#other assorted on-pause things

[pbaz7]

FINDING PEACE IN YOU: PART 1

paige x azzi

word count: 11.7k

A/N: I’m back!!! This is one of my first AU and it got me excited to write again! I don’t even know how to describe it honestly 😭 just read it and find out. Let me know what you think please 🤭

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Azzi Fudd stood at the counter of the small, semi-packed café in Dallas, Texas, holding her warm cup of coffee in her hand. Normally, the café was a quiet, peaceful retreat—just the perfect place for a quick moment of solitude before heading to her office for the day. But today? The usual cozy hum of conversation and soft music turned into a buzz of chatter, and for some reason, there were more people milling about than she was used to. Some sat with their drinks, but there were others who didn’t seem to have a purpose, simply standing around, scanning the space. It felt like the usual sereneness had been replaced with a subtle restlessness in the air.

Azzi shook the thought from her mind. She’d come here for one thing: a much-needed pick me up with a cup of coffee. She took a sip, the warmth swirling in her chest, but as she turned toward an empty corner, a sudden bump jolted her from her thoughts.

She looked down to find herself toe-to-toe with a tiny figure.

The little boy stood there, almost too small to notice in the midst of all the bustling customers. He had bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle anytime the sunlight hit them, his blonde hair a soft, messy assortment of wavy curls. There was something about him—something about how his wide-eyed gaze was a mix of innocent curiosity and complete calmness.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Azzi murmured, stepping back to avoid the awkwardness of the accidental bump. She gave him a gentle smile, but before she could ask if he was alright, the boy softly mumbled, “Sorry.” Then he turned his attention back to the cafe around him, his focus unbroken as he looked around.

Azzi tilted her head slightly. She couldn’t help but smile at how quietly composed he seemed. Kneeling down to his level, she knelt to make eye contact, her voice soft but warm to not scare him. “Do you need help, sweetie?”

The boy paused, his brows furrowing ever so slightly as if he was pondering the question carefully. “Maybe,” he said after a moment.

Azzi couldn’t help but chuckle at the response. “Maybe? That’s a first,” she teased gently. She watched him closely, noting the confidence in his small but steady posture.

The boy shifted his gaze, his blue eyes scanning the café again with all of the seriousness he could muster. Finally, he turned toward Azzi. “Ma says I’m not posed to talk to strangers,” he said. Pausing for a second before adding, “But you’re pretty.”

Azzi’s smile widened at the compliment. “Well, thank you, handsome,” she replied. “Where’s your mom?”

The boy looked around again, his small body twisting in place as he searched the area. His little shoulders sagged as he gave a shrug, his eyes lowering briefly, unsure what to do next.

Azzi’s heart melted at the sight. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

The boy’s eyes brightened at the question, a sudden surge of confidence rising in his small frame. “Lukas Drew Bueckers,” he said, puffing out his chest with a quiet pride. He then added, as though to clarify a very important piece of information, “Lukas with a K.”

Azzi laughed softly at his enthusiasm. “Well, Lukas with a K, can I help you find your mom?”

The boy studied her for a moment, his blue eyes scanning her face carefully. Weighing his options. After a second, he nodded, as if deciding she was trustworthy. “Sure,” he said simply.

Azzi smiled and without a second thought she carefully scooped him up into her arms.

She felt Lukas shift slightly in her arms, his small body twisting as he scanned the room with fresh determination. His earlier uncertainty had disappeared, replaced by a quiet confidence that Azzi couldn’t help but admire for someone his age. As she looked at him, she saw his blue eyes brighten, and before she could ask him about it, the boy’s small hand shot out.

Azzi’s gaze trailed the direction of his tiny finger. Across the cafe, standing near a group of young girls, was a tall blonde woman who immediately caught Azzi’s attention. She looked calm, almost serene, as if she had mastered the art of existing in a crowded space without ever being overwhelmed by it. Her posture was straight, her movements calculated as she offered polite smiles to the people around her giving each one of them just the right amount of attention. But there was something else in her gaze—something more intentional behind her warm expression. Azzi could see that, despite the casual grace she radiated, the woman was intentionally scanning the room in between bursts of eye contact.

The way the woman held herself reminded Azzi of the little boy she had in her arms. They both seemed to exude that same stillness, that calm poise. Like they were in their own little bubble amidst the chaos of the café.

Azzi squinted slightly, her eyes narrowing in on the blonde. There was something vaguely familiar about her, a recognition that lingered just out of reach, but Azzi couldn’t place it because she was a little too far to make out the full details of her face.

Then, Lukas’s soft voice broke her thoughts. “That’s my ma,” he said proudly, his chest puffing out with a sense of triumph.

Azzi’s eyes shifted back to the woman. Her calm demeanor was still in place as she subtly swept her gaze across the room again, her eyes eventually landing on Lukas and holding there for just a moment longer than necessary. She didn’t rush or react too visibly—she simply locked eyes with him, a small flicker of relief in her expression.

Azzi adjusted him in her arms, the little boy now content to rest against her with a gentle but firm grip. “I think we found her, huh?”

Lukas nodded, his blue eyes fixed on his mom as he let out a small sigh of relief.

Azzi’s gaze lingered on the blonde woman a little longer than she’d intended. There was something magnetic about her, something familiar yet entirely unknown. As Azzi observed her, the woman’s gaze shifted again, this time locking onto hers with an intensity that made Azzi’s heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just a casual glance—it felt like a quiet assessment. As if the blonde was calculating who this woman was with her son in her arms. Azzi’s breath caught in her chest, feeling the weight of that scrutiny, and for a brief second, she wondered what the woman was thinking.

But then, as quickly as it began, the assessment seemed to end. The blonde’s expression softened, a small smirk tugging at her lips. The moment passed, and she effortlessly shifted her attention back to the person in front of her, posing for a picture with a polite smile and signing her autograph.

Azzi gently adjusted Lukas in her arms as she began making her way over to the blonde.

As Azzi approached and the details became a little more defined it clicked in her mind who the woman was. The blonde paused mid-laugh, her attention shifting to her son who was now in front of her.

Lukas, known to be a little enthusiastic, reached his small arms toward his mother, his face lighting up when she caught him effortlessly despite him basically launching his body at her.

“Where’d you run off to, buddy?” the blonde asked with a soft laugh as she organized some of the messy waves of curls on the boy's head.

Lukas looked up at her with wide eyes, his face scrunched in concentration as he tried to explain his logic. “I was standing right there,” he began, his words spilling out in his three, almost-four-year-old cadence. “But then a girl tried to take a picture with you, and she almost ran me over! She dropped her chocolate, so I went to get her napkins.”

The blonde smiled at his story with an affectionate glint in her eyes. “Being a gentleman, huh?” she teased, clearly proud of her son’s instincts.

Lukas beamed at the praise, nodding vigorously. “Yup!”

Before Azzi could react, Lukas was off again, his little mouth running a mile a minute as he continued, “And then I bumped into this nice ma’am, but I wasn’t gonna talk to strangers ‘cause you know Ma you always say I shouldn’t, but she was really pretty, so I did anyway. And then she helped me find you!” Once he was done he shrugged casually, as if the sequence of events was a regular part of his day.

Azzi couldn’t help but smile at the way he rambled, completely unfazed by the world around him, his innocence and honesty shining through in his words. Paige, for her part, seemed entirely accustomed to this stream-of-consciousness storytelling, her eyes twinkling as she chuckled softly, the lines around her eyes deepening as she smiled at him.

“Well, alright, Casanova,” Paige said with a playful tone, her voice soft but still authoritative. “Go sit right there where I can see you and don’t move.” She pointed toward a chair directly next to where she was standing, just a few steps away, so Lukas wouldn’t be out of her sight again.

Lukas nodded, his eyes wide with excitement at the notion of getting to sit in such a grown-up chair. “Okay!” he said, already wiggling in his mom’s arms as she gently set him down.

Azzi couldn’t help but chuckle as she watched the little boy plop himself into the seat with a small flourish, trying to act like a big kid, yet still so full of that innocent wonder. She turned her gaze back to the blonde woman, who was already looking at her.

The blonde licked her lips, a subtle gesture, before she spoke. “Thank you for helping out the ladies' man over there,” she said, her voice smooth. She reached her hand out, a slight smirk forming on her lips—not one of arrogance, but a kind of self-assuredness that made it clear she knew exactly how to speak to women. “I’m Paige,” she added, her tone warm and inviting.

Azzi didn’t immediately respond with her name. Instead she simply reached out to shake Paige’s hand, a small flicker of amusement crossing her face when she felt Paige’s thumb brush against her knuckles. The touch was subtle, Azzi pulled away with a quiet confidence that Paige wasn’t used to encountering.

With a small smile, Azzi said, “I know who you are.”

Paige’s smirk deepened, her eyes flashing with curiosity. “Yeah?”

Azzi chuckled softly. “Kind of hard not to know who the face of the Wings is when you live in Dallas.”

Paige hummed in acknowledgment, not surprised but seemingly entertained. Azzi glanced around the café, her eyes noticing the small crowd still lingering near Paige and watching her conversation subtly.

“So, I take it you’re the reason my coffee run was so hectic today?”

Paige chuckled softly. “Yeah, sorry about that,” she said. “Someone posted about me being here before I could leave, and Casanova over there was taking his sweet time eating his breakfast muffin.”

Azzi laughed, the image of the little boy sitting there eating his food slowly while the world swirled around him. “I’m happy I could help,” she said, her voice warm but with a hint of finality, as though the conversation was wrapping up.

But just as Azzi turned to walk away, she felt a light, unexpected touch at her elbow. Paige’s fingers brushed against her skin, stopping her from walking away. The confident smirk never left her face, only now it seemed a little more certain.

“Lemme take you out,” Paige said smoothly, her blue eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “You know, to thank you.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow at that, clearly intrigued but also well aware of the kind of woman Paige was simply by how she carried herself. There was something about her—something that spoke volumes without her needing to say much. Azzi could tell that she was used to getting what she wanted with women, and something about that made Azzi want to make her work for it just a little more.

“Take me out, huh?” Azzi’s voice was laced with amusement, her lips curving into a slight smile.

Paige, unphased, nodded. “Yeah...you know, to properly thank you.”

Azzi hummed thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly as she gave Paige a once-over. Paige was very attractive, no denying that. Her tall frame, the way she carried herself, and that self-assured smile—it was all part of the appeal. But Azzi wasn’t about to give in that easily. She knew what Paige was implying, and while one night stands wasn’t Azzi’s thing, she found herself intrigued in a different way. She met Paige’s eyes, a spark of something unspoken passing between them.

“Coffee,” Azzi said simply.

Paige blinked, momentarily taken aback, though she hid it quickly. “Coffee?” she echoed, as if trying to process what Azzi had just suggested.

Azzi’s grin grew, a glimmer of challenge in her gaze. “Coffee,” she confirmed, her voice steady, eyes locked on Paige’s.

Paige’s lips twitched, her smirk softening into something a little more genuine, almost intrigued. She didn’t push it further. Instead, she let out a small surprised laugh.

“Alright…coffee it is,” Paige said, her voice smooth but with a quiet acknowledgment of the unusual challenge Azzi had just thrown her way.

Azzi, sensing that subtle shift in Paige’s gaze—something that told her she wasn't going to be as easy as Paige was used to—smiled to herself. She reached into her wallet, fingers grazing over the smooth surface of a business card, pulling it out. Flipping it over, she grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled down her personal number.

Without a word, she handed the card to Paige, her fingers brushing against hers just for a moment. "You can text me," Azzi said.

Azzi turned to walk away, her body already angled toward the door when Paige’s voice called out, stopping her in her tracks.

“You never told me your name.”

Azzi paused for a brief second. A slight smirk danced on her lips, playful and a little enigmatic. She didn’t turn back to face Paige fully. Instead, with a casual motion, pointed at the card still resting in Paige’s hand. Without another word, she walked away.

Paige stood there, her brow furrowing in confusion for just a heartbeat, before she looked down at the card in her hand. Her fingers flipped it over, and her eyes scanned the text on the front.

"Azzi Fudd, DO – Private Sports Medicine Physician."

A small, amused smile spread across Paige’s face.

Azzi Fudd.

Paige’s smile deepened, a quiet breathy laugh slipping past her lips as she looked up, her gaze scanning the café for the woman who had already disappeared into the crowd. There was something about the way Azzi handled the whole situation that was a little out of Paige’s typical experience.

Shaking her head slightly, a smile still still tugging at the corners of her lips. She slipped the card into her pocket.

Paige turned back around to check on Lukas, who was sitting in the chair, deep in concentration, scribbling away at something on a piece of paper. Paige couldn’t help but laugh softly to herself, wondering just where he’d gotten that paper and pencil from.

She glanced down at his artwork, trying to make sense of it. The lines were haphazard, the shapes somewhat abstract. Paige tilted her head, her curiosity piqued as she tried to figure out what she was looking at.

“What you drawing dude?” she asked as she crouched down to get a better look.

Lukas looked up at her, his expression completely serious, like it should be clear as day what he was creating. “Ma, it’s a basketball hoop,” he said matter-of-factly, as if she should’ve known that from the start.

Paige raised an eyebrow at the drawing, her smile growing. The abstract shapes and squiggles started to make sense in her head now, and she couldn’t help but feel a little proud of his imagination. “Oooh, yeah, I see it now,” she said, playing along with a grin as she exaggerated her acknowledgment, making him laugh with pride.

She scooped him up effortlessly, his small arms wrapping around her neck immediately. He let out a yawn and buried his face in her shoulder with a soft sigh. Paige smiled down at him and kissed his head before moving toward the door.

She caught sight of her security guard sitting at one of the tables near the entrance, doing his usual routine. He never looked too imposing, but that was part of the job—he blended in. He was always calm, always steady, and knew when to step in without making anyone feel uncomfortable.

Paige had always been a little protective of her sense of independence, even after hiring a security team when she got to the league. She had always been determined to keep the control of her life in her own hands. She still drove herself around whenever she could, enjoyed the simple privacy of a quick coffee run without the constant buzz of attention, and most of all, she never wanted her security guard to be too close, hovering nearby. It was one of the things that made her feel like herself—the ability to be just another person, moving through the world without the heaviness of fame always hanging over her.

Her security guard was great at his job. He knew when to blend into the background and when to step in to get her out of situations. Paige had learned to trust him over time—he was discreet, always in the right place at the right time, without being an obvious presence.

Paige glanced over at him. “We’re heading to the gym,” Paige said. He gave a quick nod as he stood up to follow.

Paige stepped out of the café, the door closing gently behind her security as he walked towards his vehicle. The early Dallas sunlight bathed her in a warm glow. She walked toward her car, her sneakers making soft sounds against the pavement as Lukas chatted away.

She unlocked the back door of her Jeep where Lukas’s car seat was waiting. As she opened the door and sat him in his seat, she asked with a teasing tone, “You can buckle it?”

Lukas stopped in his tracks, a look of almost exaggerated offense crossing his face. His wide blue eyes narrowed slightly, as if she’d just asked him the most ridiculous question.

With a huff, he promptly reached over and started to buckle himself into his car seat—no assistance needed. The little grunt of concentration made Paige smile as she leaned against the car, arms crossed as she watched him with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

“You’re so independent,” she muttered under her breath, but Lukas was clearly on a mission and didn’t hear her. Within seconds, he had the car seat secured, sitting up proudly in his seat as he looked at his mom as if saying ‘see.’

Paige shook her head, laughing softly. “My son is so sassy,” she muttered to herself with a small, fond smile. She gave a small tug on the buckle to make sure he did it correctly before kissing his head and shutting the door and walking to the driver's seat. Paige was used to it by now—the way Lukas was quick to show off his little bits of grown-up behavior, always full of surprises, always one step ahead of her in his own way.

…

Later that night, after her day had wound down, Paige sat on the couch in the living room, the quiet hum of a random game playing on the TV in the background. Lukas was sprawled out beside her, completely fast asleep, his chest rising and falling with each breath. Paige took a moment to just look at him, her heart swelling with that familiar sense of calm that always followed after a long day of chaos.

Her gaze shifted to the table in front of her, where she had tossed the card earlier. Reaching for it, she flipped it over in her hands, her thumb grazing the edges before she grabbed her phone. She typed in the number on the back of the card, staring at the digits for a moment before tapping them into her messages.

She typed out a quick simple message: "So, about that coffee?"

Paige tossed her phone to the side before leaning back on the couch, eyes going back to the game on TV. Her phone buzzed a few minutes later, breaking her train of thought.

Paige scoffed when she saw the reply, and couldn’t help but grin. It read: “No introduction?”

She quickly typed back, tapping her fingers across the screen: “Didn’t think I needed one.”

The reply came almost immediately, and Paige’s grin grew. “Of course you didn’t.”

Paige chuckled and sat up a little straighter, then typed her response: “When are you free?”

She watched the screen for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly against her phone as she waited. A moment later, Azzi’s response popped up: “Thursday?”

Paige slid her thumb across her phone to open the calendar app, checking her schedule with a quick scan before going back to the message thread. She typed out: “I can do 11 Thursday.”

Azzi’s response was short and to the point: “Sounds good.”

For a moment, Paige paused. A thought struck her, and she smirked as she typed her next message: “So, what, I just gotta think about you for another day before I can thank you for helping my son?”

She hit send and set the phone down on the couch beside her, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she leaned back again. But it didn’t take long for Azzi’s response to come through, a quick and simple reply: “Seems that way.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, glancing at her phone. “Sounds kinda crazy to me,” she typed, a little smirk tugging at her lips as she sent it off.

She set the phone down again, turning her attention back to Lukas, who was still sound asleep beside her. Before she could drift too far into her thoughts, her phone buzzed once more. The message that appeared on the screen was brief and simple: “Goodnight, Paige.”

A genuine smile crossed Paige’s face at Azzi not playing into her antics. She couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips before she tossed her phone aside, letting it land gently on the couch. She moved quietly, scooping Lukas into her arms, his small body warm against her chest.

"Come on, little man," she whispered softly, cradling him as she stood up. She carried him to his room, the quiet rhythm of his breathing the only sound that filled the quiet house. Once she’d tucked him into bed, she kissed the top of his head gently, smoothing his hair back.

Paige stood for a moment, watching him before turning to leave the room.

…

When Thursday rolled around, Paige strolled into the café at around 10:55 AM, her steps steady and relaxed as she took in the familiar setting. The soft sound of music filled the air. As she walked further inside, her eyes immediately landed on Azzi. She wasn’t expecting her to be there before her, but there she was, already sitting at a table with her legs crossed as she looked down at her phone. Paige raised an eyebrow, half impressed, half surprised. Azzi looked perfectly at ease, even in the midst of the quiet bustle around her.

Paige’s security guard, always positioned with careful subtlety, took a seat near the door, his gaze scanning the room.

Paige made her way over to Azzi, a small smile tugging at her lips as she approached the table. Azzi’s eyes flicked to the guy that walked in with Paige, a subtle look of confusion crossing her face. Paige settled into the chair across from Azzi and shrugged lightly, her grin a little teasing.

“Security,” Paige said simply.

Azzi gave a small nod. “Ahh, okay.”

For a brief moment, there was a silence between them. Neither spoke, but they both seemed to take a moment to observe each other.

Paige cleared her throat, breaking the quiet, and leaned forward a bit. “Can I get you a coffee?”

Azzi smiled softly at the gesture, standing up gracefully. “We can go up together,” she said.

Paige nodded and stood up as well, the two of them heading toward the counter.

After they ordered their drinks, Paige and Azzi made their way to a booth in the back of the café instead of a regular table. The cozy corner felt more private, offering them a bit more space. They both sat across from one another, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The soft clinking of mugs and the low hum of background chatter filled the space.

Finally, Paige couldn't help but laugh, breaking the silence. “If you can’t tell, I’m not exactly used to this whole coffee date thing.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile. “Oh, really? I couldn’t tell.” she said sarcastically, clearly a little amused by Paige’s admission.

Paige chuckled at the tone in Azzi’s voice, the subtle tension easing just a little. “Nah,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just used to…other things.”

Azzi’s eyes glinted with curiosity, she leaned forward slightly. “What do you usually do with women, Paige?”

Before Paige could answer, Azzi added, her tone light but assertive, “And I’m someone who prefers honesty.”

