#I don’t think the languages bit will play into this fic idea like. at all. but when I’m not thinking about skip and norm

[victory-cookies]

im like. two seconds away from writing a “norman and skip get used to the whole symbiosis thing” fic. I cannot stop thinking about them

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[xoxosierralane]

| sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴏɴ ɪᴛ |

✎ from sierra: hi sweets :), idk it’s just something about writing smut while listening to kwn ugh she’s grown on me sm, so i decided to write this song inspired fic it’s like two songs mixed (back of the club x stand on it), @sierrale8ne also wrote a nasty good one check that too 😫 !!

✎ warnings: language, smut, oral sex & etc, paige being an asshole !

✎ pairing: paige x oc (sariya)

The lounge is packed, but the vibe’s…off. I’m seated on this velvet couch, one leg tucked under the other, swirling the last half-melted ice cubes in my sprite and trying not to look like I’m counting the minutes till it’s time to get out of here. Tahlia’s across the room catching up with some old college friends—like she forgot I’m even here. I glance at my phone. 11:27. Still too early to leave without hearing her mouth about how I “never let her have fun.”

I take another sip. It’s flat now. I grimace.

I swear there’s some kind of content creator convention happening in here. Two pink-headed studs with mics are running around yelling into cameras, doing interviews with anybody that makes eye contact for too long. I avoid their gaze as much as i could.

Honestly, I should’ve known better. I don’t even watch basketball like that—well, not unless a certain blonde rookie’s playing—but somehow I ended up at an WNBA All-Star afterparty with no real plan and a buzz that’s wearing off fast.

Usually I love nights like this. Getting dressed up, drinking free liquor, dancing with strangers—this is supposed to be my scene. But tonight? It just feels weird. Boring, even.

I slip off the couch, adjusting my top and smoothing my dress down with one hand. “Be right back,” I mutter, even though Tahlia’s not listening. I’m halfway through the crowd when one of the pink studs yells, “YO MA, RATE YA RIZZ ON A SCALE OF ONE TO TEN,” directly into the face of a girl standing two feet from me. I duck my head and walk faster, trying not to laugh.

I’m weaving through the thick of it, just trying to find the exit or at least somewhere my eardrums can breathe, when I walk straight into someone. My drink sloshes but doesn’t spill—thank God.

“Oh—sorry,” the girl says, soft and steady.

I look up and pause. Huh.

She’s tall, athletic. Pretty in a real, understated way. Warm brown skin, black curls pulled back in a low bun, and a calm to her face that stands out in the chaos of this whole party. Her hand brushes my elbow gently.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah. All good,” I say, nodding once. “Didn’t see you.”

She smiles a little, polite. “It’s kinda packed in here.”

That voice is familiar. I know that face. Of course I do. Azzi Fudd. Paige’s best friend. The one who probably knows every detail of her life except the fact that Paige has been all over me for the past few months. And I mean all over.

She doesn’t recognize me, though. Why would she?

“You here for the game?” she asks.

I blink. “Huh?”

She tilts her head slightly. “All-Star Weekend. You a fan?”

I let out a short laugh, brushing hair behind my ear. “Something like that.”

She nods, takes a small step back like she’s trying not to crowd me. “It’s a lot, huh?”

“Yeah. Was cool for the first hour. Now it’s just—loud.”

Her smile widens a bit. “That’s why I was trying to sneak out. I can’t really hear myself think in here.”

I hum, taking another sip of my drink just for something to do with my hands. “So you do this a lot? Pop in, pop out?”

“Not really. I’m not much of a party person.”

Figures. Azzi’s energy is way too grounded for this place.

She hesitates for a second before adding, “My friends are heading to another spot. If you’re trying to get out of here, you’re welcome to come.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You inviting strangers out with you now?”

She lets out a quiet laugh. “You seem pretty nice.”

I glance at her for a beat. She has no idea who I am. No idea that I’ve had her best friend’s face between my thighs more than a few times. No idea that I’ve been waiting weeks to hear from Paige, and now I’m here—bumping into the one person who probably could reach her with a single text.

I should say no. I should go home.

Instead, I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Tahlia: “Be back in 2 hours. Don’t do anything dumb.”

I tuck it back into my purse and nod at Azzi. “Lead the way.”

She smiles again, warm and easy, and turns toward the exit.

I follow her out without another word.

We’re barely out the door when Azzi turns to me, her voice a little softer now that the music’s behind us. “By the way—I didn’t catch your name.”

“Sariya,” I say, watching her reaction like I’m waiting for a hint of recognition. There’s none. Of course.

She smiles. “That’s pretty. Kinda sounds like a song.” I give her a small smile. “Hope it’s a good one.”

“It is,” she says, almost shyly. “I’m Azzi.”

“Oh, I know,” I say before I can stop myself. It slips out too naturally.

She pauses, clearly surprised. “You do?”

I nod, letting my expression stay unreadable. “You and that blonde point guard are kind of hard to miss.”

Azzi laughs, not catching the weight of my words. “Yeah, Paige has a loud presence.”

Oh you have no idea.

We keep walking, the night air cooling my skin. It’s still humid, but better than inside. I can finally breathe normally again.

“She’s not here, is she?” I ask casually, trying to sound like I’m not doing recon.

Azzi shakes her head. “Not yet. I think she was grabbing food or something, but she’s meeting us.”

My stomach drops. I cover it with another sip of my drink—now basically just watered-down sprite. Perfect.

Azzi looks over her shoulder at me as we wait for the crosswalk. “By the way, those two pink-haired girls from earlier?”

I raise a brow.

“They call themselves the Stud Budz,” she says, grinning.

I deadpan. “You’re joking.”

“Nope,” she laughs. “They have this twitch channel where they vlog parties like this all weekend. Livestreaming, random interviews, all of that.”

“Explains the thirst for content,” I mutter.

“They actually stopped me once and asked if I’d ever cheated on someone.”

I blink. “What’d you say?”

“I panicked and said I cheated on a math test in high school. Then walked away.”

I snort. “Incredible. You’re famous and still giving wholesome interview answers. Can’t relate.”

We laugh and cross the street. For a second it’s easy, like I didn’t just get hit with the realization that I might be walking straight into the reason my chest has felt hollow for the past few weeks.

Azzi nods toward a black SUV parked across the street. Two girls are around it, one of them balancing a phone on a car handle.

“My friends are right there,” she says, motioning me to follow. “Come on.”

I hesitate.

I’m praying to God—any god—that the blonde isn’t sitting inside that car. That maybe she’s off still in the club, or downing shirley’s somewhere like the obsessed freak she is.

We get closer, and sure enough, two girls are dancing in front of the car, filming what looks like a TikTok. One’s tall and lean with a high bun, the other with short twists and a little muscle in her frame, both in denim and tanks.

Azzi walks right up and jumps in their video, matching the moves like she’s done it a hundred times. Then she turns mid-spin and reaches back for me, grabbing my arm with a soft “Come on,” and pulling me into the frame like we’ve known each other for more than fifteen minutes.

The two girls—Aubrey and KK, I realize by the way they’re calling each other out mid-video—don’t even blink before welcoming me in.

“Ohhh, new girl’s cute,” KK grins, giving me a playful once-over while hitting her mark on beat.

I laugh, not fully dancing but moving just enough to blend in. “Y’all are funny.”

“Love that dress, by the way,” KK says, eyeing me again. “Where’d you get it?”

“Some vintage store,” I say with a smile, then nod at her shorts. “But your fit’s solid too.”

She does a little twirl. “You see me.”

I do. But I don’t get to say anything else because the SUV door clicks open in front of us, and out comes the one person I was praying not to see tonight.

“Y’all are still out here?” comes a familiar voice, low and unmistakably annoyed.

My whole body stills.

Blonde hair. Icy blue eyes. Grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up. Phone in hand. Lip caught between teeth like she’s halfway through a complaint when she looks up—and sees me.

Paige stops mid-step. Mid-breath.

Her mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. Her hand drops to her side. Her face is blank, but her eyes? They’re already all over me. Flicking from my heels to my thighs to my collarbones and stopping right where my jaw clenches.

She wasn’t expecting me. Good.

I stare back, stiff but steady, and for a second we’re both silent, caught in the kind of tension that makes your skin feel too tight. My tongue presses against the roof of my mouth. Her jaw ticks.

Azzi, completely unaware, jumps in between us with a grin. “Oh—Paige, this is Sariya. She was at the lounge.”

I don’t even get the chance to say anything because Paige cuts in, voice dry:

“We’ve met.”

Azzi blinks. “Wait, really?”

I lift a brow and look at Paige, who’s already staring at me like she wants to strangle me and kiss me in the same breath.

“We’re mutuals,” I say to Azzi, smug now, turning slightly toward her while keeping Paige in my periphery. “On Instagram.”

Azzi’s brows lift like she’s trying to do the math.

“Oh—”

Paige scoffs under her breath, and I can feel her eyes dragging down the length of my mini dress.

KK steps in before Paige can say anything else. “Okay but Sariya is literally serving in this dress,” she says, dramatic hands and everything.

I smile. “You’re sweet.”

She grins back. “You’re hot.”

Before I can thank her again, I catch Paige rolling her eyes like it personally offended her.

“Cute,” I say flatly, raising an eyebrow at her. “Don’t strain yourself.”

“I’m good,” she mutters, jaw tight.

Azzi blinks between us, clearly sensing something but not quite sure what it is. “Sooo… should we go?” Paige doesn’t answer. Neither do I. We’re still staring at each other, locked in this wordless standoff.

⸻

KK lets her go first, swinging the door open with a grin. “New girl goes middle.”

Sariya smirks, sliding into the backseat, settling between KK and—of course—her. Paige. She tries not to react, keeps her face still even though her pulse kicks up fast the second she feels the blonde’s thigh press against hers. KK hops in right after, closing the door, and it’s quiet for a second except for Azzi up front cueing up the aux and Aubrey adjusting her seat.

“This car’s so cute,” Sariya says, looking around the interior. Cream leather, LED lighting tucked in the corners, it’s clean but lived-in.

Aubrey throws a smile over her shoulder. “Thanks. We were gonna take Paige’s, but somebody was complaining about it being freshly detailed.”

“I just got it cleaned,” Paige cuts in, voice light but that smug little smile already sitting on her lips. “Y’all not gon ruin my shit the same night.”

Sariya giggles before she can stop herself, then turns to glance at her. Paige’s already staring—like she never stopped. Chin tilted, hand rubbing along her jaw, eyes trailing all slow and heavy from Sariya’s face to the soft curve of her breasts, then down to her bare thighs crossed tightly together.

The blonde bites her bottom lip, and Sariya rolls her eyes instantly. Here we go.

She turns back straight, pretending her body’s not already tensing under the heat of those damn blue eyes. She tries focusing on KK instead, who’s leaned in comfortably and seems very much interested in playing flirt tag.

“You got nice skin,” KK says suddenly. “And your hair’s so wavy. That’s natural?”

“Don’t make me blush,” Sariya grins, tucking a strand behind her ear. “Thank you.”

KK leans back, still eyeing her. “What’s your Instagram?”

Sariya pretends to think. “Hmm. I’ll let you know at the end of the night.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” KK laughs.

“Gotta keep you on your toes.”

Paige doesn’t say anything, but Sariya can feel the glare off her body like sunburn. It makes her grin even wider.

The ride is smooth, chill conversation bouncing around until Aubrey pulls into a lot tucked behind the second club. As everyone starts unbuckling, Aubrey and Azzi hop out first, already talking about who’s DJ’ing tonight. KK opens her door, then glances back at Sariya.

“You need a hand?”

Sariya opens her mouth to respond, but Paige cuts in immediately. “KK, somebody’s waitin’ on you inside. Didn’t they text you?”

KK pauses, then checks her phone. “Oh i don’t see nun, but Ima go see.” She turns to Sariya. “See you in there.”

The door shuts, and Sariya turns to Paige slowly, brows raised, scoffing. “Really?”

“What?”

“You literally just made that up to get me alone.”

Paige shrugs, not denying it. “Where you going?”

“Inside, obviously,” Sariya says, sliding her hand toward the door handle again.

Paige grabs her wrist gently but firmly, pulling her back next to her. “Why you tryna run from me?”

Sariya turns toward her, face blank but sharp. “Funny you think I’m running when you’ve been the one disappearing for the past two weeks, Paige.”

The smirk falters a little. Paige’s voice softens. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with work, ball… all of it.”

“That’s always your excuse,” Sariya mutters, shaking her head.

It’s not that Paige never apologizes—it’s that her apologies usually don’t mean shit.

“I’m not playing these games with you anymore,” Sariya continues, leaning back slightly. “You need to start standing on the shit you say.”

Paige nods, lips parted like she wants to say something but doesn’t know what.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says finally, voice lower. “I’ma stop for real.”

Sariya looks at her for a second, trying to read past the pretty eyes and the pout. “Until your actions show that, save your breath, P.”

She goes to get up again, but Paige pulls her back faster this time, hand grabbing her jaw and pulling her in for a desperate kiss.

Sariya freezes for a second before melting into it, sighing into the blonde’s mouth like she needed that more than she realized. Paige’s lips are soft but rough, all tongue and want. Her hands find Sariya’s waist like muscle memory, pulling her in tighter.

“Missed you so bad,” Paige mumbles between kisses. “Always think about you. I swear.”

Her mouth moves to Sariya’s jaw, then lower—neck, right where she knows the spot is. She sucks slow, and Sariya gasps, the sound caught in her throat, head tilting to the side. “Paige…”

It comes out more like a moan than a word.

Paige grabs her thighs and lifts her up like she weighs nothing, pulling her to straddle her lap. Sariya doesn’t resist. Her dress hikes up, legs spread over Paige’s, the kiss deepening as her tongue tangles with the blonde’s.

Paige’s hands roam lower, squeezing her ass, kneading it like she missed the feeling. Sariya shudders a little and bites Paige’s lip in retaliation.

Pulling back just an inch, breath heavy, her lips kiss-drunk and swollen, she whispers, “You tryna fuck me in your friend’s car?”

Paige chuckles, tugging her closer. “If you down, I am. You know that.”

She reaches to pull Sariya’s dress up even more, fingertips brushing her bare ass.

Sariya grabs her hands, pinning them with a look. “Greedy ass. You gotta wait. Everyone’s inside.”

Paige groans, throwing her head back. “Fuck everybody. Just want you.”

Sariya bites back a smile, watching Paige like she’s never seen her like this before—unfiltered, needy, like a teenage boy with a crush and a hard-on.

She knows Paige has her asshole moments. But no one sees her like this. No one gets her like this. Vulnerable, starved for affection, fighting the urge to spill her heart.

Sariya exhales, brushing her fingers over Paige’s jaw gently. Paige kisses her chest in response, mouth dragging low.

“Patience, honey,” Sariya says finally, sliding off her lap. “Let’s go inside.”

As soon as Sariya fixes her dress and swings the car door open, the sticky summer night air hits her like a wall—warm, thick, loud with music rumbling from inside the club already. She steps out first, adjusting the bottom hem of her mini dress before looking over her shoulder. Paige slides out right after her, already reaching for her hand like she didn’t just try to make her cum in the backseat of Aubrey’s car.

Sariya snatches her hand away with a side-eye. “Can you chill for five seconds?”

Paige grins like she’s proud of herself. “What, I can’t hold my girl’s hand now?”

“My girl? You’re very delusional baby. You wasn’t tryna hold hands two weeks ago when you went ghost.”

Paige rolls her eyes, falling into step beside her as they start walking. “Bruh I thought we just made up.”

“Barely,” Sariya mutters, eyes focused ahead as they pass through the parking lot. The neon lights from the club’s front sign flicker on Paige’s face when she steps in front of her, walking backward just to stay in her eyeline.

“But we kissed though,” Paige says, smug. “That counts as making up, right?”

Sariya scoffs and keeps walking. “You kissed me, Paige. I was just caught in the crossfire.”

Paige’s mouth drops open like she’s been personally attacked. “You are so foul for that.”

“Shut up,” Sariya shoots back, not even looking at her. “Go to your friends.”

“I’d rather walk behind you,” Paige says without shame, gaze dropping to Sariya’s hips. “Way better view.”

Sariya groans under her breath, swatting Paige’s hand away again when it tries to settle low on her back. “You are so—greasy.”

Paige laughs like that’s a compliment. “Greasy is crazy. I just wanna be wit you ma.”

“Don’t say that out loud,” Sariya warns, pointing a finger at her. “You don’t even mean that shit. You just horny.”

Paige lifts both hands like she’s being arrested. “Can’t a girl be both?”

“No. Control yourself,” Sariya says, trying hard not to crack a smile when Paige jogs ahead to open the door for her. “Don’t do that either.”

“Hold the door?”

“Yeah.”

“But I’m tryna be a gentleman.”

“You not a gentleman, Paige,” Sariya deadpans as she walks past her. “You a slut with manners.”

Paige leans in as she follows her inside, whispering near her ear, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Sariya gives her a hard side-eye but doesn’t say anything this time. Mostly ‘cause the second they step into the club, the lights hit her again, and she’s immediately aware of all the eyes, the loud bass, the press of people. She spots Azzi and KK by the bar, already waving them over like they hadn’t noticed the two missing from the group.

Paige rests her hand low on Sariya’s back again like she owns her or something, and this time, Sariya lets it stay for a few seconds. Just a few.

Then she leans in without looking at her and says under her breath, “You keep touching me like that in public, I’ma embarrass you.”

Paige grins. “You promise?”

Sariya rolls her eyes and heads for the bar, leaving the blonde to trail behind.

They push through the crowd, the bass vibrating up through the floor like a second heartbeat. Bodies packed tight, drinks in hand, sweat on skin. The usual nightly outing routine.

Azzi spots them first. “There y’all are!” she calls over the music, reaching out to grab Paige’s wrist and tug her closer. KK’s posted next to her with two shots in hand—one already half gone.

Sariya edges up beside them, slipping into the circle, eyes scanning out of habit. She feels Paige behind her again—close. Too close. Her hand ghosting her waist.

KK’s eyes light up. “Ohhh, she really came,” she grins, handing one of the shots to Sariya. “It’s official now.”

“Official?” Sariya repeats, skeptical.

KK shrugs. “You’re part of the group now. Paige’s plus one.”

Paige smirks, proud. “That’s right.”

Sariya shoots her a look and downs the shot without blinking. “Relax. I came for Azzi.”

KK snorts. Azzi raises an eyebrow, clearly trying to clock the vibe now. Paige says nothing, but the look she gives Sariya? That cocky little grin like she’ll see about that later.

Azzi gestures behind her. “Come on, we got a table upstairs. Vip sectionnn.” she drags out.

They weave their way toward the back, past the crowd and up a short set of stairs, where velvet ropes part for a half-bored bouncer. The VIP lounge is dim and spaced out—low couches, scattered candles, bottle girls floating around.

KK moves to sit next to Sariya, but Paige’s ass hits the cushion first, thigh to thigh with the brunette.

Sariya exhales sharply through her nose and leans forward, elbows to knees, ignoring the blonde already inching closer.

A server shows up—young, tight dress, pretty. And fully locked in on Paige.

“Can I start y’all off with anything?”

Sariya notices the way the girl’s leaning in toward Paige like she’s the only one at the table. Paige, of course, eats it up, completely oblivious.

Sariya leans down a little herself, pretending she didn’t hear, just to shift her body so the neckline of her dress dips lower. Let the blonde in the tight dress see why Paige doesn’t get to act dumb around her.

“What you want?” Paige asks, finally turning to her, hand sliding onto her thigh.

Sariya places her hand on Paige’s shoulder, keeping her expression neutral, lips barely curled.

“Do they have Shirley Temples?” she asks, slow and sweet. Then she holds Paige’s gaze for a second before adding, “Dirty.”

Paige pauses, just a flicker, eyes dropping to her lips then right back up.

The server clears her throat—hard. Probably didn’t expect to be standing in the middle of foreplay.

Paige turns her head like she forgot she was even there. “Y’all got that?”

The server nods, tighter now. “We do.”

“Cool,” Paige says. “Bring five.”

She’s already turning back to Sariya before the girl even walks off.

“Is someone jealous?” Paige asks, like she’s trying to sound casual, but it’s smug. Always smug.

Sariya doesn’t even blink. “You looked like you were gonna eat her tits right there.”

“I wasn’t even payin’ attention.”

Sariya raises an eyebrow, fingers brushing Paige’s hand off her thigh. “Try harder next time.”

Paige just grins, obnoxious, leaning back on one arm like she’s comfortable now.

“Okay. So no dirty Shirleys for the server.”

“Correct.”

They sit like that for a second—close, tense, energy bouncing between them while the others talk about who’s performing later tonight.

KK’s already on her second shot. Azzi’s got her phone out, recording a video of herself lip syncing to the new mariah the scientist album. Sariya shifts in her seat and the hem of her black lace dress rides just a little higher. She doesn’t bother fixing it.

⸻

The server brings over the tray with our drinks—five tall glasses lined up, bright red and loaded. She sets them down carefully on the table, but I barely notice. I clock Azzi, KK, and Aubrey already disappearing to the other side of the club, lost in the crowd.

Perfect.

It’s just me and Sariya now.

I look over at her. She’s swirling her drink with the little black straw, taking slow sips like. She always does that—sits real pretty, looks real calm, but her eyes are always moving. Observing. And I swear every time I get to be next to her, I feel like I got away with something.

I fucked up, yeah. I’ve been fucking up. I know that. But I’m trying. I swear I’m trying for her.

Those two weeks I went ghost on her? That wasn’t me playing games. That was me spiraling. Running. I’ve never been good at commitment, and I say a lot of things I don’t always back up, I talk big. But with Sariya? I don’t want to fuck this up. I just… I got scared. She’s different. She makes me soft in a way that’s not weak but dangerous. She has no clue how hard it was not having her around. Not just the sex—even though that shit’s damn near spiritual—but her laugh, her voice, the way she talks shit under her breath.

She has no clue what she does to me.

I’m still deep in my head when I feel her lean in. Her face is suddenly right in front of mine, lips parted, cheeks flushed from the half-drunk Shirley. She’s tipsy, glowing.

“What are you thinking about?” she says, soft, her words just a little slurred.

I catch the smell of her—vanilla, cocoa butter, something sweet that makes my mouth water.

“Nothin’, ma.”

She pulls back just enough to pout. “I’m boredddd, P. Let’s dance.”

