means feel obligated to prioritize this request over your other requests.

pairing: lyney x fem!reader

warning: homewrecking behaviour by ex-bestie, liar (ex-bestie), ooc, not proofread!

note: protective reader agenda, she is mad and lyney thinks it's hot, fluff, ex-bestie stands no chance, lyney is sweet,

Thank you @sailorstar9 for the request! This time this writing is not a product of my sleep deprivation. So hopefully it's better than the last one and I hope it's up to your standards. Take care :D

word count: 1.4k

On stage Lyney is referred to as the Greatest Magician, rightfully so as well. You have said that to him many times and so has others. Off stage, he is described as a caring brother, reliable friend and a loyal and charming boyfriend. Of course this description was again, by you as well. He seems to hold your words very dear to his heart.

Lynette had once commented, They are both lovesick, that’s why I don’t watch them, gesturing to both of you. Lyney had found himself agreeing with her comment. Although he was the more forward one with his advances and words, you were loud with your small actions, not words. He had no doubt that you loved him as much as he loved you.

So, never would he even imagine to be disloyal to you. Never.

“Do I know you?” he asked the girl who was clearly throwing advances at him.

The girl, with a smile that barely reached her eyes, responded, "Oh, has [Y/n] not told you, Lyney? I am her dearest friend!”

Lyney furrowed his brows in confusion. This encounter felt like an unexpected disruption to the routine he was accustomed to. He tried to dismiss the girl with his smile and a subtle step backward.

The girl wasn’t deterred, her eyes gleamed and her moves looked calculated.

“Well, she probably forgot to mention me. You know how it is, she and her secrets. Shame she still hides things from you as well,” she continued, her voice laced with sugary-sweetness and it almost seemed rehearsed. “I am Marianne. Your lovely girlfriend and I used to be best friends.”

Lyney felt uneasy but didn’t show it. He recalled the name Marianne from your previous conversations — all the vague mentions of that name always tinged with a hint of anger and sadness. Something must have gone wrong between you two but he never pushed you despite his curiosity.

Something about her felt off as well and she seemed awfully too close to him. It was also a odd place to meet at as well, nobody was allowed in to the backstage.

“I just wanted to say, even if she is my dear friend she has her problems and I wouldn’t want a charming man like you to suffer,” she said with a seemingly upset expression. “Let’s just say, she has a interesting dating history.”

Lyney quickly caught on to what exactly was going on. This girl didn’t care about you, no, she was here to try and sabotage his relationship with you. But he was intrigued, he was curious on how long would she act this out.

"Interesting dating history, you say?" he replied, his voice carrying a subtle edge. "Well, we all have our pasts. What's your point here?"

Marianne chuckled, her eyes narrowing as she sized him up. "Oh, Lyney, don't be so naive. I'm just looking out for you. After all, I've seen [Y/n] ruin relationships before, and I wouldn't want you to become her latest victim.”

“Her previous relationships have crumbled due to her overly ambitious dreams and prioritise her career over her love. Also, I shouldn’t be telling you this but she has a history of playing around with people’s feelings.”

Lyney's jaw tightened, sensing the toxicity behind her words. He couldn't let this continue, not when it threatened the trust he and you had built. He would never understand why someone would go out their way to sabotage someone’s relationship by spreading such vile misinformation, but he didn’t need to understand, he just had to stand up for you.

"I appreciate your concern, but I trust [Y/n]," he cut her off, his tone unwavering. "If there are issues, we'll work through them together. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a show to prepare for."

But her determination didn’t waver, she tried to stop him from leaving. “I just thought you should know the truth. Please hear me out”

Meanwhile, you were preparing for the show. A technician handed you a prop, and as you turned around, you caught a glimpse of Lyney engaged in conversation with a girl that looked familiar. You had to double take to make sure that what you were seeing was right. Your mood soured in an instant and anger bubbled over you.

What is she doing here? How does she even know about Lyney?

Hastily and somewhat aggressively putting the prop back into the hands of the confused technician, you walked towards them.

“What are you doing here?” your tone was low and cold. You put on a blank face, staring into her eyes, well more like into her soul from her perspective. Lyney and her were surprised by your sudden appearance.

“Oh, [Y/n]! My bestie,” her smile faltered a bit but she still continued with her act. “It’s good to-”

“Don’t ‘bestie’ me,” you cut her off with a frown. “You don’t get to refer me as that.”

This was truly a sight to behold. Lyney has never in his life saw you this upset and he swooned the way you immediately held his hand and stood in front of him as if like a shield protecting him. But now was not the time for that. He can save the swooning for later.

“What are you doing here, Marianne? Trying to play one of your games again?” you sighed this time, dropped your sharp gaze.

Marianne's smile wavered further, and she glanced nervously at Lyney, who was busy looking at you, not at her. She tried to regain control of the situation.

"[Y/n], I just wanted to warn Lyney. You have a history, and I didn't want him to be blindsided and heartbroken," she said, feigning innocence, as if she wasn’t responsible for your previous failed relationships.

You scoffed, your disbelief very evident. "Warn him? More like try to poison his mind against me. We're perfectly fine, and we don't need your interference."

Marianne's eyes flickered with annoyance, dropping her act, and she took a step closer, lowering her voice. "You always had a way of making things about you, didn't you? But fine, play the victim. Just remember, I tried to help."

She threw the last words towards Lyney who didn’t look amused at all, his expression different than what he would put up for his shows. She looked a bit unnerved seeing his expression.

You were visibly irritated and frustrated, ready to throw some insults at her but thankfully Lyney stepped in to diffuse the atmosphere.

“I believe we have heard enough from you,” he said stepping in. “I believe you are not part of the backstage crew, so I would advise you to leave as soon as possible.”

Marianne opened her mouth to retort, but Lyney swiftly cut in, "If you have any complaints about the magic show, kindly direct them to the complaint box. Otherwise, please leave. Your presence is causing distress to my girlfriend, and that's not something I take lightly.”

Marianne, was reluctant, glanced once more at Lyney and then at you. The intensity of your gaze seemed to convey a string of colourful words you wished to say loudly. And then, with a huff, she turned on her heel, making her way out of the backstage area.

“Who does she think she is?” you scoff after she leaves. “Waltzing in as if she owns the place and then trying to take you from me. The audacity!”

“All she said was nonsense, okay?" you continued. "I mean, talking about my 'interesting dating history' and trying to paint me as the villain? She's got some nerve considering her history. And did you see her trying to play the concerned friend act? It's like she's reading from a terribly written script."

Lyney chuckled, thoroughly amused by your rant, but he knew it was time to bring a halt to it otherwise you won’t stop. So, he decided to stop with a gesture that spoke louder than words. He quickly pressed his lips onto yours, a gentle yet firm kiss that silenced the flow of words from your frustration. The warmth of the kiss felt nice, erasing the bitter words from your mouth.

“Easy there,” Lyney said. “She was just trying to get on your nerves. I personally think you should be focused on me more. I need some kisses to make up for the torture of having to listen to her ridiculous plot.”

You rolled your eyes but a smile threatened to form on your face. “And you are back to normal again,” you huffed. “I don’t want to hear about your kisses for therapy agenda again.”

“Oh, come on-”

“Oh, shush! Save your charm for the stage,” you said placing your palm against his mouth. “Let’s focus on the show, idiot. I can’t stall around anymore.”

Lyney grinned at your words. He was satisfied knowing that he successfully got you to smile again. He gently kissed your hand and let it go. He was satisfied with this.

#𐙚 : genshin boys #genshin x reader #lyney x reader #genshin impact #fontaine #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact lyney #genshin lyney

228 notes · View notes

5x35 · 2 months

Text

plan p

summary: valentine's pazzi romcom

pairing: paige bueckers x azzi fudd

words: 10.1k

TW: language, mentions/reference to sex

AO3 link

A/N: This was supposed to be a lot of things. It was supposed to be short and sweet, lucky for you I don't know what that means so this is long as fuck. It was also supposed to be out on Wednesday but here we are. So I'm tired and I just need this to be done so I have not edited it at all. Please forgive any mistakes and typos, I'll go back and fix them eventually, just not tonight. enjoy love you all <3

“What are you doing for your girl for Valentine’s day?” Paige asks Aubrey, trying her best to sound nonchalant.

Aubrey raises her eyebrows and sends the blonde a look, “We’re gonna celebrate early since she can’t come during the week.”

“So what are you doing?” Paige presses.

“She’s meeting us in SC. I’m having her room set up with flowers and rose petals and balloons,” the injured girl divulges. “Why? You gonna do something for Az?”

Paige looks away, picking at the skin around her thumbnail. Her voice, low when she responds, but Aubrey can still make out the, “Yeah.”

The answer piques Auabrey’s interest and she sits up a bit, interested to see what her friend is thinking. Sensing the apprehension in Paige’s demeanor, she decides to tease her to help ease the nerves, “You gonna ask her to be your Valentine?”

Rolling her eyes, Paige nods, “I was planning on it, yeah. I just- do you think it’ll be too much? Considering we’re not really…since we aren’t like official?”

Aubrey snorts, “Paige, Az would be more upset if you don’t ask her.”

“That’s true,” Paige laughs. “She’ll beat my ass if I don't ask her.”

“You got any ideas?” Aubrey asks, knowing the blonde’s clearly been thinking about it for a while.

“A few, I guess. Flowers, chocolates, you know the typical stuff,” Paige answers with a shrug. Aubrey can tell the older girl is being vague, but doesn’t push.

Whatever is going on between her teammates isn’t really her business and she loves both of them enough to stay out of it. She also knows whatever front Paige is trying to put on about what they are is just that, a front.

As much as the girl loves girls and has had her fair share of them, Paige is a romantic at heart, especially when it comes to one Azzi Fudd. Everything is different for Paige when it comes to Azzi and everyone knows it. She doesn’t hesitate to shower her best friend with attention and gifts, all more thoughtful than anyone would expect from her.

So Aubrey doesn’t push because she knows she’ll find out eventually. Paige is always extra. And when Azzi is concerned, she’s over-the-top.

–

It starts on the first day of February.

A whole two weeks before the actual holiday because of course Paige can’t just do one day of cheesy romantic gestures. It has to be more than that.

As the girls slowly trickle into the locker room for practice, it’s hard for each of them to miss the bouquet placed in Azzi’s locker. None of them question who it’s from because honestly, they all know the answer.

When Azzi finally walks in to get ready for rehab, she’s met with obnoxious whistles and yells as her teammates tease her with “Ooh la la’s” and wiggles of eyebrows. The junior does her best to fend them off as she picks up the white vase dotted with pink glittery hearts. She lets herself take in the scent of the red roses and admires how perfectly crafted it is. The roses themselves are large and at full bloom. It’s gorgeous.

She knows who it’s from too. She’s received enough flowers, especially since her injury, from this same company. But it doesn’t stop her from having to bite her lip to contain her smile as she opens the little card to see what it says.

For the prettiest girl in the world. <3 Your Secret Admirer

Azzi lets a giggle out at the ridiculousness of the note and shakes her head as she folds it back up. Out of the corner of her eye she can see her best friend watching her reaction closely, so she lets herself enjoy the romantic gesture. When she turns to fully look at the blonde and their eyes meet, she doesn’t even roll her eyes at the satisfied smirk on Paige’s face.

Raising an eyebrow, Azzi tilts her head silently asking, “What are these for?”

Paige just shrugs and gives her a wink, turning back to finish getting ready for practice. Azzi doesn’t question it any further because honestly, it’s Paige. She never really knows what goes on in the older girl’s head and Paige isn’t exactly shy with her gifts. Azzi carefully tucks it into her backpack pocket to save for later and so her nosy teammates won’t be able to read it.