Paige paused for a second, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips. She liked this. Azzi wasn’t playing games. She didn’t want anything sugar-coated, and Paige appreciated that, maybe more than she expected to.

“Well,” Paige started, “usually, women aren’t all that interested in the dating aspect.”

Azzi hummed thoughtfully. She took a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes never leaving Paige’s, studying her with that cool, almost calculating gaze. She set the cup down gently on the table, her fingers brushing against the porcelain as she leaned back slightly.

“I see,” Azzi finally said, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of curiosity. She tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing just a touch as she added, “And what were you looking for when you asked to take me out?”

Paige studied Azzi for a moment, taking in the way she carried herself with such quiet confidence. Her brown eyes were soft and inviting, yet still calculated, and the curly hair perfectly pulled out of her face added to the allure of her composure. There was something about the way Azzi held herself—it wasn’t like anyone else Paige had ever met.

A small chuckle escaped Paige’s lips as she shrugged, her shoulders moving in a casual semi playful gesture. It was the same move Lukas had made the other day. Azzi’s eyes softened as she took in Paige’s posture, realizing with a small smile that Lukas definitely got it from her.

Paige leaned back in her seat, studying Azzi for a moment, before answering in a more casual tone. “I wanted to thank the gorgeous woman in front of me for helping my son.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t change at first, but her eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and something else. “So you wanted to sleep with me?” she asked bluntly.

Paige met Azzi’s gaze directly, her lips curling into a slight smile. “The thought is definitely on the table,” she said, speaking honestly, without any pretense.

Azzi picked up on the way Paige worded her response. “Is?” she repeated, the single word hanging in the air between them.

Paige hummed thoughtfully at the question, leaning in a little closer. “Yeah, is,” she said softly, her voice laced with a quiet confidence that matched Azzi’s own.

Though Azzi carried herself with a poise that was different from the women Paige was used to, there was something about her that Paige couldn’t place. Azzi was calm, composed, but Paige noticed the way Azzi crossed her legs a little more tightly as the conversation shifted. The subtle movement didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did the slight tightening of her throat, a small, almost imperceptible swallow that hinted at a shift in the dynamic.

Paige couldn’t help but smirk, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them without a word being spoken.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile as she met Paige’s gaze again , and then, with a slight tilt of her head, she said, “You’re attractive.”

Paige’s smile only deepened, her confidence never wavering as she responded, “I’m aware.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh. She leaned back slightly in her seat. “But I’m not sleeping with you after one coffee date.”

Paige paused for a moment, considering her words. She wasn’t used to hearing that—at least not in such a direct way. But there was something about Azzi’s honesty that Paige found appealing, something real and refreshing. Finally, she hummed, acknowledging the boundary without pushing. “That’s fair.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, her gaze steady, before asking with that same confidence, “Is that something you’re okay with?”

Paige took a deep breath, her mind running through a series of thoughts before she responded. She could appreciate that Azzi wasn’t playing games, that she wasn’t trying to hide her expectations. Paige took another beat, then added, “Let’s see how this first date goes.”

“That’s fair.”

After that the conversation flowed naturally between them, not forced but easy, the kind of conversation where the gaps in speech felt comfortable rather than awkward. Paige talked about basketball, the upcoming season, and the usual pre-season jitters that came with gearing up with a slightly different roster. She joked about the pressure of always having to be at her best, but Azzi could hear the underlying seriousness in her voice, the weight of a career built on constant performance.

Azzi shared her own experiences, talking about her work with athletes and how she approached sports medicine differently. She explained what a Doctor of Osteopathic Medicine was—how she took a more holistic approach to treating injuries, focusing on the body as a whole rather than just isolating the injury. It was clear from the way she spoke that she was passionate about what she did, but Azzi wasn’t sure how much Paige would actually connect with it. After all, most athletes only cared about getting back on the court or field as quickly as possible, and they usually relied on standard physical therapy or rehab.

Much to her surprise, Paige was attentive, asking questions at just the right moments, listening intently. It wasn’t just idle small talk for her; she was engaged, processing what Azzi was saying and chiming in when something in particular piqued her interest. Azzi found herself intrigued by how naturally it came to Paige—how her curiosity and genuine interest seemed to draw out more of Azzi’s thoughts than she had expected to share.

On the other hand, Paige was pleasantly surprised at how much she didn’t mind listening to Azzi explain sports medicine. She had never considered herself the type to get into that side of things, but there was something about Azzi in general that made something that she would typically find a bore to be interesting.

In the middle of their conversation, as Paige was talking about something Azzi had asked her, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. A teenage girl had approached their booth hesitantly, and Paige paused mid-sentence. Her eyes softened as she caught the girl’s gaze, and a warm smile spread across her face. Azzi, still talking, didn’t notice at first, and the sudden change in Paige’s demeanor left her slightly confused.

The girl, her voice a bit shaky, asked, “Hi can I get a picture please?”

Paige stood up from the booth without hesitation, her smile never wavering. “Of course,” she said. The girl’s face lit up, and her excitement was palpable as she stepped closer to Paige. Her father, who had been standing a little off to the side, joined them, ready to take the photo.

Azzi watched the scene unfold. She saw how gentle Paige was in her interaction with the fan.

The father snapped the picture, and once he was done, he extended his hand with a grateful smile. “Thank you so much. Huge fans,” he said.

Paige shook his hand with a smile. “Thank you,” she replied, her tone warm but brief, showing how accustomed to this routine she was. As the father and daughter turned to leave, Paige’s voice caught their attention one last time.

“Sorry to ask this,” she said, sounding a little apologetic. “But if you’re planning on posting that, could you wait a few hours until I’m gone? Just wanna enjoy the afternoon, you know?”

The father nodded understandingly. “No problem at all,” he said, and Paige smiled again, grateful.

“Thank you,” she said before turning back to the booth, easing herself back into the seat in front of Azzi, a quiet sigh escaping her lips.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a small laugh escaping her as Paige settled back into her seat. “Not used to being the center of attention, huh?” she asked with a teasing grin.

Paige shook her head, smiling back at Azzi. “I’m used to it, just...sometimes it’s nice to have a day of peace.” She glanced at Azzi. “Sorry about that.”

Azzi shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s fine. I get it. You’re a big deal.”

Paige couldn’t help but laugh at the comment, a soft chuckle escaping her as she leaned back slightly. “You should see Lukas when kids approach me,” she began, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she thought about her son. “He used to get super jealous—until he realized I was his mom and not theirs. He still gets a little jealous now, but it’s better.”

Azzi smiled, the mention of Lukas bringing something a little lighter to the conversation. “That’s the first time you’ve talked about him today,” she observed, almost surprised.

Paige’s smile deepened. “Yeah, well… kids not exactly first date material,” she said with a slight laugh, as if the idea of talking about her son had never crossed her mind for this kind of setting.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving slightly. “I disagree,” she said.

Paige looked at her, a curious glint in her eyes. “Yeah?”

Azzi leaned in a bit, her gaze steady. “I mean, he’s a big part of your life, right?”

Paige nodded, her smile softening. “Yeah, he is.”

Azzi’s expression softened too, her voice carrying a subtle warmth. “Then he’s a part of getting to know you.”

Paige hummed thoughtfully, considering Azzi’s words for a moment. There was a quiet acknowledgment in the way her eyes flickered with a mix of emotions.

Azzi leaned in slightly, her voice inviting. “Tell me about him.”

Paige laughed lightly at the thought of him. “Oh, he’s a handful. Probably two handfuls, honestly,” she said, her smile turning a little more affectionate as she spoke about her son. “He’s smart, always getting into something but he probably gets that from me so I can’t even be upset.”

Azzi smiled. “He’s a cutie.”

This seemed to catch Paige’s attention, her smirk returning. “Hm, is that right?” she said.

Azzi rolled her eyes, recognizing exactly what Paige was implying. “I already told you I thought you were attractive,” she said.

Paige hummed in acknowledgment, a small smirk curling at the corner of her lips. She was about to reply when Azzi’s tone shifted, something more serious slipping in. “Can I ask you something?”

Paige raised an eyebrow, giving her an encouraging nod. “Go ahead.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “Lukas is clearly biologically yours,” she began, her gaze steady but gentle, as if she was treading carefully.

Paige immediately caught on to the unspoken question, her expression softening. She leaned back slightly, a quiet honesty in her voice. “My ex gave birth to him using my egg.”

Azzi nodded slowly, processing the information. Paige continued, “I have sole custody of him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

The air between them shifted, Azzi’s curiosity evident but respectful. “So you don’t have any contact with her anymore, I’m assuming?”

Paige’s eyes darkened slightly, but her response was straightforward. “No.”

Azzi nodded again, a sign of understanding, and didn’t press further as she shifted the conversation back to something lighter.

Their coffee date wrapped up a little while later, both of them glancing at the time as they realized how quickly it had flown by. Azzi had a client scheduled, and Paige had practice waiting for her, the familiar weight of their responsibilities pulling them back into their respective worlds.

As they stood up from the booth, a quiet but comfortable understanding lingered between them. Azzi reached for her bag, giving Paige a small, warm smile. “Well, I guess I’ll let you get back to your day.”

Paige nodded, returning the smile with a softness in her eyes. “Yeah, practice is calling.” She paused, then added, “But this was nice.”

Azzi’s smile widened just a bit. “It was. Maybe we should do it again sometime?”

Paige smirked at this question, “So I wasn’t too arrogant?”

Azzi laughs saying, “Just enough apparently.”

Paige huffed out a laugh saying, “I’ll text you.”

Azzi gave a soft smile. “I look forward to it.” With that she headed toward the door where her driver was waiting to take her to the clinic.

They didn’t exactly plan when or where their second date would happen, but neither of them seemed worried about it.

…

After that day the two of them hadn’t seen one another in some time. Their busy schedules made it hard for them to find time to meet up again. Still they had kept in contact. They had been texting and even had a few phone calls here and there as they got to know one another.

One evening Azzi sat at the bar, sipping on a cocktail and enjoying the women in sports gala around her. The atmosphere was lively, with people mingling, but she wasn’t as interested in the small talk as some others were. She hadn’t expected to run into anyone she knew, but when she saw Paige walking toward the complimentary bar, her attention was immediately drawn.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, observing the scene. Paige’s stride was confident as she approached the bar, her simple presence commanding attention even in a crowd of people. The bartender greeted her with an overly flirtatious smile, her body language completely different than when she served anyone else. Paige gave her a tight, polite smile in return, but it was clear she wasn’t interested.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small smile. She hadn’t expected to see Paige here, but now that she had, she found herself happy to see her again. Azzi reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, typing a message.

You clean up nice.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, watching Paige as she stood at the bar, the bartender handing her a drink. Paige glanced down at her phone, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. Azzi watched the gears turn in her head as she scanned the room. A few moments passed before their eyes locked across the space.

A small smirk tugged at the corners of Paige’s lips as she made eye contact with Azzi and raised her eyebrow. Azzi’s pulse quickened just a little, amused by the unspoken challenge. Paige thanked the bartender, tossing a generous tip down before turning toward Azzi.

Azzi stood up from her seat. Before she could say anything, Paige closed the distance between them and leaned in for a quick hug. Azzi didn’t miss the way Paige’s eyes scanned her up and down once they pulled apart—quick, but thorough. Azzi could almost hear the assessment happening behind that sly smirk.

Paige sat down next to Azzi, adjusting her drink in her hand as she got settled.

Azzi leaned back in her seat, her smile softening. "I see you finally noticed me," she teased before she took another sip of her cocktail.

Paige’s eyes met hers as she replied, "Well, you weren't hard to miss. You look amazing.”

Azzi smiled at the compliment, her own eyes giving Paige a once over as she settled next to her. It felt like an unspoken game, both of them sizing each other up without quite saying the obvious. The tension was there. Neither of them had to try too hard to make it noticeable.

“You, enjoying the event?” Azzi asked.

Paige leaned back, looking around the venue before sighing. “Honestly? Hell no. I been bored all night. Networking, small talk, you know the drill. I’d rather be on the court.”

Azzi nodded, understanding immediately. “I get that. It’s hard to get invested in something that feels ingenuine.”

Paige’s lips quirked. “Exactly. But, I’m here, so... might as well make the best of it. Paige pauses for a second smoothly scooting closer to Azzi as she adds, “I think I can have a pretty good time now though.”

Azzi playfully rolls her eyes at this. She had gotten used to Paige’s non stop flirting in the past two weeks. Azzi mumbles, “Whatever.”

Paige chuckled lightly, swirling the ice in her drink before taking another sip. "So," she started, leaning back in her seat and eyeing Azzi with a grin. "What do you do for fun, when you're not, you know, saving athletes from ourselves and texting me at ungodly hours asking about my day?"

Azzi raised an eyebrow, at the question. "First of all, you like it. Second, If I’m being honest, I don’t really get a lot of time for ‘fun,’” she said with a soft laugh. “But when I do give myself a break, I like to get out of the city, maybe take a short trip somewhere.

“Where you like to go?”

Azzi thought about it for a second before saying, “Well you know I like nature so anywhere that doesn’t have light pollution honestly. Somewhere quiet.”

Paige hummed at Azzi’s answer, swirling the ice in her drink. “That actually sounds nice,” she admitted. “I don’t think I’ve seen real stars in years.”

Azzi tilted her head. “What, not even on the road? Some of those late-night flights gotta give you a decent view.”

Paige let out a short laugh. “Maybe, but I’m usually either knocked out or too busy watching film for the next game to notice.” She exhaled, shaking her head slightly. “Honestly, I can’t even remember the last time I went on an actual vacation. Between the WNBA season, Unrivaled, endorsement events, Lukas, and whatever else gets thrown my way… there’s barely any downtime.”

Azzi studied her for a moment, catching something in Paige’s tone that felt just a little heavier than her usual confident energy. “That sounds exhausting,” she said, voice softer. “Do you ever give yourself a chance to just… stop? Even for a second?”

Paige scoffed, leaning back in her seat. “Not really. If I’m not playing, I’m training. If I’m not training, I’m doing media. If I’m not doing media, I’m at some event pretending to care about small talk.” She motioned toward the room with a light laugh, but there was an underlying truth there—one Azzi could see past the bravado.

Azzi tapped her fingers against her glass thoughtfully. “You ever think about forcing yourself to take a break? Even just for a couple days?”

Paige raised an eyebrow at her. “And do what?”

Azzi shrugged. “I don’t know… go somewhere with no cameras, no schedule, no pressure. Just exist for a bit.”

Paige looked at her, a flicker of something in her expression before she smirked. “You offering to be my getaway guide?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just saying, if you ever decide to escape for a second, I could give you some ideas.”

Paige held her gaze for a moment before smiling. “Noted.” She took another sip of her drink, then nudged Azzi lightly with her shoulder. “Alright, next question. If you had a weekend off, no responsibilities, no distractions—what’s your ideal way to spend it?”

Azzi leaned back, considering the question. “Easy. A cabin in the mountains, a fire going, no phone, and maybe a book I’ve been meaning to read.”

Paige smirked. “No phone, huh? You’d survive without texting me at midnight?”

Azzi shot her a look, shaking her head with a laugh. “I think I’d manage.”

Paige hummed, tilting her head as if imagining it. “Sounds kinda nice. Maybe I need to consider that too..”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you do.”

Their eyes lingered on each other for a beat longer than necessary before Paige let out a small chuckle and looked down toward her drink.

“And what about you?” Azzi asked, tilting her head slightly. “I remember you saying Lukas is obsessed with building things.”

Paige chuckled at that, shaking her head. “Yeah, I got him his own little tool set and everything. The other day, he convinced me he needed a bigger bed just because he wanted to help build something.”

Azzi laughed, setting her drink down. “He’s got you wrapped around his finger.”

Paige sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “Unfortunately,” she mumbled, though the small smile on her face gave her away.

Azzi smirked. “But I guess this means you’re good at putting things together?”

Paige shrugged. “Yeah, I’m pretty handy around the house.”

Azzi hummed, tapping a finger against her glass. “So I know who to call when I need something built.”

Paige turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you were still in the building stage of a house you’ve lived in for years.”

Azzi shrugged, her expression carefully neutral. “I’m not. But who knows…I was thinking about getting a new entertainment system.”

Paige hummed at the insinuation, her lips twitching into a smirk as she leaned in slightly. “If you want me to come over, you can just ask.”

Azzi took a small sip of her drink before saying, “So, you're open to coming over?”

Paige huffed out a laugh, a glint in her eyes. “I thought we both knew that already.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady. “I mean, you never really brought it up again after the last time we texted. I just assumed that boat sailed.”

Paige’s lips quirked as she raked her eyes over Azzi’s frame slowly. “Definitely hasn’t sailed.”

For a moment, they both seemed to consider the implications of the words they just exchanged. The air between them a little thick with unspoken tension. They held each other’s gaze, neither of them needing to say much more, as if they both knew exactly where this was heading.

Then, as if on cue, Paige’s phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping them both out of the brief spell. Paige sighed, almost reluctantly breaking eye contact as she pulled the phone out, her expression shifting as she saw Drew’s name on the screen.

She swiped to answer, and immediately, the sound of Lukas’ cries echoed through the speaker. Paige tensed, her whole demeanor changing instantly. “Drew, what the hell is going on?” she asked.

Drew’s voice was frantic, a little apologetic. “I wasn’t looking for like two seconds, and he fell off the stool at the island. His hand’s pretty bad, Paige. He’s crying his eyes out and he’s asking for you. I swear it was only two seconds, I'm sorry.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat as she clenched her jaw, trying to stay calm. “I told you he couldn’t fucking sit there, Drew,” she muttered, her voice laced with frustration. Drew apologized profusely before asking if he should take Lukas to the ER.

“No, I'll do it. I’m on my way,” Paige said, hanging up quickly. She turned to Azzi, her face drawn with concern. “I’m sorry I have to go. Lukas hurt his wrist and I have to take him to the emergency room.”

Azzi’s eyes widened slightly with immediate concern. “I can look at it if you’d like?” she offered without hesitation.

“Really?” Paige asked, her tone softening.

Azzi nodded with a smile. “Of course.”

Azzi set the glass down on the bar with a soft clink. She turned to Paige, who had already started rising from her seat.

Paige smiled at her, though there was a subtle tension in her posture, a quiet nervous energy she hadn’t shown since they’d met. Azzi caught it immediately. "Ready?" Paige asked, glancing down at her phone again, probably hoping for an update on Lukas.

“Yeah,” Azzi replied, giving Paige a reassuring smile. As they both started walking toward the exit, Azzi noticed how Paige’s pace had quickened as they neared the valet area.

When they reached the valet stand, Paige handed over her ticket. Paige’s nerves were palpable and Azzi noticed her chewing lightly on her bottom lip.

For the first time, Azzi saw the cracks in Paige’s usual confident demeanor. It was an interesting sight, seeing the athlete, usually so poised and composed, so visibly tense. Azzi caught her eye, her voice soft but steady. “Hey.”

Paige met her gaze, blinking, and then looking away. “Hm?”

Azzi stepped closer, her voice calm. “He’ll be fine,” she reassured her. “I promise.”

Paige sighed, her breath a little shaky as she checked her phone again. “I know…I just hate when I’m not there with him when something happens,” she admitted.

Azzi gave her a small, sympathetic smile. Paige noticed how Azzi’s arms had goosebumps from the breeze, her dress not quite enough to shield her from the night chill. Without thinking, Paige slipped off her suit jacket and draped it over Azzi’s shoulders.

Azzi froze for a moment, clearly surprised by the action. She glanced at Paige, her fingers instinctively running over the fabric of the jacket. The warmth from Paige’s body lingered in the material, her scent clinging to the fabric, and Azzi couldn’t ignore the small smile that tugged at her lips. There was something comforting about the action, the quiet care behind it.

"Thanks," Azzi said softly, her voice quieter than usual as she pulled the jacket tighter around herself.

Paige smiled in return, her lips curling up at the corners. “No problem,” she replied, her voice warmer than it had been moments before.

Paige smiled in return, her lips curling up at the corners, though it was a soft, almost vulnerable smile. “No problem,” she replied, her voice warmer than it had been moments before. A second later, the valet pulled up with Paige’s car. Paige walked toward it and opened the passenger door for Azzi.