She’s giving me those eyes, the ones she knows make me weak. I tuck a strand of her wavy hair behind her ear and reach out to cup her cheek.

“C’mere.”

I pull her into a kiss. She immediately whimpers into my mouth, soft and needy. My hands tighten around her waist, but just as I start to lose myself in it, she pulls back a little, lips wet and pink.

“You’re not worried someone’s gonna see?” she asks, eyes curious.

I smirk, already lifting her legs up and onto my lap, not even thinking twice about it. “Let ‘em.”

She’s warm and draped over me, easy like we’ve done this a hundred times (we have). I lean in again, one hand sliding up to the back of her neck as I kiss her deeper. Her lips part, welcoming me in like they always do. She tastes like that drink and mint gum, and it’s stupid how much that combination turns me on.

Her mouth moves with mine, slow but hungry. Her tongue flicks against mine, and I groan low in my throat, just as she tugs my hair lightly, pulling me back.

She’s flushed, lips shiny. “I wanna go dance. This my song.”

Kwn. “Back of the Club.” Of course it is.

She climbs off me and stands. I follow without hesitation as she walks toward the upstairs dance floor, her ass swaying like she knows I’m watching. Which I definitely am.

We stay up top where it’s less packed. The lighting’s dimmer. More shadows. The bass hits different up here—heavier, more private. She steps into the open space and starts moving to the beat, slow, fluid.

I step in behind her, hands naturally finding her waist. She fits into me like she was made for it.

I wanna get drunk in the back of the club with you

Where it’s hot, and it’s wet

But you won’t take your eyes off mine

Her hips start rolling in time with the beat. Her hands reach back, sliding down my arms until she finds mine, guiding them higher until I’m holding her stomach. She leans her head back against my shoulder. I kiss the edge of her jaw.

And them hips stay stuck to my waist

Girl, I’ll treat you like a holster

(Girl, it’s you I want, oh, it’s you I want)

I slide one hand up slowly, fingers grazing her neck, gently turning her head so she’s looking up at me. I dip down, brushing my lips against her cheek.

“So pretty, mama.”

I kiss her again. Her mouth opens right away, soft and hot. We’re still moving to the rhythm, her ass pressing back against me in slow circles. My hand stays at her throat, just enough to keep her close. She moans into the kiss, warm tongue swirling against mine.

Oh I wanna get drunk in the back of the club with you (You, woah)

She turns around to face me, hands cradling my jaw as she pulls me back in. It’s filthy, wet, like she doesn’t care who sees now. She moans into my mouth, and my hands drop instinctively to her ass, gripping, pulling her in tighter as we keep swaying to the music.

Her tongue flicks against mine again, and I swear I feel my knees give a little. We’re stuck to each other now, lost in the sound, the heat, the way our bodies just get it. Just click.

Sariya tugs on my hoodie again. Tight grip this time— I know that look on her face. Lips swollen, eyes hazy, cheeks a little flushed. She’s getting needy.

Her fingers curl tighter around my arm, and I can’t help but smirk.

“What you want, ma?” I lean in, brushing my nose against hers, teasing.

She pulls back just enough to look at me. Those hazel eyes of hers flick up at me under her lashes, mouth slick and parted.

“Come find out,” she says, voice low, all breath.

She grabs my hand and starts walking. No hesitation. I follow like I always do. Like I would even try to say no. She heads toward the hallway that leads to the VIP bathroom.

I take the opportunity to raise my hand and smack her ass.

She gasps, whips around, smacks my arm like she means it, but her grin says otherwise. I don’t even flinch. I’m too busy watching the way she opens the bathroom door and steps inside without looking back. She leaves it cracked for me to come in.

I slip in behind her. Before I can say anything, the door shuts with a soft thud behind me.

She leans back on it and grabs me by the front of my hoodie, yanking me in and kissing me like she’s been holding back all night. It’s fast. Wet. Teeth clashing. Her lips are soft, but the way she moves is desperate.

I’m wet. Instantly. Like embarrassingly quick.

She’s got her hands on my shoulders, sliding down to my chest, up and down like she’s trying to memorize me again. She lets out this whimper that sounds half frustrated, half turned on, and it makes my knees buckle a little.

“Shit,” I whisper.

My hands go to her ass, lifting up the hem of that short ass dress she wore just to make me suffer tonight.

“This dress makin’ me crazy,” I breathe, fingers gripping the bare flesh of her ass, squeezing. She moans, throws her head back, bites her lip.

I step back a little, needing to see. The sight hits me like a truck.

Pink lace.

A wet patch right in the center.

“Jesus fuck,” I groan. I feel like I’m actually about to lose it. “Sari…”

She makes eye contact with me, all glossy-eyed and smug, she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

“You like it?” she asks, voice thick with need.

“Yeah,” I breathe out. “Fuck, I went two weeks without this…”

And I don’t realize what I’ve just said until I see her expression change. Like I snapped her out of it.

Her eyes flicker with something sharp. Her lips press together. She pulls her dress down fast and steps back.

“Damn,” she mutters. “Two weeks without this?”

Shit.

“No, wait, baby—” I reach for her wrist, but she pulls away.

“So you was counting?” she scoffs, laughing bitterly. “That’s cute.”

“C’mon, don’t do that—”

“You really said that like it was nothing,” she says, shaking her head, already moving to the door.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Sari. I swear to God.”

“Yeah?” She puts her hand on the door. “Then how’d you mean it?”

“I was just talkin’. I—I missed you. I been thinkin’ about you every day. That’s all I meant.”

She turns around, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“You been thinkin’ about me while doin’ what, exactly?”

“Sariya…”

She steps closer again, but it’s not soft this time. It’s cold.

“Don’t call me that like I still belong to you.”

My jaw clenches. “I never stopped feelin’ like you did.”

She laughs again, but it’s empty. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, Paige.”

“Then why’d you bring me in here?” I ask, voice low.

“Because I wanted to feel something,” she snaps. “Now I just feel stupid.”

I move in front of the door when she tries to walk past me.

“Get out the way.”

“No.”

“Paige—”

“We needa talk.”

“Oh trust me, there’s nothin’ to talk about.”

“You don’t mean that.”

She glares at me, and for a second I think she might actually cry, but she swallows it back.

“You ghost me for two weeks, show up with that same slick ass mouth, same excuses, and I let you—God, I let you—” She cuts herself off, looking away. “I’m such a dumbass.”

“Stop sayin’ that,” I tell her, voice soft now. “You’re not.”

“You just wanted to see if you still had access,” she whispers.

“I didn’t. I swear. It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.

She exhales, defeated. “Exactly.”

I don’t move. Can’t. I’m still standing in front of the door, heart pounding. My hands are shaking. I don’t think she sees it, but I feel it.

“You’re right,” I say quietly. She doesn’t look at me.

“You’re right, Sari. I fucked up.”

That makes her glance up. Just a little.

I swallow hard. “I disappeared. I didn’t call. I didn’t check in. I acted like it was whatever.”

She crosses her arms, lips tight, waiting for more.

“It wasn’t whatever,” I say. “I didn’t know how to… say what I was feelin’. I still don’t. But I’ve been scared outta my fuckin’ mind since I met you. I’ve never wanted somebody like this before,” I keep going. “Not just like, physically—like… I wanted you around. I liked talkin’ to you. Lookin’ at you. Just… bein’ near you.”

My voice cracks on the last part.

“I tried to play it safe. I always do. But it stopped feelin’ like a game the second you started actin’ like you might actually give a fuck back.”

She’s quiet. Still holding that wall up.

“I didn’t know what to do with that,” I admit. “So I did the only thing I’ve ever known how to do when somethin’ feels too good—push it away before it leaves first.”

I look down at my shoes. It’s easier than watching her face right now.

“I thought if I stayed gone long enough, you’d move on and I wouldn’t have to face how bad I wanted you, I told myself you’d get over it. You’d forget me. That way it wouldn’t matter what I felt.”

I glance up, eyes searching hers. “But it mattered. Every fuckin’ day I was gone, it mattered.”

Her arms drop. Not fully—just a little.

“I looked at my phone like an idiot every morning,” I say. “I almost texted you a hundred times. Just to say something. Just to see if you’d answer.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asks, finally. Voice soft.

“Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”

That hangs in the air. Her eyes flicker, like she doesn’t know what to do with that.

“I’m not good at this shit,” I whisper.

She leans back against the counter now, breathing slow.

“But you?” I step closer. “You don’t leave my mind. Not once. Even when I tried. Even when I forced it. You stayed.” I pause. “You still do.”

Her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t look away this time.

“I don’t want this to end in a fuckin’ club bathroom,” I say, quieter now. “I don’t wanna keep actin’ like I don’t care when I care so much it makes me sick sometimes.”

She watches me.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I had to say it.”

She swallows, like she’s holding something back.

“I don’t want anyone else,” I say, last thing, last shot. “Even when I pretend like I do—I don’t.”

Silence again.

Her voice finally cuts through it. “You hurt me.”

“I know.”

“You confused the hell outta me.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to hate you so bad,” she says, eyes glossy, “but I couldn’t.”

That’s when I take a step forward, slow, giving her space to stop me if she wants. She doesn’t.

“I’m still mad,” she adds.

“I can take that,” I whisper.

“I don’t trust you yet.”

“I wouldn’t either.”

She bites her lip. Looks away. Then looks back.

“But you really been thinkin’ about me every day?”

“Every damn one.”

She breathes out a laugh, but it’s soft.

“Even when I wore that green dress?”

My grin slips out before I can stop it. “You wore that shit on purpose.”

“Damn right I did.”

Her mouth twitches. The tension’s still there, but it’s different now. Like maybe she’s letting her guard down just a little.

I don’t touch her yet. I don’t wanna ruin it.

“I mean it, Sari,” I say again, low. “I wanna do better.”

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just stares at me, like she’s trying to read if I mean it.

Finally, she steps toward me again.

“You still on probation,” she mumbles.

“I’ll take that,” I say, relief barely hidden in my voice.

She tilts her head. “And if you ever ghost me again—”

“I won’t.”

“—I’m keyin’ your car.”

I smile. “That’s fair.”

She sighs, leaning her head on my chest, arms loose around my waist.

And I just hold her. Grateful she’s still here.

She raises her head slowly, lips still a little parted, eyes glassy and locked on mine like she’s trying to memorize me. I breathe in through my nose and keep my hands on either side of her, just looking at her.

“Pretty,” I say low, thumb brushing her jaw. “You’re so fucking pretty, Sari.”

She doesn’t say anything—just leans up and kisses me, soft at first. One slow press, like a thank you. Then another, a little messier, hungrier, like she’s making up for all the time we wasted apart. Her hands slip under my hoodie, fingers brushing my bare skin like she needs something to hold onto.

We keep kissing like that for a while. Nothing rushed. Just mouths moving in sync, breathing each other in between sloppy pauses. Her lips are warm, a little swollen from how hard we’ve been at it. She gasps when I bite her bottom lip and suck, holding eye contact the whole time.

I lift her onto the counter behind her, my hands gripping her thighs, easing her into position. She’s already spreading her legs without thinking, dress sliding up. I run my palms up and down the sides of her legs, slow. She’s breathing heavier now. I can feel the heat radiating off her.

She leans back on her hands slightly, eyes flickering down to my mouth and then back up. “Paige,” she whispers.

I hum, pressing kisses down her throat, tasting the skin there. She tilts her head back, giving me more.

“I’m so wet,” she breathes, almost like it snuck out.

My jaw clenches. I pull back just enough to see her face, dragging my thumb down her stomach to rest above the band of her panties. “Is that so?”

Her eyes flick up to mine, desperate. “It’s been two weeks.”

I smirk, teasing. “Not that long.”

“It was,” she mutters, like it physically pained her.

I nod once, serious again. “Okay,” I say softly, leaning in close. “Then I’m gon take my time.”

She shivers. I can feel her thighs tightening around my hips, can see the way her chest rises and falls faster. I kiss her again, slower this time. My hands are back under her dress, easing up until I can trace along the lace of her panties. They’re pink, soaked. I groan under my breath.

“You like teasing me, huh,” I murmur.

She bites her lip, eyes fluttering shut as I press two fingers against the wet patch. “I don’t mean to,” she breathes.

“You always mean to,” I say, dragging the fabric aside slowly. My fingers slide through her soaking folds, slick and warm. Her whole body twitches.

“Oh my God,” she whines, hips bucking forward.

I circle her clit lightly, just enough pressure to make her squirm. She gasps, hand flying to my hoodie again, fisting the front of it like she needs something to hold onto or she’s gonna lose it.

“Relax, baby,” I whisper against her lips. “Lemme take care of you.”

She nods quickly, barely able to respond with words. Her mouth falls open in a shaky moan when I slide one finger inside her, slow and deep.

“Shit—” she gasps, head falling forward onto my shoulder. Her body’s clenching already, so tight and warm around me. “Paige—”

I kiss the side of her face, her jaw, her neck. “That’s it,” I whisper. “You missed this?”

She whimpers, hips rocking into my hand. “Missed you.”

My chest tightens for a second, but I don’t say anything. I curl my finger slowly, watching the way her thighs start to tremble.

“Fuck so wet for me,” I mutter.

“I always am,” she chokes out, breath stuttering when I add another finger.

I start moving a little faster, twisting them deeper, the squelching of her wet cunt taking over the private bathroom. She’s losing it—moaning louder, her hand flying to the back of my neck like she needs me closer. Her body rocks in time with my pace, her head thrown back again.

“Paige,” she gasps. “Fuckkk-don’t stop baby.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise, voice thick. “I got you.”

She clenches around my fingers harder when I say that, another broken moan slipping from her mouth. Her sounds echo in the bathroom, breathy and raw. I thumb her sensitive clit while I keep fucking her slow and deep, my other hand gripping her waist tight.

Sariya’s shaking now, trying to muffle her sounds but failing. Her voice is high, cracked, like she can’t help it. I love it. I love how reactive she is. How honest her body gets for me.

“Gonna come for me?” I whisper against her ear.

She nods fast, whimpering, hips stuttering. “Please—Paige, please—”

“Go ahead, baby,” I tell her. “Let go.”

She falls apart seconds later, jaw slack, body twitching around my fingers, nails digging into my back as she cries out softly against my neck. I ride it out with her, still whispering to her, kissing her cheek, her shoulder, wherever I can reach.

When she finally slumps forward, catching her breath, I don’t move yet. Just hold her thighs, rub slow circles on her skin, letting her calm down.

She’s quiet for a second, forehead resting on mine, lips brushing. “You do that so good,” she mumbles.

I smile. “I know.”

——

I finally sit up, chest still rising and falling like I ran somewhere. Paige’s large hand is still on my thigh, warm and steady, and when I look at her, she’s already staring.

That look’s back. The one she gets when her brain switches over and I know she’s about to do something reckless in the best way.

Her pupils are blown, barely any blue left, and she’s not blinking. Just watching me like she’s already halfway inside her next move.

I tilt my head slightly, knowing exactly what I’m seeing. “You need somethin?”

Paige’s mouth twitches into this slow, lazy smirk. “Feelin’ hungry.”

I bite back a smile. “How hungry?”

She doesn’t answer. Just leans in close until her lips brush against the side of my neck. Her tongue drags up the skin there, slow and warm, and I gasp before I can stop it.

One of her hands comes up, holding my head to the side, fingers threading through my hair. The other moves down to my breast, rubbing lazy circles over my covered nipples that hardened the second she got close again. I buck my hips without thinking, already aching.

Her fingers roll one nipple between them, and I let out this quiet, broken sound I don’t even recognize as mine. I don’t mean to be this reactive—it just happens around her.

She moves her other hand back between my thighs like it’s instinct, fingertips circling my pussy where I’m still so wet, so sensitive, every nerve in my body lighting up again.

Her mouth brushes the shell of my ear as she whispers, “So fuckin’ hungry.”

I arch forward into her before I can think, legs trying to close around the pressure between them.

“Nuh-uh,” she mutters, voice lower now. She rips them back open with a grip on my thighs, pinning me in place. Her face is right in front of mine, and her breath hits my lips when she says it, low and full of heat.

“Gonna eat you so good, baby.”

I swear I stop breathing for a second.

She drops to her knees in front of the counter, dragging my hips closer to the edge. My thighs tremble just from how deliberate she moves—slow, but with that focus in her eyes. Her hands slip under the back of my thighs, holding them open, and she doesn’t break eye contact as she kisses just above my knee.

Then the inside of it.

Then a little higher.

I grab the edge of the counter, knuckles white.

She smirks up at me, then finally presses her mouth on my cunt—one long, warm lick through my folds that makes me cry out.

“Holy shi—Paigeee.”

She hums like she’s agreeing with me, mouth already moving, tongue working slow and deep, lips locking around my clit and sucking like she’s starving. I swear I see her eyes flutter shut like this is her favorite thing in the world.

I throw my head back with a gasp, thighs twitching again. She holds me tighter, tongue flicking faster now, her rhythm perfect, maddening. I can feel how wet I am, hear it with every stroke of her tongue.

She pulls back for one second, lips shiny, breath hot. “Missed this pussy so bad,” she mutters before diving back in.

That finishes me.

My moans come out high, strung out. I’m not even trying to hold back anymore. My hips keep lifting into her mouth, chasing the feeling. She keeps sucking, licking, her nose bumping my clit every time her tongue pushes deep, and it’s too much, it’s perfect.

My legs are shaking.

“Oh my God, Paige��I’m gonna—”

She groans into me, hands squeezing tighter as she speeds up, tongue moving in tight, sloppy circles. That pressure builds so fast I can’t think. My toes curl in my heels, my eyes squeeze shut, and my whole body pulls tight as the orgasm hits me hard.

I cry out as I come loud , my hands flying to her hair like I need something to hold onto. She doesn’t stop—licking me through it, slow now, gentler, making sure to taste every last drop of me.

By the time she pulls away, I’m slumped back against the mirror, chest rising and falling like I just got resuscitated.

She stands, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, watching me like she just did the world a favor.

I let out a shaky breath, still recovering. “You’re so gay P.”

Paige grins, leaning in to kiss my cheek, then my jaw. “I know,” she murmurs. “Let’s go home.”

[leighsartworks216]

hi again leigh!! I really enjoyed your rainy day prompt! this time I was wondering if I could request a birthday comfort fic with Sylus please? Smth like reader/MC doesn't really go out of her way to celebrate her birthday since she thinks it's not worth it (me tbh) but Sylus proves her wrong? Another hurt/comfort fic, basically. It's my birthday on the 13th haha

Feel free to ignore this request if it's too much, just let me know <3 thank you so much in advance!!!

Greedy

Sylus x gn!Reader

IM SO SO SO SORRY THIS TOOK THIS LONG TO WRITE. AN ACTUAL MONTH OVERDUE OMFG

Anywayyyy I hope this was worth the wait 😭

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, birthday, self-worth issues, kissing, food, teasing, established relationship

Word Count: 2,166

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“Going to bed already, kitten?”

You blink at him, mid yawn and stretch. Arms reaching overhead, your shirt lifts up to reveal a little bit of tummy. His eyes catch it immediately. Flick down a couple more times until your arms flop down by your side. “Yeah, I have work tomorrow.”

Sylus quirks a brow up at you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you laugh. “Why?”

“Well, I was under the impression that tomorrow was your birthday.”

Your heart spikes. You shrug, playing nonchalant, glancing away to scratch your cheek. “Yeah, it is.”

“But you're not taking the day off?”

You shrug again. “It’s not that big a deal.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms. “If I’d said that on my own birthday-”

“That’s different.” He shoots you a look, demanding for you to elaborate just how his own birthday is more important than yours. You huff. You feel antsy under his stare.

You always hate when this comes up. When a friend gushes over you, wondering just how you’ll celebrate your big day. And the way their entire attitude changes when you say you aren’t doing anything, and that you don’t want to do anything. Like you not wanting to celebrate is a burden on all of them.

As a kid, it wasn’t much different. Yeah, you wanted to have those big parties and events like the other kids. Your friends’ parties that brought you to fun pizza palaces and trampoline parks. Or at-home celebrations with games and pool parties. But something about it always felt… wrong. Like those places and games were made for them, but not for you. You didn’t deserve to have parties like they did. Didn’t earn the right to celebrate another year of life.

You cross your arms in turn. “I just don’t want to make a big thing out of it, okay?”

He stares at you a moment longer. Reads your body language, all tense and closed off, as easy as an array of Mephisto’s code. You think he’ll give you that look - the look they all give you. Keep arguing about how it should be a big thing because you’ve survived another year around the sun. Bring up that if you were going to make such a fuss about his birthday, shouldn’t he make a fuss about yours? Throw out suggestions and ideas for “fun” things you could do. And look like a kicked puppy when you reject him.

But he doesn’t. He just gives a nod, uncrosses his arms, and stands up. “Alright,” he says.

You squint up at him suspiciously. “Alright?”

“On one condition.”

You groan. “What.”

He smiles. “I make you dinner.”

“... What?”

“After work, come back to the base,” he elaborates. “I’ll make us dinner and we can do or watch whatever you want for the rest of the night.”

Your mind is already racing, thinking up all the ways this can turn sour. You have images of Luke and Kieran jumping out at you with party poppers and cone hats. A giant 7 tier cake. A pile of presents that reaches the ceiling. If there’s two things you know about Sylus: 1. He doesn’t do things by halves, and; 2. There is no such thing as too much.

“Just us? No Luke or Kieran?”

He shakes his head. His bangs swish over his eyes. “Not even Mephisto.”

“And just dinner?”

He quirks a brow, but he nods. “Just dinner.”

You stare up at him, searching for any budding scheme he could be coming up with. But you know he wouldn’t lie to you. It wouldn’t be like your 15-year-old surprise party that your friends threw, despite telling them all repeatedly that you didn’t want a party. You almost cringe just remembering it. “Really?”

He scoffs. You’d think it was out of annoyance if it weren’t for the amused grin creeping along his lips. “Really. You have my word.”

Your shoulders finally relax, arms drop back down to your side. He bends down and scoops you up, carrying you with one arm. You scramble to hold on. He carries you off to bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And you - you rest your head on his shoulder, like that’s exactly where you belong.

“Now let’s get you to bed,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to be exhausted at work tomorrow, would we?”