The rest of the girls in the locker room witness the exchange and all look at each other, trying to figure out if anyone knows what’s going on. Sure Paige will buy Azzi flowers or gifts randomly, but usually it’s when they’re alone or in the apartments, not when they’re about to practice.

Aubrey lifts her hands up when her teammates look at her, she doesn’t know much but she knows this is probably part of Paige’s Valentine’s plan and she’s not about to ruin it for her friend. As she uses her crutches to get out of the locker room and to Janelle’s office, she can feel the rest of her teammates trying to follow her to ask what she knows. She ignores KK and Ice as they pester her for information and she briefly thinks that Paige owes her big time.

Paige watches as the last of her teammates head out toward the gym before she walks across the room toward her best friend, “That’s a really nice bouquet.”

Azzi turns, eyebrows raised. Are they really going to play this game?

“Who got ‘em for you?” Apparently they are.

“A secret admirer. Someone must have a crush on me,” Azzi smirks at her and motions toward the vase of flowers.

“They have great taste,” the blonde acknowledges, praising herself.

“I mean they’re like in love with me, obviously they have great taste,” the younger girl laughs as she stands so the two are face to face.

Paige chuckles softly and reaches out to grab Azzi’s hips to pull her closer so their noses are touching, “Obviously.”

She places a soft kiss on Azzi’s lips, knowing they both need to be out in the gym in about 10 seconds before CD punishes her. Deciding she kind of doesn’t care what CD makes her do for being late, she lets herself enjoy the slow, sweet kiss for the full 10 seconds.

When she pulls away, neither girl can help the dopey smiles. Unable to stop herself, Paige places one more peck on Azzi’s lips before realizing she’s absolutely pushing it now and with a rushed “CD’s gonna kill me” she sprints out of the locker room.

Azzi giggles and shakes her head as she watches Paige rush to join practice. God, she can’t believe that’s her person.

But when she glances back at roses sitting in her locker, all she can do is smile and think she’s so lucky that’s her person.

–

The second day of February comes with another bouquet. This time it’s when the team all piles into Azzi’s apartment after dinner to watch a game. On the bare dining table is another bouquet, this time without a vase, lying on the table. The flowers are pink roses, bright and vibrant pink around the edges of the petals that fade into a more baby pink.

Even if any of the girls suspected it was for anyone else, Azzi’s name is written in calligraphy on the card sticking out of the bouquet again.

“Damn Azzi, you got it like that?” KK jokes.

“I do,” Azzi gloats, looking out of the corner of her eye at Paige.

Azzi goes to grab the bouquet and takes them to their small kitchen, immediately trying to find a nice vase for them. She grabs the small folded card out of the roses and begins to read.

Pink roses for my princess because you deserve the best <3 Your Secret Admirer

P.S. There’s ice cream in the freezer for you

“What’s it say?” Ice shouts from the couch.

Azzi shrugs, “Says I’m a pretty princess.”

The notes aren’t much but they’re for her and she doesn’t feel like sharing them with anyone else. She knows who it’s from and she selfishly wants to keep this side of Paige for herself. She knows she’s the only person who gets to experience this thoughtful and romantic side of Paige and it makes her giddy.

As she meets the blue eyes of her best friend from above the counter, she can’t help but beam at her. When Paige gives her a soft, adoring smile back, she thinks that’s exactly the reaction Paige wanted from her.

The team begins to pay attention to the game or break off into conversations as Azzi begins to trim and arrange the flowers into the glass vase she found. She gets so lost in the task, she jumps when she feels arms slide around her waist and a warm body presses against her.

“Sorry,” Paige chuckles into Azzi’s neck and leaves a kiss as an additional apology.

“These are pretty,” Azzi comments as she finishes adding the last rose into the vase.

“Perfect for a pretty princess,” Paige teases, referring to what Azzi told Ice earlier.

Azzi elbows Paige lightly, causing the older girl to grip her tighter.

“Ow!” Paige whines.

“You’re a big baby,” Azzi rolls her eyes and places the completed vase on the counter. “Done!”

She throws away all the stem trimmings and the plastic wrapping, trying her best to maneuver around the kitchen with a six foot human attached to her back like a koala.

“You don’t wanna watch the game?” Azzi asks, turning her head to look at the blonde.

“Nah, it’s a blowout,” Paige shakes her head.

“Movie?”

Eagerly nodding her head, Paige agrees quickly, “Yeah let’s go to my room.”

Azzi manages to wiggle out of Paige’s arms and walks over to the cabinet pulling out some snacks and a bag of popcorn. She places it in the microwave and grabs a large bowl for when it’s ready. She hands Paige the bowl of popcorn and the other candies she grabbed and walks over to the freezer.

She notices a new pint of cookie dough ice cream. Her favorite. Grabbing the pint, she goes to grab two spoons for them to share it during the movie.

“Aye, snacks! Pass me the popcorn!” one of the girls calls to them.

“Get up and make some for yourself, this is for movie night. Bye!” Azzi scolds as she pushes Paige toward the door and out of the apartment.

“That’s crazy…” KK mumbles in disbelief as she watches her teammates leave.

The freshman turns to Aubrey and asks, “Bruh what is going on? Why is Paige on her romantic shit right now?”

“Uh, she’s gonna ask Azzi to be her Valentine, I think it’s all part of her plan,” Aubrey shrugs, not really knowing much other than that.

“She’s gonna ask her to be her Valentine? But she doesn’t have the balls to ask her to be her girl for real?” Ice snorts.

“She’s too pussy,” KK chortles.

“Pussy whipped and still won’t do anything about it,” Nika chimes in.

“...what if we help her?” Amari suggests. “What if we force her to stop chickening out?”

“How?” Caroline probes, ready for any solution that will put everyone out of the misery that is the Pazzi will they won’t they?

“Well, Paige is possessive over Azzi, right?” Amari starts.

Nods and grunts of affirmation sound around the room.

“So what if we pretend someone else is interested in Azzi and make her jealous. She’ll go insane trying to compete with them and maybe it’ll drive her to finally make it official,” Amari explains. “Plus we can piss Paige off.”

“I’m down for anything if it means we won’t have to deal with their bullshit situationship anymore,” Caroline immediately agrees to the plan.

“Me too,” Aaliyah adds.

The rest of the team nods in confirmation.

“Bet,” KK pulls out her phone and finds the group chat without Paige and Azzi in it. The chat is mostly for the rest of the team to express their frustrations on whatever the two best friends turned lovers are doing. She quickly renames it from “Anti-Pazzi” to “Piss Paige Off”.

She then opens Google to order a bouquet of flowers for Azzi tomorrow. They spend the next hour picking the perfect bouquet and working out the details for the first step of their plan. Tomorrow they’ll test the waters and see how Paige reacts.

Then they’ll up the ante and turn it into a war for Azzi’s affection. Paige will win in the end, but they’ll make her suffer for the headaches her reluctance to take the next step has caused them all.

Let the games begin.

–

The next day, there’s a bouquet waiting on a table at Cafe Werth. By now everyone knows that if there’s flowers, they’re for Azzi, so they move out of the way and let her get to the table.

“Oh! These are so pretty!” Azzi exclaims, lifting the new vase of flowers up to her nose to smell.

The arrangement is nice. A perfectly crafted assortment of pink and red flowers ranging from roses to carnations. Baby’s breath and leaves fill in the spaces, all nestled in a vase adorned with a baby pink bow.

Azzi looks up through her lashes at the blonde as she smells the flowers, a small smile on her face. It’s the third day in a row she’s gotten a bouquet and each day they seem to get bigger and fancier than the last.

Except this time, Paige isn’t wearing her usual knowing smile that borders on a smirk. Her blue eyes are steel and her jaw ticks, clenching at the sight of the bouquet and Azzi’s reaction.

It’s not the bouquet she arranged for today. It’s not part of her plan.

Someone else is sending Azzi flowers.

Azzi’s confused by the reaction and moves to grab the card.

“I hope this brings a smile to your face since you have the prettiest one I've ever seen. -Secret Admirer”

Huh, it’s not the same person. The heart and “Your” are missing in the signature.

It’s not from Paige.

If either of them could pay attention to anyone but each other, they’d have heard the snickers of their teammates who were high fiving in the background.

The “Piss Paige Off” group chat lights up.

Pissed Paige Counter: 1

Azzi places the vase back down on the counter, unsure of how to react now. Knowing it’s not from Paige is confusing. On one hand, it’s flattering that she has a real secret admirer and someone likes her enough to send her gifts. On the other, she’s not sure she likes it as much as when she knows the gifts are from Paige.

Paige is furious. Who the fuck is sending her Azzi flowers? Everyone that matters knows Azzi’s off limits. Azzi is her’s.

As much as she tries to deny it, Paige Bueckers is a lover girl, especially when it comes to one Azzi Fudd. It’s not really a surprise, for as long as they’ve known each other, Azzi has always been Paige’s weakness. She’d do anything for Azzi and she’d stop at nothing to see the girl smile.

For all of Paige’s history with girls, things are different when it comes to Azzi. They always have been. They’d been fooling around for years whenever they were in proximity, it just happened. They were drawn to each other and if they were in the same area, they were bound to end up in bed together. That’s all it was. Two best friends that seemed to find each other when they were drunk.

Until it wasn’t.

Until it wasn’t a visit every few months since they lived in different states. Until they were at school together and teammates. Until every few months became every other day.

Until she was irrevocably in love with her. For as many excuses as she tries to come up with for why she isn’t or can’t be in love with Azzi, Paige knows she is. And she’s pretty sure Azzi feels the same way.

Everyone knows.

Except whoever the fuck is dumb enough to send Azzi flowers.

Paige huffs and storms out of the dining hall. She has to regroup and rework her plan.

She’s not letting anyone ruin this for her. And she’s sure as hell not letting anyone romance Azzi while she’s around.

It’s on.

–

Azzi doesn’t see Paige for the rest of the day.

Classes take up the rest of their days and Azzi loses track of time finishing her assignments. It’s hours past sunset when she gets a text that breaks her out of her concentration.

I got dinner come down

Looking at the clock, the junior realizes it’s nearly 8pm and her stomach is growling. She saves her progress, knowing she won’t get anymore done tonight and will end up staying in Paige’s room.

After letting Paige know she’ll be down in 10 minutes, she quickly freshens up and changes to a set of matching pajamas. She grabs her phone and turns her light off as she leaves.

On the dining table there’s a single red rose and a book.

Azzi walks over and she just knows. This is Paige’s gift.

It’s not a big opulent bouquet like this morning’s or the one’s she’s gotten the past couple of days, but when she picks up the rose and looks at the book it’s lying on top of, her heart squeezes.

Reading had always been something Azzi loved, but it’s been a saving grace in the months since her injury. It’s something Paige had picked up in her recovery too. Azzi had recommended books to her best friend a year ago and now the blonde had returned the favor.

A few weeks ago, they’d been out shopping and Azzi had been trying to decide between a handful of books to buy. She’d ended up buying only three, but had made a note to come back for the others later.

The book on the table is the one she remembers off handedly telling Paige she wished she also got a few days after their shopping trip. Truth be told, she’d forgotten about it.

Paige didn’t.

There’s something stuck between the cover and first page, so she flips the book open to see what it is. It’s a pink bookmark with a note typed in white ink.

The comeback is always bigger than the setback. Always on your side and always rooting for you. <3 Your Secret Admirer

It makes her want to sob and she’s thankful no one’s around to witness this gift. It’s more personal and she’s glad it’s just for her. She carefully takes the book and places it on her desk in her room, excited to start it soon.