The gesture once again caught Azzi by surprise, a small but meaningful one that made her chest warm. She knew Paige was worried about her son, likely running through a million thoughts in her head, yet she still made the effort to open the door for her. It wasn’t much, but it meant something.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered as she slid into Paige’s car. Her words were quiet, but genuine, carrying a touch of warmth that mirrored what she felt in her chest.

Paige nodded and softly shut the door, her hand lingering on the handle for a moment longer than necessary. Then, she walked around the car, giving the valet a tip as she got into the driver’s side. As the door clicked shut Paige put on her seatbelt and adjusted her grip on the wheel before pulling away from the valet stand.

…

As the car came to a stop in front of Paige’s large driveway, Azzi had very little time to process just how beautiful the house was before she and Paige were getting out of the car and heading toward the door. The space was impressive, a blend of modern elegance with a sense of warmth, but Azzi didn’t have much time to linger on the details.

As soon as they stepped inside, Azzi could hear small, almost pitiful whimpers coming from the living room.She instinctively followed Paige as she led the way down the hallway. The moment they reached the living room, Lukas' eyes locked onto Paige, and his face lit up with a mix of relief and sadness.

The boy reached up for his mom, his blue eyes welling with tears again immediately. Paige easily scooped him up into her arms, holding him close, and let him rest his head against her neck. Azzi watched the way Paige instinctively soothed Lukas, rubbing a gentle hand along his back.

Paige had rolled the sleeves of her dress shirt up on the drive over, the cuffs left undone, a casual detail that gave her an even more relaxed appearance. But now, with Lukas in her arms, Azzi couldn’t stop herself from noticing how effortless it all seemed. The way she moved, the way she was comforting her son—it was magnetic, and Azzi was acutely aware of how attracted to Paige she felt in that moment.

Paige sat down on the couch, cradling Lukas in her lap, her hands gently rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down. The small boy whimpered slightly, still upset, his eyes swollen from the earlier tears. Paige leaned down to look at him as she spoke.

“Can you let Azzi look at your wrist, buddy?” she asked. Lukas’s eyes welled with fresh tears at the mention of someone touching his injury. He shook his head a little, clearly reluctant to have anyone near it.

Paige sighed softly, her thumb brushing against his cheek in an effort to soothe him. “Remember what I told you about being tough, even when you don’t want to?” she said, her voice steady, but full of warmth. Lukas hesitated for a moment, his pout deepening, but after a few seconds, he nodded slowly.

Paige smiled at him reassuringly. “This is one of those times, okay? But I’m going to be right here with you while she looks at it.” She made sure her voice was steady, offering him comfort in the midst of his hesitation.

Lukas sniffled but nodded again, still clinging to his mom. Azzi smiled sympathetically as she walked over to the couch, reaching for Paige’s jacket. She carefully slid it off her shoulders before draping it over the back of the couch. She then took a seat in front of Lukas and smiled at him sweetly, hoping to put him at ease.

“Hi, handsome,” Azzi said warmly.

Lukas’s face lit up for a brief moment, and Azzi caught the faintest hint of a grin forming on his lips. But before he could fully show it, he blushed shyly, quickly ducking his face into Paige’s chest, hiding from Azzi.

Paige’s jaw dropped slightly and she looked down at her son who was hiding in her chest. “No way, you just made my son blush,” she said.

Azzi laughed. “I’m pretty, what can I say?” she responded, raising an eyebrow with a confident smile.

Paige couldn't do anything but laugh as she continued to stroke Lukas’s hair.

Azzi refocused as Lukas peeked at her from behind Paige, his attention now on her. Azzi leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle. "I’m just going to take a quick look at your wrist, okay?"

Lukas nodded, though his face still held a trace of uncertainty. Azzi reached for his hand gently, unwrapping the makeshift wrap with careful hands. As she finished undoing the wrap, she set it aside before giving Lukas a soft, reassuring smile. “If anything hurts, can you tell me?” she asked.

Lukas nodded, and Azzi could see that he was trying to be brave, even if his little body still trembled here and there. She smiled at him again, her tone soft and still as patient as ever as she moved slower than usual. “You’re doing great.”

Azzi began near his elbow, gently squeezing the area there and watching for any signs of discomfort. When Lukas didn’t flinch or pull away, she continued to slowly move down his arm.

When she finally reached his wrist, she squeezed the red, portion carefully, her eyes immediately noticing the small flinch from Lukas. He whimpered, trying to pull his hand away, but Azzi was quick to adjust, maintaining a gentle hold to keep him from fully pulling away.

“Hey, Lukas,” she said softly. “Can you move your hand like this for me?” Azzi demonstrated by making a small motion with her own wrist, gesturing for him to follow.

Lukas hesitated for a second before slowly mimicking the motion with his own wrist, wincing slightly as he did so. Azzi watched carefully. “Good job,” she praised him before instructing, “Now, can you move it in the opposite direction like this?”

Lukas’s brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded and followed her lead, turning his wrist in the opposite direction, though more slowly this time. Azzi’s smile widened slightly as she observed how brave he was being, even if it wasn’t easy for him.

“Look at you, tough guy,” she whispered, still holding his hand gently as she kept a watchful eye on his reactions.

Azzi smiled warmly at Lukas, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “All done,” she said softly. She glanced up at Paige. “He’ll be fine. He just needs a little ice.”

Paige looked at Azzi with a hint of disbelief, as if she was searching for more confirmation. “Really?” she asked.

Azzi nodded. “Yes, really. It’s just a little sore. Nothing serious.”

Paige let out a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as the tension drained from her body. “Thank god,” she muttered, a relieved laugh slipping from her lips. She looked down at Lukas, who had calmed down a little, his small hands still clutching her.

“Dude, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Paige teased as she gently ruffled his hair. Lukas let out a small giggle, a faint smile creeping onto his face.

Paige’s eyes softened as she looked at him. “Can you say thank you to Azzi?” she prompted, guiding Lukas’s attention back to the woman who had just helped him.

Lukas hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting up to meet Azzi’s. The instant their gazes locked, his cheeks flushed bright red. He quickly ducked his head, burying his face into Paige’s chest again.

Paige froze, staring at Lukas for a moment in shock. She’d never seen him act shy like this before. Lukas was always the confident little charmer, always trying to impress girls. But now, here he was, hiding in her chest, blushing like a little kid. It took her completely off guard.

Before she could say anything, Drew, sitting across the room with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I think Luke has a little crush."

Lukas’s head whipped around instantly, his eyes wide with shock, and he yelled, “No!” at the top of his lungs, his face now a deeper shade of red.

Drew chuckled. “Nah, it’s okay, man,” he teased, leaning back on the couch. “We all get crushes.”

Lukas was having none of it. He jumped off Paige’s lap, completely ignoring the pain in his wrist now as he rushed towards Drew, fists raised.

“Hey, hey, careful!” Drew laughed, raising his hands defensively. But Lukas was determined, throwing playful punches at his uncle, clearly more upset about the teasing than the injury.

Paige, still sitting on the couch, watched the little scuffle unfold, but when she saw Lukas’s hands flying, her tone became more serious. “What did I tell you about hitting?” she asked firmly.

Lukas froze mid-swing, his little arms still outstretched in the air, and his eyes widened as he realized he’d crossed the line.

“I’m sorry, Ma,” he mumbled, dropping his hands and looking down at the floor, a little embarrassed.

Paige sighed, but the edge in her voice softened as she gently pulled him back into her lap. “It’s okay, but you know better than that. We don’t solve problems with our fists,” she said softly, brushing a hair away from his face. “Can you apologize to Uncle Drew now?”

Lukas gave Drew a look of mild defiance but reluctantly said, “Sorry, Uncle Drew.”

Drew chuckled, his hands up in mock surrender. “No worries, buddy. Just don’t go knocking me out, alright?”

Realizing she hadn't introduced them, Paige quickly turned to Azzi, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Oh, Azzi, this is Drew, my brother. Drew, this is Azzi," she said, gesturing between the two of them.

Drew smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you," Azzi said politely, her eyes flicking to the little boy in Paige’s lap.

Drew nodded at Azzi. "The pleasure’s mine," he said, before shifting his attention back to Lukas, who was now squirming in Paige’s lap. Without missing a beat, Drew scooped Lukas up, holding him upside down. "Alright, Imma go finish my uncle duties and get this dude ready for bed."

Lukas let out a dramatic screech, kicking his legs as Drew playfully dangled him. “No! Not bed!” Lukas whined, but Drew just chuckled, walking toward the stairs with Lukas hanging upside down in his arms.

Paige laughed at their antics, shaking her head. “Y'all are crazy,” she yelled after them.

Turning her attention back to Azzi, Paige exhaled a relieved sigh. “Thank you, really. I didn’t know what I’d do without you tonight,” she said.

Azzi gave her a soft smile, nodding. "No problem at all. I’m just glad I could help.”

Paige leaned back into the couch, her shoulders relaxing. “I owe you one,” she added, her gaze lingering on Azzi a little longer this time.

Azzi caught the look, and for a second, the playful tension between them reappeared. "I’m sure I’ll think of a way for you to make it up to me," Azzi teased, her soft smile still on her face.

Paige tilted her head, smirking in return. "Oh, yeah?" she asked.

Azzi hummed.

“Like what?”

Azzi’s gaze dropped just briefly to Paige's lips, a small spark of something passing between them. Paige noticed the subtle shift and leaned in just slightly, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s, her finger brushing lightly against Azzi's shoulder as she waited for an answer.

Azzi's breath hitched slightly, but she pulled back, her eyes still locked onto Paige's. "Like getting me home safely," she said, her voice soft.

Paige threw her head back against the couch with a soft laugh, running her hands down her face. After a beat, she sat up again, turning her attention back to Azzi with a smirk that was impossible to miss.

"Getting you home safely, huh?" Paige said, her tone a little more teasing now, her eyes gleaming with that signature confidence.

Azzi met her gaze, her lips curling into a subtle smile. "Mhm," she confirmed, the warmth in her voice matching the look in her eyes.

"I think I can handle that."

With that, Paige stood and offered Azzi a hand to help her up from the couch. Azzi took it, feeling the small jolt of energy from the touch. She started to rise, but before she could, Paige’s next words stopped her in her tracks.

"You sure I can’t give you a tour before we head out?" Paige’s question was smooth, casual, but there was an edge to it. The way Paige’s blue eyes sparkled made it clear that she wasn’t just offering a tour of the house.

Azzi was about to agree, the invitation on the tip of her tongue, but then she caught that smirk on Paige’s face—the way she was looking at her. They both knew what would happen if Paige led her into her bedroom, and Azzi wasn’t sure she was quite ready for that leap—at least, not tonight.

"I think I’ll pass on that," Azzi said, her tone light and teasing, her eyes dancing with the same playful energy.

Paige raised an eyebrow, that glint still lingering in her expression. "Mm, okay." Then she gently placed her hand on Azzi’s lower back. The contact sent a ripple of warmth through Azzi’s body, and she felt the pressure of Paige’s palm guiding her toward the door.

Without another word, Paige led her out of the house, the night air surrounding them as they walked to the car. Neither of them spoke immediately, but the silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable.

As they reached the car, Paige opened the door for Azzi, her hand lingering just a little longer than necessary on her back.

Azzi smiled softly, her heart racing a little faster than it probably should have as she sat in the passenger seat. Paige gently shut the door before she walked around to the driver's side. As Azzi waited, she couldn't help but glance out the window, her eyes landing on the two other cars in the driveway.

Paige noticed the shift in her attention, and spoke up. "I use that one," she nodded toward the blackout jeep, "when I'm taking Lukas with me. Has his car seat in it."

Azzi nodded, her gaze following Paige's hand as she gestured to the car they were in. "And this one?" Azzi asked.

Paige smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to show off a little. "This one’s got a better tint and it’s faster," she explained. "I use it for events and things like that." She paused, her eyes meeting Azzi's. "Keeps things a little more private."

Azzi raised an eyebrow, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Private, huh?" she teased, as she considered the implications of that.

Paige's lips curved into a smile of her own. "Well," she said, her tone shifting to something a little more flirtatious, "you never know who might be watching."

Azzi couldn't help but laugh softly. There was something about the way Paige carried herself—confident, self-assured, but still a little obnoxious—that Azzi found undeniably magnetic. It was hard to ignore the chemistry between them anytime they spoke.

Azzi simply shrugged, keeping the mood light. "Guess I'll have to keep that in mind," she replied, her gaze lingering on Paige for a moment longer than she intended.

Paige chuckled softly, shaking her head as she shifted the car into drive. The drive to Azzi’s place was smooth, the low hum of the engine and the occasional soft exchange of words filling the space. The atmosphere between them felt comfortable, even with the unspoken tension lingering in the air.

When they finally pulled up to Azzi's place, Paige parked the car, and before Azzi could even reach for the door handle, Paige was already walking around to the passenger side. She opened the door for her as she extended a hand to help Azzi out.

Azzi smiled and placed her hand in Paige’s. “Thank you again,” she said softly, the sincerity in her voice clear.

Paige gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. She followed Azzi up the path to her door, her footsteps quiet beside Azzi’s heels clicking against the pavement as they approached the front steps. Once they reached the door, Paige paused, leaning back against the railing.

“Thank you for your help… again,” Paige said. There was a certain softness to her voice that made the words feel more personal than just a simple thanks.

Azzi glanced at Paige, their eyes meeting for a brief moment before she stepped a little closer, the sharp click of her heels against the pavement adding a rhythmic sound to the quiet of the night as her perfume filled Paige’s senses at the proximity.

“No problem,” Azzi replied with a small smile, her voice just as soft as before. She took a small step closer, her gaze never leaving Paige's face.

Paige felt a surge of warmth, a quiet pull between them that made her a little excited. She kept her hands in her pockets, not moving but fully aware of how close Azzi had gotten.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, just standing there, the space between them filled with something that neither could name.

Azzi's voice broke the quiet moment. "So, about that second date?" She paused, watching Paige carefully. "What's your schedule like?"

Paige pulled her phone out of her pocket, flicking through her calendar. She turned the screen toward Azzi with a half smile.

Azzi accepted the phone gently, her fingers brushing against Paige’s as she did so. She pulled out her own phone and began comparing their schedules, the two of them silent for a few moments as she browsed through the information. When she found a time that worked for both of them, she tapped in the details and then, without asking, added it to Paige's calendar.

Paige watched with an amused grin as Azzi took charge of the timing. "You didn’t even ask," Paige said playfully.

Azzi looked up, catching the glint in Paige’s eye, and shrugged with a soft smile. "I’m just being efficient," she replied, handing the phone back.

Paige glanced at her phone, noticing that Azzi had put the date for the day after tomorrow. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she locked the phone and slid it back into her pocket.

Azzi spoke, her voice quieter, almost grateful. "Thank you for getting me home safely."

Paige's smile softened as she met Azzi’s gaze. "Anytime," she replied, her words almost too easy, as if the offer to look out for Azzi was something she genuinely wanted to give.

Azzi bit her lip, clearly holding back something, before she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Paige's cheek. The action was quick but warm, and it sent a small shock of heat through Paige’s chest. "Goodnight, Paige," Azzi whispered.

"Goodnight, Azzi," Paige responded, her voice lower than usual. The moment lingered between them as they hugged, Azzi’s arms wrapping around Paige’s shoulders, and Paige’s arms gently pulling Azzi closer by the waist.

Azzi watched as Paige turned to walk toward her car, her eyes following every step. Paige stopped before getting in the car and leaned over the driver’s side door slightly, her voice cutting through the night air.

"I'll pick you up on Wednesday?"

Azzi’s smile grew at the offer. "You’ll pick me up Wednesday," she said.

Paige nodded, watching as Azzi unlocked her door and stepped inside before getting in her car and driving off.

[divagrace]

The First of Many

SoftRafexSweetPoguePrincess First Date!

Summary: Rafe take’s SweetPoguePrincess on their first date!

Warnings: None! Just fluff

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Y/N impatiently paced back and forth in her tiny living room waiting for Rafe’s arrival. It is 5:58 right now. He should be here in two minutes. Every time she glances up at the clock, time seems to be going slower. But long enough, a knock echoes from her front door.

She rushes to it, gripping the handle, but pausing and taking a deep breath.

You’ll be fine.

Y/N swings the door open and there stands Rafe. He’s wearing a pair of black shorts and a white polo shirt to go with it.

He’s holding a bouquet of flowers, an assortment of lilies, her favorite.

“Hi.” He says, laughing at her look of pure awe.

“Hi Rafe.” Y/N says.

He now takes a moment to drink her in. She’s wearing a patchwork sundress, covered in various colors. She has a denim jacket resting on her shoulders and some beat up light pink converse. He can see a hole in the toe of her left shoe.

“You look amazing.” Rafe says breathlessly.

“Thank you.” Y/N giggles, a blush spreading on her cheeks.

Rafe looks down at the flowers he’s holding. “Oh! These are for you.” He says handing them to Y/N.

“Thank you Rafe. I'll put these in some water and I’ll be right back.” She says before disappearing into the house. She emerges a minute later with a bright smile on her face.

“You ready?” Rafe asks her.

“Yup! Let’s go!” Y/N says while bounding down the steps of her shabby house to the door of his truck.

But Rafe was not having it.

“Hey slow down.” He says taking long strides after her and quickly letting where she was at.

“What?” Y/N stops in her tracks and turns to face him. He has a look of determination in his eyes but she doesn’t know exactly why.

“I have to open your door for you.” He says in a ‘duh’ tone. Brushing past her and reaching his truck door. He opens the door and she climbs in. Once she is situated in her seat, Rafe leans over her to help her buckle her seat belt. The smell of his expensive cologne filling her nostrils.

“I can do…” Y/N starts to argue but immediately closes her mouth after seeing the look on Rafe’s face. No room for argument.

“Thank you.” Y/N says shyly, looking down at her lap. Once again, a rosy tint covering her cheeks.

“Of course.” Rafe says before tapping her hip and then shutting her door. He quickly walks over to his side and gets in. But he doesn’t miss the now red shade of blush on her face. Smiling to himself, he starts to back out of his driveway, throwing one arm around the back of Y/N’s seat and looking through the back mirror.

Y/N dang near folds right then and there in her seat. That was so hot.

While Y/N is lost in her own thoughts, Rafe takes a moment to really look at Y/N’s house. It’s very small, basically the size of a trailer. It’s located in one of the roughest parts of the Cut. Many people are known for having shitty houses in the Cut, but this area is known for the worst ones.

The outside is made out of metal paneling, and it’s light blue in color. It has grass stains going up the side of it, and her porch looks like it could break with one wrong step. The best part about her house is the closeness to the beach. It’s right on the water. But other than than, it’s probably the size of Rafe’s bedroom alone.

Rafe would usually judge someone based on their house, but not Y/N. He doesn’t understand how she can come from such a shithole and still be the kindest human he’s ever met.

Rafe glances over at Y/N. She’s peacefully staring out at the soft waves lapping against the shore. He can tell that she loves the beach.

Rafe decides to break the silence. “So tell me some more things about yourself. Something that not everybody knows about you.”

Her head whips around from its resting spot. Y/N looks like she’s thinking.

“Well umm. My mom passed away when I was eight years old. She’s the kindest and nicest human being ever. I try my best to be like her. My dad and I both try to make her proud.” Y/N says and a look of fondness crosses her face. Rafe’s eyes soften. He knows what it’s like not having a good mother figure in his life. Rose is the worst and he cannot stand her.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He tells her sincerely. She just nods.

“It’s okay, I’ve learned to live with it. Your turn.”

Rafe can’t say he’s surprised. He looks out the front window while passing through the streets of OBX.

“Umm. I used to be super addicted to drugs.” Rafe starts and Y/N sucks in a breath. He gets worried that she might not want to continue hanging out with him but her face tells him to go on.

“It was bad. So bad. Like I couldn’t go a day without snorting a line of cocaine and shit. My dad was mad at first but then he was done with my shit. He sent me to a rehab facility. I got into shape real quick.” Y/N reaches over to grab Rafe’s free hand and immediately warmth spreads throughout his body.

“It took me five months to finally be clean. Normal. That was honestly the proudest I’ve ever seen my father of me. And his reaction to me being clean is the reason I still am today. And not to mention, I just feel better. I was a crazy mother fucker back then. I know why people couldn’t stand me. I don’t ever blame them for hating me now.” Rafe finishes.