-

All day, you’ve dodged well wishes and “Why are you here? You should be celebrating!”s and the awkward staredown while you read store-bought cards. Of course your boss sent out a mass email letting everyone know it was your birthday; she did it for every one of her employees. And of course everyone went all out to make sure you knew it was your “special day”. Your only saving grace is that you weren’t forced to sit and stare at your coworkers as they sing you Happy Birthday and watch you “make a wish” on a candle.

During your breaks, you use the Birthday Discount emails you get sent and Sylus’ black card to buy clothes, games, craft supplies - anything and everything you could. It’s not like he minded, especially when he’s usually begging you to use his card no matter how small or large the price tag is.

By the time you’re on your way back to the N109 Zone for Sylus’ supposed dinner-date, you’ve uttered about a million prayers hoping he truly doesn’t have anything else up his sleeves.

You wander through the base toward the kitchen, scanning every room you pass for any sign of Luke and Kieran, banners, party poppers, and presents. You love those kids, but if you see them tonight, you might just explode on them.

Strangely enough, you manage to reach the kitchen without any glimpse of the twins. And the kitchen is lacking in decorations and monstrously sized cakes, too. Instead, all you find is Sylus with an apron tied in a little bow at the small of his back, an array of messily-iced cupcakes, and an absolutely divine fragrance. He glances over his shoulder when he sees you.

“How was work today, sweetie?” he greets casually, before turning his attention to the food sizzling in the pan on the stove.

You frown at his back. “It was…” You sigh. He glances at you again as you step past the cupcakes on the island and come to his side. Up close, the aroma of a home cooked meal hits all your senses, making your mouth water and stomach grumble. “A lot.”

He hums. You poke his side playfully and tug on the strap of the apron. “Since when have you had this?”

“I bought it today,” he admits, flicking your forehead in retaliation. “I didn’t want to mess up my clothes while I cooked for you. Why? Is it not to your tastes?”

“Just thought you’d get one in black. Or one that says ‘kiss the cook’ on it, or something.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”

You wrap your arms around his, holding onto him. He doesn’t stop you. He even transfers his utensil to his other hand so he can continue to cook without disturbing you. You can’t help looking around again. You look at the cupcakes all lined up on the counter. At the entrances to the kitchen. Through the doorway leading to the dining room. He lightly nudges you.

“Something on your mind?”

“No,” you answer too quickly. “Just, wondering where Luke and Kieran are.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “I thought you didn’t want them here tonight,” he teases. “They’re restocking my safe houses tonight. Once they’ve finished, I’ve told them they can do whatever they want. Most likely, they’ll run off to an arcade.”

You nod, trying to play it cool. “And Mephisto?”

“Keeping an eye on the twins, to make sure they actually finish their jobs before they play games.”

So… it really is just you and him here tonight?

“Go sit down,” Sylus says, breaking you from your thoughts. “This is almost finished.”

-

Dinner is better than you expected. Sylus always said that he could only cook so long as he had a recipe to follow, but every bite tastes like it was professionally crafted by a master chef. You savor each flavor. Try to chew slower so you can really relish the care he put into it. By the end, you’re genuinely scraping your plate for every last morsel.

He doesn’t judge you for it either, even when you look up at him all embarrassed. No, he just smiles. One of those soft smiles that makes him seem harmless, that brightens his eyes. He would be preening if he were a bird, so proud of himself for making something you enjoy so much.

“There’s cupcakes, too,” he reminds you after a sip of wine.

You smile wryly at him. “I thought you said just dinner.”

He chuckles, but shrugs. “Then I’ll throw them out.”

“Hmm, I better have a taste before you do. Just to make sure.”

He watches you get up and go over to the array of cupcakes. The frosting is messy, but with an intent to look nice. Or, at least, look edible. You pick one up and glance his way as you peel off the paper wrapping. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, waiting for your reaction as casually as he can. You sink your teeth into the soft cake and-

“Oh my god,” you moan around the bite. A dab of icing gets on your nose, but you can hardly care when it tastes this good. It practically melts on your tongue. You look up at him again, wide-eyed, as though searching for any hint that he knew it would be as delicious as this. “Sy, you should become a baker.”

He stands from his seat with another chuckle, plucking his wine glass from the table to carry with him as he joins you at the kitchen island. You take another bite. “Is it that good?”

You nod, licking your lips of crumbs and icing as you peel away more of the paper and hold it out for him to try. He eyes the cupcake for a moment. Then he takes your wrist and guides it away, bending down to your height, leaning in so his face is inches from yours. You gulp down the bite, trying to remember how to breathe when he’s looking at you like that.

His eyes flicker down to your lips multiple times as he leans in closer. Sharing your air, breathing in the sweetness of the dessert. And then-

Lick.

His tongue swipes up the icing from the tip of your nose and he’s standing at his full height, touching his lip. “Mm, yeah. It’s sweet.”

You groan. “Bastard.”

“What? Were you expecting something else?” he asks, though the teasing lilt in his voice betrays the honesty of the question.

“You know what you did.” You glare at him and turn away, taking another big bite of your sweet treat. “No more cupcake for you.”

His arms wrap around your waist and pull you back into his chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder. Nuzzles his nose against your cheek, where he can feel you fighting not to smile as wide as you want to. “That’s alright. I’ve got something sweeter.” He kisses your cheek. Along your jaw. Down your neck. Kisses you slow and delicate, closing his eyes like he’s savoring the taste of your skin, even after your long day. He hums, a sound that rumbles in his chest and vibrates against your back. “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

You swallow. The cake turns sour in your mouth. “I’m sorry for all the trouble,” you murmur.

He pulls away slightly to look at you, a frown of his face to match yours. “Sorry?” he asks. “Why are you sorry?”

“Well, ‘cause you made me dinner and cupcakes and everything.”

He huffs an astonished, confused laugh. “That’s hardly any trouble. I would cook dinner and bake cupcakes for you every night if I got to see you smile like you did tonight.”

The thought twists your stomach. He flicks your forehead before the thoughts can spiral.

He says your name sternly. “If you think you’re a burden because I want to take care of you, you’re wrong.”

You turn around in his arms and rest your back against the counter, the last couple bites of your cupcake held between you. “I just… It’s a lot of effort just for me.”

“And you’re worth every second of it.” He kisses your forehead. “For one day, let yourself deserve everything.”

“With you, I gotta get used to every day…”

He grins. “Eventually. We can start small for now.” He grabs hold of your wrist again and lifts the cupcake to his lips. He takes a generous bite and licks the icing from his lips. “One day, you’ll be as greedy as me.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @nothankyew @terriblesoup @jeleryyy @nezuswritingdesk @anaathxma @ssushi @mina7820 @monophobix @mentaltrouble2201 @mskaylacharite @nerrivm @ichosesparklingtorment @schnittled @animegamerfox @flamedancer13 @rebloggingislove @moonlight-inthe-sea @persepolys @satorubabee @sleepykittycx @perla-drg @17chuuya @slovesyouuu @atinymekanie @astheskycries @nm4565natty @thegreawizards @zeldaisapuppy @ocharavitys @gaychaosgremlin @lemonn015 @zaynessdarling @serena6728

[makeupbychio]

THE suit // logan howlett x fem!mutant!reader

Summary: Now that you are officially part of the x-men team you need a suit. After the help from Hank and Charles to make the suit you kept the final result as a secret to Logan until he saw you in your first mission in THE suit. More than one time you needed more than one suit, not just because Logan will rip off a lot of them, but for other reasons. 

Warnings: Jealous Logan and being a little bit of a brat, Hank and Charles cameo, insecurity towards your body and powers, use of your powers (ecokinesis), Logan being the best protective and comforting boyfriend, mentions of smut, suggestive language, mentions of pregnancy.

Words: 1.9k 

A/N: So thanks for the anon for the request!! Once again, a reminder that english is not my first language. I put angst, fluff and mentions of smut so I hope you like this. Also, reminder that this is a safe place for all body sizes so that's why I don’t mention specifics measurements for the suit. ALSO, you can read this with my previous Logan fic TRAINING SEASON, this is them days after you are officially an x-men. Enjoy, love y’all!! <3. 

italics = past. 

— — —

“Hold on, wait. Hank is going to do your suit?” Logan stopped the conversation. You two at the cafeteria grabbing a late night snack. You took the pause to give a bite to your apple. 

“What about it? The Professor told me Hank did all of them” you answered him without any worry in your mind and didn't  understand why he had that frowning look on his face.

”I think Storm should be in charge since your powers are related to nature too”. Logan suggested, trying not to be an asshole. You understand where this was going when he sighed. 

“But Lo, the Professor designed the suits, Hank is just going to sew it and for that he needs to take the correct measurements” you refreshed Logan’s mind, like if it wasn’t obvious that a suit was not going to sew it itself. 

So after that Logan just stopped insisting about it. He trusted Hank of course but something was itching his brain. If he knew you already had an appointment with Hank last week to take the first measurement and the Professor explaining to you how he designed it for you and your powers. 

“So, Y/N. If you didn’t know, Hank came up with the idea to make the suits bulletproof and for your powers we needed to incorporate more resistance to heat changes in case your whole body is on fire or ice. So we needed to play with all of the opposite and different scenarios of the element you were going to manipulate or become, please try it on”. Charles explained to you the work behind your suit. You just nodded, but the Professor can read your mind and know your excitement when you ran to change your clothes and came back with the suit on.

“So you can basically turn into stone one moment and then disappear like air, so we create something that can resist that range of changes, and also of course something to be comfortable for you”. Hank added, proud of the technology he put in the suit while you looked at yourself in the mirror. “You can try it and test what I’m talking about”. 

So you did it, always careful not to hurt them. They were so happy with the final results and you couldn’t thank them enough and can’t wait any longer to wear it. 

“See you next week, Y/N”. The Professor reminded you about the final meeting to correct some details. 

So after that late snack, you both went to bed and before your appointment with Hank, Logan just stopped by his office and greeted him with a casual smile. 

“Logan, how can I help you? Y/N is not here” Hank thought he was there to be with you once you tried on your suit. 

“Don’t worry, she’s still in bed sleeping in our room” Logan gave a cocky smile and highlighted the ‘our’. “Actually I’m here to help YOU. In case you needed help with her suit, just to let you know that I made you a list of her measurements” Logan handed him a piece of paper with the different sizes of the clothes you have. He really thought that was going to work. “You’re welcome, so you don’t have to take the measurements yourself” He smiles proud of himself. 

Hank laughed and didn’t want to ruin Logan’s intention. He just thanked him, if Logan knew the suit was ready in the lab for you to try it and make the last changes. 

“Oh! I almost forgot” Logan turned to Hank before leaving his office. “She’s the smartest person I know, don’t get offended so I’m pretty sure she’s going to give you some ideas for the suit” he made a pause imagining you giving instructions to Hank. “And her favorite color is purple” Logan finally leaves the room without letting Hank answer. Heading himself to the dining room proud of his work. 

Hours later, you went directly to the lab where Hank and the Professor told you to meet. “Okay Y/N so tell us how you feel it, if you want to change something” Hank looked at you looking in the mirror. 

It was really comfortable even when it was really tight to your body. You felt so much confidence, you saw the x mark on it, that wasn’t on the suit the last meeting you had. Also it made justice to your figure and your beautiful curves. 

“Thanks again, it fits perfectly. But Hank I just wanted to ask you if it’s possible if you could add something to the suit…” Hank is paying attention to you. “If there could be like- I don’t know- something for you guys to know which element I’m manipulating or about to, so you don’t get yourself hurt out there during a mission” you asked him nervously because they are the experts.

”Mmmhh, it’s a really good idea but the enemy can use that information too against us to advance an attack” Hank really liked the idea but they had a surprise for you. 

“So dear, we also wanted for you to try this suit too” the Professor went to reach the suit he was talking about. Hiding it inside a box that was wrapped like a gift. 

“Guys, what is this?” you were in total awe when you opened the box. They know how easily you get emotional. Tears are already forming in your eyes. 

“We wanted for you to have your own suit, something that will be just for YOU…” Hank started explaining. “All of us have something that characterizes ourselves and our powers, so someone told us your favorite color is purple and it contrasts perfectly the green that represents your powers…” Hanks kept talking because you went speechless. “I know it sounds cliché to add green for your ecokinesis, if you don’t like it we can change it” he suggested.

You just ran to hug them because it was perfect. “So for your ideas you gave us, we design this…” the Professor handed you another box, but this time smaller. You opened it so fast. “We created these gloves for the changes of elements. So you can use it in the field or on a daily basis” you tried on them immediately and it blew your mind the technology it has, how it’s connected to you to change the colors related to the element, it sparkles so that makes them AMAZING.

“The gloves are more for the missions, because with the suit you hold your powers in case you are not conscious. Also the gloves help you to give your attack a precise target. We’ll learn more about both items while training” Hank explained. 

So when you first wore the x-men suit, you were so nervous about the mission, about everything so you changed clothes in your room. Thinking if this was a good idea. Literally everyone was waiting for you to step into the plane. 

“I’m going” Storm was about to go and search for you when you stepped into the ship. “There you are! K’ let’s go” Storm yelled at Scott to go.

Logan almost fainted, his claws making an appearance without previous warning. He quickly put them back, he was so excited he couldn’t resist to stay close to you. His flirting helped you to stop your nerves. “Sugar, you look amazing…” he gave you a kiss on your check, sitting next to you on the ship. He came closer to your face, whispering “I hope they made like a hundred suits because as soon as we're back in the mansion I’m going to rip it off. God, I can’t wait” You tried to hide the redness of your face, you warned him to behave. 

“Logan, I’m pretty sure the Professor can read your mind, I don’t want to be kicked out of the missions. Or give us separated missions. Do you want me to be paired with Scott instead?” you asked him with a teasing smile. 

“I’m sorry, love. But did you see yourself in the mirror before coming?” Logan really insisted but not too much. “Don’t worry, you’re going to kick asses today and I’ll protect you till the end of times” 

Like I said before, Logan after that would take any opportunity to join you for fittings. Especially if something is different. Logan would be there next to you when you are not comfortable with your body. If you are not comfortable with your powers every time you discover something new about them. After years, he will always be there for you, sitting in front of you looking at you with awe and comforting you even when you’re were not feeling it. 

The only time you skipped a mission was when your suit was not crossing your figure. You tried on your x-men suit and your own suit they made you and it was not stretching enough. The team was on a rush so they let you stay at the mansion. 

Logan asked you when they were back about what happened and you just told him you were feeling under the weather. The Professor already knew the real reason. You distracted Logan enough for you to go to Hank's office. 

“Hi, Hank. Can I ask you something?” you stepped into the room worried. Hank welcomed you worried about your absence in the last mission. “I had a problem with the suit, actually both suits. Is it possible for the fabric to be even more stretchable?” you asked him. 

Next day, after telling Logan the truth about you expecting and how suddenly a big bump you had appeared. That time he almost fainted too. So both of you were in the lab, the Professor and Hank giving you the congratulations when Hank was taking notes of your new measurements for your suits.

“Be careful there, big boy” Logan growled at Hank when he put the measuring tape around your belly. Logan was so protective over you and now your baby. You laughed at him telling not to worry, Logan looking at you with charming eyes while you rub your belly looking at yourself in the mirror. So this was really happening, starting a family.

Hank explained to you your new suits, which were going to be more comfortable for you considering the bump was going to grow even more. But the only thing Logan could think about is to protect you even more out there in the field. 

“Lo, look at me. I can do this” you hold his face when back in the room he told you to reject some missions that were too dangerous just to be cautious. He was scared that if you got injured really bad in your state. He was not going to stop you from going to the missions, because he knows you are one of the strongest and with a single snap you can beat your enemy but he can’t help himself from worrying. “And if I’m not feeling good or at my best to fight I’ll stay here”. you kissed him to calm him down. 

“I know, mama. You are the baddest out there. They could never beat you even if they tried” Logan kissed you back and kneeled to kiss your belly. “I wonder which powers our baby is going to inherit”. Next time Logan went to Hank’s office was to ask for a tiny x-men suit to surprise you. Hank couldn’t say no to Logan because he found a really cute gesture from him even when he had a lot of work left to do. 

[aventurineswife]

i just had the BEST FIC IDEA ever listenlistenlisten so like what if the reader is like a violinist or something that performs at the casino where aventurine gambles (they’re partners), and lets say she was just kind of beside him while he was gambling with someone after she had just performed, and then when deciding on the next thing to gamble or whatever the guy starts asking to bet the reader and makes comments on her being talented n shit and just overall creepy comments, and immediately aventurine is all what the fuck hell no and gets all protective and stuff😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨😨 (is it obvious that my crippling fanfic addiction got to me at school)

Some Things Are Off the Table

Summary: After a stunning violin performance at the casino, you sit beside Aventurine as he indulges in a high-stakes gamble. When his opponent makes an unsettling suggestion—betting you as part of the game—Aventurine’s carefree facade shatters, revealing a fiercely protective side. He swiftly shuts down the idea, making it clear that you are not a prize to be won. As tensions ease, Aventurine reassures you in his own charming way that, while he may gamble with everything else, he would never gamble with you.

Tags: Aventurine x Female!Reader, Protective Aventurine, Slow Burn, Possessive Behavior, Subtle Angst, Fluff with a Hint of Danger, Banter, Established Relationship.

Warnings: Mild Threats, Uncomfortable Advances, Protective Behavior, Gambling Themes, Slight Language, Light Angst.

The air in the casino buzzed with tension, the scent of expensive cologne and spiced liquor hanging thick in the atmosphere. Golden lights flickered above, casting a warm, decadent glow over the velvet-draped tables where fortunes were made and lost in the blink of an eye.

You sat beside Aventurine, the smooth lacquer of your violin still warm beneath your fingers from your recent performance. The crowd had adored you, as they always did, but the real audience that mattered sat beside you now—Aventurine, eyes gleaming like chips on the table, hands deftly playing a different kind of game.

Cards flicked between his fingers as he leaned back in his chair, a lopsided grin playing at his lips. His opponent—a wealthy investor with a penchant for reckless bets—matched his smile with something far less charming. You recognized the type immediately. Greedy, arrogant, and drunk on power, the kind who thought the world revolved around their whims.

"Aventurine, my friend," the man drawled, taking a sip of his brandy, "we've been raising the stakes all night. Your money, my money—it’s all getting rather predictable, don’t you think?"

Aventurine twirled a golden chip between his fingers, feigning boredom. "And here I thought unpredictability was the charm of the game. Got something more interesting in mind?"

The man’s gaze slid toward you. A cold prickle ran down your spine as his smirk widened. "Your lovely companion here," he mused, tapping a finger against the table. "She’s quite the talented thing, isn’t she? Stunning performance earlier. Seems like she’s worth quite a bit herself."

Your breath hitched. The room felt stifling, the weight of his words pressing down like an unwelcome touch. Aventurine’s fingers stopped mid-spin, the chip clattering onto the table. Slowly, languidly, he leaned forward, his ever-present grin sharpening into something dangerous.

"You must be joking," he said lightly, though there was no humor in his tone. "You’re a braver man than I thought if you believe you can wager a person. Let alone—" his eyes flicked to you for the briefest second, unreadable yet burning with something fiercely protective, "—mine."

The man chuckled, oblivious to the sudden shift in atmosphere. "Oh, come now. It’s all in good fun. A little game, a little risk. You’re a gambler, aren’t you? What’s the harm in—"

Aventurine moved faster than you could register. One hand slammed onto the table, sending chips scattering, while the other clamped down on the man’s wrist in an iron grip. The jovial, carefree mask had cracked, revealing something cold and lethal beneath.

"Let me make something crystal clear," he murmured, voice smooth but sharp as a blade. "I gamble with money, property, my own damn life if I feel like it. But her?" He jerked his chin toward you. "She’s not a bet. She’s not a prize. And she’s sure as hell not yours to even think about."

The investor paled, his bravado faltering under Aventurine’s piercing gaze.

A beat passed. Then another.

Aventurine smiled again, slow and deliberate, as if nothing had happened. He released the man’s wrist and leaned back, picking up a stray chip. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I’ve lost interest in this game." He flicked the chip across the table. "Consider that my final wager. Play with yourself if you’re so desperate for stakes."

With that, he stood and turned to you, offering his hand. "Shall we?" His voice had softened, but the fire in his eyes remained. Without hesitation, you took it, letting him guide you away from the table and the lingering stares of onlookers.

As soon as you were away from prying ears, he let out a sharp breath, his grip tightening around your fingers. "The audacity of some people, huh?" he muttered, a ghost of irritation still clinging to his tone. Then, softer, "You alright?"

You squeezed his hand back, offering a small smile. "I’m fine."

His gaze searched yours, assessing, before his signature smirk returned. "Good. Because if that bastard so much as looks your way again, he’s leaving this casino with a lot more than just an empty wallet."

You laughed, the tension finally breaking. "And here I thought you didn’t play for keeps."

Aventurine tilted his head, eyes gleaming as he lifted your hand to press a lingering kiss against your knuckles. "For you? Always."

And just like that, the game continued—but this time, you weren’t just a spectator. You were the one thing Aventurine would never gamble with.

[literaryavenger]

Can I be him?

Summary: When Bucky finds something of yours, he hopes against hope that you feel the same way about him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language cause it's me. Fluff. A lot of angst. Idiots in love. Self-deprecating thoughts, both reader and Bucky. No use of Y/N. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: It’s 3am where I live, so… Happy 107th Birthday to my favorite Supersoldier! Today I’m posting 2 Bucky fics because my baby deserves it, this one and another one sometime around the afternoon. Hope someone likes it! Thank you to my angels @ordelixx and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 that gave me so many ideas that helped me finish this. I love you🖤

Masterlist

Being an Avenger is not easy.

The long missions, the intense training, the weight of the world on your shoulders…

Everybody on the team has a different way to unwind after a mission: Steve draws, Clint and Natasha compete doing target practice, Thor sleeps, Sam plays video games, Bucky takes motorcycle rides, Tony and Bruce work on side projects in their lab, Loki reads, Peter does his homework and Wanda cooks with Vision.

For you, it’s going to the rose garden behind the Compound.

It’s a bit of a sanctuary for you, Tony allowed you to put tall hedges of roses with a gazebo-like structure in the middle of them facing the lake, only it’s entirely made of vines.

You made it yourself, that’s your power: you can manipulate anything plant-related. 

Everytime you finish a mission the team splits up as soon as the debriefing is over and you walk straight here.

You sit on the bench, also made of vines, take out your diary and start writing.