She takes the red rose and adds it into the middle of the vase of pink roses on her kitchen counter before heading down to see Paige and eat dinner.

If she kisses Paige a little harder that night, it’s no one’s business but theirs.

–

Game day in Gampel means they get to sleep in their own beds, even if they still have an early wake up time. It also means Azzi gets to be eased awake by kisses from Paige and it makes having to be up at 8am bearable.

“Morning,” Paige smiles when Azzi finally opens her eyes.

“Mmm morning,” Azzi stretches and lets out a yawn as she reaches out for her phone to check how long Paige let her sleep past the alarm.

The rules are a lot more lax when you’re injured and out for the season, so she has more time to get ready without having to worry about remembering all her basketball gear. It’s 8:20 and as she takes another look at Paige, she realizes the other girl has been up long enough to do her morning routine and put on her game day sweats.

“C’mon get ready so I can kiss you forreal,” Paige whines, tugging on the blanket Azzi has gripped around her to keep the cold air out.

“I forgot to bring my sweats down,” Azzi realizes, “come up with me.”

“Ok,” Paige agrees easily. Azzi gives her a look, a little suspicious of how quickly Paige responded and with no complaining. But she yawns again and it’s too early for her to care or think about it too hard so she lets it go.

She throws off Paige’s comforter and slowly gets out of the bed, toeing on her slippers. She feels Paige follow behind her as she makes her way out of Paige’s apartment and into her own. Azzi goes straight to the bathroom and Paige heads to Azzi’s bedroom.

Once Azzi emerges from the bathroom, she’s met with Paige sitting on the edge of her bed sporting a proud look and the now ever present smirk.

The book from last night is no longer in the middle of the desk where Azzi left it. It’s been neatly pushed to the side of the desk and replaced by a bouquet of dried and preserved flowers. The flowers are dyed pink and purple, her two favorite colors.

There’s an envelope with her name placed right next to it. She carefully opens it and takes out the thick cardstock to read the note.

Flowers that won’t die like my love for you. We can make a vase for them together. <3 Your Secret Admirer

Azzi laughs at the note because this is by far the cheesiest one yet, but when she pulls a prepaid voucher for pottery lessons out of the envelope the laughter cuts off. Somehow she’d ended up on pottery Tiktok and had been trying to find time to take a class to take up a new hobby.

“What is it?” Paige questions, trying her best to act like she doesn’t already know.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Azzi wants so badly to stop the charade and throw herself at Paige to shower her in thank you’s and kisses. It seems like Paige is adamant on keeping up whatever game she’s playing and if she keeps getting showered with presents like these, who is she to end it? So she keeps it going.

“Pottery lessons. Someone must really pay attention to me,” Azzi says slyly, looking over at the blonde.

“Mmm, it’s pretty hard not to,” Paige mumbles as she watches Azzi close the gap between them.

Paige reaches out as soon as Azzi’s close enough to grab her hips and pull her between her legs. Azzi’s arms snake around Paige’s shoulders and play with her gameday ponytail. Like this, Azzi’s taller and she leans down to kiss the older girl, trying to convey how much she appreciates the gifts, especially from the last two days.

“They said they love me,” Azzi whispers against Paige’s lips.

“It’s hard not to,” Paige repeats, pulling Azzi in for another kiss.

It’s hard not to love you too.

–

On the fifth day of February the team starts to worry. It’s been two days since they sent Azzi the bouquet and Paige hasn’t done anything. No flowers, no big gestures. Nothing.

That they know of, at least.

The members of the “Piss Paige Off” group chat are a little on edge, worried they may have made things worse for their friends and themselves. Everyone’s afraid to bring it up as they make their way back to the apartments after practice, but they’re all nervously thinking they may have driven their superstar teammate even further from commitment than before.

Until they hear a squeal come from Azzi’s apartment. The girls trip over themselves rushing to check why their friend is making so much noise. As they all stumble inside and join Aaliyah, Qadence, Jana, and Paige in the living room, they notice Azzi on the floor holding Stewie.

The dog is wearing a red collar with pink hearts and a heart shaped gold name tag. There’s a basket on the floor with a red heart balloon attached to it. The basket is filled with Azzi’s favorite candies and chocolates all arranged nicely and adorned with roses to fill any empty spaces.

Oh, Paige definitely came to play. And she brought out the big guns.

Still holding Stewie in one arm, Azzi grabs the little folded card in the basket to read the note of the day.

All your favorites in one place. <3 Your Secret Admirer

As she cuddles Stewie close and places a kiss on the dog’s head, Azzi finds her favorite pair of blue eyes and feels so lucky. While there is a hint of smugness in Paige’s eyes, her expression is mostly just soft and adoring. All Azzi can do is return the look and hope the girl understands just how much she feels the same.

All my favorites in one place right here Azzi thinks holding her dog and looking at her best friend.

The “Piss Paige Off’ group chat lights up.

KK: She kinda ate that

Paige: 1

Pissed Paige Counter: 1

–

The next day is quiet and Azzi doesn’t get any grand gifts. The team has practice and rehab, spending the day prepping for their game against Seton Hall.

Routine continues as normal and Azzi feels a bit disappointed that there were no surprises. She quickly tampers it, realizing she’s being spoiled and Paige doesn’t need to get her something every day.

Still, Paige’s gifts have quickly become her favorite part of every day lately.

On the bus ride to the hotel in Hartford, she does her absolute best to not show her disappointment as she leans on Paige’s shoulder. It’s a short drive and they don’t talk much, just enjoying being able to travel somewhere together again.

Somehow Paige and Azzi end up rooming and the latter wonders what the former must have promised CD in order to make that happen. It’s been a while since they’ve been allowed to room as it provided certain distractions that the coaches didn’t see fit.

Whatever lingering sadness Azzi felt about not receiving a gift today is wiped away at the thought of not having to spend the night in a different bed than Paige. She happily grabs the keycard from Morgan and strides to the elevator with her teammates. Even the other girls are looking at the pair shocked that they got to room together.

Azzi half expects there to be a bouquet of flowers waiting in the room with some sort of honeymoon special, but there isn’t. She knows it’s because it was impossible for Paige to tell which room they’d be given so she couldn’t arrange anything, but Paige keeps exceeding her expectations so sue her for raising them.

Paige immediately flops onto the bed closer to the window and pulls out her phone, “What do you want for dinner?”

“Chipotle,” Azzi replies as she moves their duffles to the little suitcase counter.

Paige makes a sound of acknowledgement as she adds both their orders to her cart and checks out. When she’s done, she pats the bed next to her signaling for Azzi to join her.

The younger girl obliges, cuddling into Paige and relishing in the warmth of it all. They both doze off, lulled to sleep by the comforting embrace.

A knock on the door startles them both awake. Both girls are disoriented and confused, unsure of how long they’ve been asleep for. Azzi comes to her senses quicker than Paige does and manages to make it over to the hotel room door.

A quick check through the peephole verifies that the man on the other side of the door is hotel staff and he’s got their food. And a whole lot of other stuff. She quickly opens the door and lets the man in to drop off the items.

The man has expertly managed to arrange the chipotle bag, a tray of food, a foldable stand for the tray, and bouquet of flowers in his arms without ruining any of them. He manages to drop the foldable stand and kick it open cleanly before placing the tray on it and removing the metal tin. There’s four chocolate covered strawberries with little hearts drawn in some red sauce filling the empty space on the plate.

He places the Chipotle bag on the tray as well and hands Azzi the bouquet of flowers with a smile, “Enjoy ladies!”

“Thank you!” the two girls say in unison as the man leaves their room.

Azzi is buzzing. Of course Paige had something planned.

She takes the card out of the bouquet of pink roses, lilies and daisies.

Something sweet for my sweet girl. <3 Your Secret Admirer

“Thank you,” Azzi whispers, too happy to think about her words and how she’s not playing whatever game Paige started.

Paige, still a little bleary, doesn’t notice either and just sends her best friend a genuine grin in return, delighted by her happiness.

–

Paige has all but forgotten about Azzi’s other admirer by the seventh day of the month. It’s game day and she’s been too busy planning her own surprises for Azzi to pay the other person any mind. Besides it’s been four days, maybe they gave up.

Except when Paige and Azzi go down for breakfast, there’s a hot pink bag sitting on one of the tables. The bag has Azzi’s name spelled in large pink glitter letters and white tissue paper hiding the contents.

Azzi chances a look at Paige and when she finds the blonde girl glowering at the offending bag, her excitement dies. She’s still flattered, but it’s not the same.

Cautiously she goes over to the bag and begins to pull out the tissue paper. She takes a peek inside and feels her cheeks burn. Folded neatly is a baby pink lingerie set with gold heart hardware. She grabs the little note as she tries to hide her reaction from one very pissed girl.

You’d look breathtaking in this. Would love for you to show me sometime. -Secret Admirer

Azzi chokes on her own spit, trying to figure out how to make sure Paige doesn’t see this. When it comes to Azzi, Paige is nothing if not territorial. The mere thought of someone else taking Azzi’s attention is enough to drive her mad, seeing this would be a death wish for whoever sent it.

Besides there’s only one person Azzi would want to see her in the admittedly gorgeous pink set.

Azzi quickly stuffs the tissue paper back into the bag and slips the card discreetly into her pocket so she can get rid of it later. As much as she wants to avoid Paige seeing inside the bag, she knows that seeing the set will be easier to pass off as a joke of a gift from one of the girls, especially with a promise to wear it for her later. The note would send Paige on a warpath.

Paige is glaring a hole into the bag, shaking in anger.

“Piss Paige Off”

Pissed Paige Counter: 2

She need to calm her ass down and be thankful

–

Much like the last game, the win doesn’t really feel like a win. The team doesn’t play great and neither does Paige. Things just aren’t clicking and all the senior wants to do is take a hot shower, cuddle Azzi and sleep in her own (or Azzi’s) bed.

Azzi can recognize the signs of exhaustion and knows what her best friend needs. When they arrive back to campus, they part ways to put their bags in their own rooms and take long showers with the promise of reconvening again for bed.

When Azzi gets back to her room and flips on the lights, she spots two neatly folded items on her bed. Once she’s close enough she notices they’re pajama sets. She lifts one and is taken aback by the material. A quick glance at the tag confirms it’s 100% silk. It’s a pale pink long sleeve button up with black detailing and on the breast pocket is her name embroidered in black stitching. There’s matching pants too.

She carefully folds the shirt back up and goes to lift the other one. This one is a soft cotton and is a short sleeve button up in a similar pink color, but has white detailing. The bottoms are shorts and when she lifts them up, she notices there’s something on the back.

“Paige’s Property” is written in white cursive across the butt of the shorts and Azzi cackles when she reads it. Her friend is so incredibly ridiculous.

There’s a little card with the two sets.

I prefer you with nothing on, but we’ll save that for my eyes only. You can wear this for everyone else. <3 Your Favorite Admirer

She notes the Secret is obviously missing due to the shorts, but she appreciates Paige’s commitment to trying to continue the act as much as she can.

When Azzi makes her way into Paige’s room later that night in the new short set, the cocky and satisfied grin on Paige’s face is worth it because she knows her best friend is going to be alright. And if Paige’s hands find their rightful place on Azzi’s ass even more than usual, who is anyone to judge?

After all, it is her property.

–

The eighth day of February does not bring any more sets for Azzi from any of her admirers.

Instead she spends most of the day doing rehab and she has a checkup with the doctor. It’s pretty busy and the rest of the team preps for the big game on Sunday.