They come to a red light and Y/N squeezes his hand. “Thank you for being so vulnerable. I know it’s hard.” She says.

“And I’m proud of you too. For changing. For being a better person. If other people can’t be proud too, that’s their fault.”

He looks at her and smiles, his chest full of pride. And a light pink tinges his cheeks.

“Now. Let’s go have fun on our date!” Y/N giggles and squeezes Rafe’s hand again.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Rafe pulled into a parking lot. Y/N looked up from their hands to see multiple tents and stands set up.

“You brought me to a farmers market?” She asked him. Rafe looked over at her and smiled.

“Yeah. You said last night how much you love supporting local businesses. So what better way to do it than here?” He tells her.

Y/N’s heart just melts into a puddle. She couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t remember that small thing she mentioned. She loves getting out and supporting the small business in OBX, but it can be hard when she has other priorities for the little money she gets every month.

Before she can say thank you, Rafe is already out the door of his truck and opening hers. She scrambles to unbuckle and grabs his outstretched hand to jump out.

“I’m so excited. I haven’t been to a farmers market in so long!” She exclaims.

“Well pick out whatever you want. I read that there are some things here that I think you’ll like.” Rafe says.

Y/N squints in the sun trying to look at Rafe’s face. He has to be at least a foot taller than her so it’s quite a challenge.

“Rafe. You don’t have to spend a ton of money on me.” She grumbles. She finally catches his eye and he’s giving her that look again.

“I will spend however much I want on you Y/N. It’s no big deal.” Rafe says before taking her hand and leading her through the stands.

They end up stopping at a stand that has cute little journal and book covers. They are hand sewn and have multiple different patterns and designs. Rafe tells Y/N to pick out whatever ones she wants. She hesitantly gets two, one for her current book that she’s reading, and one for her journal.

Then Rafe sees a person selling handmade jewelry. He insists that Y/N picks out a few pieces. She ends up picking up a ring made from sea glass, and a necklace that has a starfish charm on it.

Y/N is trying to refuse the things that Rafe is to buying for her, but all it takes is one reminder from him that it’s for the small business and she crumbles.

He ended up seeing a dress that he thinks she will look amazing in. The sweet old woman who was selling them had a sign up saying she was selling her handmade dresses in order to pay for her chemo therapy treatment. Y/N’s heart shattered while seeing that because her mom passed away from breast cancer.

She quickly agreed to buy not one, but three dresses. While she was searching for two more, Rafe couldn’t help but notice Y/N’s reaction to the sign. It was much more than just sympathy. So while Y/N was browsing, Rafe leaned down and asked for the woman’s name and phone number. He would be in contact with the hospital about paying off all of her treatments, and anything else she might need.

Rafe also paid for the dresses and once again saw the look of absolute despair on Y/N’s face. She eventually cheered up though after seeing a vendor who had crocheted stuffed animals. She picked up two sea turtles. One with a little pink bow crocheted in, and the other one with a little grumpy face.

“Look Rafe! It’s us!” She giggled loudly at her joke. He playfully scowled but handed the vendor the correct amount of money and threw a 50 in the tip jar.

Again, Y/N literally had no idea how he could just spend money like this. But since it was helping small businesses, she was okay with it.

Y/N continued to drag Rafe through every single stand in the farmers market. She made them stop at every one because she claimed that ‘you never know what they might have to offer’. Rafe happily went along with her because he got to see her eyes light up every time she started a conversation with someone. And because her arm was wrapped around his bicep the whole time.

Eventually Y/N had successfully went through every stand with Rafe and they walked back to his truck.

While he drove her home, Rafe kept his hand tightly held in hers, and she wasn’t complaining.

Rafe pulled up into her driveway. He turned to look at her.

“Do you need any help with your bags?” He asks her. Y/N shakes her head while digging through one of the bags.

“No. But here, don’t forget your stuffie!” She says while shoving the turtle into his hands. He takes it and puts it right in his lap.

“Thank you Rafe. For everything you bought me today. And for just spending time with me.” Y/N says sincerely.

“You’re welcome. I’ll try to find you on the island, but if I can’t, I’ll come visit you here. I’ll see you soon.” He tells her.

“Bye Rafey!” She yells. All he can do is scowl because before he knows it, she’s slamming his truck door shut and laughing to herself the whole way up her porch.

Rafe waits until Y/N gets back inside safely, before pulling out of her driveway.

Yeah. He could get used to this.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

I’m like so proud of myself for this one! 🫶🏻

Thank you guys for the love!

[karikarasuno]

shouto has your schedule memorized. accidentally of course, but it's ingrained in his head. for example, you’re always three minutes late. and you’re always carrying an obscene amount of things in your arms. today you’re holding a plastic tote that seems to have cupcakes inside– or maybe they’re muffins– along with a water bottle, a coffee mug, two bags, and your lunch box. he wants to offer to help, but instead he watches you. 

your first stop is always the break room. his eyes follow you until you disappear behind a corner. you’re wearing a dress today that hits right above your knees and boots that stop just below them. he rather enjoys when you wear dresses, only ever wearing them on fridays, when the dress code is more lax and you can incorporate more of your personal style. you wear colors. it is the only source of anything bright or cheerful in the office. 

aside from your office itself. it’s stationed right beside his. music is always trickling out beneath the cracks of the door and the soft smell of chamomile wafts around its four walls. he only recognizes the smell because he had a meeting with you in there to discuss some reports your department was in charge of and he noticed a small diffuser on your bookshelf with a chamomile essential oil beside it.

it’s rare that you’re ever alone together. even rarer that it’s somewhere as intimate as your office. it’s littered with things that are so innately you. that’s how he learned your favorite color is green. and that you have a vast assortment of teas organized in a wooden box on your desk. 

you always offer to make him a cup. he always declines, but the offer alone warms him from the inside. 

“morning , shouto,” you say, popping your head through his open door and smiling. his cheeks warm at the expression. he really never tires of looking at you.

“good morning,” his voice cracks, so he clears it as he sits up in his chair. when you step inside his office, the smell of your perfume hits him. it’s sweet like vanilla, but paired with something deeper, almost earthy. he tries not to close his eyes and relish in it. 

“so i made these vanilla chai muffins last night and cooked about a dozen too many,” you say, hand holding out a muffin on a napkin towards him. “would you like one?” 

he’s not even sure if he likes chai but he takes it anyway. because he likes you. your fingers are warm when they brush his. he wonders what it would be like to hold them. since his have a tendency to run cold –his right side more so than his left. but he imagines how comforting it would be. and then he remembers you’re still standing in front of his desk. expectantly. 

“thank you,” he says, assuming that’s what you’re waiting for.

“You’re welcome,” you respond sweetly, still standing patiently on the other side of his desk. there’s a moment of exchanging stares. heat rises and settles beneath his collar. your eye contact always unsettled him. but because it always felt like you were staring deeper into his soul than anyone he’s ever met. he never knows how to respond to it, other than glancing away.

you laugh, breathless and amused. “i want you to try it.”

“right now?”

“mhm,” you hum with a nod to emphasize your answer. 

“why?” he asks before thinking, but not in offense, purely because he's curious as to why you would want to watch him try something.

“because i want to know if you like it, and it's easier to tell if you’re lying if i see you take your first bite,” you joke, hands adjusting the bags that are still on your shoulder since you’ve yet to stop by your office. 

“oh ok,” he says, the heat below his collar beginning to escape up his neck. he pauses before he takes a bite, the muffin just an inch away from his lips. he feels your eyes on him intently. eager. And his nerves are starting to fester beneath his skin. 

his bite is bigger than he intends to be. nearly eating half of the muffin in one go. he hears you suppress a giggle, your eyes alight with amusement when he glances up at you with a mouth full of the pastry you made. he’s taken aback by how pretty you look at that moment. the sun peeking through his slanted blinds, not fully open, but wide enough to cast you in light that makes you appear quite heavenly. he never knows what to do with his feelings. an infatuation or maybe a crush or maybe something deeper. he didn’t know. not when you looked at him. not when you smiled at him. not when you touched him. 

all he knows is that he wants to keep your eyes on him, your smile directed towards him, and your hands always on him. 

“so?” you prompt, taking an anticipatory step closer to him. that’s when he remembers to chew. the flavor surprises him, sweet but spicy. light and not too sugary. it’s good, delicious even. he wonders how you can be so good at everything. or maybe he simply just likes everything that you do.  

“it’s really good,” he says, once he finally swallows his overindulgent bite. Your smile widens, probably deciding that he’s not lying, before tilting your head in that pretty way you always do and saying “glad you like it.”

he doesn’t get a chance to respond before you're exiting his office, somehow taking the life right out of it and back with you. the sun even dims in your absence. 

10:45 am on the dot and you’re walking past his office. it’s your scheduled tea time. he’s sure he’s the only one in the office that has noticed it. but every day at the same time you walk by with a mug and head for the break room. it’s where you keep your electric kettle. also in the color green.

today, again, you pause by his open door. he drops his pen in surprise. “i’m gonna make some tea.”

he simply stares. you smile again. and his heart stutters. “do you want some?”

“what kind do you have?” the question surprises even him.

“all kinds,” you respond cheekily.

“what’s your favorite?” 

“caffeinated or non-caffeinated?”

“non-caffeinated.”

“i’ll surprise you,” you wink, head tilting again in that way he really appreciates and this time his breathing gets stuck somewhere in his chest. 

When you return this time it’s with two mugs, both with heavy plumes of steam whirling above them. 

“careful,” you say as you set it down before him, “it’s really hot.”

“what is it?” he asks, smelling over the lip instinctively. 

“peppermint,” you answer.

[bunnysbrainrot]

Camgirl

Relationship: Dean Winchester x f!Reader

Content: Explicit sexual content. Male masturbation, female masturbation, exhibitionist/voyeurist themes, reader is a sex worker.

Summary: On a frustrating night off, Dean can’t seem to find the right ‘material’. When his usual content isn’t satisfying him, he ventures elsewhere, only to be met with an oddly familiar face. 

Words: ~1,500

The keys on Dean’s laptop click slowly as he enters a new search. It was a category he didn’t visit often, but sometimes there were some good choices. He hits ‘enter’, redirected to a new page, a list of assorted videos, the thumbnails all showcasing the most pivotal moments in the shoots. He released a sigh as he mindlessly scrolled past videos of couples, couples, threesomes, and more couples. It was hard to picture himself there, without the clean-cut, almost sterile version of porn he was used to. The cliché videos of pool boys and plumbers led him into a brick wall, itching for something different. 

His finger freezes on the trackpad as his breathing halts. Dean’s attention focuses on a video’s thumbnail at the bottom of the screen. The star of the video faces away from the camera, their lower half taking up a good half of the screen, a small skirt covering the top of their ass. But, it was the remaining details in the background that made Dean stop dead in his tracks. 

A brick wall is in the back of the frame, a concrete wall to its right, a minimalist bed in the middle of the room. The low lighting, the wall decorations he had seen just yesterday, it seemed…

There’s no way.

Half in disbelief, half in curiosity, Dean clicks on the video link: ‘Testing out my new toy ;)’

His breath catches in his throat as he stares at the loading circle, the screen temporarily black. It’s his last chance to turn back, to continue in ignorance and be able to look you in the eyes again. There was no way it was you, but a deep eagerness made him stay on the page. 

Dean starts abruptly when the video begins. A small intro tune and a title card with some cutesy star name that he refused to commit to memory, like he did with other stars he enjoyed. If this was you, he’d rather forget it all.

The person backs from the camera setup, smiling innocently into the lens, and Dean’s blood runs cold. 

Shit.

From the second he saw your face he was hooked. He willed for the strength to click away, to pause the video at the very least, but Dean couldn't. Disbelief flooded his expression despite a growing tightness in his abdomen, stirring as he watched on. You wasted no time, turning away from the camera and walking toward the ‘new toy’ mentioned in the title - a girthy, purple dildo was suctioned to the hard floor, a small bottle of lubricant sitting nearby. A towel was laid out next to you, two pillows from the head of your bed instead cushion your knees from the cold, rough floor. 

“Fuck,” Dean curses himself, his hand instinctively rushing to adjust his boxers. 

As if you’d heard him, you looked back into the camera, ensuring you were in frame for the perfect shot. You lean forward, the small skirt from the thumbnail riding past your ass, revealing your sex to the audience, a skimpy thong the only thing between Dean and heaven’s gate. 

You hook your finger on your thong and tug it to the side. Dean lets out a soft groan as you spread your folds for the shot, tracing your entrance with your middle finger, before dipping it inside. You stifle a moan, barely audible, a noise that he’d never before heard in these walls. 

Your slick coats your fingers when you pull them away. Fuck, you probably didn’t even need the lube - Dean chuckled to himself, you probably really got off on this. Didn’t you know that this could’ve happened eventually? Maybe you simply didn’t care if he’d found it. It didn't take away from the embarrassment, this invasion of your privacy.

Dean’s hand slips into his boxers, gripping the base of his cock warily before moving. Though guilt panged in his stomach, it eased away as he began with slow, smooth strokes.

What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?

It was reason enough. You had thrown Dean enough flirtations for him to question if there was substance to them. He had never hidden the fact that he thought you were special. Hell, he'd let you sit shotgun in Baby instead of Sam, much to his younger brother’s protests.  

You ease the dildo past your entrance, sucking in a breath before pressing yourself lower, carefully adjusting yourself to the toy's size. Onscreen, your pussy spreads wide for him. Dean slowly pumps himself in time with your movements, his cock throbbing in his palm. His eyes flit between your ass and your face, your expression changing to ecstasy as you inch lower and lower down the dildo’s length. Leaning forward, with your chest against the cold floor, you bounce yourself into a steady pace. 

Dean just wished that you would just make some sort of noise. He’d never watched a video so quiet, save for the wet noises coming from your cunt. Another realization both stilled and excited him. 

Was he home when you filmed this?

It would explain the silence, maybe you were just shy in the bedroom...

Nonetheless he itched for more, stroking himself in time with you, picturing anything close to the real thing. He’d never know what the girls in these videos are like up close, but this time, it bothered him. How could you be so close, yet untouchable? 

“Aah, fuuuuuck,” you whisper. Music to his ears. 

You finally urge yourself down the dildo’s full length, the base of it spreading your hole wide for the camera. Dean swipes his thumb over the swollen head of his cock, spreading a new bead of precome along his shaft. He pictured himself there instead, putting his cock there in place of that pesky purple toy. Minutes before, he couldn’t have ever imagined seeing you like this, but now, it could never be the same. 

In the video, almost pitifully, you try to pick up your pace. The pleasure takes you over, stopping you from keeping your speed. Each time you cave into the bliss, you lurch forward and tease yourself with a few small strokes, barely at your entrance. Dean picks up the slack on the other side of the computer screen, avidly pumping his cock as he watches your pussy twitch around the dildo. Teasing yourself with the toy’s head is enough to send Dean reeling. You come back down for a few final, deep strokes, before the video abruptly stops, cutting to a still screen, promoting another site for the ‘full video’. 

Dean’s hand slows as his high pauses. Frantically, he hastily rewinds the video back a few minutes, taking everything in for a second time. He was so close, it was too late to find another video, you were all he could focus on. You had been such a help to him, and you didn’t even know it yet. 

For a second round, you bob along the dildo’s length. Dean braves himself to turn up the volume for just a moment. Your noises quietly fill his room, stirring in his mind while he brings himself to the edge of his pleasure. With a strained groan, Dean’s cock twitches as his come leaks into the fabric of his boxers; he milks himself thoroughly, his eyes never leaving the sight of your pussy. In his leveling breaths, Dean stretches his boxers to look at the mess inside, throwing his head back and letting out a breathy laugh. 

Your video keeps playing in the background while Dean hastily cleans himself off with a tissue. His thoughts race, mulling over the fact that he would, at some point, have to look you in the eyes again. He just hoped he could hide it well enough when that happened. 

He tosses the tissue into his garbage can, throwing a few more atop it for good measure. He stands fully, bracing his hands to his lower back as he stretched, debating a nightcap to cool off. 

Padding down the long hallway to the kitchen, Dean made a beeline to the fridge, reaching in for the familiar, cold glass of a beer. In the distance, someone clears their throat, his hand halts on the neck of the bottle while he listens out for you. His gut tightens with shame. His conscience had been right, there really was no way he could look at you the same way, and that was all his fault. Dean prayed you wouldn’t be able to see it in his eyes. 

In a moment of resolve, Dean grips the beer bottle and lets the fridge close as quietly as possible, making his way out as quickly as he’d come in. He urges himself down the hallway, looking dead ahead before your voice shakes him. 

“Night, Dean,” you say after him, your tone softly upbeat. 

He looks to you from the side, giving a terse smile. Your head cocks to the side in confusion as he speeds down the hallway back to his room. Odd. 

You mutter, “What’s his deal?”

Hi lovelies, I know a story has been looooong overdue. I appreciate your patience and support during my unofficial hiatus. I'm getting back into the swing of writing again, and I have plans for more parts of this story if you're looking for more. I kept hitting this brick wall with trying to write Sam, so the Dean lovers get their juice today

Asks/requests are open as always.

Much love,

Bunny

[casedclosedbye]

The Birthday Overload

Aaron hotchner x reader

Fluff

Wc: 1.5k

It was your birthday, and Aaron Hotchner had promised to get you something special. But what you didn’t expect was for him to get everything you might want… and then some.

You were sitting on the couch, casually scrolling through your phone, when Hotch came back into the apartment, looking slightly frazzled. His arms were weighed down with what seemed like an endless number of shopping bags.

“Hotch, you okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of him struggling to make his way through the door.

He sighed deeply, his usually composed demeanor faltering just slightly. "I… I might’ve gotten a little carried away," he admitted, setting the bags down with a soft grunt, clearly relieved to unload the weight.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his predicament. "What do you mean by ‘a little carried away’?"

"Well," he began, glancing at the mountain of bags, clearly weighing how to explain the madness, "I started with something simple. I thought you’d love this sweater." He pulled out a cozy-looking grey sweater. "But then I worried it might be too plain. So, I bought a pair of boots to go with it."

You eyed the boots, noticing how perfectly they complemented the sweater. Before you could even comment, he dug deeper into one of the bags. "But then I thought, maybe the boots weren’t quite your style. So I grabbed these instead."

Out came a pair of sleek, stylish shoes that could match any outfit in your closet. You stared, dumbfounded, unsure of how to respond to this growing pile of gifts.

"And then," he continued, “I realized, do you even *like* grey? So I bought this." He pulled out a rich, red scarf that contrasted sharply with the muted tones of the sweater and boots. It was elegant, and you could already picture yourself wearing it on a chilly night out.

You blinked a few times, still trying to process the sheer volume of thought he had put into this. "Aaron, you didn’t have to—"

"Oh, wait," he interrupted again, his hands diving back into the bags with renewed determination. "Then I thought you might want something more personalized, so I got you this." He pulled out a beautiful, intricately carved wooden jewelry box. "But then I worried, do you even wear enough jewelry to need a box? So I got you these."

He reached for yet another bag, pulling out two delicate bracelets that shimmered as they caught the light.

You chuckled softly, thoroughly entertained by his internal struggle and sweet yet chaotic effort. "Aaron, I love you, but how many more things did you buy?"

He paused, his expression a mix of determination and uncertainty as if he was working his way through some kind of mental checklist. "Well, I kept thinking maybe you’d want some skincare products." With that, he pulled out an assortment of creams, lotions, and face masks, all neatly packaged and looking as though they belonged in a high-end boutique. "And then," he continued, as if he’d just remembered something crucial, "I got candles. Because, you know, everyone likes candles."

More bags appeared, each one seemingly holding yet another thoughtful item. A plush scarf, a novel you’d mentioned wanting to read, a bag of your favorite snacks from the store, and, as if on cue, the exact blanket you’d been eyeing the other day when you’d made a passing comment about how soft it felt.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, overwhelmed but incredibly touched. "Aaron… I think you’ve gone above and beyond."

Hotch gave you an exasperated yet endearing look, finally sitting down beside you, clearly relieved to have finished unboxing his extensive haul. He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowed in mild frustration, but with a fondness for you in his eyes. "I just wanted to get you something you’d really love," he admitted, "but I couldn’t decide what you’d like the most. So… I just kept going."