You write about everything, from details of missions to your feelings about the team. From things you did that you don’t want to forget to things that you want to do after you’re not so tired anymore.

The hedges hide you from view and the only thing you can see when you’re here is the lake.

Sometimes, after a particular difficult mission, you don’t even write. You just sit there and look out into the water, the sunshine or moonlight shining down on you, and you feel at peace.

It helps that nobody else ever comes here. The team understands it’s your safe space, and the agents are mostly scared of your powers ever since you grew a giant carnivorous plant and it bit an agent that squeezed your ass during training. 

The agent got both taken to the medbay and suspended on the same day, and you got the thanks of about a dozen girls that had the same problem with the same asshole.

You walk out of the conference room, the debriefing of the team’s latest mission just wrapped up, and like usual everyone scatters to their own after-mission ritual.

Today, though, you can’t concentrate on anything.

Your feet take you to the rose garden by reflex, but your brain doesn’t even register you’re there until you sit on the bench.

Today’s mission took a lot out of you, not just because of the amount of magic you had to use to get everyone out safely, but also because it was your fault the team was in so much danger in the first place.

You fucked up your task, Natasha had to step in and save your ass, moving away from her post and making her late for her own task and that derailed the entire mission.

At the end, you had to use your powers to take out the hundreds of Hydra agents at the same time, which is no small feat and made you almost pass out.

Everybody told you on the way home not to worry, the mission was successfully accomplished and everyone made it out safely, but you know that if it wasn’t for your screw up the team would’ve gotten in and out of base without so much as a scratch. 

Nobody had fatal injuries, thank God, but Sam got shot in the leg, Clint got stabbed and everyone else had various degrees of injuries because Hydra got the jump on the team.

Because of me.

That was all you kept thinking about. Your brain had a field day making up all kinds of scenarios where your mistake cost someone’s life, a few of them even had the entire team dying because of your stupidity. 

You were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice someone following you to the rose garden.

Not that you ever do. 

If there’s one thing Bucky Barnes knows how to do, is move around undetected. He’s a master assassin, he was trained for this for over 50 years, he knows how to be a shadow.

Except now he uses his skills for good during missions and, occasionally, to follow you.

Not in a creepy way, of course, just to check on you. At least that’s the excuse he always uses so he won’t have to admit to himself that what he does is, indeed, a little creepy.

But he can’t help himself, Bucky knew from the moment he saw you that he was fucked. 

The moment you walked into the room to meet the team his heart was yours. You stole it with one simple smile, with one look of your beautiful eyes.

You introduced yourself and shook hands with everyone, but when you looked at Bucky he felt like a light came on and it was just you two.

You shook his hand and he felt like he had to take it off and give it to you, it was yours now. His hand, his arm, his leg, his head, his heart, his soul. Everything he is was now yours, he just knew it.

Then you said his name and he could’ve died right there and then. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, and it was barely two syllables. Every word you said, every laugh and sound that came out of your pretty mouth, Bucky felt like it was all for him. Nobody else mattered.

Bucky knew then he was in love.

But he didn’t know how to approach you. You were like a fairy, like a princess. Growing flowers, always smiling, baking, growing everyone’s favorite flowers and always willing to help, like growing Aloe when Wanda burned herself cooking, or Chamomile to help with Tony’s anxiety, or Valerian roots whenever someone was feeling down. 

You were like sunshine and he was terrified he’d kill your light. But he’d be damned if he’d let the world kill it either, he’d protect you with his life.

So he took to following you, making sure you were safe from a distance.

But it’s not like he never talked to you, the more time you spent with the team the more comfortable Bucky got around you and eventually you became friends.

Bucky knew you could take care of yourself, you were one of the strongest members of the team, but he didn’t like it when you were in your rose garden by yourself. The tall hedges made it impossible to see incoming danger, so he kept an eye on you just to be sure.

For his own piece of mind. And you never saw him.

That was Bucky’s actual way to unwind after a mission.

He’d tell everybody he was going for a ride on his bike, but he’d drive it through the woods around the compound and to the other side of the lake where he’d have a perfect view of you without you knowing. 

Deep down he knew it was a little creepy, he could just ask you if he could join you, but he felt like you needed your time alone without anyone else around, and he knew if he asked you, you’d say yes no matter what you were feeling, because that’s just the kind of person you are.

So Bucky watched you from afar, always careful not to be seen. He watched you write for hours, it relaxed him to see your beautiful face so concentrated.

Sometimes you’d laugh quietly at what you were writing and those were the only times Bucky was grateful for the supersoldier serum that allowed him to hear such a beautiful sound even with so much distance between you.

But it was torture for him when he knew you had a bad day. Sometimes you’d hug your knees and cry, Bucky could tell how much you’d need a hug, and it killed him that he couldn’t just walk up to you and hug you.

Everytime he sees you cry his heart breaks a little and he always tries to make you feel better when you walk back inside. He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong, he just tries to make you laugh. But all he wanted to do was dry your tears.

You did notice Bucky always seemed to act a little goofy when you're feeling down, like he somehow knew, but you never thought much of it.

You knew he was a very observant person, so you assumed he just saw your mood through your behavior better than most.

Bucky loves hanging out with you, even if it’s just as friends. You make fun of him like with everyone else, you don’t treat him like could explode at any moment, never walking on eggshells around him like most people do.

You’ve never been afraid of him, and he’s glad that you don’t treat him like glass. You treat him like everyone else, and it makes him feel normal.

Everytime time he hangs out with you, you take him back to a time where he was unbroken. You make him feel alive again.

And he falls more in love with you by the second because of it. You’re all he wants, he wants to have you and kiss your lips and never let anyone hurt you. That’s all he can think about, but he knows that’s not gonna happen.

He heard you talk to Natasha and Wanda, heard that there’s someone you’d gone on a few dates with. But Bucky knows that guy doesn’t deserve you, nobody does.

Even Bucky himself doesn’t deserve you, you’re too pure for anyone in this world, but if there’s someone that has any chance of making you happy, Bucky prays to God that that someone is him.

Bucky knows today’s mission shook you deeply. He knows you blame yourself, and no amount of reassurance will make you believe that everything is okay.

So today, for the first time, Bucky actually follows you. He can see your unfocused eyes even as you walk and he wants to be near you, just in case.

He almost walks to you when you curl up on the bench and start sobbing quietly, but he holds back not wanting to startle or upset you further.

He just listens to your soft cries until you stop and compose yourself. You sigh and get up, walking back to the Compound to take a much needed relaxing shower.

But you’re still so much in your own head that you don’t even notice you left your diary on the bench in the gazebo. 

Bucky did notice, though.

He’s tempted to call after you and tell you, but something deep down tells him not to. He waits until you’re gone and then walks to the bench, picking up your diary and opening it.

He doesn’t know why, he knows it’s wrong, these are your private thoughts, but he’s just drawn to it for some reason.

When he starts reading he notices you don’t mention any specific names, which makes sense because only you read it, you know who you’re writing about. He reads a page here and there, reading about your missions or lazy days. 

He reads about some memories with the team you wrote about, some he remembers and others he probably wasn’t there for, but seeing all these memories from your point of view does something to him.

It makes him feel connected to you, makes him feel like he’s reading your heart and soul, because he kind of is. Then he reads something that captures his attention completely. 

You write about eyes blue like the ocean and just as troubled, about a smile that could light up the world. You write about someone with a complicated past that never lost his spark, never lost his love for life. 

A man that went through hell, and never once took it out on the world. A man that didn’t ever blame the world, even when he had every right to, choosing instead to protect it. 

You filled pages and pages with everything you admire about this man, everything you love about him that you know he hates. 

And Bucky feels like every word you wrote, you wrote for him. But could this be him? Could he be the one you talk about in all your stories?

He wants to. He wants this to be him. He prays you’re talking about him. He wishes this could be him… Who is he kidding?

Of course it’s not me. 

It’s probably the guy you’ve been dating. Yeah, that’s it. You’re in love with that guy, that much is clear. 

Bucky gets to the page where you write about your dates with the guy, but he can’t read them.

He closes the diary, not knowing that you compared your date to Bucky every step of the way. Not knowing that you granted the guy a second date just to be sure he couldn’t compare to Bucky, and went on a third date at a coffee shop just to let him down gently.

Bucky didn’t read how you know he’s the one for you, he didn’t read his own name written in your handwriting, the only name in your whole diary because he’s the only person you never want to forget, even though you know you never will.

But Bucky didn’t read that.

He puts your diary back where it was on the bench and, with his heart broken and his hope that one day you could be his lost, he goes back inside and to his room.

It’s only when you go back to the rose garden after your shower that you notice you left your diary there, but don’t think much of it. Nobody ever comes here anyway, as far as you know.

After finding out you’re in love with someone else, Bucky can’t stop himself from acting differently towards you, which you don’t fail to notice.

It’s not like he’s mean, but your interactions get shorter, like he tries his best to end the conversation quickly.

He no longer sits close to you, no longer tries to make you laugh when you’re feeling down, doesn’t hang out with you as much during your down time and if he does, it’s never just the two of you anymore.

It’s silly to say, but you miss him.

Bucky knows he’s been distancing himself, he knows you’ve noticed and he can see it’s affecting you, but he’s doing this to protect himself.

He knows it’s only a matter of time before you present your boyfriend to the team, the man you’re in love with and he doesn’t want it to hurt more than necessary.

You decide not to push Bucky, knowing he has his reasons to pull away from you. Maybe he’s just trying to deal with all the stress the team’s been under and you don’t want to add any more to that, so you let him be.

A few weeks later the team’s on their sixth mission in just as many days and everyone is exhausted. You’ve been taking down Hydra base after Hydra base, because waiting too long meant losing your chance to shut down their operations for good before they got the opportunity to leave.

You’ve been dividing in smaller teams to take down the bases while still giving the team a chance to recuperate, but this last one was the biggest and required the whole team together, which sucked for you because you were in the last team with Steve and Bucky that took down a base just yesterday, so the three of you got barely a few hours of sleep while you flew to the last base.

You’ve cleared the base, all that’s left is the agents in the courtyard who are really going down fighting. The whole team is outside now, the Hydra agents giving you a hell of a fight. You’re using your magic against your better judgment, giant vines coming out of your arms like whips, covered in poisonous thorns. One touch of that and anyone would go down immediately, everyone except you.

Or at least that’s what you think.

As you’re fighting you can see an agent trying to sneak up on Bucky who’s fighting near you, so you quickly take care of it for him.

Bucky turns around and sees the agent down and then looks at you with that charming smile you fell in love with and winks at you. “Thank you, doll.”

That’s the friendliest Bucky’s been towards you in weeks and you can’t help but smile back with a small blush.

You can see the last agent standing coming at you from your peripheral vision and you quickly whip him with a vine, taking him down as soon as you can so you can turn back to look at Bucky, still smiling at you.

Bucky’s smile drops quickly, though, as he sees your face draining of any color. You barely have the time to register the sting of your own thorn on your arm that you’re already falling to the ground.

Bucky tries to catch you, but he gets thrown back by your magic that goes into defense mode, creating a wall of thorns to protect your now unconscious body.

The team doesn't know what to do, none of them know enough about plants to be sure that these thorns wouldn’t just kill them all.

The only one that would know that is you, the person that’s passed out, or worse, trapped in the midst of a cocoon of thorns.

“Okay, we need to find a safe way to-” Steve starts but cuts himself off almost immediately. “What are you doing?!”

Bucky doesn’t even turn around to answer, too intent on breaking the thorns around you with his metal arm, not caring that the thorns are ripping his clothes and scratching his face, all he can think about is getting to you.

He finally manages to get through to you, but nobody can follow because your magic regrows the thorns Bucky broke, trapping him with you inside the cocoon.

But Bucky doesn’t care, his eyes never leaving your face as he kneels behind you, running a finger softly along your cheek and shivering when he feels your skin is cold as ice.

His mind goes to the worst possibility, that there’s nothing he can do, but his brain gives him some hope reasoning that your magic wouldn’t be working if you were dead.

Right?

He snaps out of his thoughts when he feels the thorns around you vibrate, he takes you in his arms and shields you with his body from whatever is about to happen.

But the only thing that happens is the shade cast by the thorns gets replaced by sunlight. Bucky looks up and realizes Wanda used her magic to lift the thorn cocoon.

“You couldn’t have done that before?!” Bucky barks at Wanda with a glare while carefully picking you up to take you to the Quinjet.

“She’s not the dumbass that threw himself headfirst in a mess of thorns without even considering another course of action!” Natasha came in Wanda’s defense, though she seemed more amused at Bucky’s antics than annoyed.

As the team heads back home in the jet, Bruce examines you and lets the team know you’re still alive but in a sort of coma.

Their relief is cut short when Bruce makes it known that he has no idea when, or if, you’ll wake up.

As soon as the Quinjet lands you’re taken to the medbay and hooked up to machines, an IV in your arm to keep you hydrated.

Bucky holds your hand through it all, staying all night next to you just in case you wake up. He didn’t want you to be freaked out and alone, he wanted to be the first person to see your beautiful eyes open.

When morning comes, though, you’re still unconscious, but Bucky doesn’t lose hope. You probably need a good sleep.

That’s what he tells himself for two, three, four days.

That’s what he keeps telling himself for a week, two weeks. Never once leaving your side, not eating unless Steve brings him food and makes sure he eats before leaving, and using the bathroom of your room in the medbay.

He barely sleeps and, when he does, he dreams of you.

Everyone was getting worried about him, he refused to leave your side until one day Steve came into your room to tell Bucky there was something wrong with your rose garden.

Bucky was torn between staying with you and seeing what Steve was talking about, but decided that it would kill you if something happened to your roses so he had to make sure everything was okay when you woke up.

Because you’re going to wake up.

Bucky follows Steve to your rose garden, and his eyes widen in horror as soon as he sees it. The roses, the hedges, the vines.

Everything is dying.

Bucky’s heart breaks, only one thought in his mind. If your plants are dying, does that mean you’re slowly dying too?

No. That’s unacceptable. You’re not gonna die, not if Bucky has anything to do with it.

He takes it upon himself to take care of your garden, watering it and doing everything he can to keep the roses and vines alive, fooling himself into believing that this will keep you alive.

He stays on the gazebo day and night, sleeping on the bench, spending every waking moment trying to keep a hold of even the smallest part of you.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

Bucky loses track of how many days he’s been in your garden, sleeping maybe an hour at a time here and there, watering the roses every few hours and crying the rest of the time.

After all it’s his fault, if he hadn’t distracted you none of this would’ve happened. You’d be in your beautiful garden, probably with your boyfriend, and the only broken thing would be Bucky’s heart.

That he could’ve lived with. 

But how can he live with the knowledge that he caused your end? That he killed your light? That he killed his sunshine, his hope, the love of his life? He can’t live with that.

Not that he has to.

While Bucky’s spiraling while surrounded by dying roses, inside your room in the medbay you’re finally waking up after almost a month.

You open your eyes slowly, looking around you at the hospital-like room. There’s nobody around and, as you look at the window, you can see it’s really late at night.

You sit up and try to make sense of what happened while rubbing your eyes. The last thing you remember is Bucky’s bright smile, and then nothing.

You look down at your arm and see an IV, which you take out while frowning. How long have you been sleeping?

You carefully get off the bed and make your way outside to your rose garden, just to be sure everything’s okay. It’s not like anyone’s gonna stop you anyway.

When you get close, the moonlight shines on the hedges and you gasp at what you see. Your beautiful roses withering away, the gazebo made of vines dying too.

But the most confusing thing is the sobs coming from the bench, although no one’s sitting on it.

You get closer and see Bucky sitting in front of the bench while hugging his knees and crying softly. You frown and get a little closer before stopping, not wanting to startle him.

“Bucky…” You say quietly and his head snaps up, his eyes instantly meeting yours.

For a moment it feels like he’s trying to decide if you’re real, he reaches out and you extend your hand to take his. That seems to convince him and he gasps.

“Doll…” His voice is barely above a whisper, almost as if he thinks if he makes too much noise you’ll disappear.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him while getting a little closer to him, concern clear in your every feature.

It’s only when you get closer that you see his face full of cuts and you frown. Those are not just any scratches, it’s clear to you that they were made by thorns. “D-did… Did I do this to you?” 

You’re kneeling in front of him now, one hand still in his one the other comes up to trace the cuts in his face softly, but he takes your hand in his and kisses your palm.

“I’m okay…” He reassures you.

Just then he realizes, you’re fussing over him when you’re the one that’s been in a coma for a month. “Are you okay? How long have you been awake?” 

“I… I just woke up.” You tell him honestly, then look around at the dying roses and vines before looking back at him. “What happened to me?”

“You got stung by one of your poisonous thorns.” He says quietly, his thumbs rubbing circles on your skin while he refuses to let go of you. “You’ve been unconscious for almost a month.”

“A month?!” You’re shocked at the news, not knowing what to say or do, so you just stay there while letting the information sink in. The silence is broken by Bucky after a minute.

“I’m sorry about your roses… I tried to keep them alive, but…” He looks around with a hopeless expression. “I failed you.”

Your heart breaks a little. Does he really think he failed you?

You take a deep breath, then close your eyes and when you open them again a second later everything’s back to normal. The roses are as beautiful as ever, the gazebo just as majestic. It’s like nothing ever happened.

Bucky looks around in awe when he feels you take his chin and you make him look at you.

“You could never fail me.” You say firmly, wanting him to understand you mean it. You look at the cuts around his face and you can’t help the guilt and pain that you feel deep within you. “I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault.” It’s like Bucky can read your thoughts, he knows all you can see are your faults, and he wants you to know he doesn’t blame you for anything. “You weren’t even conscious. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never wanted to be one of the people that hurt you…” Your voice is a whisper as a tear escapes you. “The world hurt you so much already… I never wanted to be part of that. You don’t deserve it.”

Bucky frowns. He feels like he’s heard those words, but where? No, he didn’t hear them. He read them. He read them in your diary, where you wrote about the man you’re in love with. Could it be possible?

Could I be him?

“It’s me…” He says lower than a whisper, his eyes locked on yours, and it’s your time to be confused now.

“What?” You ask him with a frown while wiping your cheeks.

“It’s me you’re in love with.” His voice is a little louder, but firm. He’s not asking you, he’s making a statement.

Your eyes widen in surprise, you almost take your hands away from his but his hold prevents you from doing that.

“I-I… What?” Is all you can bring yourself to say, confused as to why he’s so sure of it. Are you really that transparent?

“I read your diary…” Bucky says, guilt written all over his face, but at least he’s owning up to it. “You wrote about the man you love… and you wrote the same thing you just told me. It’s me, isn’t it? You love me back?” His voice is more hopeful now, his confident demeanor weavering.

“You… You read my diary?” You say, your mind still playing catch up.

It’s only a moment later that you register the ‘love me back’ and you don’t give him a chance to apologize or justify himself before you’re speaking again. “You love me?!” 

Bucky hesitates a moment but nods firmly. “I love you, doll. I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.” 

You feel like someone punched you and all the air has left your body. You have no idea what to say, so you don’t say anything.

Instead you lean in and kiss him.

Bucky wastes no time kissing you back, but a thought pops into his mind and he reluctantly pulls back. “What about your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” You frown again, having no idea what he’s talking about. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t?” Bucky feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and he pulls you to straddle him. “What about the guy you went on a few dates with?”

You narrow your eyes at him but decide to table the conversation about how he knows that for another time, so you smile at him and decide to just be honest with him.

“Do you honestly think that anyone could ever measure up to you? Because if you do, you’re an idiot.” Bucky grins and kisses you again. 

Maybe he is an idiot. But when he’s the idiot you’re in love with, how much of an idiot can he really be?

It looks like he can be him after all.

[kitkatkitzune]

MAKEUP MENACE

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Summary: You need a model to practice your skills, thankfully Elijah is there to help… and distract you.

Warnings: Sex jokes, Flirty!Elijah, Maybe OOC!Elijah?, My minimal makeup knowledge, inconsistencies in the tense it’s written in

Notes: Special thanks to @wholoveseggs for helping me brainstorm ideas for this fic!! I hope I did your suggestions justice!

Happy Valentine’s day everyone!!

Word Count: 1.5k

MASTER POST , TVDU MASTERLIST

———————

You groan in frustration and throw your makeup brushes down, dropping your head onto your vanity table.

Elijah, who was sitting on the chair in the corner of your shared room, reading, looks up from his book, “Darling? What’s wrong?” he’s off of the chair and at your side in a matter of seconds.

You pick your head up from the table and look up at your fiancé, “This is just so frustrating! These stupid silicone molds are nothing like real skin!” you scoff, looking back at the table.

Elijah smirks, “So silicone is nothing like the real thing?”

“Yes, Elijah! That’s what I just said!”

“So… the real thing is better?”

“Am I speaking one of the two languages you don’t speak? Yes! I just said that!” you exclaim, looking back up at him.

His grin widens, “Silicone doesn’t compare to—“

“Elijah!” you scoff, slapping his arm as you finally catch on to what he’s doing.

He laughs, “My apologies, dear, I couldn’t help it.”

You scoff, “You’re a dick.”

“Ah, but you like my ‘dick’…” he pauses for a moment, “It’s certainly better than silicone.”

“Elijah,” you groan, dropping your head back onto the table, “you’ve been hanging around Kol too much,” you mumble into your arm.

“Kol?” he questions, “You talk about male genitalia with my little brother? I don’t know how to feel about that…”

You lift your head up a bit to glare at him and he chuckles again, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to learn this new technique and practice for my exam but the silicone face pieces are making it so difficult, it just won’t work the right way because it’s not skin!”

“So you need a model?”

You sigh, nodding, “And Rebekah isn’t here for me to practice on! She’s off galavanting around with Marcel, doing God knows what that I don’t want to think about!”

Elijah hums in thought before shrugging, “You could practice on me?”

“Really?” you beam, “You’d let me?”

“As long as you promise not to stab my eye out, I think we’ll be fine.”

You squeal, standing up from your chair, pushing Elijah to sit down and he does, man-spreading. You gather all of your supplies and Elijah watches you intently, happy to see you in your element.

“Okay, let’s get started…” you begin but Elijah raises a finger, making you trail off.

With dramatic flair, he pulls out his handkerchief and tucks it into his shirt as if he was about to eat a messy dinner.

You roll your eyes and he smiles, the corners of his eyes creasing, “What? I love you, truly, but this suit was nine thousand dollars… I don’t want it stained.”