All the team’s been able to talk about is the game and what needs to happen in order to beat South Carolina. The energy is nervous and determined, but there’s a hope there.

She only sees some of the girls, everyone busy with individuals and classes. She can tell everyone is stressed and does her best to be encouraging and give advice, but she feels helpless.

Azzi knows Paige is taking it the hardest, just like she always does. This team and its success is the burden she has had to bear since she committed to the program. Good or bad, the attention will be on Paige. She’ll have to soak in the praise or bear the brunt of the criticism.

So she decides she’ll do the gift giving today. Well, she decides she will also do some gift giving today.

Because Paige beats her to it and there’s a new bouquet of flowers when she gets home that afternoon. This time it’s another arrangement of pinks and purples. It’s simple, but beautiful.

There’s a matching purple envelope and she opens it for the card.

Princesses deserved to be pampered. <3 Your Favorite Admirer

A certificate for a spa day is in the envelope too. It’s one of those fancy spas that she’s always wanted to try but never actually been able to.

As she reads the note again, she agrees with the blonde. She pulls out her phone to call their favorite nail salon and books mani-pedis for them both.

It’ll be a nice distraction for Paige and will hopefully get her to relax a bit. Once the details are confirmed, she goes in search for her best friend.

She finds the blonde in her room playing Fortnite and greets her with a kiss on the cheek.

“I made appointments to get our nails done,” Azzi tells her as she watches Paige get a kill.

“Nice,” Paige hums, focused on her game.

“Can I drive?” Azzi tries.

Paige laughs and turns her head to look her in the eyes, “Fuck no.”

Azzi shrugs, it was worth a shot, but she’s a passenger princess and doesn’t need to be told twice.

“Ok, are you almost done?”

Paige looks back at the screen and sighs because Azzi distracted her, “Yeah, let’s go.”

She switches off the game and throws the controller down by the tv. She stretches her body and grabs her wallet before reaching out her hand for Azzi to grab.

The pair spend the next two hours getting the Valentine’s Day Special pedicure with matching pink toes and a clear coat of polish on their fingers to follow CD’s rules.

Azzi manages to beat Paige to the register to pay for both of them and smiles when she notices how much lighter her friend seems. In turn she feels lighter because for whatever weight Paige carries on her shoulders, Azzi carries the weight in Paige’s heart.

–

When Azzi makes it back to her room the next morning, there are no flowers to greet her. There’s only a simple white envelope with her name written on it on her desk.

Part of her is a bit disappointed that there’s no flowers, but the logical part of her knows she’s received an excessive amount of flowers so far and it’s for the best that she isn’t getting any today. She has more bouquets in the apartment than she knows what to do with now.

She picks up the envelope and slides her finger under the seal to open it. There’s a card inside and it’s the longest note Paige has written so far.

A place for us and your family to stay in LA while you do rehab and some stuff for us to do while we’re there. <3 Your Favorite Admirer

There are two pages of paper folded to fit in the envelope. One is a printed out booking of an Airbnb large enough for her and Paige, her parents and her brothers to stay. It’s for about a month near where Paige stayed last year. Figuring out Azzi’s recovery had been a hassle that they’d gone back and forth on for so long. They’d considered having her go to LA to do it where Paige had, but ultimately decided to keep her in Storrs. But now it seemed like Paige had set up sessions with the people she had worked with and had coordinated it with everyone for her.

The second page is an itinerary of sorts. It’s mostly just a list of things Paige has already gotten them tickets or reservations to. Disneyland, Universal, a sunset booze cruise, and WNBA games are among them.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky, but she’s so grateful for whatever higher power brought this girl into her life.

–

The entire team flys out to South Carolina for the game as a morale and support booster. Everyone seems to be in high spirits as they board the plane.

Azzi is the last person on the plane and unsurprisingly, the only open seat is next to Paige. When she makes it to the seat, there’s a rose lying on the seat on top of a small box.

She throws her backpack onto the floor and kicks it under the seat in front of her before grabbing the box and rose and sitting down. If they weren’t so close to the coaches she’d lean over and kiss Paige, but she has to show some semblance of control out of respect for the staff.

The note is tied to the rose again.

My heart is in your hands. <3 Your Favorite Admirer

Placing the rose on her thighs, she lifts the lid on the square velvet box. Inside is a silver heart bracelet. It’s a solid heart and she can make out an “A” and “P” engraved in it connected to thin chains.

It’s perfect. The bracelet is beautiful and the initials are small enough that she doubts anyone will ever even be able to tell. But she will know.

She will know that Paige’s initial is there and so will Paige.

Azzi pulls it out of the box and immediately hands it to Paige and sticks out her left arm. The senior happily clasps it around her wrist and places a quick kiss on it.

Leaning her head onto Paige’s soldier, Azzi sighs in content and turns ever so slightly to leave a kiss there. She hopes Paige can tell it’s a silent thank you and I love you because she doesn’t trust her voice right now.

When Paige leaves a kiss on her forehead in return, Azzi knows she understands. She always does.

–

The plane ride back to Storrs after the loss to South Carolina is relatively silent. No one really knows what to say and there is nothing to say. They didn’t play well and they weren’t good enough. Like every loss it stings. That feeling will never go away. But it’s not the end of the world.

They’re down five players and the rest are physically and mentally exhausted from the ups and downs of the season. They’ve gone through so much, maybe too much.

When they get back to the apartments, the mood is somber but not as bad as it has been at points this season. It could’ve been worse.

The girls briefly retire to their rooms either to rest for a second or freshen up. When Azzi throws her bag haphazardly on the floor of her room, she looks up to notice a black heart shaped box laying on her bed. The box is full of preserved pink and gold painted roses and wrapped in a matching gold ribbon.

There’s an envelope with her name placed right next to it. She carefully opens it and takes out the thick cardstock to read the note.

Forever roses for a forever thing. <3 Your Favorite Admirer

There are two plane tickets inside of the envelope. The tickets are to Cancun in June and she squeals because she loves the ocean and the cold weather has her desperate for some sun.

She tucks the contents back into the envelope and puts it safely in her drawer for the future. When she meets everyone in the living room to watch the Super Bowl, she kisses Paige a little harder and longer than usual. Paige seems to understand the reason and happily lets Azzi snuggle into her as they watch the game neither of them care too much about.

–

The team has film on Monday. They sit for hours going over the game and getting an earful from the coaches. Except it’s surprisingly not that bad, all things considered, it could’ve been worse.

So the girls end up at Cafe Werth again and this time there’s another bouquet on the table very similar to the one that was there last time from the non-Paige Secret Admirer. This time, however, they don’t just stop there. There are two smaller bouquets of red and pink roses next to it with chocolates scattered all around the table. Red heart balloons are tied to the chairs and there’s a unicorn plushie in front of the basket wearing a little card as the name tag.

Azzi wants to groan because she doesn’t want to deal with a secret admirer or Paige’s anger. She chances a glance at the other girl to see how bad it is.

To her surprise, Paige is already staring at her with a smirk.

Oh. This is Paige’s gift for today.

Azzi’s entire demeanor shifts and suddenly she’s excited again, bounding over to the table. She picks up the unicorn and reads the card.

A new unicorn for my unicorn so you can cuddle when I’m not there. <3 Your Favorite Admirer

Cuddling it close to her heart, Azzi scans the chocolates on the table to see which one she wants to eat. She can’t wait for it to join the rest of her stuffed animals on her bed.

Azzi’s too busy at the table to notice the rest of her teammates’ reactions.

“What the fuck?” KK whispers in the midst of the whole thing.

“That’s our bouquet!” Ice says, annoyed and confused. They’d left it on the table in the morning before going to film and none of the rest of the decorations were there. There was also a note in the flowers, which is noticeably gone now.

“I know she didn’t just take credit for it?” KK mutters in disbelief. “That’s fucking crazy.”

The two girls feel an arm around their necks pulling them into the culprit, “You two are so fucking dead. What the fuck are you giving Azzi flowers and pretending to be a secret admirer for?”

“Wait, wait, wait! It wasn’t just us!” KK exclaims, ready to throw everyone else under the bus too.

Paige raises an eyebrow as KK points around the room.

“It was all Amari!”

“Kamorea!”

“We were just trying to help you out!” Caroline jumps in, trying to diffuse the situation before Azzi notices.

“How the fuck was this supposed to help me?” Paige’s tone is incredulous.

“We thought if you got jealous enough you’d stop being a pussy and make things official,” Caroline explains.

Paige closes her eyes, trying to calm herself down. She knows her friends mean well, but she needs them to stop interfering and let her figure things out in her own time.

“Just,” Paige begins, “just leave it. Ok? I’ll do it when I’m ready.”

A chorus of “Fine’s” and “Ok’s” ring around the blonde and once she’s sure they all have taken her seriously, her smirk returns.

“Good, and thanks for the bouquet. That shit looks expensive,” Paige chuckles, turning back to watch Azzi walk to get a drink with her unicorn in one arm.

Paige: 12

–

Azzi wakes up to a knock on the front door of the apartment. She’s out of sorts since it’s barely 8am and she’d been up late the night before playing Fortnite. The team had left the evening before for their away game to avoid the snowstorm so she was alone in her particular apartment.

They usually left the door unlocked so whoever was knocking wasn’t part of the group that were privy to that bit of information.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she pushes her covers off and puts on her slippers before making her way to the front door.

The confusion and sleepiness make way for shock when she sees the massive Edible Arrangement fruit basket in front of her. The clear plastic wrapping the red basket is tied together by a matching red ribbon holding a heart balloon out of the top.

Paige.

The basket is filled with all types of fruit covered in chocolate that are cut into the shape of flowers, X’s and O’s, and hearts. Most of the basket is chocolate covered strawberries. Her absolute favorite.

“Azzi Fudd?” the man holding the basket questions, hoping he had the right apartment. He had to lug the large and heavy basket up 3 flights of stairs and his arms were going numb.

“Yeah, uh, come in. You can leave it on the table over there,” Azzi steps aside to allow him in.

Once the man sets the bouquet on the table, he turns and gives her a friendly grin, “Someone must love you a lot.”

Azzi blushes at the comment, looking down at the ground as she tries to hide her smile, “Yeah.”

I love her a lot too.

–

Azzi spends Valentine’s Day prepping for Paige to get back. She knows the team will arrive in Storrs late, maybe even after midnight, but she still wants to be able to celebrate the holiday with Paige even if it’s not quite Valentine’s Day anymore.

She has Kayla do her hair and she cleans her room. She washes her sheets so they’re fresh for the night and she does her homework so she doesn’t have to worry about it for the week.

She even preps some food so she can quickly cook it and have it ready for Paige when she gets back because she knows the older girl will be hungry. Before she knows it, the game is on.

Xavier is an easy win. The girls play better and Paige seems to be back in her rhythm. There’s not much to say other than it’s a much needed confidence booster to shake off the loss and get back into their play.

Once the final buzzer sounds, Azzi decides she needs to get ready. The flight isn’t that long and she still needs to set up.

She makes her bed with the freshly washed sheets and grabs the rose petals she bought to throw around the bedding.

She places Paige’s gift on her nightstand for when she gets back. It’s a velvet small box and an envelope containing all the other parts of her gift.

Surveying the room and deciding she’s happy with the result, Azzi goes over to her closet and digs around for the pink bag she managed to keep hidden from Paige. After they got back from Hartford, she’d managed to stuff it behind her boxes of shoes she knows the other girl wouldn’t even think to look near.

She grabs her robe and the bag and makes her way to the bathroom to take a shower. She has about 45 minutes before the team is supposed to get back so she needs to hurry.