You kissed his cheek softly, your heart swelling with warmth. "Well, you definitely succeeded. It’s perfect."

He smiled, still a little unsure but clearly relieved. "I’m glad," he murmured, his voice softer now. "I was really worried you wouldn’t like something or it wouldn’t be… enough." His gaze flicked to the pile of presents that now took up most of the space between you both.

You gave him a playful side-eye, though your voice was filled with affection. "Aaron, it’s my birthday. I’m pretty sure I’m going to love everything… even if it takes me a week to unpack it all."

He chuckled, his tension finally easing as he leaned in closer, resting his head against yours. "As long as you’re happy."

You snuggled against him, surrounded by shopping bags and the overwhelming feeling of being loved. Hotch’s gift-giving might have been a little over the top, but you couldn’t deny that the thought, the care, and the genuine desire to make your birthday special had come through in every item.

You felt the warmth of his affection settle around you like the softest blanket, and for the first time in a long while, you simply *relished* in the moment. This wasn’t about the presents or the excessive effort; it was about his commitment to making sure you felt appreciated, to ensuring you were happy, no matter how many bags it took to do that.

The pile of gifts scattered around you was just a symbol of how much Aaron cared, a reminder that love wasn’t always about grand gestures, but sometimes, about going overboard to show someone they meant the world to you. And right now, you couldn’t think of a better way to spend your birthday than in his arms, feeling more loved than you’d ever felt before.

You leaned back into him, content and at peace, knowing that no matter how many presents you opened, the best gift was always going to be him.

[rawjutsu]

ik ur busy with snow leopard gojo so get to this whenever you have the chance but hear me out... giving inumaki head while he games

luv ur work <3

a/n: tysm anon!! hope this is good for u <3

pairing: inumaki x gn reader

cw: slight voyeurism/exhibitionism (others overhear) , dom-ish reader

toge’s been gaming for the past hour. headset on, sprawled across the floor with his back against the bed frame, legs wide, controller in hand, and eyes trained hard on the TV. he’s playing some chaotic co-op shooter with yuuji and panda, tossing out his usual assortment of rice ball ingredients in increasingly frantic tones.

you’re lying on your stomach across the bed behind him, just watching. not the game—him. the way his knuckles go white when things get intense, the little noises he makes under his breath when he’s concentrating. the way his sweatpants hang just low enough to tease you.

it starts harmless.

you shift closer. drape yourself over the edge of the bed and run your fingers gently through his hair, down the back of his neck, nails skimming skin. he shivers, glancing up at you with a half-smile and a little warning hum—“salmon.”

you grin back. “just saying hi.”

but you are not just saying hi.

you wait a few minutes, let him drop his guard again. then you slide down onto the floor behind him, nuzzle into the curve of his shoulder, hands creeping down his chest. he doesn’t stop you—his only protest is a soft “tuna…” like he’s trying to be good.

but you’re already dragging your hand lower, palm warm against his abs, fingers ghosting toward the waistband of his sweats. you kiss under his jaw, slow and sweet, and then breathe out, “you can keep playing. i won’t be a problem.”

that is a blatant lie and you both know it.

still, he hesitates—like maybe he can power through. win the match and survive whatever you’re about to do.

poor boy.

you slip his sweats down enough to free him, watching his cock twitch against his stomach, already halfway hard just from the anticipation. your hand wraps around him lazily, thumb brushing his tip, and the choked little noise he lets out? heaven.

he bites his lip hard. “tarako.” like it’s the last word he’ll ever say.

you take your time. kiss down his stomach, soft and teasing, mouth hovering right where he wants you. you don’t even start sucking him off right away—you just let your lips brush over the head, barely-there pressure, just to watch him squirm.

and oh, he squirms.

“focus on your game,” you murmur, batting your lashes at him.

he glares at you, flustered as hell, and huffs, “mentaiko.” it’s meant to sound threatening. it doesn’t.

you smile and finally take him into your mouth, slow and warm and a little messy on purpose. his thighs jump. the controller rattles in his grip. he says “konbu—!” way too loud and yuuji’s immediately like “bro???”

he tries to respond, but all that comes out is a strangled “mmm… mentaiko—”

panda’s laughing in the background. “yo what’s going on over there—”

you hollow your cheeks a little, swirl your tongue, and his hips buck up involuntarily. his head falls back against the bed frame, bangs falling into his eyes, jaw slack. he’s making the softest, neediest sounds—and doing a horrible job at muting them.

“focus,” you whisper, letting him slip out of your mouth with a lewd pop. “you’re losing the match.”

“mm-mm.” his voice is tight, high in his throat. one hand’s on the controller, the other’s buried in your hair, tugging just enough to make you hum around him when you take him back in.

and thats what breaks him.

he moans. loudly. into the mic. there’s a split-second pause on the other end.

“...was that—?”

“inumaki?!”

“i knew it!!”

you giggle and press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, sucking harder just to really make a mess of him. he’s so close, you can feel it—his abs flexing, thighs trembling, his voice breaking with each barely-suppressed grunt.

“tuna… mayo—” he gasps, trying to warn you.

you don’t stop. you want him to cum. want to feel him fall apart in your mouth, want to watch him melt into the carpet, boneless and wrecked.

and he does—with a soft, broken noise and a stutter of his hips, his cock twitching on your tongue as he spills down your throat.

he goes still. breathless. wide-eyed.

you lick your lips like the menace you are and sit back, all smug and satisfied. “oops.”

the headset crackles.

“bro.” yuuji sounds scandalized. “did you just nut with the mic on?”

“DISGUSTING,” maki yells immediately.

panda’s wheezing. “he totally did.”

toge scrambles for the controller like it personally betrayed him and slams the mute button with more rage than you've ever seen from him.

he won’t meet your eyes.

you’re already laughing, cuddling into his side as he drops the controller and covers his face with one hand.

“...salmon,” he mumbles, which might mean “you’re evil” or “i’m never living this down,” or “thanks,” depending on the tone.

you kiss his shoulder. “you’re welcome.”

[the-flaneur]

love you fairy much (lh44)

pairing: dark fairy hunter!lewis hamilton x fairy!reader

summary: what does lewis love more than the chase for treasured fairy wings...

warnings: strangers to lovers and 18+, MDNI, NSFW -> smut ft. rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), possessive!lewis, breeding kink, innocence kink, reader doesn't know anything about sex, corruption kink

wc: 5077

[masterlist] [requests]

you flitted through the sun-dappled forest on iridescent wings, your gossamer gown fluttering and shimmering with each graceful movement. as a curious fairy, you delighted in teasing the humans who dared to venture into your woodland realm. most were kind travellers, eager to learn more about the fairy realm, whilst others were strange merchants, looking to sell you bubbling potions and wicked spells - most of which you simply casted back their way, leaving them with spikes in their eyes or tendrils of vines wrapped tightly around their throats. just all fun things :)

today, you had donned an especially adorable outfit - a scrap of sheer fabric barely concealing your breasts and hugging your curves. the other fairies favoured similar styles, so you happily followed suit, wanting to blend in with your peers. with a tinkling laugh, you darted between the ancient trees, leaving shimmering trails of pixie dust in your wake.

your destination for the day was a secluded glade renowned for its vibrant wildflowers. legend whispered that these blossoms held mystical properties, granting the gatherer immense beauty and allure. with an air of mischief, you intended to collect an assortment of the rarest hues to adorn your fairy home and perhaps entice a handsome suitor or two. as you happened upon a gnarled root, you paused to admire the ethereal beauty surrounding you - lush ferns unfurled like emerald fans, while dainty wild orchids bloomed in pastel shades.

suddenly, the sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs echoed through the glade. your heart raced with trepidation as you sensed a powerful presence drawing near. as the sounds grow louder, you hide behind a wide oak tree, peeking out curiously. into view strode a tall, muscular man; he moved with the grace of a predator, his movements fluid and purposeful. 

his muscular frame was clad in tight leather armour that accentuated every sculpted curve. in his hand, he gripped a wicked-looking silver dagger, its blade glinting menacingly in the dappled light. his upper face was shielded by a skull mask and when he turned to look in your direction, you gasped silently at the dark brown pits of his eyes. the stranger paused in the centre of the glade, surveying his surroundings with a keen gaze. his eyes fell upon the vibrant wildflowers and he smiled, a flash of white teeth against his dark skin. he knelt down to examine a particularly beautiful blossom, his large hand gently cupping the delicate petals.

you watched as he tugged some flowers from the ground, before bundling them up into a bouquet - a gorgeous artistic masterpiece, if you said so yourself. you poked your head out more, wanting to take a closer look at the flowers he had gathered, but as you leaned forward, your wings brushed against the oak leaves above you. 

the man’s head snapped up, those intense brown eyes scanning the area until they locked onto your hiding spot. the man's deep voice rang out, echoing through the glade. "i know you're there, little one. come out and show yourself."

your heart skipped a beat as you realised the situation you were now in; lewis hamilton, the infamous fairy hunter, stood before you. his reputation most definitely preceded him - tales spoke of his unparalleled hunting skills and the countless fairy lives he'd claimed. and now here he was, mere feet away, those piercing brown eyes boring into you.

"well, well," he drawled, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "aren't you a pretty little thing? i've been searching for quite some time to find a specimen as... delectable as yourself." he took a step closer, his boots crunching against the forest floor, his hand spinning the dagger mockingly, while the other reached out towards you invitingly. 

your wings began to flutter rapidly as you decided to put some distance between yourself and the approaching hunter. with a burst of speed, you darted through the air, weaving between the trees in a dizzying dance. behind you, the sound of pursuit began - heavy footfalls crushing undergrowth, laboured breathing, the occasional curse muttered under lewis’ breath as he gave chase.

your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins. part of you knew you should keep flying until you reached the safety of the deepest parts of the forest or your home, but another part, a traitorously dark voice in the back of your mind, whispered that getting caught might not be so bad. especially if it meant ending up in the arms of such a man.

just as you rounded a tree in the forest, a strong arm suddenly snaked out and wrapped around your waist, yanking you off course. you let out a startled yelp as you found yourself pressed against a solid wall of muscle, lewis’ body pinning you to a broad tree trunk. his free hand came up to wrap firmly around your throat, tilting your chin up to force you to meet his intense gaze.

"gotcha," he growled, a triumphant smirk playing across his lips. "i've been chasing you little minx for a while now. did you really think you could outfly me?" his thumb brushed along your neck as he leaned in closer, his warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. "now, what shall i do with my pretty little prize?"

“please don't eat me, i know you disgusting humans do that,” you whined, trying to wriggle out of his hold against the tree, but your wings were being scratched up, so you stopped. lewis threw his head back and laughed, a rich, deep sound that sent shivers down your spine. "eat you? oh no, sweet thing. i have much more...appetising plans for a delectable morsel like you." his grip on your throat tightened slightly as his other hand slid down to grab a handful of your plush rear, squeezing the supple flesh possessively.

“owww!” you yelped, trying to crane your neck to see what he was doing, “wait what? you won't eat me...can i go then?”

lewis’ eyes gleamed with mischief and barely restrained hunger as he drank in the sight of your trembling form pinned beneath him. "go? oh, i don't think so, my little fairy. now that i have you right where i want you..." his tongue flicked out to trace the delicate shell of your ear before he nipped at the lobe, sending jolts of sensation straight to your core. "i'm going to take my time exploring every inch of this exquisite body."

with his hand tracing down your collarbone, he ripped open the front of your gossamer gown, exposing your pert breasts to the cool forest air. the other released your rear to slide up your side, calloused fingers skimming over the swell of your breast through the thin fabric of your gown. he cupped the soft mound, thumbing the pebbled peak of your nipple until it strained against the gauzy material. "mmmm, so responsive. i bet you're aching for my touch, aren't you?"

blushing wildly, you watched with awe as lewis cupped your breasts, rubbing them together, “nobody had ever touched me...what does that mean? do humans like to touch other humans?”

lewis's grin turned predatory as he drank in the sight of your trembling form, so innocent yet ripe for corruption. his corruption. "oh, my sweet little lamb," he purred, voice dripping with dark promise. his large, work-roughened hands began their sinister exploration, calloused palms dragging along the silken expanse of your thighs. they crept higher and higher, pushing the fabric of your gown up inch by tantalizing inch until cool air kissed the heated skin of your most intimate areas.

"you have no idea what delights await you, do you?" lewis growled, hot breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. one hand slid between your legs, cupping your mound possessively while the other wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse jump.

he captured your lips in a searing kiss, plundering your mouth with his tongue as he backed you further against the tree. his knee nudged insistently between your legs, applying delicious pressure to your most sensitive areas. breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips down the column of your throat, sucking and nibbling at the delicate flesh. "i'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he growled against your skin.

"what are you doing to me?" you whimpered breathlessly, slender fingers tangling in lewis' dark hair. despite your words of protest, you found yourself unconsciously grinding your hips against his, craving more of the friction he was giving you.

lewis' fingers delved deeper down your body, stroking along your slick folds with maddeningly light touches. he circled your clit with the pad of his thumb, the bundle of nerves throbbing under his ministrations. "that's it, sweetheart. don't fight it. let the pleasure consume you." 

leaning down, he drew one rosy peak into his hot mouth, suckling greedily as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. his fingers never ceased their relentless assault on your aching sex, pumping two digits knuckle-deep into your tight channel while his thumb continued its merciless circling of your clit.

his mouth left a trail of open-mouthed kisses and love bites across your collarbone and down to your other breast, giving it equal attention. all the while, his thumb maintained its torturous pace on your clit, alternating between firm circles and quick flicks. the obscene sounds of your arousal filled the air - the slick glide of his fingers in your soaked folds, your breathy moans and whimpers of overwhelmed bliss.

you trembled and writhed against the tree, your untouched body overwhelmed by the intense sensations. your hips buck erratically, trying to take lewis' invading fingers deeper. "ah! ah! l-lewisss...too much...i c-can't..."

but even as you protest, your inner walls flutter and clench around the digits stretching you open, drawing them in further. the coil of tension winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. tears of overwhelming pleasure prick as you look up at lewis, completely lost to the ecstasy he's inflicting upon your body.

lewis drinks in the debauched sight of you - flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, full lips parted in silent cries of rapture. your response inflamed his desire to new heights. "shh, that's it baby. let go. i've got you," he crooned, voice rough with barely restrained lust. he redoubled his efforts, fingers pumping faster, harder, curling just right to hit that magic spot inside you with every thrust. his thumb pressed down hard on your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen nub.

sensing you were teetering on the edge, lewis sealed his lips over yours in a filthy kiss, swallowing your keening cries as he pushed you over the edge. his tongue plundered your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his fingers fucking your spasming cunt.

lewis held you close as the waves of your first orgasm crashed over you, your untouched body convulsing in ecstasy. he gentled his touch, letting you ride out each aftershock, fingers still buried deep inside your fluttering sheath. as the last tremors faded, he slowly withdrew, bringing his glistening digits to his mouth to lick them clean with a low moan of appreciation.

"exquisite," he rumbled, dark eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction and renewed hunger. "the taste of your innocence is ambrosial." in one swift motion, he hoisted you up again, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he pinned you more firmly against the tree.

mumbling, you ask lewis about the pressure out your core, leaving you to dig your hands into his shoulders. lewis chuckled lowly, grinding his hips against yours in a slow, deliberate roll. the rigid heat of his cock nestled perfectly against your sensitive folds, stoking the embers of your spent arousal back to life. "this, my sweet fairy, is what happens when a man wants a woman as badly as i want you." he punctuated his words with another purposeful thrust against your folds, letting you feel every thick inch of him.

large hands slid down to cup your ass, kneading the supple flesh as he supported your weight effortlessly. leaning in, he nipped at your earlobe before whispering hotly, "it's called an erection, darling. when a man is so aroused, his cock fills with blood and stiffens, ready to claim his lover."

“claim?” you mumble surprised, your eyes wandering to the thick muscle jutting out from his hips. the thick, veiny member stood proudly erect, pulsating with an insatiable hunger. the bulbous head was a deep, rich purple, oozing with precum that glistened in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.

the sight of lewis's imposing member took your breath away, its sheer size both intimidating and exhilarating. you could feel the heat radiating from his flesh, the musky scent of his arousal filling your nostrils and making your head spin with wanton desire.

lewis' eyes flashed with primal hunger at your innocent question. "yes, little one. to claim you, to make you mine in the most intimate way possible." he rolled his hips again, letting you feel the heavy throb of his desire. 

"i'm going to fill this tight little pussy with my cock," he growled against your racing pulse. "stretch you wide and deep until you're screaming my name. pump you full of my seed until it takes root in your womb." his free hand delved between your bodies to rub the broad head of his shaft through your slick folds, coating himself in your essence.

you shivered and gasped as lewis marked your tender skin, leaving a trail of reddening hickeys. thighs quivering around his waist - holding on very tightly you were - as jolts of electricity seem to shoot straight to your core from his teasing touches. "i-i don't understand..." you whimpered confusedly, even as you arched into his possessive hold. "what do you mean, 'until it takes root'?"

despite your innocence, lewis’ words ignites something deep within you, a yearning you don’t fully comprehend but desperately crave. your hips writhe instinctively, trying to draw him closer, to ease the ache building once more in your neglected sex. lewis groaned as your hips rolled against his, the friction delicious torture. he could feel your confusion warring with awakening need, your body responding to instincts older than time itself. "shh, don't think, just feel," he coaxed, voice a dark rumble. "when i say it will take root, i mean i'm going to fill this sweet cunt with so much cum, it might quicken in your belly."

he notched the broad crown of his cock against your entrance, letting you feel how he would split you open on his thick length. "breed you, make you swell with my child. claim you so thoroughly, everyone will know who you belong to." with a flex of his hips, he breached you shallowly, just the tip sinking into your scorching heat.

your high-pitched keen echoed through the forest as lewis' thick tip stretched your virgin entrance. muscles fluttered and clenched around the intrusion, trying to draw him deeper despite the initial burn of the stretch. tears of overwhelmed sensation pricked at the corners of your eyes but were quickly replaced by hazy bliss as you adjusted to the foreign feeling of fullness.

"fuck, so tight," lewis grunted, jaw clenched with the effort of holding back. he savored the exquisite squeeze of your silken walls for a long moment before slowly withdrawing until just the tip remained inside, then pushing forward again with a bit more force. each shallow thrust worked him deeper, your copious arousal easing the way as he claimed your innocence inch by excruciating inch.

he set a steady rhythm, working his thick shaft deeper into your clutching heat with each roll of his hips. the wet squelch of your sex filled the air, punctuated by your breathy moans and his guttural groans. he angled his thrusts to hit that spot inside you with every pass, determined to wring every drop of pleasure from your responsive body.

one large hand slid under your thigh to hitch your leg higher on his hip, opening you wider for his possession. the new angle allowed him to sink impossibly deeper, the coarse hairs at the base of his cock tickling your sensitive folds. "that's it, take it all like a good fairy," he praised huskily, sweat beading on his brow from the strain of holding back his release.

lewis' gaze flicked to your wings, now fluttering wildly with the intensity of your shared passion. the delicate membranes seemed to pulse in time with your racing heartbeat, a visible manifestation of your growing pleasure. "your wings are so responsive, little fairy," he murmured appreciatively, reaching out to trace a finger along the leading edge. "they quiver like the rest of you, just desperate for more."

emboldened by your reaction, he captured one wing in his large hand, stroking and caressing the sensitive material. his touch sent sparks of electricity dancing across your nerves, adding a new dimension to the overwhelming sensations consuming you. at the same time, he increased the pace of his thrusts, driving into you with deep, powerful strokes that had your back arching off the tree trunk.

lewis groaned deeply, feeling you grip him like a vice as he drove his cock deeper into your willing body. your desperate pleas for more only spurred him on, his hips snapping forward with increased ferocity. "yes, take it all, little fairy," he rasped, one hand reaching up to roughly palm your bouncing breast. he pinched and rolled your nipple between his fingers, the added stimulation causing you to keen loudly.

lewis leaned in, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss as he continued to pound into you, his thick shaft stroking your cervix with each powerful thrust. lewis growled into the kiss, the taste of your submission fueling his desire. his tongue plundered your mouth, dominating and claiming every inch. the wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the forest as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

"yes, scream for me, you filthy girl," he grunted, angling his hips to hit that special spot inside you with every deep stroke. his hand on your breast pinched harder, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to your core. "this greedy cunt was made for my cock, wasn't it? made to be stretched and used for my pleasure." lewis broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, biting and sucking dark marks into your skin. he wanted everyone to see, to know that you belonged to him now - his personal fairy to ruin as he saw fit.

lost in a haze of lust, you could only moan brokenly as lewis took you with animalistic fervour. each powerful thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy through your trembling body, stoking the inferno building in your core.