You chuckle and step closer so you’re standing in between his legs, “Are you sure this isn’t going to fracture your masculinity?” you tease.

He laughs, resting his hands on your hips, “Dear, you forget I’m over a thousand years old, this isn’t the first time I’ve worn makeup.”

“I wish there were cameras back then,“ you whine, “I’d have loved to see you all ‘dolled up’,” you quote Elijah, he would always refer to you getting dressed up as getting dolled up.

“Maybe Nik has some old paintings…” you tap your finger to your chin, grinning when he groans and rolls his eyes.

After a bit of teasing, you finally begin your work, trying not to get too distracted by the way Elijah was rubbing up and down your hips. He smiles at you knowingly, making you scowl. Deciding two can play at that game, you straddle his lap, causing his eyes to momentarily widen.

“I hope you don’t sit on all of your clients like this…” he muses.

You giggle, “Only the really pretty ones,” you use the brush you were holding to boop his nose.

He hums, moving his hands to rub up and down your back as you do his eyebrows. When he realizes you’re no longer being affected by his teasing he lowers his hands until they reach the curve of your ass and squeezes.

You immediately halt your movements and lean back, smacking his shoulder, “Behave ,” you hiss.

“I am being a perfect gentleman.”

“More like a perfect menace.”

Finally, you get to the eyes. You dip your eyeshadow brush into the brown, tapping it against the pallet before placing it on Elijah’s eyelid.

“Brown?” he questions.

You hum, “Simple yet elegant, a classic.”

When you finish his eyes you uncap a red lipstick, “And a red lip, classic and bold.”

You finish applying the color to his lips, giggling at the way he had his lips puckered. You shriek when he leans forward, grabbing your face and placing kisses all over just like you do to him, leaving red lip marks behind. He finishes his onslaught of kisses by placing one on your lips.

He pulls back, admiring his work and you narrow your eyes, using your fingers to wipe away the smudged lipstick around his mouth.

After fixing his lipstick, you grab your hand held mirror to show him the final look.

“I look absolutely fabulous, you did fantastic sweetheart.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

You smile, happily, and hop off his lap much to his surprise, “Stay there! I need to get my phone so I can take a picture for my portfolio.”

You’re gone before he can even protest, practically bouncing down the stairs. You see Klaus and Hope on the staircase, you had completely forgotten they had gone out shopping. Little Hope was practically buried in shopping bags.

“Auntie Y/N!! Look at all my stuff!!”

“What on earth happened to your face…?” Klaus trails off, referring to the kiss marks, you ignore him, addressing Hope.

“In a second, honey, I promise!” you pluck a few of the bags out of her arms, revealing her face, “I have to get my phone, I need to get a picture of Elijah!” you continue down the stairs.

“Elijah?” Klaus raises a brow, stopping in his spot on the steps, “Is the noble stag actually smiling for once in his immortal life?”

“No? Yes? Maybe!” you exclaim, “It’s for my portfolio!” you pass Klaus, grabbing a few more bags from Hope and she rushes up the stairs after you.

When she sees Elijah, she bursts into a fit of giggles, “Uncle ‘Lijah! You look pretty!”

Elijah shoots you a look before scooping Hope up in his arms, she pokes his rosy cheeks and laughs again.

“Pretty silly,” Klaus says, leaning on the doorway, making his presence known.

“Niklaus,” Elijah sighs.

“No! Just pretty!” Hope exclaims.

“Y/N,” Klaus pushes off the doorframe to leave the room, “be a doll and send me whatever pictures you take…”

“Yes!” Hope squeals, “And me too! Send them to me!”

“Hope, you don’t have a cellphone,” Elijah deadpans.

“Oh.”

“But we can send them to your mother!” you smirk, trying to suppress a giggle when Elijah glares at you.

Hope giggles and runs out of the room, yelling for her mother to come see ‘pretty Elijah’.

Elijah sighs and you smile, shrugging, “You’re the one who said it’s better to indulge him.”

“I suppose I did say that…”

You take a few photos of him and set your phone down, “Hope’s right, you do look pretty.”

“Well I think you’re prettier.”

He smiles and stands up, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible to press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Ew!” Hope yells from the doorway, causing the two of you to pull apart. She’s standing there, carrying her own makeup box that she had just got during her shopping trip with Klaus.

An idea suddenly pops into your head, making you grin, “Hey Hope, you want to make Elijah pretty?”

Seemingly forgetting about the whole previous interaction, Hope smiles, hopping up and down, “Yes! Can I make you pretty uncle Elijah?”

Elijah widens his eyes at you, as if you had just sent him to the slaughter, “Well, I have all this makeup on already, sweetie.”

“Oh come on, Elijah,” you smirk, “I can easily take that off! Let the girl do your makeup!”

“Please uncle Elijah! I promise I’ll do a good job!”

Between your encouragement and Hope’s adorable little pouty face, Elijah couldn’t say no.

Which is how he ended up with cheap, glitter makeup rubbed all over his eyelids and cheeks with cute little bows in his hair.

“I’m going to be a makeup artist! Just like you, aunt Y/N!” Hope grins at you, unveiling her work.

By some miracle, you manage to contain your laughter even as Elijah narrows his eyes at you.

“You did great, sweetheart! Isn’t that right, Elijah?”

“Yeah,” his voice almost cracks, “I look beautiful.”

Hope grins, running out of the room, shouting for everyone to come see ‘pretty Elijah’ again, making Elijah groan and bury his face in his hands.

You laugh and he looks up at you, “I’m glad you enjoy my suffering.”

“Oh honey,” you smile, placing your hands on his shoulders, “I’m your fiancé, of course I do.”

[ablobwhowrites]

I have been hooked on your poppy playtime new home sweet home posts and I love them, they are great!! and I was thinking, maybe one where y/n repairs some toys in very bad condition? Like when you mentioned Miss Delight's face! Only if you want and can of course. <3

(also sorry if this is not very well written, English is not my first language and I am using Google translator)

(glad you liked them and plus it helps me kinda try and write my next fic and hopefully I'm cooking with it)

Y/n has repaired the toys and even had to learn how to stitch because most are fabric but bougie bot, miss delight, doey and mommy long legs are kinda hard to repair, so y/n has to look up how to repair the certain material needed for each toy. Miss delight is a bit more patient with being repaired as this goes for mommy and doey but boogie bot, bunzo, huggy, yarnaby are kinda impatient as they move around a lot and don’t really like sitting on one play and bubba is a kinda like smartass when y/n tries to do stitching to repair his arm and he’s like “you shouldn’t use that stitch, use this one instead” and y/n is like half way done with it when he says that but y/n just finishes it and moves on.

Plus I do imagine y/n going to their grandma to ask if she could make some blankets for the toys as they don't have a lot of spare blankets. Especially when crafty corn, hoppy hopscotch took most of the blankets to make their fort. Y/n's grandma agrees and makes huge blankets like ones that doey could basically be laying down and there would still be a lot of blanket left over kinda huge and of course the smiling critters get one and hoppy uses it for the pillow fort and yarnaby as well.

Y/n's bed does not belong to y/n anymore cause everytime they get home, yarnaby is sleeping on it and take up all the bed and even when there's some there's very little because like yarnaby is fucking huge. But the blanket is bigger than him somehow.

And sometimes the toys have nightmares about killing y/n. Like in when they were in playtime co and how violent they were to y/n and basically almost killing them in brutal ways. Like the dream goes as this, they chase y/n and when getting their hands on y/n killing but the bloodlust settles as they look at the corpse of y/n and realizing what they did try to fix it. Or think it's a prank but it continues until the you jolts awake seeing the room they are in and see y/n alive. All it was a nightmare, they are safe here. Except for Sawyer, he has dreams of being a regular human so yeah. But poor doey was scared that the nightmare was real and poor guy needed a hug after cause he feels guilty even though it was just a dream.

(Anyways that's it for me yapping. If you guys like this and want more please don't feel shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's, but for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[aniflowersartblog]

Well, this is a first! But since I really liked how “Waking Nightmares” turned out, and since @fishymom-art expressed interest in reading this, I decided to ramble a bit about the writing decisions I made in the fic! ^^ 

I can’t tell if most of these are too obscure for people to have noticed, or too obvious for them to have been missed. So this is literally just me having fun sharing what went into the fic xD

I hope you’ll have fun reading it! :3

1st: The “bird-motive”

During the fic, there are recurring moments of Burning Spice referring to Golden Cheese as a “bird” through the narration. 

These are always moments in which Golden Cheese shows herself “vulnerable”, and most importantly: moments in which Burning Spice thinks of himself as a potential threat to her.

This is most obvious in the very first use of that motive:

Directly followed up by:

Less obviously:

Followed up by:

And the third time (becouse I accidentaly used the “rule of 3”, I guess xD) :

The entire thing is based on Burning Spice calling his fight with her “bird hunt” when he tore of her wings, which is so far shown to be the leading subject of his nightmares in the “Nightmare” comic.

2nd: Mozzarella Cookie mentioned!

There isn’t to complicated or intriguing of a thought process behind this one xD

It has been confirmed that Mozzarella Cookie is around, but just doesn’t really have a part to play in the AU. So, since she is one of my favorite characters in the game, I simply decided to give her a small part in my story! ^^ 

3rd: Burning Spice never refers to himself as “Auspicious” here

During writing, I like to use a different array of synonyms to replace characters' names by. Sometimes, it’s for the narrative, like I did with the howl “bird-motive”. Other times it’s simply to make reading more interesting, and indirectly give some insight into the characters or how they are seen by others. For example, me using things like “advisor”, “right hand” or “cunning” as stand ins for Smoked Cheese's name.

So naturally, I was tempted to use “Auspicious” as a stand-in/synonym for Burning Spice's name, since that is the title he gets after his awakening.

I ultimately decided against it though, for two reasons.

Reason number 1: Skill issue, I guess!

 English isn’t my first language, and I just couldn’t figure out how to properly use that title without it sounding weird to me, since the word, as a noun, itself is still new to me xD

(I totally could have figured it out had I truly wanted to, but than reason 2 came into play~)

Reason number 2 (the actually interesting one): Headcanon fueled character drama! >:)

Since Burning Spice is still, quite literally, haunted by his guilt, I developed the headcanon that he does not truly see himself worthy of the title “Auspicious” yet. After all, hs nightmares literally tell him that, no matter how much he changes on the outside, at his core he will still be the same monster who killed countless people and ripped out Golden Cheeses wings.

Because of that, he himself and the narration only ever refers to him as “beast”, “former/tamed beast” or “harbinger” during the fic.   

Here are some examples, but not all, since it turns out that I used those three so often, one could probably make a drinking game out of it (disclaimer: please don’t!) :

On that note:

4th: other fun little synonyms I used for names! (Without screenshots. Because I’m to lazy at this point xD)

-”tamer” for Smoked Cheese, in combination with “beast” for Burning Spice, because Smoked Cheese used to be a beast tamer in the virtual Golden City. Plus I just found the idea cute that Burning Spice, a beast cookie, is now “tamed” and in a relationship with a cookie who’s literal job was to tame beasts! 

-”reborn queen” for Golden Cheese, since her kingdom was destroyed and later reborn, and because she herself was sort of reborn in her fight with Smoked Cheese.

-”greed” for Golden Cheese and “cunning” for Smoked Cheese should be self explanatory enough xD  

5th: Golden Cheese using her wings to emote

During the fic, I use Golden Cheeses wings as a way to show her emotions or mood. Similar to how cats use their tail and ears to emote. It’s a trope I learned from anime, where it is also often used in hair, and which I’m very fond of! I just think it gives more personality and expressiveness to a character! ^^ 

Her wings shift around uneasily when she is uncomfortable or unsure, the same way someone might fidget with their hands or bounce their legs. They puff up when she is offended and her feathers raise when she is tense, the same way animals raise their hackles when angry or threatened. But they also fluff up when she is happy or excited, the same way someone might sit up straight in excited anticipation, or how a dog would wag its tail happily!

6th: other random things

-I often listen to music while writing, most of the time to stay in the mood of the scene I’m writing. While writing the last half of the fic, I had “Will you fall in love with me” from “Epic: the musicall” playing on loop. I don’t even know why that song, I’m not even sure if I’d say it “fits” the characters dynamic or story. But it was the only couple/love song that seemed appropriate to me at the time xD

-I have a deep urge to draw the end scene, but probably will never actually get around to doing it, because I’m terrible at putting my drawing ideas to paper. (Fun fact: that’s also why I got back into writing, since I simply couldn’t manage to draw my ideas as comics xD) 

-I keept re-reading the "Nightmare" comic for inspiration whenever I took a biger break from writing, to A) get back into the mood, and B) keep the idea properly present in my mind

-One day after finishing the fic, I already got an idea for a new SmokedBurningCheese one. But if I’ll get to writing it will completely depend on if I get an answer to a question I have, and what said answer will be, when @fishymom-art opens their ask box the next time

And that’s all the “talk worthy” stuff I wanted to talk about! ^^

Thank you, to all of those who read to the end! :3

[azzibuckets]

Paper Rings [Part 1/10 | Paige Bueckers]

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

summary: very angsty friends to enemies to lovers told through flashbacks & current day

a/n: this is my very first fic + i’m still pretty unfamiliar with how to use tumblr so pls forgive me in advance 😭 but lmk what you think!

warnings: drinking, angst, paige as a player

word count: 1.9k

masterlist w/ all parts

FLASHBACK: 1 YEAR & 1 MONTH AGO

It was the night of the Big East championship game, and the entire UConn women’s basketball team was piled into Paige and Azzi’s apartment to celebrate with drinks. At first, you’d been hesitant to come, as you would be the only non-player there. Which usually wouldn’t be a problem, but since it was a celebration for something as special as a tournament win, you wanted to let the team have their moment. But Paige insisted, saying that you were basically one of them at this point, and that everyone loved you and would want you there.

So here you were, sandwiched between Paige and KK on the sofa. There were so many people squeezed onto the sofa, though, that you were basically half in Paige’s lap. She didn’t seem to mind though - one hand was holding a red solo cup filled with dirty Shirley while the other was firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place next to her. Not a typical look for best friends, but both of you attributed this intimate position to physical touch being both of your main love languages.

Paige’s fingers were absentmindedly brushing up and down your hip, alternating between playing with the fray at the end of your shirt and scratching your hip. You tried not to think too much of it. Paige was constantly moving, and she always needed something to play with or else she’d get bored and distracted. She definitely wasn’t touching you because she had feelings for you. Paige made it clear that she wasn’t interested in anyone romantically, with how quickly she moved from woman to woman. But that was how she chose to live her love life, and you respected that! And didn’t care….at all.

KK suddenly lurched up from next to you. “Ayoooo, we should play spin the bottle,” she crowed, as if this was the best idea she’d ever come across.

“Nah, girl, I’m good,” Nika teased, shaking her head at KK’s antics. “Geno said he wants us to be close, but I don’t think he meant that close.”

The rest of the team hooted in laughter. KK pouted. “Well, Azzi just texted the guys’ team to come, and they’ll be here soon. That way I don’t have to kiss any of y’all’s nasty lips.”

At that, Paige sat up a little bit straighter, her grip around my waist tightening. “Ain’t no one playing spin the bottle with the guys. Especially Y/N.”

“Why, Paige? Jealous?” Ice teased. Ice always gave you a hard time about Paige, wiggling her eyebrows at you every time you walked Paige to practice or dropped off food for her during their recovery sessions. You suspected that she was onto you, but you always shrugged off her teasing in order to seem nonchalant.

Paige rolled her eyes, although her grip on you didn’t loosen. “Nah, bro. They’re just weird. They don’t know Y/N like that. She’d be uncomfy.”

You tugged on one of her Dutch braids. You loved whenever she put her hair into two full braids. She looked so cute. Although you’d never tell her that. “What if I wanna play, hmm?” You were testing Paige’s limits, and you knew it. And as much as you wanted to chalk it up to her being jealous, you knew she was probably just being a protective friend.

Paige shook her head. “It’s such a middle school game, Y/N. You don’t wanna do that.” With those words, you felt a surge of drunken defiance rise in your chest. Paige was bossing you around, as if she knew what was best for you. But you refused to be seen as the innocent and meek type. And now you wanted to play. Because if you couldn’t have Paige, you weren’t gonna let her limit you from having someone else.

You raised your chin. “No, I think I’m gonna,” you declared.

Paige’s eyes flashed. There was a hint of surprise in the way she leaned back and studied you. “Okay,” she responded coolly. “Whatever. Do what you want - Imma top up.” She briskly slid the part of me on her thigh off, and got up, disappearing into the kitchen.

Soon, the guys piled in, along with some of their buddies that weren’t on the basketball team. You all agreed to do a mix of spin the bottle or truth or dare. It was either answer the question, or kiss. Except those who were players insisted that teammates were off limit. To be honest, you didn’t wanna play. You, like Paige, thought the game was childish. And more importantly, the only person in the room, or frankly anywhere in the world, whose lips you wanted to kiss was Paige. But Paige didn’t want you, and you had to move on.

Paige returned with a full cup, this time of beer, just in time for the game to start. A couple of the girls had gotten up to sit with the guys on the floor, so there was more room on the sofa now, meaning that Paige and you were no longer touching. Instead, there was a sizable gap between the two of you. The lack of her warmth was upsetting to you, and another reminder that Paige was only touching you because of how crowded the sofa was. Not because she craved your touch the same way you craved hers.

Just your luck, the bottle landed on you the first spin. You vaguely recognized the guy who spun it as one of the players on the basketball team. He had dirty blonde hair and a cocky smile. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and he had a rumpled look about him that would be messily attractive if it weren’t for the fact that you had almost zero interest in guys.

“Which guy on my team looks like he’d be the best in bed?” The guy’s wildly inappropriate question barely registered before Paige leaned forward, sliding her hand protectively over your knee.

“That’s a fucked up question,” she snapped. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that way that happens when she’s really angry, and her cheeks were flushed, likely from the alcohol. Tipsy Paige meant a Paige with much more intense emotions, and you knew now that she would be even more unashamed now than she is sober, which says a lot considering how she’s already pretty free willed sober. “Don’t be an ass. Give her a decent question so she’s not forced to kiss you.” Paige snarled.

The guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Chill out, P. It’s just a game,” he laughed arrogantly.

“Yeah, P.” The words, laced with malice, were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and you wanted to die as soon as they came out. Paige looked like a puppy who was just kicked, confusion and embarrassment in her eyes. Shame rose in your throat like bile - Paige was just trying to protect you from a creepy guy, a guy who you didn’t even want to kiss, and you were taking this random stranger’s side. In front of all these people.

But words kept piling out of your mouth, even though you didn’t mean it. “Stop babying me,” you hissed. This time only Pauge could hear, but you internally kicked myself again for the harshness of your words. It was the alcohol in you, running hot through your veins, exacerbating all the bitterness and jealousy you’ve been feeling towards Paige for so long. You wanted to get back at her…but for what? It wasn’t her fault she didn’t love you back.

You were thrusted back to reality when you realized everyone was staring at you, waiting for you to make a move. It was an almost out of body experience, in the most terrible and awful way possible, watching yourself move like a robot to where the guy was sitting. You kneeled down, planted a kiss on his lips to the cheering of all the people around you, then got back and returned to your seat on the sofa.

And for the rest of the night, Paige didn’t speak to you.

—————————-

“I can’t find them.” You were digging through your purse, trying to find your keys. Paige was standing next to you, her face stone hard.

You were so drunk. After the whole kiss incident, you’d started going wild with the drinks, putting back shots as if your life depended on it. The alcohol made you feel numb, softening the ache you felt whenever you thought back to earlier that night when you had hurt Paige, embarrased her in front of all those people. You felt like the worst person in the world, and the more you drank, the more that guilt disappeared.

And now you were drunk out of your mind. You’d expected Paige to ignore you completely after, and she had, until the celebrations died down and you had to go home. You had walked to the apartment because your dorm was only 10 minutes away, and now with how you couldn’t even walk without staggering, someone needed to escort you back.

You hated how good Paige was. How she immediately got up without hesitation when Nika requested for someone more sober to walk you home. You knew she was angry and hurt, yet like always, she looked out for you first.

“Paige, I can’t find them,” you pouted. Paige exhaled through her nose and grabbed the purse from you, sifting through it before she found your keys, tucked into one of the side pockets. Opening the door, she rested her hand on the small of your back to guide you inside.

Once inside, you grabbed Paige’s hand, tugging her into your room and flopping on the bed. She stood there, still and silently watching you. She was unamused, and rightly so.

“Are you mad?” You giggled, sitting up to poke her in the stomach. When she stared back at you, still in silence, you stopped laughing. Sobering up a bit, you grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. “I’m really sorry,” you said quietly. “I don’t know why I did that earlier.” She was between your legs now. You weren’t thinking straight, your mind a muddled mess, and so you wrapped your calves around her, pulling her in until there was no space between you two. She looked down at you, bringing her hand to lightly touch your jaw.

You both stayed there for a moment, the tip of her finger running back and forth along your jaw. Your eyelids fluttered closed. Paige’s touch was so gentle, and you wanted to lean into it and stay in it forever. You didn’t understand why she was being so kind to you when you had been so cruel to her earlier, especially on a night as important as this.

“I’m sorry. For ruining tonight,” you told her, shifting to lean your forehead against her toned stomach.

“You didn’t ruin anything. But I was trying to look out for you,” she said quietly from above you. Paige. A golden heart, and a reminder of why you didn’t deserve her.

“But you kiss a lot of people. Why do you have an issue when I do it?”

Paige’s hand stuttered. “You should really get some rest,” she said gently instead of answering your question. She backed up, looking at you closely before shutting the light off. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night.”

[kate-inthedarkness]

Hi I absolutely love your writing!! Just wondering if I could request an Eli fic where reader is a friend of Bobby’s and that’s how they meet (maybe some jealousy or tension???). Thanks!

Oooo this is such a good idea!!! Thanks for sending it in gorgeous xxx

I Want You - Eli Hewson

Summary: When your friend, Rob, asks you to watch his band play in the Grand Social in Dublin, you obviously agree to going. But when you’re introduced to the lead singer of the band, there seems to be some tension there that you can’t shake, and neither can he….