Once Azzi’s clean and smelling like Paige’s favorite vanilla body butter she slips the baby pink lingerie set on. The bra and thong are see through lace and leave little to the imagination. The garter is held together by a gold heart clasp to match the hearts on the bra.

She looks good.

Azzi puts on her robe and sprays her favorite perfume, before noticing she has a text from Paige telling her they’re on the bus from the airport. She rushes to finish and grab her things so she can put them away and light some candles for when the blonde gets back.

When she gets back to her room, she pauses because on her bed on top of all the rose petals she scattered is a white box tied in pink ribbon and topped with a bow. Walking closer, she wonders how the hell Paige has managed to rope in helpers for the past two weeks in order to pull all her little gifts off.

She giddily unties the bow and lets the pink ribbon fall off the box before lifting the lid and revealing a pink polaroid camera. Inside the box there’s two new packs of film and a purple mesh bag.

The mesh is translucent enough that she can tell there are already taken pictures in it so she grabs it and loosens the strings. When she pulls them all out, there’s a note like she’s grown accustomed to with all of Paige’s gifts.

Snapshots of me admiring you and my thoughts during those moments. <3 Your Favorite Admirer

She then carefully places them flat on her bed in the order they were stacked so she can look at what they are. Some have Paige in them, but they’re all of her.

The first one is of them the first time Azzi came to visit during Paige’s freshman year. The team had taken her out and it was the first time Azzi had been truly drunk knowing Paige would take care of her.

She flips the picture over and on the back in Paige’s messy scrawl it says, “The first time I knew it was different with you.”

That night had been the first time they’d crossed the line. Before then it’d been mild flirting and touching accompanied by an inexplicable possessiveness for each other that neither ever wanted to address. Instead they busied themselves in other bodies, trying to push the weird feelings away.

With lowered inhibitions fueled by the alcohol in their systems, they blurred whatever line they thought existed in their friendship.

She places it back on her bed neatly, and reaches for the next photo.

This one is of Azzi in her dorm on move in day of her freshman year. She’s smiling brightly sitting on her bed, a ball of nerves and excitement.

“The beginning of the end. I was terrible at showing it and almost ruined it all, but I knew back then.”

That year was one of the worst times of their entire relationship. Paige had been a mess of emotions and bad decisions. She wanted Azzi and didn’t know how to cope with it, in turn affecting everyone.

The fights divided their entire circle in ways that nearly destroyed them all. Neither Paige and Azzi were sure their friendship would survive.

She puts that one down quickly. As much time has passed since then, it still stings when she thinks about how rough that year was for them.

The next one quickly puts a smile back on her face. It’s of her and Paige hugging when she surprised her in the summer after Paige’s ACL surgery.

“The moment I realized I was in love with you.”

Azzi’s heart stops.

She knows Paige loves her, she’s told her many times. She tells her in her kisses, in her gifts, in the way she supports her, in everything she does.

But this is the first time Paige has ever told her she’s in love with her.

And now that she truly thinks about that day, she can remember how things shifted. The way Paige had reacted to her being there and had acted that entire day was…different. And so was every day after that.

The next one is from this past Christmas. It’s of Azzi and Drew cheesing at the camera in front of her family’s tree. Their families had spent the holiday together and it had been one of the best Christmases either of them can remember.

“My favorite people all together. I want that forever.”

Me too, Azzi thinks, unable to stop grinning at all the memories and notes.

The last one is from when they’d played in DC and Azzi had been able to meet up with the team. Azzi’s smiling at the camera and the necklace Paige had gotten her for Christmas is displayed perfectly.

“When I knew.”

That’s all there is on the back and Azzi is left confused. There’s nothing else on the picture and no other pictures to further explain that particular caption.

Knew what?

She huffs, impatient and curious, until she hears a soft chuckle from her doorway. The rate at which she whips her head around to stare at Paige should be studied.

“Hi,” is all Azzi manages to say, still clutching the polaroid in her hand.

Paige visibly softens as she takes in the sight of Azzi wrapped in a cute silk robe looking utterly confused, but excited to see her. The blonde closes and locks the door behind her as she takes a few steps toward the younger girl, “Hi, pretty girl.”

Once she’s standing in front of Azzi, who has now turned to fully face her, Paige hands her the bouquet she’d been holding. Azzi accepts the flowers and the kiss Paige offers with it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Paige tells her when they pull away.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Azzi smiles. She lifts the polaroid up so Paige can see, “Knew what?”

Paige laughs, “You’re so impatient. I haven’t even asked you to be my Valentine yet.”

“Is this not part of your plan to do that? Hurry up! I wanna give you my present and have sex,” Azzi huffs.

Paige shakes her head and teases, “Wow, you’re such a romantic.”

“Paaaigeeee,” Azzi whines.

Placing a kiss on her lips to quell the girl, Paige relents, “Will you be my Valentine?”

“Yes!” Azzi grins, giving her another kiss. This time it’s longer, but she pulls away remembering something. “Ok, my turn!”

She turns to grab her box she’d set aside and shoves it at Paige, practically bouncing in excitement, “This first!”

Paige is amused, but grabs the box anyway. She opens it and raises her eyebrows. It’s a new set of diamond stud earrings. They’re square instead of round like the ones she already has, but they’re around the same size, so she knows they were expensive.

“Damn,” Paige says in astonishment. “Thank you.”

She leans over to kiss Azzi, but the other girls backs away, “No not yet, there’s more.”

Azzi grabs the envelope and hands it to Paige. There’s a card and some other things inside. Paige takes the card first and begins reading.

To My Favorite Admirer,

Happy Love Day! Thank you for being my person and soulmate. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for being you. I love you forever.

<3 Your Princess

Paige has to try to keep it together. She grabs the other items inside.

“That’s your plane ticket to come with me to work out with Steph,” Azzi tells her as she watches Paige go through the pieces of paper.

“And those are for the Governor’s Ball in June. I know you wanted to go because of the headliners,” Azzi explains.

“Holy shit,” Paige breathes. “You’re the best! Thank you!”

She places everything on Azzi’s nightstand and moves to kiss her, pushing her until Azzi’s legs hit the bed. The other girl squeaks out a protest and pushes Paige away, “Wait, I have to move my pictures.”

Paige stands there watching her carefully put the pictures back into the mesh bag and move the entire box to the nightstand as well. Once she’s sure everything is properly put away, she turns back to Paige and pushes her to sit on the bed.

“Okay, one last present,” Azzi smirks as she unties her robe and lets it fall off her shoulders.

“Holy fuck,” Paige stares in awe, jaw hanging and eyes wide.

Azzi giggles at her reaction and nudges Paige so she’s laying against the pillows before climbing to straddle her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Azzi says seductively, but she softens when she adds, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Paige grins, but she doesn’t let Azzi kiss her. She’s met with a noise of annoyance.

“Wait, I didn’t even get to finish my plan,” Paige tells her gently. She reaches for the pink camera in the box sitting on Azzi’s nightstand and pushes Azzi back a little so she can get as much of her in the picture as possible.

She lets her hand slide up from Azzi’s waist, brushing her nipple through the thin lace and continuing until her hand is cupping Azzi’s cheek. The look Azzi is giving her almost makes her lose all coherent thoughts and forget about what she needs to do.

She quickly snaps a picture of it and lets it print. When it’s done printing, she puts the camera and developing polaroid back down on the nightstand and says, “That’s for me later.”

Turning back to look at Azzi, she grips her hips and continues, “Anyway, the last picture. It’s when I knew I needed to stop being a pussy and make things official.”

She can feel Azzi’s body react to what she’s saying. The expression on the younger girl’s face is shock, hope, happiness, and above all love.

“We’ve been basically dating for like two years, I just, I was scared. Committing is scary. It’s saying goodbye to my old life. What if it doesn’t work? But it’s you, it’s us. It has to work. It will work. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I wasn’t ready, but I am now. So if you’ll have me, I’m yours. In every way, one hundred percent,” Paige nervously bites her lip as she finishes her little speech.

Azzi’s completely caught off guard because she let the idea of Paige doing this go for now. She didn’t want to push her and she was fine with how they were.

She realizes she hasn’t said anything and Paige is getting worried. She can tell by the way she starts to shift under her and she quickly recovers.

“So I get to be your best friend, your soulmate, and your girlfriend?” Azzi smirks, deciding to tease Paige.

“You’re everything,” Paige affirms in a voice that sounds like she’s worshiping.

Instead of a reply, Azzi leans forward to connect their lips, hoping to convey her answer and how much she loves Paige in the kiss. But just in case it wasn’t clear in the kiss, she makes sure to show her girlfriend many times over that night.

The next morning, the picture Paige took of Azzi will disappear with the blonde. Azzi will find it years later tucked in a safe place of Paige’s most prized possessions with the caption:

“When I knew I wanted to marry her.”

–

bonus:

“Piss Paige Off”

Aubrey added Azzi to the conversation.

You bitches are so lucky you didn’t ruin Paige’s plan

Oh and thanks for the set Paige loved it 🤪

KK, Ice, Nika, and 9 others disliked “Oh and thanks for the set Paige loved it 🤪”

KK removed Azzi from the conversation.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #plan p

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dmercer91 · 7 months

Note

i love opposites attract au so much 🥹 what would happen if someone (maybe a new teammate or someone who does really know black cat) said something rude about her like maybe about her personality or her shyness? i feel like luca would be ready to sock someone in the nose LOL

he is always so ready to punch someone when they talk shit about her for no reason and after he walks away from the situation he just feels so sad

he wishes people saw her the way he did and that they’d at least try and give her the benefit of the doubt

through my eyes | opposites attract au, lf63

luca had been paired up with seamus and another guy from their class for an assignment, and they’d been sitting in the guys living room talking away for the last hour, assignment be damned

“you guys must get like a fuck ton of girls at parties, right? i mean like, hot girls, too,” the guy had commented, tilting his head so his words served as a question

“eh. sometimes, sure. lucas got a girl though, he’s head up his ass in love with her,” seamus smiled, looking over at luca who gave a small smile, the reminder of you making his heart flutter

“yeah? you got a picture?” the guy chuckled, watching as luca turned his phone screen and showed him the picture of you two he had as his lock screen

you were laughing together, you pretending to open up to bite his shoulder and him just beaming at the camera. it was one of his favourites of the both of you.

“oh. yeah, i think i’ve seen her around. shes pretty weird,” the guy shrugged, going back to seamus and staring to ask about some of his hookups.

seamus shook his head “dude. what the fuck,” he raised an eyebrow, coming to your defence while luca soaked in the comment, already angry.

“what? i’m just saying, man, you can do better,” the guy scrunched his face, confused as to lucas and seamus’ reactions

“she’s beautiful. and she’s quiet, yeah. but she’s not weird. she probably just didn’t fucking like you,” luca but in, eyes cold and pissed towards the guy.

“no, fantilli. she’s weird. she doesn’t talk to anyone and she’s about to fucking bite you in that. weirdo shit,” he vaguely gestured to lucas phone, rolling his eyes.

“you don’t know a thing about her, man. don’t fucking talk about her like that,” luca replied, fist gripping his phone roughly

“whatever. keep fucking your weirdo girlfriend. the rest of the team can have the hot, normal ones,” the guy smirked, clearly just trying to rile up luca and see how far he could take it

“jesus christ- let’s go, luca. grow a fucking sack, asshole,” shea eyed the guy, shoving his and lucas things in their bags and pushing him out the door, trying to get the both of them out of the situation as fast as possible

luca was quiet for a good while, a somber look plastered on his face while they walked back to his and your apartment.