"yes, yes, yes! don't stop!" you wailed, fingernails raking down his back hard enough to leave red welts. your hips bucked wildly to meet his, taking him impossibly deeper. the coil of tension wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

"i'm... i'm going to..." you panted desperately, inner muscles starting to convulse around his pistoning shaft. tears of overwhelming sensation leaked from the corners of your eyes as you teetered on the knife's edge of release, "please, lewis! use me, ruin me, i'm yours!"

"come for me, now!" lewis barked, his voice a dark, commanding growl. he punctuated his demand with a particularly brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside your spasming heat. his fingers dug into the meat of your hips hard enough to bruise as he held you in place, using your body like his personal cock sleeve. lewis' own release approached rapidly, balls drawing up tight as your velvety walls rippled along his length.

"that's it, milk my cock like the desperate cumslut you are!" he snarled through gritted teeth, hips snapping erratically as he chased his high. "scream my name as i fill this needy cunt with my seed!"

"lewis!" you screamed, back arching sharply as your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. your vision whited out, every nerve ending igniting with mind-numbing pleasure. your pussy clamped down hard on his pistoning cock, rhythmically squeezing and massaging his shaft as if trying to wring out every last drop of his cum.

lewis let out a feral roar as your pussy vise-gripped his cock, the rhythmic squeezing and gushing flood triggering his own explosive climax. with a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside your spasming channel. his heavy balls drew up tight and then pulsed as he began to paint your insides white with his seed.

"fuck yes! take it all you perfect little fairy slut!" he bellowed, hips jerking erratically as spurt after spurt of hot, virile cum pumped directly into your unprotected womb. the sheer volume was staggering - it seemed like he would never stop coming, filling you to overflowing with his potent essence. 

even as the last weak spurts dribbled out, lewis kept you pinned, ensuring not a single drop escaped your stuffed hole.

as the final tremors of your shared climax faded, lewis slumped against you, pinning you to the tree with his larger frame. both of you were panting heavily, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. a fine sheen of sweat coated your skin, making it glisten in the dappled forest light.

slowly, almost reluctantly, he pulled out of your abused hole with a wet squelch. a river of pearly white semen immediately began to leak out, dripping obscenely down your thighs. he watched in satisfaction as your gaping, twitching cunt tried valiantly to close around nothing, still fluttering like your wings, weakly from the aftershocks.

"there we go," he rumbled, voice rough with spent passion. "marked you inside and out now. everyone will smell my claim on you."

boneless and sated, your legs wobbled precariously as you slumped against the rough bark of the tree trunk, barely able to hold yourself upright. every movement sent pleasant aftershocks zinging through your nerve endings, a delicious ache settling deep in your core - a physical reminder of the thorough claiming you had just endured.

your chest heaved with ragged breaths, sweat-dampened skin glistening in the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. your wings hung limply at your sides, the delicate membranes twitching occasionally.

lewis's words finally penetrated the haze of post-coital bliss, causing a pretty flush to bloom across your cheeks. you ducked your head shyly, suddenly acutely aware of your nakedness and vulnerability. the way he said 'claim', so possessively and definitively, sent a shiver down your spine.

"i... i mean, we can't just..." you started to protest weakly, but your voice trailed off uncertainly. 

lewis chuckled lowly, a deep, rumbling sound of masculine satisfaction. his eyes glittered with amusement and undisguised desire as he drank in the sight of you - flushed, dishevelled, and marked with the evidence of your coupling. finding your sudden coyness utterly endearing after the shameless way you'd begged for his cock mere moments before, he reached out to gently but firmly tilt your chin up with the tip of his finger.

"oh but we can, little fairy," he purred, his voice a low, seductive rasp dripping with smug male pride. "and we did. your sweet, needy little cunt is absolutely drenched in my seed right now. there's no use denying the truth - your body knows who it belongs to." tracing his fingers through the mess leaking from your slit, he gathered a generous amount of your combined cum, bringing the slick digits to your face, pressing them against your closed lips. a breathy whimper escaped you, the intimate taste of your combined juices sending a shockwave of renewed desire straight to your core. your tongue darted out instinctively, lapping at the offered digits with kittenish licks. the heady, musky flavour burst across your taste buds - an erotic cocktail of your most intimate essences mingling together.

"mmmm, that's it baby girl," lewis groaned appreciatively, his half-lidded eyes dark with lust as he watched you, "taste how perfectly we are together. how your greedy little holes were made to milk my cock."

he pushed his fingers deeper past your lips, coating your tongue thoroughly before withdrawing with a wet pop. a string of saliva connected his fingertips to your bottom lip briefly before breaking.

you hums around his fingers, eyes fluttering shut, savouring the taste. when you open them again, they're hazy with rekindling desire, pupils blown wide and dark with need. slowly, almost hypnotically, you begin to suckle his fingers clean, hollowing cheeks and swirling your tongue around each digit. lewis groans, eyes darkening once again as he watches you clean his fingers. the sight of your pink little tongue lapping at his digits, coupled with the lewd sounds you make, has his spent cock already starting to stir with interest once more.

"that's it, good girl," he praises huskily, pressing his fingers deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. "such an eager little thing, aren't you? already ready for more." his other hand slides down to palm your ass possessively, kneading the soft globe and pulling you flush against him. you can feel the growing bulge of his reawakening erection nudging insistently against your belly.

“i think this greedy body of yours needs another thorough claiming,” lewis rumbles, voice thick with renewed desire.

“wait...do i need to tell the fairy elders about this?” you gasp, placing a hand against his thick biceps.

lewis paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his handsome features at your question before it was quickly replaced by a wicked, devilish grin. he leaned in close, his lips brushing maddeningly against the delicate shell of your ear as he spoke in a low, conspiratorial murmur.

"tell the elders? oh darling, where would be the fun in that?" he purred, his hot breath fanning across your sensitive skin and eliciting a full-body shudder from you. "no, i think what transpired between us here should remain our own special secret, don't you agree?"

as if to punctuate his words, lewis’ large hand slid from the plush curve of your ass, tangling his fingers in the strands of your hair.

lewis’ lips curved into a wicked smirk against your skin as he continued his sensual assault, punctuating each word with a nip or kiss. "besides," he purred, voice muffled and low, "i have a feeling you rather enjoyed our little rendezvous. the way you mewled so sweetly, begged so prettily to be stuffed full..."

his wandering hand drifted higher, fingertips ghosting feather-light over the swell of your breast, teasing the sensitive skin. lewis pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes blazing with mischief and barely contained hunger. they raked over your face hungrily, taking in every detail of your debauched expression.

"i bet a naughty part of you wants to keep this our deliciously dirty secret too," he rumbled, voice dropping to a seductive growl.

“to sneak away and let me ravish you whenever the urge strikes us both,”

“yes lewis...when can i see you again then?” you gasp, grinding against this thigh once more

lewis groaned deeply, a guttural sound of pure masculine need, as you breathed his name like a prayer. your obvious desperation only stoked the flames of his own raging desire. he bucked his hips forward, grinding the thick, rigid line of his erection against your quivering stomach. even through the thin barrier of his trousers, you could feel the scorching heat of him, the impressive girth straining against the confines of the fabric.

"soon, my insatiable little minx," he promised darkly, his voice a low, rough rasp edged with barely restrained hunger. "very, very soon." lewis’ grip on your hair tightened possessively as he held your gaze with smouldering intensity. "meet me at the western border of the woods tomorrow night."

lewis captured your lips in a searing, dominating kiss, his tongue plunging deep to claim every inch of your mouth. he poured all his ravenous hunger and dark promises into the passionate embrace, kissing you until your knees went weak and your head spun with dizzying desire. when he finally released you, you were left panting and aching, your lips swollen and tingling from the intensity of his kiss.

"until then," lewis murmured huskily against your kiss-bruised lips, giving your plump bottom lip a sharp, teasing nip. his eyes glinted with mischief and wicked intent. "try not to slip your hand between your thighs too many times while imagining it's me touching you. i know how badly this needy little body craves my attention."

you tilt your head, batting your lashes up at him with wide-eyed innocence even as a faint blush colours your cheeks, “touching myself? what's that, lewis?” your voice coming out breathy and uncertain, belying the molten heat pooling low in your belly at lewis’ heated words and bold touches.

he chuckles darkly at your innocence, shaking his head in amused disbelief. he leans in close, voice lowering to a sinful whisper, “oh you sweet, naive little thing. touching yourself means playing with this pretty pink pussy,” he purrs, cupping your mound possessively, “...and rubbing these soft petals until you're writhing and moaning, begging for release,”

lewis grinds the heel of his palm against your clothed sex, applying delicious pressure, “i know you'll be tempted to do just that, imagining it's my hands on you instead. my fingers filling you, stretching you…”

but he dips his head to nip at your earlobe, tugging it gently with his teeth, “but you'd better not, understand? this greedy cunt belongs to me now,”

you nod eagerly, watching as lewis’ pupils blow out once against with darkened lust. he smirks at your breathy agreement, pleased by your submission. he rewards you with a firm grind of his palm against your core, relishing the needy whimper it elicits.

“until tomorrow night then, my insatiable little fairy,” he growls, voice dripping with dark promise, “dream of me...and try to behave until i can get my hands on you again,”

lewis turns to leave, pausing to look back over his shoulder with a roguish wink, “don't keep me waiting too long, sweetheart. you know how impatient i get...and how thoroughly i punish naughty girls who make me wait,”

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© the-flanuer || do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platform.

[woncon]

hi i read your stories and you're awesome!! can i please request a san and wooyoung scenario where they're making coffee for you in the morning?

Hi dear Anon! 🥰

Thank you for the kind words & the request. I'd a fun time writing it. I hope you'll like it too! 💗💗

➳ a cup of care

➶ poly!woosan x gn!reader ｡˚ °

-ˏ` ✎﹏ San forgot to take the coffee machine to the mechanic. But instead of admitting it, he wants to become a home barista, making coffee for you every morning until he can actually take the machine to the repairman.

When Wooyoung finds out what he's up to, he won't tell you. He decides to help to keep San's secret and make nice coffee so you won't tell the difference.

Keeping it from you may seem easy.

It's not.

➴ genre: fluff, light angst, estabilished relationship, polyamory

: ̗̀➛ warnings: half-naked san, who is also a baby

⌨ :: 2.3K words ♡ ︵ . .

⁀➷ kisses and hugs for @honeytwo!!

➳ ateez masterlist | main masterlist

At 5:30 on a Monday morning, Wooyoung strode out into the kitchen. He was looking for San to drag him back to bed. You both slept easier and deeper when the boy was there. You clung to him eagerly, and he usually couldn't even slip away without you being alarmed that he was gently shaking you off him.

Wooyoung expected San to come for a glass of water. That was not the case. The broad-shouldered boy in his pyjamas leaned against the kitchen counter and watched a video in contemplation. At his fingertips were a colander, a bag of what looked like cat food, mugs and the kitchen scale.

Wooyoung curiously ventured closer. The parquet floor creaked under his socked feet.

San turned around like the hyperventilating protagonist of a horror film.

“Hi!” He paused the video so quickly that his phone fell on its face.

“Hi…” Wooyoung took a closer look at the prepared equipment. He picked up the filter and poked the bag. There was something hard inside. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of workout stuff? Or poison?”

“Poison?” San laughed awkwardly and shook his head as if he'd been caught.

“Are you... okay?”

“Of course. I just, uh, wanted to surprise you. Could you go back to bed and keep it a surprise?” San patted Wooyoung's waist. “I promise I'll be ready quickly.”

Wooyoung took pity on him. It was like San to wake up at sunrise to surprise the two people he loved the most. He didn't want to bother him any longer. He pressed a consenting kiss to San's cheek and would have turned back to try to fall back asleep in your embrance, but noticed the pattern at the bottom of the bag.

It was minimalist and almost blended into the caramel colour of the bag, but it was there nonetheless. Three coffee beans. It wasn't cat food, then.

Wooyoung blinked. He walked around San then held the bag in front of his face, and the heavy scent emanating from it immediately hit him in the nose. He pointed incredulously at San, whose neck was flushed.

“You forgot!” he said in disbelief.

“I have not!”

The other walked over to the coffee machine, plugged it in and tried to turn it on. It did the same thing it had been doing for the last few days: all the buttons flickered red and the machine whined, as if it would die at any moment and couldn't make the slightest coffee.

“Oh, but you forgot.” Wooyoung patted the poor steam and turned off the power. “Y/n specifically asked you to do that, remember? They even made your breakfast so you'd write down in your diary the appointment they'd booked with the plumber. And you forgot.”

San pouted in surrender. “Why are you mocking me now?”

“I'm just having a little fun.” Wooyoung grinned. “I'm usually the bad boyfriend here.”

“You're not a bad boyfriend.”

“But I forget more often than you, pearl of men.” Wooyoung looked through the assorted tools again. “So?”

“So what?”

“How can I help you?”

“You want to help?” San was surprised. “I thought you were going to tell our baby.”

“‘Course not. I don't want them to be sad. I'll help make sure they get their coffee and don't notice the difference until the machine is fixed.”

“See, Woo?” San's all brightened up. He stroked Wooyoung's face. “You're not a bad boyfriend.”

“Still, I'll help you cover up your forgetfulness.”

“Because you're my great boyfriend.” San pulled him close and showered him with kisses.

Wooyoung carefully pushed him away. It wouldn't have ended well if the coffee project hadn't progressed, because they were kissing and slowly forgetting about everything but each other.

“So where do we start?”

San set up his phone, tilted it at the microwave again, and they both dug into the information presented to them on how to make quality, home-brewed coffee.

****

Only five days. That's how long they had to wait before San could actually take the coffee machine to the mechanic. The earliest the man could meet San was Saturday afternoon. In the meantime, the two boys not only had to make homemade coffee by grinding and filtering, but also to make the coffee taste very similar to the one the machine made. Wooyoung took on the role of the pre-taster.

You liked the coffee on Monday. Although you noted that the program seemed to be quieter this time, you didn't find the taste strange. San laughed and wiped a spot of coffee off the edge of your mouth.

"I think you just slept too deeply. In the kitchen it was as loud and lively as ever. The mechanic did a good job."

As you took your next sip, he glanced warily at Woooyung.

The next day, Wooyoung played coffee machine sounds from his phone while San ground coffee beans. You drank again, this time making no comment on the missing mechanical sounds.

On the third day, Wednesday, you resented that neither of them were with you anymore. You got up early and called them.

“Shit! They're coming!” San tried to cover up his intimate parts like a caught-in-act lover: the filter, the cups, and of course the bag of coffee beans he hid in various places around the apartment as if they were a dangerous piece of his tainted past - even though he had no tainted past.

“Go, distract them!” Wooyoung took up the grind that day. He didn't want to stop, especially since his skin had soaked up the smell of coffee beans that his sense of smell was completely dulled. Of course, you would have smelled it. 

Wooyoung didn't want questions about why he smelled thick and heavy like fresh coffee beans.

"Okay," San nodded. “Okay.”

Then he took off his pyjama top. Wooyoung's eyes widened. He didn't mean it that way, he would have added, but San and his refreshing body were gone.

“Do you want to take a shower with me?” his question filtered out from the living room. “I'd be happy to wash your back.”

Of course, you couldn't say no to that.

San had handled the emergency well enough, Wooyoung admitted. He had meanwhile finished his fresh coffee peacefully and even toyed with the idea of opening a coffee shop for a moment. He served it with a wide smile, and bathed contentedly in the showery scent of your neck and the melody of your appreciative humming, as if you knew he made it for you, not the coffee machine.

Everything went smoothly on Thursday, they even finished faster than before. They were really practiced and coordinated. They had time to lie back down next to you and gently caress you into wakefulness.

Wooyoung enjoyed the week, and even if the thought of failing at some point occurred to him, he dismissed the idea. They were a good team, and so far they'd done a great job, making delicious coffees and putting big smiles on your face with their hot brews. If you'd mentioned the coffee smell, he'd have bought a coffee shower gel to explain it. He and San ran through many scenarios to prepare for possible danger. Two more days was not the end of the world.

Although, you seemed to want to bring the world to an end. You also wanted to have a cup of coffee on Friday afternoon.

“Since the coffee machine got fixed, the coffee tastes better. And I'm busy, I need to recharge,” you said.

Your boyfriends couldn't let you touch the machine. The minute you turn it on, they're busted, even though they've been so good at hiding San's screw-up. They had another quick look.

“How about we go to that coffee shop you always daydreams about?” Wooyoung suggested.

“Really?” You froze, a faint frown of thought appearing on your face. “But it's an expensive place.”

"We want to make you happy," San nodded. “It's worth every penny.”

And of course they would have gone to great lengths to make sure you didn't even look at the coffee machine for a few more days.

“Well, okay," you smiled in agreement.

Friday's panic situation had been well averted. Wooyoung now really thought they were on the straight and narrow, only one brewed coffee away from success. 

Well, Wooyoung hadn't factored San's Saturday morning breakdown into his immediate future.

As usual, they divided the duties. San ground the coffee beans, and Wooyoung set the Bluetooth speaker at just the right angle to make sure you could hear the coffee machine sounds playing and soothe you half asleep.

“Woo…”

Wooyoung looked up. It was rare to see San like that. He was a strong mountain, straight and taut. But now he was hunched over the counter, looking powerless. His eyes radiated uncertainty.

“I think I am the bad boyfriend.”

“What?” Wooyoung tried to process the information as quickly as possible. “You? You're literally boyfriend material. If you were single, everyone would be fighting for you. Even though you're ours, Y/n and I have to be careful not to let them take you away from us.” Wooyoung stroked the back of San’s hand. “You're not a bad friend, Sanie. You're absolutely not.”

“I've been lying to Y/n for almost a week.”

“Because you don't want them to drink powdered coffee. You take care of them. You ordered quality coffee from some classy guy.” Wooyoung took over the grinder from him. “And you can tell them the truth in the afternoon, if you want. I don't think they'll be angry, they'll probably just laugh at us.”

San still pouted ruefully, but he no longer hunched forward so tragically.

“Go and cuddle them. I'll finish this.”

“Can you?”

“Of course I can.” Wooyoung pulled the bag of coffee beans in front of him and smiled encouragingly at the other. “You know, thanks to you, I became a coffee master.”

Before Wooyoung could concentrate on making your morning coffee, San pulled him close and planted a long, sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.”

“It is the least I can do. Now go. And don't let our baby out of bed!”

****

“Careful, careful," Wooyoung murmured as he handed you the mug. “It's hot. Very hot. Like your skin... hmm… let me lie back a bit.”

Wooyoung stretched out beside you, satisfied, once the coffee was safely in the palm of your hand. He rested his head against your waist and was about to look for a blanket that would hopefully preserve some body heat, but instead he got San himself as a blanket. He didn't complain.

“Gosh, the kitchen stone is so cold,” he whimpered.

“Well,” one of your hands went into his hair and gently massaged his scalp. “Next time, put on another layer of socks. Or don't go out. I can make my own coffee.”

“I wanted to be nice to you so you wouldn't leave me for this sexy guy behind me.”

While you giggled, San hugged Wooyoung even tighter, and the boy was reminded of how strong San is. And how much he loves it when he has time to spend the morning with the two of you.

“Oh, that can't happen. What would we do without you?” You stroked his cheek and San hummed in agreement.

What's for sure, at this point Wooyoung didn't feel like a bad boyfriend. In fact, he was proud that he could be here, that you both loved him.

“And thanks for the whipped cream, too, Woo.”

“You're welcome. I made it with love. I would have also put cinnamon on it, but I couldn't find any.”

"You must not have seen it from the bag of coffee beans," you said.

San's body tensed around Wooyoung. Wooyoung himself twitched.

“What?”