Warnings: This is set in 2019, so they’re about 19/20. Tension (the good kind & the bad kind), Eli being a jealous asshole, making out but that’s as far as it goes, cursing, and I think that’s it 💋💋

The dim, hazy light of The Grand Social flicker above the crowd as your friend’s music swells in the background. It’s one of those nights that feels full of potential—the kind where the air is thick with the energy of youth, excitement, and something else you can’t quite put your finger on.

You’re standing at the bar with your best friend, Lucy, nursing a drink that’s barely touched, watching Rob on stage with his bandmates.

Inhaler had been getting some buzz lately. And tonight, you’re finally meeting the rest of the band. Rob’s been telling you stories about his bandmates, about their late-night jam sessions and the kind of energy they bring to their performances.

But there’s one bandmate he’s mentioned a little bit more than enough about: Elijah Hewson.

You don’t know everything about him, or anything really, except for the fact that he’s Bono’s son. And that already makes your expectations a little higher than they should be.

Rob gives you a wave from the stage, a big grin on his face, and that’s when you first see him. Elijah.

You’ve seen him in photos, heard his voice on tracks, but in person, there’s a certain gravity about him. He stood on that stage, staring down at his guitar, looking like he was doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

His messy hair and laid-back, effortlessly cool vibe make it hard to not stare a little. But you can tell he’s the type to enjoy being looked at.

Rob was quick to make his way over to you and give you a hug once they finished their set, excited to finally have you here watching him in his element.

“Hey! Come on, I want you to meet the lads,” Rob says, shouting slightly over the music, pulling you over. The introductions go smoothly with Josh, Ryan and Louis, but when you finally get to Eli, there’s an awkward pause.

He glances up at you, eyes flickering with brief interest before returning to his drink. No smile. No handshake. Just a polite nod.

“Eli, mate, this is the wonderful—“ Rob starts.

“Yeah, I know. Hiya.” Eli interrupts, his voice low and uninterested.

You feel a strange pang of disappointment, but you brush it off. It’s just who he is, right?

The rest of the night passed quickly in a blur of music, laughter and conversation. You’re enjoying watching the other bands perform, caught up in the vibe of it all, but your eyes keep flicking back to Elijah.

He’s still standing there, leaning against the wall, almost a little too cool for his own good around his friends. His body language screams “don’t come near me,” and you wonder if it’s just his way of protecting himself from the world. Or maybe he’s just a fucking arsehole.

When the last band of the night finished their set, the crowd cheered loudly, and Rob waves you and Lucy over from the other side of the room. “Come on, have some fun with us instead of standing there just the two of you.”

And with that, you follow Rob out to the smoking area, your heart racing a little bit and nervousness hitting your veins. But as soon as you step outside, you spot Eli, his back to you as he pulls out a cigarette.

He’s standing alone, detached from the rest of the group. Rob made a remark that he wasn’t normally like this, and you made a mental note of that. You take a deep breath, the cold night air biting at your skin as you walk up to him, leaving Rob and Lucy to watch you in surprise.

“Elijah, right?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the rising nerves and frustration in your chest. “Can we talk?”

He turns to you, eyebrows raised. “About what?”

“About how you’ve been acting all night,” you say, crossing your arms. “You barely said a word to me earlier. Was I supposed to just be impressed by your…charm?”

He exhales a puff of smoke, looking at you in silence for a moment before replying, his tone sharp. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I’m here to do my job, with my friends. Not make small talk with you or make new friends. I have enough of them, thanks.”

You bite back a laugh, the sarcasm in your voice growing. “So you’re too good for small talk? And being nice to people? Or is it just me you’re too good for?”

“Maybe I’m just tired of people who think they know everything about me because of who my dad is,” he shoots back, his eyes narrowing.

A light bulb bings inside your head. There it is. The weight of his name hanging in the air, a reason for his distance.

“Okay, so this is about your dad?” You snap, taking a step closer. “I didn’t come here to suck up to you. I came here because Rob invited me, and maybe I actually want to get to know people he loves. But you—“ you pause, trying to gather your thoughts, “you’re just acting like I’m fucking dirt on your shoe.”

Eli’s eyes flash with something like annoyance, but his jaw clenches. “And you’re all over Rob, making it obvious you’re practically foaming at the mouth over him. It’s fucking embarrassing.”

The words hit you like a slap, and the sting sends a rush of anger straight to your chest. “What? You think I’m flirting with him? The guy I’ve known way longer before he was ever your best friend may I add. You’ve barely spoken a word to me all night when I’ve been nothing but kind to you, and now you’ve got the audacity to say that to me?”

His expression hardens. “Yeah. I’ve seen the way you look at him. Don’t act like it’s not obvious. He has a girlfriend and all, so clearly you have fuck all shame.”

You feel the heat of the argument rising, every word coming out sharper than the last. “How dare you say that to me!” You spit. “I would never try to split up a relationship, especially my friends one! You don’t know a single thing about me, so stop assuming that you do. Maybe you’re the one who can’t handle being around people who actually like Rob for who he is, not because of his connection to some famous musicians knob head of a son.”

For a moment, there’s just silence between you, the only noise is loud chatter and laughter from everyone else in the smoking area.

You can feel the tension hanging thick in the air, the anger swirling just bellow the surface. His gaze doesn’t leave you, and in the next heartbeat, he steps forward, his hand gripping your wrist before you can react.

You don’t have time to process what’s happening before his lips crash into yours, hard and demanding, silencing any word you thought of spitting at him and silencing every thought in your head.

One hand of his is tangled in your hair while the other grips your hip. You can hear catcalls and whistles from his friends, and you just know that Rob is smiling cheekily at the sight. But you’re genuinely too far gone to care.

Eli managed to slip his tongue into your mouth without much effort. You practically welcome it as soon as you felt his tongue touch your bottom lip. He tasted like whiskey and cigarettes, and you can’t get enough of it. You nip at his bottom lip, making him groan.

He breaks away unexpectedly, his chest rising and falling as he looks at you.

“Don’t ever assume you know me ,” Elijah mutters, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

You stand there, breathless, stunned, and a little lost for words. But in that brief moment, it was clear to you, that whatever this was between the two of you, wasn’t over.

Not even a little bit.

[strawberry-daiquiris]

i fear that canada incident might cause girl!lando to get cold feet for 5 minutes because she’ll go into a spiral 😩

i've been thinking a lot recently about these two, their silly idea to get married in 2025 and what everything happening this year might mean for their relationship.

this is a little snapshot, post-canada, of how they're feeling about it all (and spoiler, yeah, there's a bit of a spiral).

girl!lando/oscar, 2.2k, E - here on ao3 if that's how you prefer to read fic <3

the scene in the media pen is pretty inspired by this beautiful art from @dumbf1sketches which has been playing on my mind all day. they're not them, but they're them, if that makes any sense.

____________________________

One second Lando’s right on him.

The next time Oscar looks in his mirrors, she’s a plume of smoke.

He keeps his head down through the next corner, until he has a chance to fumble his way onto the radio button to ask-

“She’s alright,” Tom says before Oscar even gets the chance to. “We don’t think there was contact. Do you see any damage?”

Oscar breathes deeply, his brain flitting between she’s alright and any damage as the safety car panel comes on. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Oscar answers, then eases his thumb up, speaking to nobody but himself when he finishes, “At least not with the car.”

***

He doesn’t spot Lando in the media pen, but Oscar knows the hand that slips onto his back is hers, even before she speaks. 

“I’m sorry.”

Oscar shakes his head, twisting to capture her arm, gripping fingers on her elbow. He wants to push her sleeve up, press his fingers to her wrist and feel for the badum badum badum of her heart, but he doesn’t want the audience. Every camera in the whole pen is on them now, even the ones supposedly fixed on another driver. The slight shift in posture from the guy opposite with his lens fixated not on Lewis’ face, but the curve of Lando’s hip where Oscar rests his hand, still gripping his water bottle. 

“You’re alright,” he says, running his hand over her arm just to check if the statement is correct. “That’s the main thing.”

“Yeah,” Lando nods, then grimaces, something horrible washing over her face that Oscar’s seen far too many times now. He wants to soothe the lines out, flatten her skin against her skull. “But it was stupid, nearly fucked your race, nearly…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Oscar says, catching the eye of Lando’s media girl, who nods her head softly at the cameras, like Oscar doesn’t know they have a job to do. “We’ll talk later, alright?”

Lando nods, sadly. When she turns from him, Oscar thinks she looks like she’s going to the gallows. 

“Hey,” he says quickly, pulling her back. The front of their race suits brush, zips catching. Sometimes Oscar wishes they could go out on track like that, squashed into one fireproof, piloting one car. That way he could keep her safe. Lando’s hand finds his shoulder, fingers clutching, her breath on his neck as she hugs him like she needs him, like she’d die without it. “I love you.”

They’ve talked about it as a team. Andrea grimacing down at a printed sheaf of papers from the HR handbook, not exactly looking happy as he reminds them about workplace appropriate language, the importance of keeping it professional when they’re decked out in papaya. 

Oscar doesn’t care about that, not right now.

“I love you too,” Lando whispers, and he doesn’t stop her when she tugs down on his arm, leaning up to press their lips together in something nearly too chaste to even be called a kiss. A brush of their lips, a promise of so much more. 

Flashes go off, and Oscar has to blink them out of his eyes as Sky Sports rub their hands together gleefully, voices greedy as they ask so Oscar, what was that all about?

***

By the time they’re out of debrief and Oscar’s made it back to their hotel room, feet up on the couch in the corner, the clips are everywhere.

Oscar always forgets how much the TV mics pick up, listening to his and Lando’s conversation ten times in a row with his phone pressed to his ear, trying to work out if he sounded sincere enough when he said you’re alright, that’s the main thing.

There are already edits on TikToo too. Them in the pen, and them on the track, set to shimmery, sad music. When Oscar accidentally clicks the suggested search at the bottom, he finds out it’s some live version of a Coldplay song trending because the singer has broken up with his fiancée. 

“Oh great,” Oscar says to the empty room, swiping the app up to close it and stop himself from going any further down that train of thought. “That’s great.”

“What’s great?”

Lando slips into the room, her hands in her hair, letting down the French braid Oscar had done for her that morning. The waves tumble over her shoulders, and Oscar can smell the shampoo, sweat and car wafting out of it. He wants to bury his face in it, which is lucky, since she clambers onto his lap immediately, suffocating him a bit.

“Nothing,” Oscar lies through a mouthful of her hair, then changes the subject, piling the strands over her shoulder, careful not to touch her face. It’s long at the moment, and he knows it’s starting to annoy her. Wedding prep, she always frowns, when he suggests she just cut it off, you know I can’t. “You took a while.”

“It was just Dad,” Lando grimaces, and she pulls her face away from his neck long enough to make a face that tells Oscar almost everything he needs to know. “He was on one, didn’t realise I’d missed the car.”

“It’s fine,” Oscar says automatically, because it is. He doesn’t really care if they drive back or forth to the circuit together, as long as they end up in the same place. “What was it this time? Are you sure about August, Lando? Or something different?”

He means it as a joke, mostly. He even uses the bumbling accent he always puts on when they’re talking about either of their Dads, and sometimes Mark. 

It doesn’t land that way, though. He watches as Lando’s face contorts, closing up rapidly like a venus fly trap, catching them both in the prickliness that follows. 

“It should be me,” she says dramatically, flopping backwards against the cushions, still strewn over his lap. “Asking you that.”

“No,” Oscar says seriously, scooping her up as best he can, angling her so her leg slips between his, clamping his thighs together to keep her in place. “No, no, no. We’re not doing this, baby.”

Lando wriggles for a second, like she’s going to try and fight his grasp, before she relaxes, lolling her head against his chest. 

“I’d deserve it,” she challenges, and Oscar lifts his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, squeezing one shut as he waits for it to start. “I nearly crashed you out because I went for a gap that wasn’t even there. You know, maybe everyone is right that this year isn’t…”

“No,” Oscar says simply, but it’s no good. She just keeps going. 

“…the right year. Everyone thinks it Oscar, do you know that? Everyone, even…”

“Go on,” Oscar sighs, starting to reel off the list of people who have aired serious concerns about their decision not to cancel the wedding, with the title battle raging on. “Your Dad, my Dad, my Mum, Mark, your Mark…”

Lando pouts at him, picking at her fingernails. 

“George,” he continues, starting over the count he’s got going on with the hand that isn’t gently tugging through her curls in an attempt to calm her down. “Andrea. Every single pundit on Sky Sports. Damon Hill, who doesn’t even work for them anymore…”

“Oscar,” she groans, in the tone she always uses when she knows he’s right, and she just wants him to stop going on so she can have a pity party in peace.

“Liam, Jon, even though he’s pretending he doesn’t care…”

“Oscar,” she groans again, and this time she shifts enough that he can move the hand in her hair to her waist, gently tickling her skin where her t-shirt has ridden up. She writhes, and the laughs start to come, even as she keeps going with the, “Oscar.”

“Zak,” Oscar keeps going. He can tell Lando is close to breaking. “Even though I have a feeling he’s only pretending he cares because he thinks he should. Our cleaning lady. Did you know she keeps tutting at me whenever I see her on the stairs? It’s a bit passive aggressive, if you ask me. Then there’s…”

“Did you know,” Lando interrupts, and she’s smiling, which is a good start. “That everyone thinks you’re quiet and don’t speak much when actually you never shu…”

Oscar leans forward and catches her lips, slipping his tongue into her mouth as she carries on complaining, although not for very long. Her hands come up into his hair, stroking through the long bits at the back he’s keeping in solidarity even though he hates them. If she can’t cut her hair, he won’t either.

Like this, he can have a good feel - checking under her top for any rogue kinaesthetic tape Jon might’ve shoved on if the crash was worse than she’s been saying. She’s clear though, so he goes back to stroking whatever skin he can get to, twisting her around on the couch until she’s on her back and he can settle between her thighs, slowly pressing his hips against hers. He keeps going, happy with the situation, until Lando’s breath starts hitching and he has to pull back to check if it’s because she’s turned on, or something much worse.

Her blown open eyes say it’s the first one, but Oscar has to pause at the serious look on her face.

“Do you, though?” Lando asks, tiptoeing her fingers along the collar of his t-shirt, mapping out his moles. “Think it’s the right year?”

Oscar sighs, climbing up on his knees so his half a hard on isn’t pressing insistently against her. She glances down and rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the glint in them.

Oscar has a lot of reasons why it’s the right year, if he’s honest. 

For a start, the wedding venue has been booked since July. He’s had meetings with caterers, florists, companies who supply drone shows. He’s spent hours talking to private security firms about how to keep the wedding away from prying eyes, and in Mark’s inbox right now there’s a wedding exclusive contract with Hello! him and Lando still aren’t sure they’ll sign. 

Both of them know what backing out with two months to go would look like. Even if Lando kept the ring on her finger and they carried on kissing in parc ferme, people would talk. 

Still - if Lando told him that’s what she wanted, Oscar would cancel it in a heartbeat.

“I do,” Oscar says, nodding his head, and it might be a bit of a dirty tactic using those words they’re both desperate to get a chance to say, because Lando’s cheeks pinken. “Yes. You don’t even need to ask.”

He leans down and takes her hand, kissing above the diamond that only comes off for track sessions, safely stowed in a special pouch Jon attaches to his belt. 

“Do you, baby?”

Lando blows air out from between her lips, making the flop of hair on Oscar’s forehead fly up. He can see in her eyes she’s going through the same pros and cons list he just did. Then she breaks, flailing her hand out to smack him on the back.

“Yeah, obviously, I do,” she rolls her eyes, like she hasn’t spent the last ten minutes peddling everyone’s doubts as if they were her own.

“Well then,” Oscar puts on his loftiest voice, coughing to try and get it as low as he can, tickling the back of his throat. “By the power vested in me by…”

Lando squeals, bringing her knee up to collapse him down against her, biting into his shoulder.

“Not yet, Osc, oh my god.”

Oscar starts to laugh, kissing along her jaw through it as it spreads. They roll together with laughter, slowly, slowly, lining themselves up against each other as they kiss. Lando’s hand comes back to his button, and this time she pops it, pulling back to raise her eyebrows.

Oscar nods, slipping his hands up her top and feeling along the wire of her bra until she nods back.

Sometimes, after a bad result, Oscar thinks Lando wants to get fucked as a way to forget.

When she sinks down on him, her hair still wild over her shoulders, hard nipples pressed to his chest, Oscar thinks this time it might be so she doesn’t.

Together they move like they did those last few laps, giving and taking, each of them having the lead for a few thrusts before the other takes over. Lando scratches marks into his back, thighs straining as she tries to take him even deeper. Oscar fucks her like she might disappear if he doesn’t, holding her hips so tight he sees fingerprints blooming purple on her skin. 

No matter how hard they go racing, Oscar always knows they’ll love harder.

After they both finish, Oscar carries Lando to the bed, curling around her under the covers, kissing her neck as she breathes through the come down.

“62 days,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the knob at the top of her spine, feeling her shiver. “Until I can call you my wife.”

“62 days,” Lando whispers back, and her hand finds Oscar’s tugging it close to her heart. This time, Oscar is able to feel the beat as it starts to steady. 

And he knows they’ll be alright. 

[padfootagain]

When We Were Lying

Hi! Here is another Hozier fic! Had a lot of fun with this trope, as always, I hope you’ll like this little story! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none… a bit of strong language and an awful lot of longing? Fake-dating AU

Summary: Your ex is attending your family gathering for Christmas and there is no way you're going to face that alone. Of course, you drag your best friend into this, and he's too smitten with you to say no when you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Although, the fact that you both have feelings for each other might end up being a problem...

Word Count: 10055

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Sorry… what?!”

Andrew was blinking at you. There was something unnerving in his frown and the intensity of his stare, but you had to bear it. After all, you had no other choice.

“You’re the only one I can ask to do this with me…”

“I’m absolutely not doing that!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?! Why not?! Do I really have to answer that question or have you found back your sanity?”

“Andrew…”

“I am not going to lie to your entire family at Christmas just to save your stupid arse!”

“But I said ‘please’…”

“Y/N!”

“Andrew!”

“This is a terrible idea! I’m not doing that!”

He stared at you as if you had lost your mind, and in all fairness, perhaps you had… for a part at least. Why else would you be sitting in your best friend’s comfortable sofa, in the middle of his large and yet welcoming living room, asking him to lie to your family and pretend that you were together? Only for a day though, just for the traditional meal on Christmas, the boring and tedious lunch on the 25th where you exchanged gifts and stabbing remarks with your least favourite members of your family.

Not that you were not used to face this tragedy on your own; if your arse of an uncle had been the only obstacle to overcome this year, you would have emerged with flying colours. But this year was different. It was different, because your cousin Samantha was coming with her boyfriend… aka your ex-boyfriend. The one she had slept with ten months ago. The one who had betrayed you and broken your silly heart. The one you wished you could put laxatives into his drinks, or pierce his tires, or put some very strong pepper into his tea… Something Machiavellian like that…

But as your chances of poisoning his food at the Christmas lunch were limited, you had to settle for plan B. Which was simple enough: convince your best friend to pretend to be madly in love with you, so you would not have to bear any comments from your family about your broken heart and the fact that you had been cheated on by your fucking cousin Samantha… and perhaps, with a bit of luck, you could also make your ex, Craig, jealous.

A brilliant plan, if there was ever any. Only, Andrew didn’t seem to share your optimism.

“You’ve lost it, this time,” he went on, eyes wide, aghast as he slowly shook his head.

You couldn’t blame him for thinking this. Especially given the fact that your feelings for him would probably end up being a problem. But despite your silly little crush on him… who else could you ask such a favour to? The two of you had known each other for years. He was your best friend, you were ready to do anything for him. No one else would accept…

“Andy… I know I’m asking a lot…”

“This will never work. Beyond the fact that this is pure madness, it will never work! Your parents know me! They know we’re not together!”

“Friends get together all the time!”

“No one will believe us. And you know me, I hate… PDA and stuff like that… I can’t… even when it’s real, I struggle with that stuff. I can’t fake it.”

“On the contrary, that’s great! Cause then, we don’t have to act too much like we’re together, and we can just blame it on your well-known aversion for PDA!”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N, but this time… it’s a no. I’m not doing that. I’m not playing fake-boyfriend for you.”

You heaved a defeated sigh.

“And I thought you would kill for me.”

“I’m a pacifist… a punch across the jaw is the best I can do.”

“Lousy friend.”

“Fuck off! You think you asking me to lie to your entire family is better? Just so you won’t have to hear them complaining about you being single? You think that’s not worse?”

You saw the way his expression saddened when yours did, when the tinge of playfulness left your features. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Why is it so unbearable anyway, huh? You’ve forgotten how my mother can be? I’ve got that refrain sang to me all the time too. It’s not so bad.”

You bit on your lip and lowered your gaze before answering, holding back tears that came blurring your vision of Andrew’s soft carpet.

“Craig and Sam will be there. Together.”

You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“I don’t… I don’t want to have to face that on my own. I’m not sure I can…”

You barely had time to brush a tear away that Andrew was holding you close, arms wrapped tightly around your frame. And you let him pull you even closer, until your ear was pressed against his heart, until he could drop a tender kiss to the top of your head. He heaved a sigh.

“Could you still come? As a friend?” you asked, voice trembling even if you didn’t want it to.

You hated being like this. Fragile. Crying. Not over the betrayal. You wanted to wave a perfect life at your ex so he would see all that he was missing, until he regretted everything. It was petty, but true. Instead, you would be the one sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a couple of weeks, trying not to throw up nor cry while you witnessed your ex and your cousin playing perfect couple…

Andrew heaved a painful sigh.

“I’ll come.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean… I’ll do it. The whole crazy plan. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend for the day.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him. There were traces of annoyance in his gaze, but a lot of tenderness too as his eyes met yours, hazel irises turning greener in the quiet light of a late afternoon.

“Really?” you asked, voice shy even though you craved for confidence.

“Really. But you’d better make sure that your mother still loves me when you break it to her that we’re not together anymore! I’m not giving up on her amazing lasagnas, not even for you.”

“I have the recipe, you know?”

“Your mother’s taste better.”

“Fucker!”

“Don’t insult me, or I’ll take everything back and let you deal with this bunch of assholes on your own!”

“Sorry!” you quipped, hiding your face into his chest again, and you heard him mumbling some complaints, playing grumpy, but you knew better.

You were smiling as you listened to his low voice lulling you back into a soothed state. You wondered how he did that. How a mere hug and some whispering were all it took to calm you down, to make you feel safe all over again, when you were so damn insecure all the time.