“she’s such a sweet girl. nobody tries to see through her when she’s quiet,” he mumbled, looking over at seamus who was visibly uncomfortable because of everything that was said at their partners place

“don’t pay any mind to him, fants. the team loves her, shy or not,” luca looked down, a small smile forming on his lips

you were still pretty brash with a lot of the team, but they all included you in the group and loved lucas love for you regardless.

the people he actually cared about were all that mattered, no matter how bad he wanted everyone to see you how he did.

#opposites attract au !#e’s 500 celly!#e’s blurbs!#luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #umich hockey

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longbottomlove · 1 month

Text

first time || n.l.

warnings: smut!

neville and y/n had been dating for about a year at that point, nothing crazy. they’d shared little kisses and hugs, maybe a tiny make out sesh a couple times. the little bit of tongue, heavy breathing kind that every guy dreamed about having with his crush.

but she wasn’t his crush. she was his girlfriend. he loved her. and she loved him. it was simple like that. they’d never tried anything further than kissing because they didn’t need to.

neville tried to be the respectful gentleman y/n deserved, but a nagging problem was starting to arise.

every time they kissed for longer than three seconds, shared a close hug(the kind that had her boobs pressed against his chest), or even if y/n cracked a dirty joke to pull a laugh out from their friends, he had a boner. it was hard to hide and hard to make it go away. neville was a virgin and had no clue what to do.

and then there were the dreams. dreams about his girlfriend. dreams where she was kissing him, touching him, speaking to him in a hushed whisper, neville we have to be quiet. neville we’re gonna be caught. neville do you want me? neville wake up.

and wake up he would. every morning. sometimes he’d wake up to a tent in his pants. other times it would be a sticky mess he had to clean before starting the day.

worst of all was the guilt. godric, the guilt. thinking all of these foul things about someone who had no part in causing it felt criminal. it made him feel gross and pervy. he knew he had to tell you.

———————-

“uh.. y/n?” he forced out. “i..uh. i have to tell you something,”

this was it. the moment she would dump him. poor little neville who had finally gotten a girlfriend was going to be dumped. his heart was racing, palms clammy and shiny with sweat.

y/n followed him into his dorm, taking a seat on the bed like he gestured her to do. she was confused. so confused. was he gonna dump her, did he cheat?

“so what was it you wanted to tell me?” y/n asked, eyes glued to her feet.

“well,” neville started. “i’ve, i’ve been having these thoughts. and they’re gross and about you. and i dunno, i just had to tell you because ikeephavingdirtydreamsaboutyouandimsorry,”

“what?”

neville looked at the girl in confusion. like she couldn’t have possibly not heard him and he didn’t wanna say it again.

“i keep having dirty dreams about you. and im sorry,” he repeated.

a sharp silence overtook the room. she hated him now. she had to. he had confessed his disgusting thoughts to her. he was done for. would she tell a Professor? Snape or McGonagall maybe? would he be expelled for repulsive behavior? or would he just be laughed at by all her friends?

a painful minute of silence rushed through the room, ended only by a sharp cry of laughter. she was laughing! neville didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing but he soon joined in and began chuckling himself.

“oh my god,” y/n started. “i can’t breathe! i cant, i cant,”

after a good four or five minutes y/n finally looked up from her laughing position and looked at her boyfriend. “that’s normal, nev,” she said.

“what?” neville squeezed out.

“to have dreams like that, it’s normal. i’d be concerned if you didn’t have those dreams,”

neville was very confused to say the least. his thoughts were gross… and here she was saying it’s okay.

“and like,” neville started, “every time we like, kiss and stuff, i get a- erm..”

“a what, love?”

neville vaguely gestured to his crotch, hoping she’d get what he meant.

“ohhhhhh. yeah… that’s normal too i think,”she said. neville was relieved to say the least.

it was nearing dinner time, and y/n had promised to sit with hermione and ginny during the meal. she pecked neville on the cheek and started towards the door. she was almost out when she heard a soft voice call out to her.

“y/n?”

“yeah, baby?”

“could you… maybe stay?”

#harry potter #neville longbottom #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom fluff #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #neville longbottom fic #neville longbottom imagine #writing #neville longbottom smut

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phantoms-lair · 1 month

Text

"Okay, I can see why your astrology loving self likes it here," Tim elbowed Danny.

"It's astronomy and you know it." Danny said, fake offended.

"Yeah, I will admit I'm surprised by how good the internet is here. I wasn't expecting that out of rural Kansas."

"Well, think of who they have to keep in contact with, and how far away." Danny pointed out. "Honestly, pretty sure Bruce is responsible."

"Wouldn't be surprised."

"Hey Danny!" Elle hovered over the two of them. "Let's go flying!"

"We've got a guest you know." Danny gestured at Tim with his thumb. "Be kind of a jerk move to fly off without him."

"Can't he fly?" Elle asked. "His hero name is Robin, right?"

Elle looked like she was ten, but Tim had to remind himself she was less than half a year old and often surrounded by metahumans. "No flight. All my powers are up here." he said, tapping the side of his head.

"You're psychic?" she asked.

Danny laughed and Tim rolled his eyes. "No powers, just smart." he clarified. Then he looked back at the stars. "It would be interesting to see what it would be like to have powers, but like most of the family, I'm a normal human."

"No one who can lie to Batman with a straight face is normal." Danny pointed out.

"If he wants to know what it's like to have powers, why don't you show him?" Elle asked.

"It's rude." Danny said, sticking his tongue.

"Not with consent."

"Not with permission." Danny pleaded. "You are too young for me to want to hear you use the phrase 'consent'."

"Missing something." Tim pointed out.

"Overshadowing. If I take control of you I can channel my powers through your body. But like I said, it's kind of rude."

Tim wasn't sure 'rude' was the word for stealing someone's bodily autonomy. But Elle did have a point of her own. There was a world of difference between doing something with or without consent. "Okay, how would that work?"

"How would what work?" Danny asked.

"The overshadowing thing."

"Oh, it's er," Danny was fiddling with his fingers, suddenly nervous. "It's kinda creepy."

Tim gave him a flat look. They'd covered Danny referring to himself as 'creepy' enough in Gotham that he wasn't amused.

"It's basically possession. I would seize control of your body and channel my powers through it. Normally the person getting possessed is sort of put to sleep and only has vague impressions of the time they were controlled. But a person with strong enough willpower can resist and be aware." Unsaid was that pretty much everyone in Tim's family would be able to hold onto their awareness.

"Could you cede control once you had it though? Possess someone but not control them?"

"I honestly don't know. I've never tried it." Danny admitted.

"Then lets try it," Tim suggested.

Danny looked at him like he was crazy. "Why?"

"Two reason. The first is it will see how well I do if a ghost tries controlling me. The second," he shrugged, "I'm not a metahuman and will probably never be one. And I'm okay with that, but it's been interesting to see what it feels like to be one, you know?"

Danny pursed his lips and Tim wondered if he was crossing a line. Being a metahuman hadn't exactly been a fun experience for Danny, after all.

"Okay." Danny said reluctantly. "But you don't get to blame me if you don't like it."

Or he could just still have issues with the thought of people rejecting him for his powers. "Fair. We've got Elle as our witness that this was my idea. I could talk to the Kents beforehand too-"

"Not necessary!" Danny shuddered.

Tim felt his heart droop. Deep down Danny still didn't trust they'd keep caring for him. He hated what the Fentons had done to Danny's self esteem. "You don't have to if you don't want to." Tim softly reminded him. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable either. But I trust you, you know?"

Danny swallowed heavily. "Okay. If you're sure."

It felt cold, at first, like a chill up his spine. Then Tim felt his mouth move and vocal chords activate independently of of him. "Okay, so this is overshadowing." His own voice said. "So I guess, try to do something and I'll try not to stop it?"

"Do you have to talk out loud?" Tim asked. "It's going to look like I'm talking to myself."

"I guess that works. And yes, no psychic connection for this. Sorry."

"Weird," Elle observed. "I've seen some recordings of overshadowing and usually the person has the eyes glowing the ghosts color when control, but the glow fades when they resist control. But the eye glow didn't go away when Tim spoke."

"He's not resisting me, I'm letting him have control, it's different." Danny insisted.

"Maybe I should start resisting you. Just to see if I can." Tim suggested.

Elle giggled. It really did look funny with him talking to himself.

"Okay," Danny raised Tim's arm and clenched his fist. "You try to open your hand and I'll try to keep it shut."

Tim had to admit just feeling his arm move like that was mildly panic inducing. He'd managed not to be carded by Hatter but imagined this was what it felt like. He struggled to move his hand only to have it firmly stay in place. He struggled more, eventually sending his arm into erratic fits, punching himself in the face. "Owww" he moaned as

Elle doubled over in laughter.

"Healing factor should take care of it in a few minutes. Unless you want to stop now." Danny rubbed their injured nose.

"No, I mean, I think I want muscle control back, we can work on resisting stuff more later. But I want to see what having powers feels like!"

"Which one do you want to-"

"Flying!" Elle interrupted gleefully.

"I think you might have an ulterior motive." Danny said dryly. "You up for flying, Tim?"

"Yes please," Tim answered, trying to hide how excited he was to try.

He's seen others fly, several times, but it wasn't something he's ever thought he could do except on a hang glider or something.

"We're going for invisibility first." Danny warned. "Since we don't want to be seen."

If getting possessed had been a shiver up his spine, becoming invisible was like being dunked in cool water. Not frigid, but a definite chill ran across his skin as it vanished from sight. Then Tim felt gravity lose it's hold on him. Without any form of propulsion he lifted up about a foot in the air.

"We're going to start low and slow." Danny assured him. "So if anything goes wrong you aren't going to fall too far." Gently he leaned forward and glided effortlessly through the air.

"Do you think I could do this myself?" Tim asked.

"No clue, let's try!" Danny seemed to be warming up to the idea of testing with Tim's lack of a bad reaction to being overshadowed.

The floated in place and Tim tried to move their shared body. But while he could mover his limbs with ease, Danny's power couldn't be interacted with. "Doesn't look like it, sorry."

Elle looped back around. "This is low and slow is kiddy stuff." She groaned.

Danny gave her a mild glare. "You are three months old. You have no right to complain of kiddy stuff."

"If anything I can more." Elle countered. "Come on, can we at least do tag or something?" Tim shrugged. "Sure, tag sounds good."

"Does she normally smoke you this bad at tag?"

"No." Danny grumped.

Tim sighed. "Sorry. Having to plan out our strategies is letting her hear us. If you took full control-" "Then you wouldn't be in the game, I'd just be using you as a meat suit for no reason." Danny pointed out.

Tim thought for a moment. "Danny, can you put your shield in a bubble around us, so Elle can't hear us planning?"

"Sure, but it's going to be obvious."

"That's fine, we're just planning the planning." Tim assured. Danny raised the shield "We're planning to plan? Seems redundant."

"We're planning the things that will let us plan in plain sigh without your sister knowing." Tim corrected. "So our main issue here is we've got two minds that need to collaborate. Even if we split the division of labor of you powers me body, we each need to use both. You can take control of my body if an opportunity needs it, but I can't take control of your powers, so that what we need more communication for."

"Elle hasn't developed much beyond the standard, so we can keep to those. So, intangibility," Tim tapped the ring finger of his left hand twice. "If I make that motion, it means I'm asking you to use intangibility, if you do it it's warning me you're using it and I don't have to flinch away. Blinking twice will work the same for invisibility and..." Tim thought a moment more. "Tongue for flying." "Okay, I get eyes for invisibility and hands for intangibility, why tongue for flying?" Danny asked.