“The coffee bean bag. The one you hid as if it were a drug. A few days ago, it just covered up the cinnamon.”

San let Wooyoung go and sat up. He just blinked and waited for you to say something else. You didn't. You drank your coffee peacefully, your face smeared with whipped cream without a spoon to use.

“Don't look at me like that. I wasn't complaining about not liking it. In fact, you made it delicious.”

“You knew?” San was stunned. “Why didn't you tell us?”

“Because the coffee is delicious,” you drank some more. “And you've been very enthusiastic all week. I think you guys had fun too. Or am I wrong?”

“When did you find out?” Wooyoung asked, pulling his knees to his chest.

You frowned thoughtfully.

“I think it was Wednesday. Sannie got a call from the 'coffee guy'. I thought it was about the mechanic, so I picked it up while Sannie was getting dressed. The guy asked if I was happy with the merchandise and if I wanted to order another package. When I asked if he was talking about capsules, he hung up. I may or may not offended him.”

San crawled closer to you on the mattress. He took your face in the palm of his hand and kissed the whipped cream off. “I’m sorry.”

“I'm not mad. After all, you showed me that my boyfriends could make better coffee than my machine.” You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. "However, I don't want you to spend every day sculpting in the kitchen to make me happy. I'd rather have you here with me and the coffee machine do my coffee.”

“That's what we want.” Wooyoung nodded, then leaned his head on your shoulder. He was very happy that you were not angry with them. Though he expected nothing less from your kind, loving heart. “And the coffee machine could be working tomorrow... If San didn't forget again.”

“Hey! This can't happen, I swear! I've been dreaming about this for two days. Even if I had amnesia, I couldn't forget it.”

“I believe you, big boy. I hope you haven't forgotten either that you promised me marathon hugs today.”

“Finish your coffee and you won't get away.” San nodded towards you, then looked at Wooyoung. He winked and smiled mischievously. “None of you will get away.”

For the record, Wooyung didn't intend to. It's well known that sometimes even the lovestruck coffee maker needs a break.

[rea-grimm]

Sleep protector Katakuri

It has always been your dream to own your own small bakery where you would bake fresh pastries, bread, doughnuts, cakes and anything else you could think of. Your family discouraged you, but you went ahead with it anyway. 

Eventually, you managed to buy a small bakery from an elderly lady. You were thrilled, but at the same time, because of your family's pressure, you began to suffer from nightmares. However, they were not only because of your family, but also because of the stress of never owning any such business. 

You dreamt about how much it was too much for you.—too much work, too many customers who were just giving you a hard time. The shop literally grew over your head, crumbling to pieces and shattering. Other times, it grew empty, with cobwebs covering everything. Similar dreams kept you awake at night. 

Other times, threatening letters made you dream of your family forcibly dragging you away, wrecking your business, or otherwise sabotaging you, just to get you back. 

You finally had everything ready to go and you could have your first premiere. You had all baked goods, and the pleasant aroma of freshly baked pastries wafted through the building. You had savoury pastries, sweet pastries, bread, and all sorts of things, and you could always add more. 

You were preparing a new batch of doughnuts when the doorbell rang and your first customer walked in. You lifted your head to greet an older lady with a long pointy nose, a scar across her face, and purple hair and matching lipstick you'd bought the shop from. 

"Hello, how are you," you smiled at the original owner. 

"Oh good. How am I supposed to be in retirement? I see you've spruced the place up nicely," she said, looking around. 

"I tried," you smiled. "Is there anything I can offer you? It's on me," you offered. The woman looked at the selection and chose a crème brûlée. You gave her an extra doughnut to go with it. Even though the owner looked like a witch, she seemed nice to you. 

"You're very sweet," she said and took the treats from you. "I'll eat it at home," she said, heading for the door before pausing. "Actually, I brought you something too," she said, returning to the counter. 

"You don't have to give me anything. You already sold me this store," you tried to rebuff her.

"Nothing of the sort. I want to give it to you," she shook her head and placed a teddy bear with burgundy and pink fur and a scarf around its snout on the counter. "Think of it as a good luck gift. A sort of talisman or protector if you will. I'm sure it will help you. Just don't ever take the scarf off, you'll upset him," she explained, and before you could protest, she left. 

You picked up the teddy bear and decided to keep it as a sort of mascot for your bakery. You placed him on the main display where he had a view of the entire shop and where doughnuts, cupcakes and assorted sweets were underneath. 

The first day went like clockwork without any problems and you closed with a sense of calm. Almost everything you had prepared was sold and there were only a few doughnuts left and nothing else. 

You cleaned up the bakery before you went upstairs to the floor where you now lived. It was quite convenient having the bakery downstairs and living on the first floor. At least it wouldn't be too far to work, you used to joke. 

You took your stuffed animal with you, and it kept you company. After a small dinner and a shower, you retired to bed with the stuffed animal in your arms. You lay down and picked it up in the air.

The stuffed animal had short-wine fur with a black and white scarf around its neck that covered its snout. He was wearing spiked pads and bracelets, making him look like the perfect pet, but also like something you didn't want to accidentally lay on. Plus, he had light pink markings on his fur. 

You wondered what he was hiding under his scarf, but then you remembered the lady's words. You were about to pull his scarf off when you paused and finally decided to stop. 

Finally, you put it on the bedside table, not wanting to accidentally gouge your eye out on the barbs, and lay down. If it was exhaustion from the first day, you fell asleep pretty quickly. 

Today, you dreamt about your first opening. In reality, everything went well at the beginning, but during the flash all the pastries went bad, got mould on them, got carried away by mice or crumbled to dust. In this dream, your family confronted you, made fun of you, humiliated you and you had to hide from them. You held your head and reminded yourself that it was just a dream. 

You already felt like you had to wake up at any moment when someone else appeared in the shop. It was a tall man whose head almost brushed against the chandelier you had there. 

The nightmares immediately focused on him, and he looked like he could predict their every move. He dodged their attacks without any trouble, and in an instant, they were defeated and vanished. 

You were still crouching when the man leaned towards you, and only now did you notice that he looked like a human version of your new teddy bear. Even now you couldn't see his mouth, which, like a teddy bear's, was covered by a scarf. 

He introduced himself as your protector and even told you your name, but it was as if your brain had completely sealed it off since you couldn't remember the name this morning. 

The protector made sure you were okay and helped you to your feet. He may have looked scary at first, but something told you there was more to him than met the eye. 

Thanks to this protector, you were now free of nightmares and could sleep peacefully and go about your business. 

In your dreams, he would take you to an island made of sweets. He guided you there and you discovered new places and tasted sweets. 

You discovered that he was a giant lover of sweets and was constantly giving you hints and tips on baking, especially doughnuts. Surprisingly, you remembered the recipe that morning, but you wrote it down just in case. At this rate, you were slowly filling up your notebook. These doughnuts soon became a big hit and always sold out. 

You noticed a strange thing about the doughnuts in your shop. Ever since you first opened your shop, you've noticed doughnuts disappearing here and there. Whether you had them in the back room, out of the public eye, where you had them ready to go, or right off the counter.

You didn't notice it at first, until a few days later when you made a batch. When you went back to get them to take to the store, there were three missing, and you were sure the tray was full when you left. 

After a while, you got more and more curious about what the teddy bear under the shawl looked like. You knew it would probably look like a classic stuffed animal. Although the teddy bear warning kept ringing in your head, your curiosity was greater. 

Lying in bed, you picked up the teddy bear and pulled the scarf down from its snout. You were quite surprised by the pointed teeth that extended up and down on each side. It was weird, but on the other hand, you thought it was cute. 

You didn't think you were gonna make your protector angry. When you fell asleep, he was furious. You violated his terms, his one wish. That's why he refused to defend you. He made that clear when he disappeared like a ghost.

Since that moment, you've slept poorly again. You had nightmares again, and your protector was nowhere to be found. You didn't admit it the first few days, but it was affecting you and your bakery more and more. You haven't seen him since, not even when you slept with your teddy bear in bed. 

After a week, you decided to try to reconcile the protector. You knew about his weakness for doughnuts and decided to bake him the biggest doughnut you could create. 

He gave you a lot of trouble, but you finally got the hang of it. You filled the doughnut and topped it with frosting. It was so big you could sit the teddy bear in the middle of it. Which you did. 

At bedtime, you left the doughnut in the bakery and put the teddy bear in the middle of it before you went up to your room and went to bed. You couldn't sleep for a long time and only after a few hours of tossing and turning in bed did you fall asleep. 

Just as you began to dream, you found yourself on Sugar Island in a place where the Protector often took you, and to your surprise, he was already there waiting for you. He gave you a stern look before his gaze softened.

With that doughnut, you'd appeased him. He would still have liked an even bigger doughnut, but he was satisfied with this one. It was as delicious as anything you'd baked. He said you could make more doughnuts like this. From that moment on, he started protecting you again. 

Even though your dreams and sleep were protected, the pressure from your family did not stop. Your little business was off to a good and steady start, but with it, the threatening letters from your family began to pile up. 

You ignored them and even reported them to the police, but they couldn't do anything about it as it was just letters and nothing else for now. 

One evening, however, it became something more. You were sleeping peacefully in your bed when the glass in the front door of your shop shattered. But with your bed upstairs and the door closed, you heard nothing.

A hand pushed through the broken glass and ejected the door, and several persons in black came in. It was your family. Firs,t they searched the interior for the alarm, but that was solved before they blew your fuses. 

What woke you up were the bangs coming from the floor below you. Sleepily, you sat up in bed and listened. Before you decided to do anything, you called the police in a whisper. 

Then you cautiously walked over to see what was going on. You tiptoed around, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. You walked down the stairs and down and stopped at the corner and cautiously peeked in to see what was going on. 

To your surprise, you saw your family on their knees, and bending over them was the protector you'd only seen in your dreams. He was bending over your family, and they all seemed to be wrapped in strange sticky ropes. He was giving them one last chance to leave you alone or he wouldn't be so merciful. 

Your family agreed and went on the run. As soon as they were gone, you turned on the light.

"Katakuri?" You asked, feeling like it was the strangest dream you'd ever had. Katakuri walked over to you and got down on one knee to be on the same level as you. 

"You're safe. I'll make sure nothing happens to you," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His touch was surprisingly gentle and warm. It convinced you that this was indeed real. 

"I know..." you said and hugged him. You were glad he was protecting you. You didn't want to imagine what your family would have done if he hadn't been there. 

"Can I ask you something? Can you close your eyes?" You asked weakly, looking up at him. You saw him measure you with his gaze before he finally nodded his head in agreement and closed his eyes. 

You pulled the scarf away from his face, revealing the teeth you'd already seen on the teddy bear. They were real now, but you didn't mind at all. You put your free hand on his cheek and kissed him on the lips.

"Thank you," you whispered before pulling away and returning his scarf to its original place. 

Katakuri put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you close to his body, burying his head in your shoulder so you wouldn't see that his face was as red as his hair.

Sleep Protector Masterlist

[pearlcigs]

thinking a lot about soft! Vi 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 maybe even thinking about being babied 😵‍💫😵‍💫

⋆ softcore — tlou discord server

soft!vi who has a tough exterior but she always finds herself letting her walls down for you at the end of the day. when she's sighing from exhaustion, slipping into bed just ready to sink into oblivion. she just wants to roll over, ignore your curled up body that lay next to her. but she doesn't, she couldn't. no matter how tired she was, she needed you, needed your body melting into her like liquid in her hands. so she does just that, scoops you closer to her, her touch gentle in contrast to her rough and callused hands. she'll kiss the top of your head, all of your face. she'll whisper the sweetest things in your ear until she falls asleep, even her snores gentle.

soft!vi who you find humming as she does domestic tasks, like when she's cooking or cleaning. she's not even aware that she does it, solely focused on the task at hand. you think it's cute, never bringing it to her attention in hopes she'll never stop. once you found her going through the mail, humming an awfully familiar tune. you watched with admiration as vi sorted through the bills and the junk mail. "look, babe, they sent me a letter about my car's extended warranty." she laughs, pausing her humming to lift up the letter she was reading. "what idiots. they really think i'm gonna fall for this." she chuckles again, going back to her assortment of mail and her humming resumes. you just want to preserve her in a little box and keep her forever.

soft!vi who plays with your hair while you do some off hand task. not really doing any specific hairstyle, just moving strands over other strands and then letting them fall back into their place. you don't mind when she does, pretending you don't notice. it was the silent moments that you held deep in your heart, and so did vi. vi's hands would more often than not eventually make their way out of your hair, sliding down your body. she would grip your waist, or your hips, or massage your shoulders, or sometimes even slip her hands under your shirt to feel your warm skin. it wasn't even sexual, not when she would cup your breasts or kiss your neck as she did, she just loved having her hands on you in any way possible.

soft!vi who has a hard time just saying how she feels. she just can't get the words out to save her life. so you'll find little things around the house a day or two after an argument. flowers on the counter when you wake up. the dishes washed and dried. that shower curtain you've been meaning to install for months now? vi did it. it's sweet really, little things to let you know she still loved you or she's not mad at you because you both know she'll never say it out loud. or even when you two weren't arguing, you'll still find things like this. cookies she picked up for you on her way over. or when you caught her reading that book you were talking about earlier in the week. but your favorite is when you find little notes left on your fridge stuck by the (carefully picked, seriously it was no coincidence she picked those every single time) heart magnets. sometimes it was just a little drawing and sometimes it would be sweet words like 'miss you' or 'thinking of you'. it made your heart swell every time.

soft!vi who tries to make you breakfast in bed when she stays over at your apartment but you usually wake up to a smoke detector going off. it's sort of amazing at how she's such a good cook but such a bad one at the same time. like she'll burn the toast but make a perfect 5 star meal with bacon, eggs, and pancakes with a chocolate ganache. you didn't even know what a ganache was until you stumbled into the kitchen with worry only to be met with vi's crooked smile holding an entirely black piece of toast. "i was trying to make breakfast." and then she proceeded to explain what she made. "so you made all this, but... burnt the toast?" you weren't mad just... in awe. how do you burn toast? but you laugh anyway, kissing her nerves away.

soft!vi who babies you in the least condesceding way possible. she knows you like to be independent, as does anyone, but she can't help babying you every once in a while. it's simple things really, you didn't even notice at first. she'd grab things from you. "that looks heavy, let me do it." and would not even give you a chance to argue. she'd carry you anywhere, holding you in her arms like there wasn't a worry in the world. she'd wrap you in a bunch of blankets if you were napping on the couch, making sure you don't wake up cold. (you might wake up hot though.) she'd grab your cold hands in her warm ones to warm you up. it was just little things but vi always made sure you felt cared for.

[skyahri]

Shock Part Two |Kakashi Hatake X Reader|

Part One

Summary: It’s been two weeks since you showed up on Kakashi’s doorstep. How has so much changed in so little time?

Warnings: Idk where I was going with this so it's based around a ✨️vibe✨️

- - - - -

"How are the stitches?"

"Had them taken out this morning, actually. Your handiwork got a lot of compliments, by the way."

"I couldn't have you running around with such a grisly scar, now could I?"

"Oh, it's still a gruesome sight."

"I suppose you'll have to show me sometime."

"Never thought I'd live to see the day the great Hatake Kakashi would so openly flirt with me."

"Am I flirting? I don't think so..."

"So it's a common occurrence for you to ask to see your friends so intimately? Maybe that rumor about you peaking down Gai's jumpsuit wasn't so farfetched after all."

It'd been like this for the past two weeks.

Just because you'd left his apartment that night didn't mean you stopped seeing him. Several chance encounters in common areas had only solidified the rapidly growing tension between you two. It was never uncomfortable, more so just... unsure. You hadn't had any kind of specific dynamic to settle into, so there was a bit of an awkward trial period where you felt each other out, but really, it didn't last long.

"Hey, that was one time."

You paused just short of the market entrance and raised an eyebrow at him. Sure, the offhand comment of the event from Asuma had lived in the back of your mind for quite some time, but you didn't think there was any truth to it.

And you especially didn't think he'd admit to it.

You just shook your head and continued towards the shops, not waiting to give Kakashi the chance to expose any intimate details. Kakashi is one thing, but Lord knows what any story involving Gai may contain. He follows you around the booths, making idle conversation as you buy an assortment of items. Chicken, rice, cabbage, sure, he can guess what you're going for, but it's when you get to the spice stand that you lose him completely.

He watches as pick up and set down random jars, the furrow in your brow becoming more and more strained as you proceed.

"Did you have something in mind, or...?" He trails off, not wanting to outright accuse you of not having a clue as to what you're doing. You take a step back and look over everything, but nothing stands out to you. Everything is in generic packaging, nothing like the little jars your friends have in their kitchen cabinets.

"I wanted to try something like the teriyaki chicken that Kurenai makes, but think it might be a little too far off from my... particular skillset."

'Particular skillset' of course meaning no skills at all. Your parents took care of feeding you up until they died during the Kyuubi attack, and by then you were so busy in ANBU that there was really no reason to learn. You ate at food stalls while in town and roasted fish over a fire when you were out- a foolproof system that had yet to betray you.

But the past two weeks off had left you itching for something to do and street food had begun losing it's appeal.

Kakashi rolls his eyes, having learned good and well by now that you're a fire hazard in the kitchen on a good day. He steers you by your shoulders away from the ground herbs and spices and toward another stall where he can pick up some mirin. He ignores any questions you ask, opting to repeat the same "be patient" and "just wait" mantras over and over until you reach his apartment.

He's thankful that your knife skills transfer to the kitchen at least. He tasks you with butterflying the chicken as he washes the rice and gets out all the ingredients for the sauce he thinks you're aiming for. It's quiet as the two of you work- several nights spent just like this have you falling into the familiar motions with ease. Only when the chicken is searing in the pan, coated with a sauce you definitely added too much corn starch to, does Kakashi finally break the silence.

"Any idea when your leave ends?"

"Nah. The old man's been dodging me. I'm pretty sure he's going to retire me, though."

"Oh?"

He tries to sound nonchalant, but it comes out a tad too quickly. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been enjoying your time together. He knows perfectly well that you'd carve out time for him should you return to active duty, but retirement had made him rather selfish these days, and he was wanting a bit more than that.

You huff and roll your eyes, what you assume to be his thirst for gossip still surprising you. "I'm a bit... difficult to work with. Recruiting and training a whole new squad when I've already pushed my luck this far might be a waste of resources."

Kakashi only nods. Fifteen years is a long time- longer than any other officer has been active- and while your track record is dazzling, he can't imagine Hiruzen sending you back out after such a clear sign from the universe. That's not even mentioning how warped your team structure was to accommodate your specific skill set.

"Is this," he pauses, not quite sure where his question is going, "Upsetting to you?"

It's phrasing is less elegant than he was aiming for, but the intent is clear enough.

You tilt your head back and forth in a silly manner to loosen the tension his question has caused in your head. It's definitely a loaded response. Rationally, you knew this wouldn't, couldn't, go on forever, and honestly, it shouldn't have lasted as long as it has. Anbu is incredibly hard on your mind and body, just the same with those before you, and sure to affect those who will come after. There were more kinks in your back than muscles at this point and the cushion of a mattress felt a little too good on your achy joints. The anxiety accumulated from years of sneak attacks and watch duty had pushed you to a point of exhaustion that a few measly nights at home couldn't erase.

You'd been robbed of your childhood (not there was much to enjoy during a war) and shoved into a plain mask- a half-assed attempt to protect you from the consequences and stigma of your sins. You'd been sent on missions you had no business even knowing about at eight years old and told to keep a straight face through it all. You'd worked through more teammates than you'd care to admit, each being lost due to circumstances you're sure you could've prevented.

All to say that the decision to put down the mask would be right and just.

Though you'd be lying to say you found any comfort in it.

This is your life, and although any parental figure you'd accumulated wished better for you, it's what you know best. The forest floor and rapid rivers feel more like home than your apartment ever has. Cooking what your friends call 'a balanced meal' is difficult compared to found berries and freshly caught cod. Being cautious of your facial expressions was taxing and the lack of routine was borderline disorienting.

But there was a glimmer of hope that kept you from tracking down that old geezer and demanding to stay on the roster, and that was Kakashi.