You lost track of your own thoughts when his large hand came to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

And you were glad that you could explain a lack of PDA in front of your family, because there was no way for you to survive a whole day with the man you secretly loved holding you like that…

“Do you hate me? For being selfish and dragging you into this?” you asked him, voice muffled by his woollen jumper.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Even if I called you to get rid of a body with me?”

“Erm… As long as I’m not the one cutting it into pieces.”

You both let out a chuckle.

“I’ll make sure to stain your carpet with the blood of my victims.”

“Now, that would make me hate you, for sure.”

“I knew you’d choose your carpet over me.”

“Yeah, but what a carpet it is!”

“It doesn’t make you lasagna though…”

“I only like your mam’s.”

You smiled, but remained quiet. You were serious again when your voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over your two entwined frames.

“Seriously, though… I’m sorry I’m asking you this. I just… I just don’t see what else I can do. I don’t think I can stomach seeing the two of them as a happy couple while I’m still… desperately single. A real loser…”

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” he admonished, voice genuinely annoyed. “I hate it when you do that. You’re… you’re amazing, Y/N. More than you realise. And Craig and Samantha are terrible people. So… stop blaming it all on yourself. They can rot in hell.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven and hell.”

“You know what I mean.”

A pause while you smiled, wool tickling your cheek.

“Thank you.”

He rubbed your back, gesture soft, taking his time.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You owe me so much…”

“I thought you said ‘don’t mention it!’”

“Don’t mention it, my arse…”

You laughed at him, you couldn’t help it. As Andrew and you walked together down the lane leading to your parents’ house, you couldn’t refrain your laughter. Andrew looked nervous… like the day he had met your parents for the first time, years ago.

“Stop acting like they don’t know you. My family adores you.”

“That’s until they learn I’m lying through my teeth.”

“You’re an infamous liar, anyway.”

“Hey!”

He faked outrage, making you laugh even more, and this time, he couldn’t refrain his own smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this…”

“Me neither. You must have lost your mind, too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and sealed his lips again. There was something almost sad on his features for a second, and you wanted to ask if he was alright, but you were already in front of the green door.

“You ready?” he asked instead, an encouraging smile adorning his handsome features now, the cold of December making his cheeks and nose redden.

And you had to struggle through missing heartbeats to nod your head. He looked lovely like this, hair in a half-bun, some curls still free, hair tied only to keep the strands away from his face. He was wearing the grey beanie you adored, chin buried in a huge matching scarf…

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured you, all traces of playfulness or annoyance gone from his warm voice.

“Let’s make Craig so jealous he’ll choke over some pudding.”

You both chuckled, and Andrew nodded, lovely crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as he kept on smiling.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You took a deep breath before knocking.

There was no turning back.

You glimpsed at Andrew one more time as you waited for your mother to come and open the door, and you thought it truly was the worst idea you had ever had, to ask Andrew to do this… Andrew, of all people. If he was the only choice, he also was the worst one. You simply hoped you wouldn’t have to fake too much… because your heart sped up at the mere thought of holding his hand…

What an idiot you were, getting yourself into so much trouble… at what point had you imagined it was a good idea to ask the man you secretly loved to be your fake boyfriend?!

Your thoughts were interrupted though, as your mother finally appeared. You grinned at her as she hurried to give you a hug.

Andrew had barely closed the door behind him that he was receiving a warm hug as well.

“Ha! Andy!” your mother welcomed him, making him laugh. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long.”

“It has indeed…”

“And finally! You two came to your senses!”

You frowned, but didn’t have time to ask your mother what she meant. Instead, you were pulled into the whirlwind that was your family.

Andrew remained close to you, and you were not surprised. There were plenty of people gathered in the large living room, several generations together in the warmth of your childhood home, and Andrew wasn’t too good with dealing with so many people. When you turned to him to offer him a gentle smile, one he immediately offered as well, he seemed a little uncomfortable, hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, head slightly bent, as to appear less tall than he truly was, a desperate attempt at hiding. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, such a stark contrast with the confident musician he was each time he stepped on a stage.

You introduced him to the members of your family he didn’t know (including your terrible uncle, who didn’t fail to be rude, hence living up to his reputation). And everything was going fine, except perhaps for the uncontrollable burst that sparked through your heart and chest every time you called Andrew your boyfriend. You pushed to the side the longing that washed over you at the thought that you wished the word could be true…

But it wasn’t the right time for such consideration. After years spent as Andrew’s friend while harbouring feelings for him, you had grown amazingly talented at hiding the love that coursed through each of your cells every time you saw him, or heard him, or thought of him…

But that was not the right time for such thoughts. Indeed, a new couple was just entering the room…

… and suddenly everyone was quiet.

Samantha and Craig seemed to not notice the sudden silence, or else they were simply very good at hiding it. You couldn’t control your expression as you winced, turning towards the window.

But you were surprised by Andrew’s touch, as he reached for your hand. Fingers shy at first, barely the ghost of a caress across your knuckles. When you leaned closer, fingers searching for his too, he intertwined them together, and as you turned to him, he gave you the warmest smile. A silent gesture to tell you it would be okay.

You were even more surprised when he pulled you closer, a gentle tug at your joined hands. You had discussed, before coming to your parents’ house, the boundaries you needed to respect for today. Holding hands was okay. Touching arms, hair or a waist was okay. You had not discussed kissing, but you reckoned that it was a clear no. An arm around the other’s shoulders or back was good too.

But now, Andrew was pulling you gently closer until you were settled against his chest, and he bent to softly kiss your hair, lips lingering on the top of your head for several seconds. The gesture was so tender, you had to close your eyes…

And then his lips were gone, leaving behind the quiet sound of a kiss and their warmth. When you opened your eyes again and looked up at him, Andrew was blushing, but he was smiling too. And there was something in the way he was looking at you…

“Y/N! How good to see you!”

You turned towards Samantha, hence interrupting your train of thoughts, perhaps for the better.

You forced a polite smile, but didn’t go as far as to completely hide that you weren’t happy to see her.

“Sam! How are you?”

“Good! I’m good! What about you?”

She only then seemed to notice Andrew’s presence by your side, an impressive performance, given his height and the fact that you were still leaning into his chest…

“Oh, hi! Hmmm… Andrew, is it? I remember you! You’re Y/N’s friend!”

“Boyfriend now, actually,” you corrected her, and you were amused by the look of surprise on her face.

“Oh! Congratulations! Good for you!”

Around the room, conversations had started again, filling up space once more and giving you at least some privacy… although you knew it to be but a relative truth. Your relatives who stood closer to you were probably listening closely, unwilling to lose any crumb of the conversation and drama that might ensue.

Behind Samantha, Craig finally greeted you, more uncomfortable than his girlfriend was. He grew even more uncomfortable when he offered his open hand to Andrew.

“Good to see you again, Andy.”

You hated that Andrew had to let go of your hand to shake Craig’s, but his fingers found yours again as soon as the greeting was over. It was rare to see Andrew with a clearly forced smile on his face, he was generally better at hiding his discomfort, a habit of always being polite.

“Craig,” followed by a nod was the only greeting Andrew gave your ex, and you recognised protectiveness in the way he moved slightly closer to you, placing himself between you and Craig.

And you felt a little guilty for the sense of pride that you got from that gesture, knowing you shouldn’t be reading anything even remotely romantic into it… but then again, you were but human. And humans always liked dreaming…

“How are you two doing?” Craig asked, and you nodded.

“Good, we’re both doing good. You?”

“Oh, we’re great! We’re planning on going for a trip for our anniversary, don’t we, dear?” Samantha went on, turning to her boyfriend, who merely nodded… rightly uncomfortable.

“Amazing!” you managed to get out between gritted teeth.

“And for how long have you two been together, then?” Craig asked, changing the subject quickly.

“A couple of months,” you answered, a detail you and Andrew had agreed on.

“So, it’s still the honeymoon phase, then,” Sam nodded knowingly, although you weren’t sure what kind of knowledge that was…

“It’s pretty new,” you nodded.

“How lovely! But… I thought the two of you were friends,” she went on, acting confused.

“We were,” you confirmed, and when you struggled to continue, it was Andrew’s turn to step in.

“And now we’re more than that.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and again, you noticed the way he was blushing.

Craig nodded his head, and you saw how he was frowning, the kind of expression he wore when he was upset over something.

“It’s funny that you were friends for so long and then all of a sudden… you decide to be more,” he spoke with a tinge of venom in a tone he tried to turn honeyed.

You looked for an excuse, but Andrew was the one to answer again. And you were taken aback by his words… and even more so by how earnest they sounded, although… although he could only be lying.

“We… we’ve spent a long time tiptoeing around that line. I think… we’ve had feelings for a while for each other. I guess we were simply afraid to lose everything we already had if we gave this a try.”

“And what decided you to give this a try, then?”

“I don’t know. Some courage, I guess.”

“Or an opportunity,” Craig proposed, making you frown. There was an insinuation behind his tone, and you didn’t quite know what to do of it.

Andrew seemed to understand better, judging by the way he clenched his jaw, slightly tightened his hold on your hand. He remained quiet though, refusing to rise to Craig’s challenge.

“These things can take time, you know?” you added, trying to pull the conversation away from the glares Andrew and Craig seemed keen to throw each other, a silent battle of thunder and storms. “Where are you planning that trip of yours?”

It was too easy to centre the conversation back onto Samantha, nothing surpriseing, though, considering her character…

Lucky for you, you were soon called by your mother to help in the kitchen.

Or actually, it was but a limited reprieve you were granted. It took your mother only a couple of minutes to bombard you with questions, while she made you cut some carrots, sunlight streaming on your hands from the window set above the sink as you worked. It enlightened the orange stains that slowly grew across your fingers while you dodged your mother’s queries, struggling to remain calm while lying. You thought you would be better at it, but as you peeled the vegetables, their forms made slippery in your hands, you were losing your footing, feeling increasingly guilty as the lies passed your lips again and again.

A first date in a quiet restaurant.

A piece of carrot thrown in the sink.

A first kiss in front of your door, as a tender goodbye, one that lingered in reluctance to part.

A blade slipping too fast.

No, you were not planning ahead for now, just taking things as they went, as they formed.

No, there was no words of love yet, don’t be ridiculous! It’s only the beginning…

“The beginning!” Your mother scoffed, throwing a potato in the sink, alongside your colourful pieces. “The man has been looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for years! You’ve been stealing glances for so long… I don’t even remember when it started! It’s not the beginning, dear. The two of you have been in love for years. It is only a logical continuation.”

She frowned as she looked at you, finally lifting her gaze from the brown pile of peels.

“You’re okay?”

You were startled by her question.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I don’t know… you seem… almost sad.”

You couldn’t hold her stare, and you fought every bit of instinct in you to avoid recoiling from her touch as your mother, in a sweet gesture, rested her hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself over Craig and Samantha. And before you ask, I wasn’t the one who invited them.”

You nodded, as if you were reassured, as if she was right about the cause of your worry, had aimed straight at the knot of your problems.

She hadn’t. And you were perplexed as you realized this too. Because you had thought that seeing your ex and your cousin together would be unbearable, and it was, indeed, a painful sight. But it was hurting your pride more than your heart, a sting at your ego rather than a tear at your soul.

Instead, the images you summoned in a fake reality with Andrew were the ones destroying you. Because these details, these anecdotes, these stories you made up for your mother were ones you genuinely longed for.

A quiet date in a restaurant you loved. A kiss bathed in streetlights. Hands holding that didn’t want to let go…

This was a terrible idea. A terrible… terrible idea…

“Andrew! Come here, lad! Give us a hand with these, would you?”

You felt his presence by your side before his hand appeared in your vision, reaching for a vegetable, getting to work without any protest or arguing. He would lose anyway, against your mother, and he knew it.

You chatted together for a while, conversation smooth and easy, as always with him around. You almost forgot that all of this was fake when Andrew leaned closer, as if he longed for your nearness. You reached for him before you could think, leaning closer as well, until your arms touched as you worked, the ghost of a touch that was enough to set your heart ablaze…

God… this was such a terrible, terrible idea…

You barely noticed your mother as she moved around the kitchen, until she reached for Andrew.

“I’m so happy for you,” she spoke in a smile. “After all this time… I’m glad the two of you have finally worked out all the things that kept you apart.”

She disappeared before you could speak to her, ask her what she meant. When you turned to Andrew though, he was blinking tears away.

“Andy? You’re alright? What’s wrong?” You asked with sudden worry in your voice, but your friend shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just… Erm…”

But he grew quiet, shrugged. You tried to guess, but were pretty sure to miss the mark when he reassured you again.

“Is my mother bothering you?”

“No! Of course, not. It’s weird lying to her, that’s all.”

There was something more to it, but Andrew interrupted you before you could question him further.

“Besides… we have another problem. A more important one. That’s why I was looking for you.”

“What is it?”

“Craig doesn’t believe us.”

“What?”

“He pulled me aside and told me he knew we were faking it. That he was going to tell everyone.”

“The son of a bitch!”

“My thoughts, precisely.”

“What did you answer?”

Andrew shrugged.

“That he was being ridiculous.”

“And?”

“That he was merely being jealous over the fact that he had let a woman like you slip between his fingers like a moron.”

You tried to hide the grin that formed on your lips at his praise.

“Nice… going all in on the ‘make him jealous’ wagon, I see…”

He took a moment to answer, voice less confident than his usual tone when he spoke once more.

“Just the truth…”

You ignored his remark, and you didn’t get why the same tinge of sadness made his hazel eyes greener again, the same way they had earlier that day…

“What can we do to convince him?” you asked, eliciting little more than a shrug from your friend.

You heaved a sigh, your carrots now all cut in the sink. Game over…

“Let’s see how all this unfolds,” was your only solution for now.

“And if he tells your family?”

“We’ll see, Andy. We’ll see.”

The meal was over. The gifts had been given, the kisses and thankful glances had been exchanged. It was time to settle in with some board games, for those willing, while others nibbled on some pastries and chatted in sofas and armchairs. The last remnants of cakes lingered in porcelain plates while coffee, tea and hot chocolate were being served. You laughed when Andrew picked up your warm beverage before you had a chance.

“Are you drinking my cocoa?”

“I’m trying it out. Just to be sure. In case of poison or something like that.”

You both laughed as he took another sip, humming in delight.

“You could have asked for a hot chocolate instead of tea!” you admonished, but didn’t try to take the cup from him, too happy to see him smiling to even think about it.

God, he could steal the entire beverage, as long as he kept on smiling like that… happy, and soft, and welcoming, calling for a smile of your own to answer his…

“Tastes better when it’s yours,” he laughed, all mischief and cheekiness while he looked at you and drank a third sip, a tiny one, just to get on your nerves.

The charm was broken though when one of the children running around bumped into him and made Andrew spill a little bit of chocolate across his chin. You burst into laughter.

“Well, that was… hot,” you teased while Andrew tried to hide his mouth and chin with his hand, looking around for a napkin of some kind. “Literally, I mean. It must be hot. Graciously so.”

“I hate you,” he glowered without any animosity in his gaze, making you laugh harder as you finally handed him one of the paper towels set on the coffee table.

On the other side of the room, people were playing a board game, but you felt better like this. Just you and Andrew chatting around a cocoa, or what was left of it. No one was truly paying attention to you, or so you had thought… among the five people who were casually chatting in small groups around the coffee table, it was easy to notice that all around the room, if gazes were directed towards your small group, it was to stare at Andrew and you.

Was Andrew aware of that scrutiny? Of the gazes fixed upon you?

“You’re okay?” he asked, frowning slightly, and you wished you could ease the crease between his brow with a brush of your thumb.

“Sure. I’m fine. Just… I think people are kind of watching us,” you added in a whisper no one could eavesdrop, leaning closer to him in the process.

He hummed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah, I think we’re kind of… the new thing.”

You bit your lip before making your next request, and you were surprised to notice that his eyes lingered on your mouth until you spoke.

“Is that okay if we act like…?” you left your question suspended in mid-air.

He nodded again, in silence, and there it was again, the flash of pain turning the hazel into full green…

You noticed the sharp intake of breath he took before finally speaking, the way his eyes narrowed just a little, for a second, while he hesitated… but then the words were out all the same, making his pale cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“Can I… tug that strand of hair behind your ear?”

You struggled to swallow and nodded, it was your time to be silent, you couldn’t trust your voice.

He was leaning closer when he lifted his arm towards you, shifting to be facing you, both of you sitting on a sofa that was too comfortable and too familiar for you to feel this tensed, almost frightened.

“You’re sure that’s alright?” Andrew asked again, and this time you let out a faint yes along with your nod.

Frightened wasn’t the right word though. You weren’t scared at all, in fact, you felt absolutely safe with Andrew sitting so close to you, your bodies almost touching, but not quite, just far enough to leave you longing to close these gaps. Slowly, his hand was lifted, all the way up to your face, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He was staring at you, something that went beyond softness, beyond the usual tenderness his gaze adorned when it fell on you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, guess what it meant. But then again, his thumb was brushing your cheek, and the ghostly touch made you too dizzy, anyway.

He leaned closer, unbearably closer, until his lips were next to your ear, his fingers moving to hold your face in place, palm cradling your jaw.

“Can I… Can I kiss your cheek?”

You were certain that your heart could not take more of this, of his intoxicating cologne, of the warmth of his skin across yours, of the delicate breath fanning across your ear…

You reached up for something, anything to hold onto, and your fingers met his woollen jumper, attached themselves to it as if holding a safe line.

“Yes, you can,” you answered despite your shaking voice and the fact that you had no air left in your lungs whatsoever.

Your rational brain wanted to remind you that this was not real, that it was all for show… but the world had vanished the second he had leaned closer. No… no, before that. When he had stared at you in this gentle way, when his hand had risen towards your face. You couldn’t even remember that you were at your parents’, in fact, you couldn’t remember your own name. Your entire world was being rewritten because this man was holding you close, a palm cradling your jaw while the other found its way to your waist; because he was moving slowly away, only to come back closer than ever, lips resting on your cheek. You closed your eyes the second his lips found your skin, their warmth coursing through your entire frame it seemed, his beard slightly tickling you, just enough to make it all the more endearing. He lingered there for what anyone would consider too long, but when you thought he was about to pull away, his lips merely hovered above your cheek, close enough for you to feel their warmth still, and the hurried breaths he exhaled. And then he was kissing your cheekbone again, and again, and with each resting of his lips upon you, you tightened your hold on his jumper, your free hand coming to rest right against his heart, in the end…

You both jumped at the sharp sound of something falling, glass breaking. As you turned, you noticed that someone had dropped a glass of water to the floor. Nothing too bad, your father was already heading towards the kitchen to clean up the mess that was made. Craig didn’t have a drink.

Before you could analyse the situation in depth, though, Andrew was turning his attention back onto you, and you had no choice but to look at him again too. You remained perfectly still for a moment, hazel eyes meeting your gaze in an unreadable expression, his hands still on you…

And then you both realised how close you were, how easy it would be to just lean a little further and to close the gap between your lips…

And you pulled away in a jolt, startled by your nearness, like two teenagers caught red-handed by an adult.

Andrew cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his dark jeans, shifting like he didn’t know what to do with his own body all over again.

“I should… help clean the mess…” you mumbled, stuttering slightly, while Andrew was nodding and humming, averting his gaze.

You did just that, hurrying towards the table and picking up pieces of broken glass while your brain remained stuck on the feeling of Andrew’s beard on your skin, the softness of his lips, the way he held you closer…

Your heart was still pounding, your breath catching in your throat every now and then; in fact, every time you thought about his fingers slipping to your hair…

“Let’s throw all these away, darling,” your mother told you, nodding towards the shards in your palm.

You stood straighter without a word, headed for the kitchen…

… to fall face to face with Craig.

Wonderful…

“Sorry about the glass,” he said, breathless for some reason.

“Oh, you’re the one who broke it? Don’t worry about it, my parents have plenty of those. As long as you didn’t cut yourself…”

“I did, actually.”

You took a closer look, and indeed, he was pouring cold water onto a cut across his thumb. Nothing worth worrying about, but it would be quite painful and bothersome for a few days, still. The cut was long and clean, if not too deep.

You had walked closer to inspect the wound, and you didn’t notice the way he stared at you.

“It’s not too bad, but it must hurt.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just waiting for it to stop bleeding.”

“You should press something on it, then.”

You handed him a napkin, which he rolled around his finger as he thanked you. You finally noticed that you were alone in the kitchen, that everybody else was still in the living room either chatting or cleaning up the mess Craig had made.

“Actually, I… I wanted to talk to you, just us…”

You silently encouraged him to continue, but you were taken aback at the passion and hurt in his eyes when your two gazes locked together.

“I… Is it serious? With Andrew, I mean?”

“Yeah… yes! Of course, it’s serious. Why?”

He shrugged, but you saw the way he clenched his jaw.

“It’s just… you’ve been friends for years… why now?”

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now… and you blamed it on a lie, but you knew it was because of the longing that was stuck in your heart, and had been dormant there for too long for you to count.

“I don’t know… the timing was always wrong. He wasn’t single, I wasn’t single, he was touring, I was busy… we kind of… were never on the same page, you know? We… our lives never managed to align.”

Slowly, Craig nodded.

“But this time, your lives are aligning?”

“Yeah! I mean… we’re both single, both staying in Ireland for more than a couple of weeks… we… we both want the same things.”

“And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That ‘thing’. Whatever it is that you want, what is it?”

You struggled to swallow, looking for a lie, an answer, anything to say. And a weight fell on your chest as the earnest answer flashed before you, taking the shape of two hazel eyes, unruly curls, soft-spoken words and an infectious laugh…

You thought you wanted some revenge. To make Craig jealous, for him to regret leaving you… but the truth was, you had wanted another man all along. And you still couldn’t have him. It was only a game of pretence.

What a terrible idea, this whole fake-relationship scheme…

Craig took a step closer to you, bringing your bodies so close, as you looked up at him, he was but a breath away.

“What do you want? Why are you with him? Of all people, why Andrew, and why now? Do you want to know what I think about all this?”

You frowned at his tone, crossing your arms before your chest, a glare starting to cover your features.

“Oh, enlighten me!” you replied with challenge in your voice.

But Craig didn’t back down. He only leant closer.

“I think you’re trying to make me jealous. I think you’re not over us. I think that deep down, you still want me. And you turned to your best friend as a rebound. But you’ll be tired of him in a couple of months.”