"Because it can't be seen. So tongue on the roof of my mouth acts as the taps or blinking, but can also be used to indicate direction in three dimensions." Tim demonstrated by holding his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then pressing it to the left side of his cheek."

Any more discussion was interrupted by Elle knocking on the shield. Danny dropped it to reveal his younger sister looking annoyed. "Are we playing or what?" Dany smirk and cracked their shared knuckles. "Round two begins now."

Alfred stood on the porch with the Kents while Martha rang the bell to call the children in. It had been a lovely visit catching up with them while Tim spent some time with Danny and Elle. It warmed his heart that despite moving to Smallville and possibly adding Kent to his name instead of Wayne, Danny and Tim were still very much brothers.

(One of the contingencies, if the Kents hadn't felt able to take in the boy, was for him to be officially adopted by Tim as a Drake, allowing him to still be a part of the family without feeling an unwanted connection to Master Bruce. But that plan was scrapped when Danny became publicly known during the Seige of Gotham. It was for the best, Danny truly needed more adults he trusted.)

It wasn't unexpected to see the children approach from the air. What was unexpected was there was only two of them and Master Tim seemed to be flying of his own volition. A raised eyebrow was all it took to remind the children that this wasn't an ordinary situation either.

Tim felt his shoulders hunch and his cheek flush as Danny's self-consciousness expressed itself in his body. Danny separated from him and opened his mouth, probably to apologize, but Tim wasn't going to let him. "I wanted to know what it was like to fly." he said, cutting off any apologies for his existence his brother might make.

"Indeed." Alfred said simply. "And how did that work out?"

"Quite well. I can better coordinate flying members of the team now, as well as Danny and I worked out a simple non-verbal code in order to plan around Elle while she could hear everything we said to each other. It was a productive endeavor."

"More importantly, Master Tim." Alfred's eyes crinkled into a smile. "Did you have fun?"

Tim felt himself becoming bashful now, ducking his head. "Yeah." He answered. "I did."

Good. Just as Danny needed the occasional reminder they were cared for, Tim needed the reminder that he was more than his use.

"That's something." Pa rubbed his chin. "Don't suppose you'd be willing too take me up there too. "I'd love to be able to go flying with Clark."

Danny's face turned red, and he half hid behind Tim's shoulder.

"It's okay if you're not comfortable with us for that yet." Ma said kindly. "We know you haven't know us as long as Tim."

"S'Okay." Danny muttered.

"You can take Pa and I'll take Ma. We can all go flying!" Elle cheered.

"When your brother's ready," Ma gently admonished.

"With that we must be off." Alfred apologized. "While I treasure these times, it's not fair to Miss Gordon to have to run herd on our family all evening without backup."

"Give Bruce our best." Ma patted Tim on the head while Pa and Alfred shook hands.

"I will. See you soon Danny."

"Yeah." Danny smiled at his brother. "See you soon."

It would be sooner than either of the two thought

#Ghost Writing #Taking Flight #DCxDP #Any guesses what they forgot to take into account?#That's going to lead to needing to share a body in the near future?

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santaasi · 8 days

Text

VIOLENCE

pairing: boxer!jj maybank x gf!reader

summary: jj maybank wants to put the whole world at her feet, but the only way he knows in this life is violence

warnings: angst, a lil bit of fluff, (kinda) violent behavior, some language, no use of y/n, jj calls reader kitten, english isn’t my first language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this work was originally conceived as a small drabble with a maximum of 1.5k words but it became a full one-shot. i guess i can't be brief. as always, I recommend you to listen to this amazing song while reading: Eden - Suffering for Love. Have a good time <з

She hated what he was doing. She hated this little ring, which looked like a cage when even animals could not be kept. She hated being in a crowd of sweaty men drinking beer and shouting his name. She hated watching his face, which she loved to cover with kisses, get hit after hit. And she hated that she felt a vague pleasure when his fist flew into his opponent's face.

All in all, she hated violence. And JJ Maybank's lifestyle was full of this violence.

But more than that, she hated the fact that she was the cause of this violence in JJ's life. Everything he did was for her and because of her. He kissed the ground she walked on.

Therefore, he was ready to do anything just to give her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Or to arrange the most unforgettable date for her on the beach. Or to give her that rare and outrageously expensive book for her birthday that she had dreamed of for so long. And for all of this, money was needed, which JJ did not have. But there was hatered and violence in his veins, which for the first time in his life came in handy.

At first, these illegal fights were just additional earnings for him, when he had to make ends meet, to repay debts, or when he just wanted to pamper his princess (always). But then... the high-stakes, wins, the big money, her smiling face - pulled him into a place he didn't want to get out of. And JJ Maybank knew perfectly well that if she found out about his new little part-time ‘job’, she wouldn't like it. So, he kept it a secret. Violence was his little secret.

But she was never stupid. She found all these little gestures on his part sweet and innocent. She didn't wonder where he got the money from, because he had a job. In this godforsaken car repair shop. But when Mr. Joyce, his boss, called out to her on the street, asking her to send her ‘errand boy’ to take his share after he was fired, she began to suspect something was wrong.

With his first big win in boxing, he rented them a small cozy house on the outskirts of the cut. It was a gift for their second anniversary. And she moved from her parents' huge mansion on Figure 8 to this small house to be near him, to love him and to spent her whole life with him.

They never talked about JJ's new job, she didn't ask where his money came from, or where he got new beatings every week right after the previous ones had just healed. She didn't want to get into his soul with questions, having already understood perfectly well for two years that if he wanted to, he would have told everything himself. But all this bothered her, because of which she did not sleep well, she always walked around sullen and gloomy. And at some point she just couldn't stand it.

She remembered this day as if it were yesterday. She going down the dark stairs to the basement, standing in the crowd, looking around for the top of his blond hair, and how her heart stopped for a moment when she saw him in that cage. She stood frozen with horror and fear for him, unable to say even a word. She saw how he struck blow after blow, how his eyes burned with determination and how he grinned triumphantly into the crowd, enjoying himself after winning.

He always enjoyed the taste of victory and the roar of the crowd shouting his name at such moments, because it made him feel needed, noticed and appreciated. But as soon as he saw her frightened look at him, everything inside him turned upside down. She was standing there, looking at him with her big, frightened eyes, like a little deer that had met with a gun pointed at her in the woods. And the air was knocked out of his lungs in a second just from one of her looks, which stabbed into his heart like a knife. He watched her slowly squeeze through the crowd, trying to get out, trying to escape from what she saw.

For the first time in his life, JJ Maybank didn't know what to do. He understood that she needed time to make sense of everything, but he didn't want her to make some hasty decision without him.

So, he quickly took his salary and things and left the basement, meeting with the cold wind and with her. She stood hugging herself, trying to warm her body, which was shaking either from cold or shock. JJ draped his jacket over her shoulders and lit a cigarette, waiting for her to speak first.

Everything inside him was shaking with fear that she would leave, that she would not want to be with him anymore. And this thought terrified him more than anything else in the world.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" she asked in a barely audible voice, concentrating all her attention on the flashing light at the end of the road. A tiny cloud of steam escaped from her lips.

"It didn't matter, kitten," the guy croaked, looking at her. JJ had never seen her so seriously cold before. There was a lump in his throat. "You never cared where I took the money so I..."

"It didn't matter? Doesn't it matter to you, JJ?!" her voice rose and she turned to him, looking at him in rage with tears in her eyes.

"’Cause it does metter to me! ‘S metter to me where you are, if you're okay, how y’feel.… And after everything we've been through, did you jus’ decide to hide that you're engaged in illegal fighting now?" her chest heaved and her fists clenched. She did not understand at what point she stumbled, that he no longer trusted her. What did she do wrong?

"Why don't you trust me, Jay? I thought... we..." her lips trembled and her voice cracked. All the rage seemed to have disappeared in a moment, leaving only pain and resentment. Resentment against the person she loved most, for whom she fought for so many years and went against everyone, even against her parents. And for what?

JJ stood next to her in a daze. He watched her body shudder from the cold and saw tears begin to shine in her eyes in the light of the lanterns. She looked like a little kitten who had been kicked out of a warm and cozy house onto the street, where she was surrounded only by a big world filled with fear and horror. And to tell the truth, that's how she felt. All those relationships filled with love and trust that she had tried to build brick by brick between them were now slowly crumbling before her eyes. She never asked questions. And maybe that was her mistake. Maybe that's why her JJ decided she couldn't be trusted. Maybe that's why he decided to hide part of his life from her?

But that wasn't the case for JJ. He has always trusted her and will trust her no matter what happens, because she is the one for him. She was always there for him in the most difficult moments of his life. She pulled him out of the swamp of darkness and pain that he had been immersed in all these years. She took him under her wing, took care of him and loved him. JJ always believed that she was his guardian angel. That at some point in his miserable life, God, if he really existed, sent her to save his, JJ Maybank's, worthless life and give him a reason to stay.

She was always perfect in his eyes. Innocent and pure. He couldn't let all the dirt and violence he was dealing with show on her. But even more, he couldn't bear the thought that after recognizing him as so evil and cruel, she would abandon him. That's why he's hiding it. That's why he didn't tell her anything.

"Jay, please say somethin’.… this silence is drivin’ me crazy," her voice was hoarse and helpless. She looked at him with her big tearful eyes and JJ felt his heart breaking. Did he really do this to her? "What did I do wrong?"

Maybank could have sworn he barely heard her last words. The phrase swept past him like a cold wind, leaving behind a wave of goosebumps. He wished he hadn't heard them. He wished he didn't feel that stabbing feeling in his chest that they caused. But JJ heard that soft voice, broken for a second, which, like a blow to the gut, forced the air out of his lungs.

JJ Maybank had done the most terrible thing to her. He made her doubt herself. And he hated himself for it. The guy frowned, trying a couple of times to open his mouth and say at least something ... at least something so that she would understand him.

"That's what I thought," Dana whispered softly, nodding and turning around and walking in the same direction from where she came.

The sound of her footsteps echoing down the empty street brought JJ out of shock and he immediately started running after her. He couldn't let her go. She was his world. His everything.

"Kitten, wait! Stop! I'll explain everythin’, okay?" catching her hand, he gently turned her around.

The girl's face was pale and lifeless. For the first time in all this weeks, JJ noticed blue circles under her eyes, and a lack of shine in her pupils. She didn't say anything, just stood there waiting for his explanation. The girl knew that she would never be able to leave him without listening. No matter how many times JJ Maybank messed up, she would always accept and listen to him.

"I jus’ wanted to give you better life, kitten. I- I-... ‘n that was the only way," JJ whispered, taking her hands in his. His fingers moved slowly and soothingly over her palms.

"I know you don't like... all this. I know ‘s too much. But ‘s worth it to see y’smile..." JJ looked at their joined hands and let go of one, reaching into his pocket and showing her a stack of greenbacks.

"There's a thousand bucks here. I got a thousand dollars for jus’ one fight, kitten. ‘S enough to cover all our expenses and there will still be..." Maybank looked up at his girl, smiling, but when he met her sad expression, his smile immediately faded.

Her name came out of his mouth, but she just shook her head as she came closer. Her hands gently touched his face, tracing each wound with her finger. A split eyebrow. A bruise on the cheekbone. A bleeding scar on the bridge of his nose. A split lip. She flinched a little every time her finger touched a particularly badly bleeding wound, as if all these wounds were hers.

"Do you really think that this money is more important to me than you are? Do you really think that this money is worth all your injuries to me?" Dana whispered softly, frowning slightly. Her voice was soft and soothing, but her eyes were shining.