You shook your head, but your ex still went on.

“Look, I know that what I did was horrible, okay? I… Samantha was a mistake… but we could still have this. You and I, we… we were great together.”

You scoffed, taking a step back, shaking your head some more in amazement. The guy had balls, you had to give him that, at least.

“A mistake you’re about to celebrate your first anniversary with…” you replied, tone acidic and bearing no regrets for it.

“Y/N…”

“No! I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but you’re wrong, that’s for sure. I… you cheated on me! With my cousin! How could you possibly imagine that I would want to give you another chance?!”

He heaved a sigh, and you thought he would give in, but he didn’t, on the contrary. This was only the first round.

“So what? You’re bringing Andrew here and playing perfect couple just to get under my skin? To make me pay? To show me what I’ve lost?”

You looked for something to say, but couldn’t deny the plain truth.

“Because I already know what I’ve lost, okay?” Craig went on, tears shining in his eyes. “I know that. I don’t need you to pretend to be in love with someone else to see that.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could have walked away, but it felt good to let the truth out. A day spent telling nothing but lies, it was a relief to reveal the truth, even if it was but a fragment.

“You’re wrong. I love Andrew. In fact… I’ve loved him for years.”

He frowned at that, but you went on, a tear escaping your eyes that you didn’t even notice flowing down your cheek. You had been lying to yourself for a long time, pretending that all this made sense, that it was alright, that you were happy and content as Andrew’s friend. In truth, you were anything but happy, anything but content. And today, pretending to be his, pretending that he was yours… it only showed you more clearly that this was what you wanted. What you had always wanted. What you couldn’t have, perhaps, but what you needed.

It was a confession spoken to Craig, but made for you.

“I’ve been in love with Andrew for years. I’ve had relationships because… I wanted to forget him. Thought I could. Thought it was nothing but an infatuation, then nothing but a crush, and then nothing but a meaningless unrequited love that I would get over quickly. But the truth is, you were the band-aid, Craig. And he’s the one I’ve always wanted. And you know what? You’re right. Coming here with Andy today I… I wanted to come with him because I didn’t want to have to face you and Samantha on my own. Didn’t want to have to bear everybody’s stares and pity thinking I was the poor victim of a tragedy… And I wanted you to see that I was fine without you. That I deserved better than the way you treated me. That I… That I was worth keeping, and loving. But I… at the end of the day, if this afternoon has shown me anything, it’s that I don’t need you. I don’t want you. And I don’t give two fucks about you and Samantha. So… let’s be cordial, as we must, as you’re still part of the family for as long as you’ll be dating my cousin, but… I’m over you, Craig. I’m over all of this. And if there is one thing I want in this world, it’s Andy.”

Before Craig could say anything, before you could even process his reaction, you were storming out of the room. Or at least, you tried to. Because you had taken but a couple of steps towards the door, when Craig held you back, holding onto your wrist.

“Really? Is that how you feel?” he asked, clearly hurt, but also unmistakably angry. “I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you. You and Andy? I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. You’re faking it. You’re lying now and for what? To hurt me?”

You didn’t say anything, instead, you merely broke free. Walked out of the kitchen, angry and annoyed and not thinking straight but with a decision taken anyway…

“Andy?”

When you looked around, he wasn’t on the sofa anymore.

“Yes?”

You turned around again. He was right there, by the table, wet napkins in hand, as he had clearly been helping cleaning up the mess your ex had made, standing not too far from the door to the kitchen, your mother by his side while everyone was turning towards you.

He frowned slightly as you hurried towards him, making a bee line to reach him, not caring that everyone was staring at the two of you. Instead, you didn’t think, forgot about the world, focused your attention on Andrew and his unruly curls and the confusion in his hazel eyes, and the way his lips slightly parted as you approached. And then, you took his face in your hands, pulled him down and rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, and you kissed him.

You crashed your lips against his, nothing graceful in the gesture, but desperation pouring from every inch of you. You were taken aback though, by the quiet huff he let out, your brain finally kicking in again, and thinking that this was crazy, a terrible idea, and more than anything else, highly inappropriate…

… but Andrew quickly recovered from the initial shock, and before you could pull away and profusely apologise, he had dropped the napkins that hit the floor in a thud, and his arms were wrapping around your frame, pulling you to him. You felt his eyelashes brushing your skin as he closed his eyes, leaning into your kiss, moving his lips over yours to compliment your own movements. And if he was more graceful about it, softer than your rushed gesture, he poured such passion into the kiss that your knees grew weak, and you rested your weight on him, leaning into his chest.

It was over too soon, though, interrupted by the sound of someone – probably one of your parents, or your pain of an uncle – clearing their throat. Andrew was the one pulling away, clearing his throat as well as he took a step back, although one of his hands remained at your waist.

He was blushing when you opened your eyes. And you suddenly wanted to leave. To just go and disappear and pretend like you had not broken the best friendship you had ever had and that the man you loved would not hate you from now on for kissing him like that and that you had not humiliated yourself in front of your entire family…

But as you were about to speak, Craig was hissing from somewhere behind Andrew, making him turn around. Before his attention was pulled away from you, you noted the way Andrew was looking at you. Intensely, a little stunned too, like he wasn’t sure that it had happened, that you had truly kissed him, and yet, like he was searching for answers in your eyes…

But then he turned to face Craig. He had barely turned towards him, though, that your ex was grabbing Andrew by the collar, and pushing him against the nearest wall, Andrew’s hand leaving its resting spot on your hip in the process.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Craig shouted, the whole room too stunned to react while Andrew’s back collided with the wall, a hollow sound ensuing and making a couple of framed pictures shake with the strength of the impact.

“Get off me!” Andrew merely replied through his teeth, struggling to break free, but fighting had never been his strong suit…

“You fucking BASTARD!”

“Craig!”

The first people were finally reacting, hurrying to pull your ex away, but he kept them at bay, trying to keep on pushing Andrew against the wall.

“You were just waiting for your turn, you son of bitch! Dickhead! You were just waiting to get a chance to fuck that bitch!”

Andrew’s expression hardened, and this time, when he reached for Craig, it wasn’t to pull at his hands, but to grab the collar of your ex’s shirt and violently pull as well.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult her like that!” he growled, with such anger and threat, a tone you had never heard on his voice before.

“Both of you, stop!” your father ordered.

“Stop this! What are you doing?” you added, tugging at both their arms, but none of them seemed to care.

Instead, Craig went on, pushing on all of Andrew’s buttons…

“I can’t believe she did run straight into your bed like a whore…”

Before anyone could react, Andrew was pushing Craig away with so much force that he stumbled backwards and fell down.

For a second time, the whole room was too stunned to react, while Craig staggered back to his feet. Andrew moved away from the wall, and as your ex stood straighter again he was glaring at him, jaw tightly clenched. You had never seen so much wrath on his features before.

But it wasn’t over. Craig threw Andrew only one look before he was bending over and running to him, tackling him and making him fall back easily. You gasped at the loud sound of Andy’s head hitting the tiles.

Too stunned to move, Andrew didn’t even try to avoid Craig’s punch, and he got hit straight across the jaw. Thankfully, hands were then pulling Craig off of Andrew. You didn’t care though. You didn’t pay attention to your father and one of your aunts pushing Craig into the kitchen while shouting at him. You didn’t notice your cousin hurrying to join him, clearly worried. All you could do was to fall on your knees by Andrew’s side, holding onto his shoulders and gently shaking him while he blinked, clearly disoriented.

“Andy! Andy, you’re okay? Can you hear me?” you asked in a rush.

His unfocused gaze finally found you, and he blinked some more. You thought he was about to faint.

“Andy! Stay with me! Are you alright?”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks. He took hold on your right wrist, touch firm and yet gentle still.

“Y/N…”

“You’re okay? Andy?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? How’s your head? Do you feel dizzy?”

“A little bit. I’m okay though.”

“Really?”

Slowly, he nodded. Your mother appeared by your side, asked Andrew how he felt as well. His answer was to slowly sit up. He looked exhausted, all of a sudden, paler than usual, but there was no cut across the back of his head, merely the beginning of a bump.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

You helped him to his feet, your mother checking that he was unharmed too.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, but your mother was quick to dismiss it all with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not your fault, dear. Let’s seat you down on the sofa for a moment.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

Samantha walked out of the kitchen, crying, and you wondered why. Or actually, you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to stay for a minute longer in the same room as either her or Craig.

“Actually, I think we should go,” you interjected, and Andrew nodded.

“No, please… Craig is going to be kicked out, don’t worry about him,” your mother argued.

“No, really, I… I want to go home. Please, I want to go home.”

You were on the verge of tears, and so you turned towards the hallway, followed by your mother’s protests, along with some of your other relatives’ kind words. But you wanted to run now, disappear and leave all of them behind. You were tired of being looked at… you needed to be on your own for a while.

Meanwhile, Andrew was remaining silent. He only spoke to apologise once again to your family, clearly ashamed. You left before Craig could be let out of the kitchen, and were close to running to your car.

You climbed in, Andrew following suit in the passenger seat. You drove on, heading for home. You should have taken Andrew to his house, but you didn’t even think about it. The thought never came. You simply headed home, and Andrew didn’t protest, even though he obviously recognized the road you were taking.

Only when you arrived before your building did you realise that Andrew was still here, the ride had been filled with nothing but silence.

“You should come in, I’ll take a look at your jaw.”

Indeed, a bruise was forming under his beard, colouring the sharp angle of his face with yellowish hues.

“It’s nothing. Nothing broken.”

“Please, come in. Please…”

You stared at each other for a moment, but he yielded, nodding, at long last. You waited for him to climb out of your small car, and he held on the door before closing it, wincing as he unfolded his tall frame.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just… a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You need to go to the hospital?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it was just a punch.”

“And a hit on the head.”

“Thick skull. Don’t you know that already?”

You both chuckled, while Andrew followed you inside your home.

You rid yourself of your shoes and coat, aiming straight for the freezer to get a bag of frozen vegetables there. Andrew was by your side, leaning against the kitchen counter. He didn’t protest when you gently rested the cold bag against his jaw, merely winced at the sharp sensation.

“Thanks,” he breathed, staring right into your eyes.

But you didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, your world got blurred by tears.

“You… are you angry?”

But Andrew shook his head.

“No. No, I’m not angry.”

“You should be.”

“Probably.”

“You… you had to lie all day long because of me, and then I kissed you without your permission and you probably hated that, and then you punched Craig, and you got punched in the face… all because of me. I’m a lousy friend.”

“The worst,” he corrected you, but there was a tender smile on his lips.

“You should be angry.”

“I’m not.”

“You should hate me.”

“I don’t. And I…”

A pause. He seemed out of breath for a second, wetted his lips, before he went on.

“I liked it, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your kiss. I… I didn’t hate it. I liked it. A lot.”

Your eyes merely grew round, and Andrew looked away, averting his eyes. He heaved a painful sigh.

“I told you this would be a terrible idea,” he pointed out.

“I know.”

“And you didn’t listen.”

“I know.”

“And now… what are we going to do now?”

You had no answer to give, you were plagued by this same question yourself.

A moment of silence, suspended in mid-air. Outside, the quiet of cars passing by and the wind flowing through branches and pushing clouds around. Inside, the cold of the bag making your fingers ache, a welcomed burn to distract your busy mind, while Andrew was taking a sharp inhale.

“I heard you, you know?”

His voice was quiet, low and deeper than usual. He blinked, focusing on you again, trapping you into these hazel orbs you adored.

“When you talked to Craig, in the kitchen. I heard you. I was right behind the door.”

“That’s creepy,” you tried to deflect the impact of that revelation with humour, speaking the silliest thing you could have uttered. It still made Andrew break, laughing despite his best effort not to.

“I was sent to put the napkins away. But then… I heard you. Didn’t interrupt. Wanted to know what you would say.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, the ghost of a frown forming a crease across his brow.

“Did you mean any of that? Or was that just… one more lie?”

The bag of vegetables slipped from the hold of your numb fingers and fell, but Andrew stopped you as you reached for it, holding your face in his hands to force you to look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? About me? About us?”

“What does it matter?”

He knitted his brows, tightening his hold on you. You noticed the way his breathing stuttered, grew shallower.

“What does it matter?” he repeated. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t feel that for me. So… what does it matter?”

He let out a shaky breath, almost a sigh.

“Why did you kiss me like that, though?” you asked, tears shining in your eyes but you were determined not to let them fall. Your tone was almost bitter as you questioned him. “On the couch. You kissed my cheek… God, that was so much more than what it should have been…”

He blinked, trying to read behind your words for their true meaning. He didn’t find it, reached in the dark and his hand closed on nothing.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I just… I didn’t mean to.”

“Why did you kiss me like that? That was so out of line…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Why did you do that?”

Slowly, he shook his head. He looked almost stunned by your question.

“You really don’t know?”

He leaned back against the counter, and pulled you with him, until your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“You really don’t know?” he asked again.

“I don’t know…”

“Did you mean it? When you said… when you said that you wanted me. Did you mean it?”

“I said a bit more than that…”

“I’m not foolish enough to hope for the rest to be true as well, I’ll settle for a ‘I vaguely like you’.”

It was your turn to chuckle even if you didn’t want to.

“If I answer earnestly, you’re going to hate me for wanting more and breaking our friendship.”

He shook his head, leaning closer, until his forehead rested upon yours. At long last, you reached up, holding on his forearms for support, and to make sure he wouldn’t go away…

You heard him wincing as he spoke, heard it in the way his voice was shaking. You had closed your eyes, and so had he.

“Let’s be honest with each other. Please… I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of denying the way I feel for you, or what I want when it comes to you, I’m tired… I’m tired of letting you slip away. So, please. Please be honest with me. I can’t keep on holding onto some mad hope. I can’t keep on pretending that I don’t… That I…”

He struggled to breathe for a moment, you tightened your hold on his arms but remained there, eyes closed, leaning against him.

“I kissed you like that because… because I wanted to. Because I let myself slip into yielding. Because I couldn’t help it. Because… because it hurt so fucking much to hold you like this, to be close to you in this way, to act the way I have longed for for years under some pretence, under a mask, as a lie… when it wasn’t a lie. When I… I wish it wasn’t a lie. I wish it could be for real.”

He sighed, long and painful and full of hurt, and you reached up to kiss him before he could say anything else.

If your first kiss at your parents’ house had been passionate and quite messy because of it, this one was slow, taking its time to learn each other’s taste and lips and mouth. You had no idea for how long you kissed, all you knew was that, while it lasted, there was nothing else in the world but Andrew kissing you; and that when it ended, you longed for it to start again.

“I meant it,” you whispered, bearing your soul in a confession that was so raw you couldn’t summon anything but a murmur, eyes still closed and lips barely parted from his. “What I told Craig, I meant it. I mean it. I want you… And this whole day has been torture for me too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t either…”

“I almost said it a thousand times. Never had the courage.”

“Please… have it now, and kiss me again.”

He obliged, without protest or hesitation. You were lost in his embrace all over again, and rested your head against his chest when you eventually pulled away.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice muffled by his cardigan.

“We could go on a date.”

“I want to be wined and dined, just so you know,” you joked, making him chuckle.

“Duly noted. Anything else, for her ladyship?”

“I don’t know… I’m… I’m so fucking scared, to be honest.”

“Because everything is going to change?”

“Because it might not work out. Because… you might leave me, and I might give up and a thousand things can go wrong, and…”

But he softly shushed you, running his hand through your hair.

"Look, I… I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared to bits by this. I feel like we have so much to lose. But I… I want you so badly. I want you so much, I’m ready to take the risk. We can take things slow, we don’t have to rush through this. I just… I feel like I'm truly myself when I'm with you. I want to be myself when I'm with you. So now, if you're scared, don't call it love yet. But whatever you want to call it, it's incredible, and I'm not going to give up on this. I'm not going to give up on us. I can promise you that, at least. That I’m ready to fight for this, for you.”

He was surprised by your chuckle.

“You’ve fought already. If you can call it a fight…”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean… he was about to seriously kick my arse but I did have a few seconds of manly glory there.”

You both laughed at that, the tension receding as a result.

“Perhaps, at the end of the day, that plan of mine wasn’t so bad,” you joked, making Andrew laugh harder, shaking his head.

“It was definitely a terrible idea. The worst idea you’ve ever had. Look at all the trouble it has caused!”

“Are you calling me trouble?”

“Of the worst kind.”

You were happy about this kind of trouble though, as Andrew was leaning down to kiss you once more, holding you close, unwilling to ever let go.

[ro-is-struggling]

Fireproof Series Masterlist || Johnny Storm x Reader

disclaimer: the pictures above are purely for aesthetic purposes and do not represent the physical appearance of the reader

Series summary: you and Johnny weren't supposed to get along. You were the exact opposite of each other. While he was loud and outgoing, you were quiet and introverted. He loved to be the center of attention and you actively made efforts not to be. He had made a name for himself as one of the biggest players on campus while you stood out for your academic achievements. You hated guys like Johnny, and he had no reason to associate with people like you since you rarely shared spaces. And yet, against all odds, you were able to forge a solid friendship. In fact it was the contrast that made the two of you work so well. You called out his bullshit and he pointed out yours. You were a good influence on each other, no one could deny that. It was a perfect relationship, you knew all the bad things about each other and still chose one another....

But what happens when romantic feelings start to flourish?

This series is a collection of one shots that will give you a glimpse inside Johnny and y/n's complicated relationship.

Warnings: slow burn, friends to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, fluff, lots of cliches (like seriously, I was kinda playing the game of how many cliches can I put in the same story? lol) 2000s teen flick/ rom com coded (so I guess it’s a bit cheesy? read at your own risk!), FEMALE READER

This fic starts a bit before the events of the first Fantastic Four movie, when reader and Johnny are in college (but it gets to the movies don’t worry!)

English is not my first language

Author’s Note: I recently rewatched the old Fantastic Four movies and I had so much fun I just had to write something for Johnny. Yes it's terrible plot wise but I love the early 2000s vibes of it. So I tried to keep a bit if that vibe with very overused tropes/scenes and stereotypical characters (yk like the annoying popular girl, the playful fuck boy love interest with a heart of gold and the ‘I'm not like other girls’ main character). I have a soft spot for those kinds of stories and I thought Johnny was perfect for it! I tried to keep a balance as to not make it too over the top, I hope I did a good job

The idea for this fic is to make a sort of collection of separate one-shots that show different moments in Johnny and reader’s relationship, if that makes sense. I have most of the story planned and written, but it is not completely closed. What do I mean by that? That I have a beginning, conflict and ending thought out, but that doesn't mean that once I post those parts the story is over. 

I'm structuring this fic more as plot points than anything else (i.e. how they meet, when they have their first kiss, what the big love confession is like, stuff like that). Beause of that, there are parts of the timeline of the relationship that aren't shown. And that leaves me time to imagine a lot of things, if that makes sense? So if I have a random idea about a silly thing that happens between them in the middle of "the plot" (or if you guys think of something!), I can add it and expand the context without changing the whole story.

ALL PUBLISHED PARTS:

Part 1: First Impressions

Part 2: Second Chances

Part 3: Milkshakes, forced hugs and accidental kisses

Part 4: {COMING SOON}

[so-many-fandoms-here]

(English isn’t my first language so feel free to correct any mistakes you notice.)

• Characters: Toge Inumaki, fem!Reader

• Genre: fluff

• Warnings: none

Jealousy, Jealousy

Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ Ⱄⱄ. .ⱄⰔ

Let‘s act like I didn’t disappeared for six months. I think I rusted a bit, so excuse if this fic isn’t the best 🫡

Toge was head over heals for (Y/n). Her pretty smile when she greeted someone, her soft voice, pure music to his ears and the way she played with her hair whenever she was lost in thought. How could anyone not be into her?

That thought was stuck in Toges head for ages now. He fell badly and couldn’t tell her. What if anyone else liked her? What if they told her before he could show her? He wouldn’t have forever to bring up the courage - and an idea.

Until now he just watched in silent jealousy when the other had long and heated conversations with her, wishing it was him that was talking to her.

One time they all were walking back inside after PE, one more exhausted than the other. But (Y/N) was by far the most beat up. She dragged her heavy limbs over the floor and it looked like she would fall asleep any second.

„Hey, (Y/N)?“ Panda called out, getting her precious attention Toge craved for. „Wanna hop on my back? I can bring you to your room.“

Her face lit up with a thankful smile as she hopped on her furred friend. „Thank you Panda. You’re the best, seriously.“

Their ways parted as Panda brought her to her room, but Toge waited for him at his own room and when Panda came back he was met with a displeased looking Toge.

„What‘s wrong Toge?“, he asked his friend who looked like he was just about to use his curse technique against him.

„Caviar“, he grumbled, earning a shocked look from Panda. „Hey! What did I do to you that you get so insulting?“

Heat rose in Toges head, which was even more obvious due to his white hair, and turned around, arms crossed.

It took a few seconds until Panda understood what was making his friend so angry. „Wait“, he said and turned around to look down the hall where he just came from. „You’re jealous? Really?“

Toges eye looked stubborn to the ground, not even twitching into Pandas direction.

„I‘m a panda, Toge. I’m the last one you should be worried about.“

But he wasn’t convinced. Easy say coming from someone who could speak.

„Why don’t you go talk to her?“

Now Toge looked up, his eyes burning from anger while he motioned to his uniform that covered his mouth and the marks on it.

„I mean, you have your ways to interact“, Panda stated. „We’re talking pretty well right now.“

Toge shot another angry glare at him, followed by another mumbled caviar, then he turned around and went into his room.

The next PE lesson was just as draining as the last one and again (Y/N) was barely even walking anymore.

„(Y/N)! Why don’t you-“ Panda was just about to offer to carry her to her room again, when he noticed Toge, who was nestling with the zipper of his uniform, ready to curse Panda, so he quickly changed his mind. „Actually, my back just started to hurt pretty bad.“

(Y/N) gifted him a comforting smile. „That‘s fine. Thank you anyways.“

Before the sudden wave of confidence could break again Toge quickly tipped her shoulder. When her eyes met his, he could feel his heartbeat quicken. „Tuna tuna“, he said while patting on his back.

„Oh, are you sure?“, (Y/N) asked surprised to which Toge enthusiastically nodded. She smiled her beautiful smile again which was now directed at Toge and then climbed on his back.

He might not be the tallest but he had more strength than it looked like. Especially when it came to carrying his crush around.