JJ saw her bite her lower lip to keep from crying. His heart ached. JJ saw her pain. He said her name again, but she shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"You still haven't realized in all these years that I don't care about money, Jay?" She cupped his face with her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "I left my parents, I left my life behind to be with you. I don't need money, I need you."

JJ's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him. He needed to feel her next to him. To feel that she would never leave. JJ rested his chin on her hair, inhaling the scent of floral perfume.

"I know, but I don't want you to live in need, kitten. I promise it for a while.… I'll figure something out"

JJ kissed the top of her head, holding her close. And she believed all his words again, hoping that he would really end it soon. She had no desire to watch him torture himself because of her.

"I can't do this anymore, Jay," the girl confessed months after their first encounter. This time his ‘performance’ went worse than expected.

She stood behind him with her arms crossed over her chest, looking at him through the mirror. JJ slowly treated his wounds on his face, sometimes spitting blood clots into the snow-white sink. He looked terrible. His entire torso was dotted with red bruises, and there was no living place on his face. Even after the worst fights with his father a couple of years ago, he didn't look that bad.

She watched as he slowly applied the alcohol-soaked cotton wool to his bruised eyebrow, pressing it too hard, which made him cringe in pain. She suppresses the urge to reach out to him and take everything from him, treat his wounds properly and kiss every bruise on his face, as she has done since the very beginning of their relationship. First because of Luke, and then because of his... his job. But she remained standing behind him, leaning her head back against the cold tiles on the wall. It seemed to calm her down a little. But all these thoughts about JJ, about these illegal fights, about what their relationship had become because of it, did not give her peace of mind. She didn't want to support this violence anymore. She doesn't want to see him suffer.

"You know 'm doin’ this for ya. For us, kitten," JJ said wearily, putting down the cotton wool and turning to the girl. Her gaze swept over his features again, which she did not recognize because of the swelling and bruises, and the girl frowned even despite his soft smile. "'m doin’ this so that we have the money to pay for this house. And for the bills. And for the food and all other stuff that ya need"

"If I get a job too, then you won't have to fight..."

“No! I have everything under control. You're not gonna work in some diner just ‘cause I..." the guy swallowed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Just ‘cause I can't provide for the life you had before me."

She shook her head and frowned. That was the whole damn problem. The fact that before her relationship with him, she was a kook, lived in a large mansion with a cook, a maid and a gardener, had an unlimited golden card and could do anything. And JJ was a pogue. And he didn't care about it until they decided to move in together a year ago, and since then he has set himself the goal of doing everything possible so that his kook princess doesn't lift her finger a day in her life. Although she didn't mind, she was never one to be afraid of getting her hands dirty. She was willing to work in the most God-forsaken eateries twenty-four hours a day just so that JJ wouldn't enter this fighting ring anymore. Because to see him like this almost every night…

"I'll figure it out, kitten. It's okay," she felt JJ's hands wrap around her cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, which she didn't even notice how they flowed. She focused her gaze on him and shook her head, biting her lip, suppressing a sniffle.

And again she hears "I'll figure it out." Sometimes it seems to her that she has heard this phrase from him every day throughout the year. Although it probably is, because all they've been doing this year is fighting. Then make up. And after that they quarrel again. So in a circle.

Her whole life over the past year has become like trash day, from which she can not get out.

"No, Jay. Nothing's gonna be okay as long as you go there," she couldn't even bring herself to say out loud the place where her boyfriend went almost every night. She swallowed the lump in her throat and put her palms on top of his. "With each new time you come in a worse and worse state… 'm afraid... one day… 'm afraid..." her voice trembled and she had to take a couple of breaths before speaking again. "I'm afraid that one day you won't come home, Jay. And I don’t wanna know... I don’t wanna know how I will live after that"

She felt a new wave of tears roll down her cheeks, and Jay cursed softly to himself before moving away from her. Over the past two months, these conversations have become more frequent and it annoyed the guy. None of these talks ended well. And JJ Maybank hated fighting with his girlfriend because she was the only one he lived and did everything for in this world. There was no point in his life without her. But despite this, he said what he considered necessary at that moment. Pause. They needed a pause.

The girl's eyes widened and she stared at the guy in shock. He couldn't offer it. Couldn't he?

"I'll stay with John B. until... until you calm down," the guy came out of the bathroom, opening the closet, taking out a pre-packed bag of things. She followed him out, watching him pull on his hoodie.

"What the hell, Jay? Are you leavin’ me?" her voice broke into a scream, and her heart began to beat at breakneck speed. He couldn't leave her. He won't leave her.

"This is a pause. ‘S just a pause for a few days. I'm tired of fighting’ with ya," JJ breathed wearily, without even turning to her.

"If you stopped goin’ to that damn basement, all the quarrels would be over!" the girl shouted, watching him leave.

"I'll text you" was the last phrase he threw before the front door slammed shut and she fell to the floor sobbing.

She didn't understand at what point everything had changed so much. At what point did all their lovely quiet evenings turn into this? At what point did their I love you’s and happy morning cuddling turn into JJ deciding to leave her?

It all looked like a terrible nightmare and she didn't know how to deal with it anymore.

Two weeks have passed since their last fight. It was the most difficult and terrible two weeks of her life. After almost three years of a relationship, she had to relearn how to be on her own and live alone.

For the first few days, she woke up in the morning in the complete silence of their small house in a cold bed, remembering how the door slammed after he left. She walked from room to room like a zombie, trying to occupy herself with something just to avoid thinking about him, but every time she was distracted by something, her thoughts returned to JJ. When she brushed her teeth in the morning, she looked in the mirror, hoping to see him in the reflection and laugh at the mean faces that he made to make her smile. When she was cooking in the kitchen, she remembered JJ quietly whistling some silly tune from an ads, which annoyed her. Even when she was lying on the couch reading a book, she always remembered how JJ would lie down next to her, wrapping her in his strong arms and asking her to read aloud. Maybank didn't give a damn what kind of book it was or what it was about, he just liked listening to her voice and heartbeat.

In those two weeks he wrote to her only a couple of times. She couldn't find a place for herself, only occasionally asked Sarah how JJ, who lived in her and John B.'s house, was doing. From her, she learned that today was his another fight with a man who was famous for his special cruelty. And that scared the hell out of her.

That was exactly the reason why she was standing now among shouting and jostling men, as she had been a few weeks ago. Beer and drool flew in all directions while some young boys were fighting in the boxing ring, who were put on the "warm-up" before the main fight. The fight between her JJ and Broady Harington aka killing machine. And her heart leapt in her chest at the very thought of it.

She wanted to see him before the fights. To apologize. To say that they can solve everything. That her life doesn't make sense without him. And that he doesn't need to participate in this fight. But the bully guard at the service entrance wouldn't let her in. He pushed her out of the room, forcing her to wait for the end of the fight. So she stood in the crowd, fiddling with the hem of her white dress that Jay had bought her for their first anniversary. She thought it would reduce the degree of tension between them.

The girl in the red swimsuit and the referee entered the ring, announcing the start of the fight and then the world around her stopped. It was the first time she had seen him in two weeks. All the wounds on his body and face had almost healed and he looked so young but determined that she didn't even recognize him at first. There was something wrong with him... something was definitely wrong. His gaze focused on the mat under his feet, the way he put on gloves with special slowness, and how the muscles in his jaw moved and tensed. He didn't even look into the crowd, as he did before every fight, to see her and get an encouraging smile. JJ Maybank was completely focused on his goal and in some way it scared her.

When Sarah told her on the phone that JJ had been preparing for one main fight of the season for a month. She didn't believe it. He usually chose small daytime fights that earned him a good income. But over the past month, he began to disappear in the evenings, and he began to bring more money, even began to offer her to look for a real house. Not a rented one that they had now, but their personal home. And she was surprised by that, but she did not attach any importance to it. But now... now she realized that all his evening absences and visits with particularly severe beatings, and all this talk about a private home…

A loud roar knocked her out of her thoughts and she turned her gaze back to the ring. JJ lay on his back, covering his face with gloves, while his opponent delivered a series of strong punches, trying to break through the defense. The air seemed to be knocked out of her lungs and she leaned forward, clinging to the bars, breathing heavily.

"JJ!" she screamed before one of the guards forced her to move away.

The guy's whole body tensed up when he heard her voice for the first time in two weeks. And as if at the behest of some force unknown to him before, he turned the man sitting on him over, making a blow. The girl exhaled in surprise, looking at her boyfriend's bloody face. At the rage that distorted his beautiful features, and a wave of goosebumps went through her body. She missed the whole fight, wandering in her thoughts. But now she was watching JJ snatch his victory from the hands of a man who was famous for his violence. And she was even a little proud.

The referee's voice starts counting down to the end. JJ continues to strike without noticing anything around him. The man lies exhausted under him.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

JJ Maybank wins. The crowd is shouting and rejoicing. Drops of beer break and soak into the fabric of her white dress, but she doesn't care. She pushes through the crowd, heading out of the ring to meet him. Her winner and the beloved guy she missed so much.

His arms close around her waist, pulling her to him. She feels the metallic taste of blood in her mouth when he covers her lips with a forceful kiss and for the first time she does not resent it. Her heart beats in time with his as he holds her in his arms and looks into her eyes.

"The last one," he whispers into her hair, kissing the top of her head. She raises her head uncomprehendingly, frowning slightly. "It was the last fight. I... I won't participate anymore."

"Why?" she asks softly and naively, childishly, fluttering her long eyelashes.

The guy grins. She sees his eyes glisten and feels her heart begin to beat faster. Just like that first day when she bumped into him on Midsummer and he spilled the entire champagne tray on her expensive dress. Even then, she somehow realized that she had found the very love here that they write about in books and make films. And it was at that very moment that she already realized that JJ Maybank was her man.

"I don't wanna see y’worry and cry ‘cause of me. I don't wanna see you on the other side of the cage among these nasty men, ‘cause you came to support me. I don't wanna quarrel with you anymore, kitten" His voice was soft and gentle, and so soothing that she felt a rush of butterflies in her stomach again.

"So I found a regular job ‘n I'm gonna be the most ordinary person with the most ordinary life, but with the most fuckingly perfect girl in the whole damn world."

She giggles through her tears and pulls him closer to her, dragging him into another kiss. He doesn't resist. When had he ever refused to kiss her? JJ Maybank was created to kiss and please her. Therefore, at this very moment, he couldn't care about anything more than her in his arms and his lips on his lips.

"Hm! Maybank, I don't want to distract you from your entertainment, but come into my office and pick up your check. Unless, of course, you want to leave me 600 thousand dollars," the head of the bookmaker's office in which Maybank worked chuckled, which made him take his mind off his girlfriend.

He lets go of her waist, and is about to follow the boss. But before that, he turns back to her, pulls her to him, kissing her on the cheek.

"I hope you chose the house, kitten, ‘cause tomorrow we are gonna buy it. Now you definitely won't get rid of me, princess," the guy whispers in her ear, and then disappears into the crowd.

She stands there for a couple more minutes, trying to understand everything he said to her, before breaking into a loving smile and heading for the exit from this evil place, to which she hopes never to return. JJ finds her sitting on a bench outside a couple of minutes later, and they return home, where for the last time, she will heal his wounds and kiss each scar so that they don’t sting so much.

And when the next evening, or a week, or even a month later, JJ Maybank does not go to the basement for another fight, but stays with her in their own house to watch a movie, she can do nothing more, but only enjoy life. And to love a guy who now represents only gentelness, not violence.

JJ Maybank was her gentleness, and she would never let him go.

thankx for reading <3

i'm a little dissatisfied with this work, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

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