He was probably the furthest someone could get from well adjusted, and he's doing okay- great, even. He seems happier, less on edge, and much friendlier compared to the asshole you grew up alongside. He no longer snaps at Gai for 'trivial things' like lunch outings and friendly competitions. He's more willing to waste a day lounging around instead of dedicating his free moments to training.

All of this had been in the back of your mind since that first meeting with the Hokage, where he'd only wished you a fruitful recovery and sent you on your way.

But you sure as hell weren't about to say all this to Kakashi, so you settled on-

"It is what it is."

-and lifted the lid on the pan, letting the steam separate you from Kakashi's piercing gaze. He didn't say anything as you prepared dinner, just watched as you carefully filled the bowls and set the table. He should've known he wouldn't get anything out of you. You'd made it abundantly clear over the past two weeks that words were not your strong suit, oftentimes shutting him down with a pat on the back or a wave of your hand.

But that didn't make him any less unsatisfied with your lame response.

- - - - -

It isn't until a week later that you finally corner Hiruzen into giving you a straight answer, and just as you thought, he slid a stack of dismissal papers across his desk. He was uncharacteristically nervous as he did so, likely traumatized by past shinobi who reacted less than professionally about the endeavor.

You're walking down the street, mask in hand and dressed in the new street clothes you had no choice but to buy after your initial return, when you see your friends gathered in the dango parlor. You push the curtain aside and call out a greeting to catch their attention. Kurenai is quick to wave you over, scooting closer toward Asuma to make room in the booth for you to sit. You almost felt bad for the cramped bench, but neither of the pair seemed all that upset to be pressed up against one another.

They were, however, bothered when you set the porcelain in your hand down on the table. The air got thicker, any remnants of conversation dying out as their eyes shifted to the unmarked mask. Even Gai seemed to lose his usual lack of awarenness, falling perfectly in line with the others' distress. Lots of agents had similar masks- animals could only look so different when reduced to a few red streaks and a set of ears- but yours was one of a kind. No ears, no paint, no special eyes- its ambiguity perfectly matching your cover name.

"You know that's a bad omen, right?"

You furrow your brows at Kurenai, not sure what she meant. You look at Kakashi when he sighs, his hand moving to rub the crease in his brow. Kurenai takes the mask and sets it on your lap, beneath the table where it could be hidden from sight.

"That's the Calamity God's mask. It brings destruction and undoing."

Calamity... huh?

You thumb over the rim of the eye holes, not knowing how to respond to the apparent 'bad omen' tied to your anbu persona.

"Where did you even get that? No shops in the village are willing to sell them."

"I... um-"

Your mouth is dry and your brain is fumbling to find a response. You dart your eyes from her red ones over to the silver-haired jonin, only to find that he was already preoccupied with a silent conversation of his own with the boys. You settled on staring down at the porcelain in your lap, the empty sockets looking more and more life-like as they stared back.

People talked about you behind your back and you were far from oblivious to it, at least among the other black ops. It appears that civilians have their own rumors separate from anything that might grace your ears in the locker room.

Calamity was not new to you. It was stamped into bingo books across the foreign lands, right above the phrase 'do not engage' or 'flee on sight'. Though, the Godly title and associated lore that followed were ones you'd never heard.

And didn't care to hear again.

"I think I've made a mistake."

You're gone in the blink of an eye, flickering away from your friends and into the busy streets. Your breath catches in your throat, preventing you from moving any further towards the Hokage's office. You can feel your head spinning, the blood rushing in your ears and blurring the street life behind you. There's something touching your shoulder, but you can't be bothered to fight it off, the anxiety in your chest dulling any instinct you might have to run.

Your eyes sting from the unfamiliar well of tears. The slight tremor in your body makes your knees weak and unable to fully support yourself. Luckily, you're only stuck in public view for a moment before you're being dragged into an empty alleyway, away from others in the peak of your collapse.

You're set down against the brick wall, where you immediately slide down to the ground and shove your face into your knees. Your breathing is only getting heavier, the tears on your skin overstimulating you more than you'd ever experienced before.

You push your fingers through your hair and grip it at the scalp, desperate for some sort of distraction from the way your entire being is fighting itself. A sob racks your body. Then another and another, and it's so consuming that you can't even feel the hands attempting to untangle yours from your hair. It's only once they're gone and the comforting pressure is lifted that you notice. You can hear mumbling, can feel hands tightly compress yours and the light of the sun be slowly blocked by something.

"Y/n, you have to breathe,"

You shake your head and try to bury yourself deeper between your knees. It's too much. Actually living as a civilian for the past three weeks was easy- boring, but easy. You knew that everything would eventually fall into place and you could get to a point where life would come naturally.

This though?

This was something else entirely. Your reputation would haunt you, and not in the shiny way that Kakashi's had followed him.

Kakashi has experienced his fair share of panic attacks, but never has he been on the other side. He has his own remedies- simple things like hot showers or laying on the kitchen tile- neither of which being particularly useful in this situation, though. Not to mention, neither are really things that are guaranteed to work even if he could get you somewhere with the proper resources.

He hasn't been a particularly active person in your life until recently, but there's one aspect of your personality that has always been apparent; you communicate best through actions. Thinking back to the first night you spent together, he's positive nothing he said got through to you. It was only once your body was refreshed that your mind was cleared. You'd only relax when his skin was touching yours, like you needed a physical reminder that things were real and okay.

So he did the only thing he thought would ground you and pulled you into the most suffocating embrace he could manage. It's not as uncomfortable as he thought it'd be, especially once he's able to wrestle you into the spot between his legs. He's thankful for his size, making it easy to completely encompass you in his hold.

Luckily the alleyway is out of sight from the main road, your bodies hidden away by the curve of the building and a stack of empty produce boxes. It isn't until the harsh light of the setting sun is replaced by the chill night air and the chatter of passerbyers dies out that he's confident you're thoroughly relaxed. His arms have since eased up, but haven't been removed from their place. Your stiff muscles have been reduced to mush, the entirety of your body pressed into the jounin's torso, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"You want me to take you home?"

You shake your head, the movement muffled by your place against him, but the actions clear enough.

"Hmmm," he playfully nudges your head with his chin, "I could take you back to mine, but I don't think the girl I've been seeing would like that very much."

"Oh, as if anyone would willingly-" you pause, the gears in your head finally turning as you register his words. It doesn't take a genius to know he's poking fun at you and whatever odd situationship you've found yourself in, and what's even worse is you've unknowingly dragged yourself down as well by running your mouth. "Damn."

He laughs at you. Even with all the shit talk you dish out, he's confident that you're not, not interested. He can hear it in the way you speak with him- the mental block that Anbu creates between oneself and the rest of the world isn't present between you. He sees it in your subtle touches that may not stand out to anyone else, but are most definitely meant for him only. There's an easiness, a certain level of understanding that exists between you. It's a collection of feelings that Minato had tried and failed to put into words for him all those years ago, and now he knows why the man had stumbled over it so horridly.

He also knows that it's only been three weeks and he's already fucked, something his sensei had also been unfortunate enough to live through, so hopefully you're at least on the same wavelength.

Kakashi stands, dissolving any remnants of sentiment that may have been lingering. He hauls you up and over his shoulder with unexpected grace and turns towards the alleys entrance to go home.

"You know you don't have to carry me like a criminal, right?"

"How else would I carry you, hm? Perhaps like a princess? Or maybe damsel in distress is more your style?"

"Have you always been so annoying?"

"Depends on who you ask."

You pinch his side, making him almost drop you in his feeble attempt to swat your hand away. It's quiet, but far from uncomfortable. You settle into an awkward position that keeps at least some of the blood from rushing to your head and allow the white noise of the empty village streets to soothe any lingering anxieties in your chest. The wind is a little brisk but the chirp of crickets is still present. Most of the shop windows are closed but the restaurants remain full, faint chatter from the customers filling the air as you pass by.

"Hey, Kakashi?"

He hums in acknowledgment but doesn't say anything more, likely enjoying the peaceful air as well.

"Why-" you hesitate, not knowing if your question is one you should be asking and definitely not knowing if there's even a casual way to ask it, "Why didn't you tell me? About the rumors, I mean."

You can feel the slight misstep he takes but he doesn't show any other signs of distress. You can damn near hear the cylinders firing in his head, trying to piece together some semblance of a satisfying answer.

"I didn't want to stress you out."

"How'd that work out for you, big guy?"

He smacks the back of your thigh and exhales heavily, "Obviously, not too well."

He turns into his complex and navigates the halls until he's at his unit. He unlocks the door and brings you inside, gently setting you on the kitchen counter so he can flip on some lights and fill a glass with water. He watches as you down the liquid and your posture relaxes ever so slightly.

"I was hoping that when it came up, I could push the conversation a certain way."

"I would've preferred to hear it from you."

"I was trying to put it off for as long as possible. I wanted to give you as much time as I could for you to adjust so retirement would seem more appealing."

It's silent in the kitchen. There's nothing either of you can say to erase the tension in the air. You're not upset- not at him, anyway- a fact Kakashi is well aware of but still feels guilty about. He remembers being blindsided by retirement. For him, nothing had changed, only that one moment he was anbu and the next he just... wasn't. He's well aware that your situation is vastly different and your head is on a lot straighter than his had been, but that doesn't necessarily make things easier. If he had known that the topic would unravel like that, he would've rethought that decision in a heartbeat.

"Why all the calamity stuff, anyway? I mean, I know I'm a bit over the top, but it seems a little extreme," you fidget with the ends of your sleeves, pinching and rolling the knit material between your fingers. You look up when Kakashi sighs and watch as he fails to hide the frustration from his internal battle. He kicks off the counter he was leaning against to stand in front of you, his hands gripping the marble on either side of your thighs. His head hangs low and you can't help but laugh at the groan he lets out.

"You know how superstitious civilians can be," he finally straightens himself, one of his arms raising so he can tug off his headband to look at you, "And coming out with new folklore to point to when things go wrong is their favorite way to cope."

"Well, why can't I be like, I don't know," you huff, "Mother Nature? She starts floods and fires and rock slides, too, so why am I the only one getting a bad rap?"

As hard as you may be trying to keep your devious smile under wraps, Kakashi can see it clear as day. He bites back the many, many tempting retorts that overwhelm his brain, opting to give your stupid comment a pass just this once. "I think our line of work might be too dirty for such a shiny title."

"Says the mighty Copy Cat."

"Hey, no need to drag me down, too."

"Someone needs to," no longer interested in your own attire, you pull at the bottom of his jounin vest and tug at the straps to straighten it out, "Can't have you running around so-" your grip falters when your gaze finally flickers up to his. You hadn't realized how close he'd gotten- his face only a few short inches away.

"So, what?" there's that teasing tilt to his voice, one that's begging you to ignore his obvious intentions and continue as if everything were fine.

"So cocky," you eventually settle on, forcing your eyes away from his and focusing on his worn vest. You proceed with your attempt to fix his uniform, all too aware of the heat radiating off his skin, "Who flirts with someone not even an hour after a panic attack, anyway?"

"Someone who knows you well enough to provide an effective distraction."

"Distraction, huh? And here I thought we had something."

"A guy can have more than one reason for doing things," that's when you feel the pads of his thumbs rub against the loose fabric of your pants.

For a man so terrible with even the prospect of a connection with people, Kakashi sure is forward. You'd heard him threaten to lace Gai's protein powder once after the man had tried to hug him, but here he was, treating your personal space as if it were his own.

Not that you were complaining.

"I just realized we ditched our friends," your back straightens, eyes going wide when you remember that the others are likely still waiting for the two of you to return. Kakashi shakes his head, his now loose hair swaying a bit with the action.

"They won't mind."

"Yeah, but-"

"But nothing. They're smart enough to figure things out."

"And what happens when Kurenai shows up to my apartment to talk and I'm not there?"

"Like I said," his hands move upward, fingers running over your legs and resting at your hips, "They're smart enough to figure things out."

While he may not have said the quiet part out loud, his tone is more than enough to get his implications across. The way his eyes keep lingering on your features isn't helping either, especially when you notice his sharingan spinning, no doubt recording what ever was going through his mind for later.

It's not his fault. At the end of the day, he's still only a man- a man with someone so pretty sitting on his counter, allowing him to touch however he pleases. Your face is still splotchy from crying, hair a little messy from tugging at it so hard, but if anything, it's only adding to your appeal. Any guilt he may feel about the situation or its circumstances evaporates when he presses his thumbs deeper into your skin, fingers sinking into the fat of your hips.

“Kakashi?”

He hums but doesn’t give any further confirmation that he’s actually heard you. You see the moment he checks out of the conversation completely, the rough pads of his fingers pushing past your shirt to glide over your waist. He’s warm, not just in physical heat but in the way he sighs contently at the action, like hes been waiting for this. Hell, maybe has.

It’s weird to think that a month ago you were practically strangers. You attended the academy at the same time, been in anbu together, looked up to all the same people, and even shared the same friend group, yet you couldn’t have been less entwined. It took one night- just a single instance of mutual understanding- to bring you together after so many factors failed to do so, and now you’re a breath away from him hoping things will continue moving forward.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you ask, “Or are you just going to skip right to second base?”

He pauses, realizing just how close he had gotten to your chest. He swallows hard, his composure slipping a bit before steeling once more. “If you count that night in the shower, I’d say we were already there.”

“So, no kissing?”

Kakashi laughs and in one smooth motion detaches himself from your waist to pull down his mask. You don’t have any time to truly appreciate his features before his head dips down and his lips press against yours. It’s chaste, only lasting a second before he briefly pulls away just to return harder, his palm pushing on your back so your chest is pressed to his. His lips are a little dry, likely from the incoming winter, but soft and inviting nonetheless. Your hands move up, fingers gliding through his hair and settling on his neck to pull him in. Every motion is fluid, completely in tune with one another, and if you were the least bit of a romantic you’re sure this is what you’d call fate.

You’ve kissed other people before, but never like this- like the other person isn’t just on the same page as you, but like they’re reading the same sentence. He moves when you do, tilts his head in all the right directions, and knows just when you need a breath of air. When he finally pulls away, your gaze meet his. His cheeks are flushed and you’re sure you’re no better off. That red eye of his is still spinning, remembering everything about the moment and for a moment you envy the ability.

“Satisfied?”

You huff out a laugh and gently tug at his hair in retaliation.

“Not quite.”

“Damn,” Kakashi sighs dramatically, “Guess we’ll have to keep going then.”

You smile, already leaning in towards him.

“Guess so.”

[onegayastronaut]

In Love and Legacy

I've been watching too many mob movies lol, so here's a fic of Wanda and Natasha being your moms and dating Kate Bishop

Words: 1556

The morning was heavy with tension as you paced the lavish living room of the Maximoff-Romanoff estate. The grandiose space, filled with antique furniture and tasteful art pieces, was a testament to your mothers’ power and influence—a legacy built on their iron rule over the city’s underworld. Wanda and Natasha were not just feared; they were legends. Today, however, that intimidating reputation loomed larger than ever. You were about to introduce your girlfriend, Kate Bishop, to them for the first time.

Kate, with her sunny personality and penchant for sarcasm, had no idea what she was walking into. Sure, she knew your moms were important and influential, but the whole "mob boss" detail? That was still something you were figuring out how to explain.

"Are you sure about this?" Kate asked as she adjusted her navy blazer for the third time. Her archer’s instincts betrayed her; she looked like she was about to face off against a horde of enemies.

You paused and took her hands, squeezing them gently. "Kate, they’ll love you. Well, eventually. They’re just… protective."

Kate’s eyes narrowed. "Protective like regular parents, or protective like they have someone on speed dial who can make me disappear?"

You winced. "Uh, a little of both?"

Before Kate could press further, the double doors to the living room swung open. Natasha entered first, her movements sharp and deliberate. She was dressed in a tailored black suit, her red hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Behind her was Wanda, ethereal in a deep burgundy dress, her piercing gaze taking in Kate from head to toe.

"Darling," Wanda said, her voice soft but firm as her eyes shifted to you. "You didn’t tell us your guest was this punctual."

Natasha smirked. "That’s rare these days."

Kate swallowed hard but managed a polite smile. "It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Maximoff and Mrs. Romanoff."

Wanda’s lips twitched upward. "How formal. Call me Wanda, dear."

"And Natasha," your other mom added, her expression unreadable.

"Natasha, Wanda, got it." Kate’s voice wavered slightly, but she straightened her spine, her confidence kicking in. "It’s really nice to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about you."

"Have you?" Natasha asked, arching an eyebrow as she leaned casually against the back of an armchair. "All good things, I hope."

Kate nodded quickly. "Oh, yeah. Mostly."

Wanda’s laughter was soft but chilling. "Mostly?" she repeated, tilting her head as she studied Kate.

"She’s nervous," you interjected, stepping closer to Kate and sliding an arm around her waist. "Can we maybe save the interrogation for later?"

"Interrogation?" Natasha echoed, her tone mock-offended. "We’re just getting to know her. Isn’t that right, Wanda?"

Wanda smiled serenely. "Of course. No need to be nervous, Kate. We’re just… thorough."

Kate’s laugh was shaky but genuine. "Right. Thorough. Got it."

"Come," Wanda said, gesturing toward the dining room. "Let’s sit and talk."

You guided Kate into the dining room, where a long table was already set with an assortment of appetizers and drinks. The room was as imposing as the rest of the house, with high ceilings and a massive chandelier that sparkled ominously.

Natasha took her seat at the head of the table, while Wanda sat to her left. You and Kate sat opposite them, and you could feel Kate’s tension as she fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth.

"So, Kate," Natasha began, her tone deceptively casual. "What do you do?"

"I… I’m an archer," Kate said, her voice steady despite the intensity of Natasha’s gaze. "And a private investigator. I’ve been working with Clint Barton for a while now."

Wanda’s eyebrows rose slightly. "Clint Barton? The Avenger?"

Kate nodded. "Yes. He’s been kind of a mentor to me."

Natasha’s lips twitched in a faint smile. "I know Clint well. He’s… a good judge of character."

"That’s a point in your favor," Wanda added, her tone lighter but no less probing. "Tell me, how do you plan to protect our child?"

Kate blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Protect?"

Natasha leaned forward slightly, her green eyes sharp. "This isn’t a rhetorical question, Kate. Our world is dangerous. Being with our child means you’re a target. Are you prepared for that?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but Kate spoke first. "I’m not afraid of danger," she said firmly, meeting Natasha’s gaze head-on. "And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Always."

Wanda’s eyes softened, and Natasha’s expression shifted into something resembling approval. It was subtle, but you’d known your moms long enough to recognize the signs.

"Good answer," Natasha said, leaning back in her chair.

Kate exhaled quietly, and you reached under the table to squeeze her hand.

As the conversation continued, the tension in the room began to ease. Wanda and Natasha’s questions became less intense, and Kate’s natural charm started to shine through. By the time dessert was served, Wanda was smiling warmly, and even Natasha’s guarded demeanor had softened.

"You know," Wanda said, sipping her wine, "it’s not often we see our daughter smile like that. You must make her very happy."

Kate’s cheeks flushed. "I hope so. She makes me really happy too."

"She does," you said, leaning into Kate’s side. "And I’m glad you can see that."

Natasha gave a small nod. "We’ve been… worried about who she might bring home one day. It’s a relief to see she’s chosen someone with a strong heart."

Kate’s eyes lit up at the compliment, and she smiled. "Thank you. That means a lot."

When the meal ended, Wanda stood and placed a hand on Kate’s shoulder. "You’re a good person, Kate. I can see why our daughter cares for you so much."

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a rare smile. "You’ve earned our approval—for now. But if you hurt her…"

"I won’t," Kate said quickly, her voice full of conviction. "I promise."

Wanda’s smile widened. "Good. Welcome to the family, Kate."

As you and Kate left the estate later that evening, you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of relief on her face.

"That was… intense," Kate admitted, slipping her hand into yours. "But I think they like me."

You grinned. "They do. And they’re not easy to impress, so you should feel pretty proud of yourself."

Kate smiled back, her eyes sparkling. "Worth it."

You leaned in to kiss her softly, grateful that the most intimidating hurdle in your relationship had been cleared. With your moms’ approval secured, you knew you and Kate could face anything—together.

Later that evening, back at Kate’s apartment, the reality of the day finally seemed to hit her. She flopped onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh, throwing her arms over her head.

"Okay," she said, "I knew meeting your moms would be a big deal, but I didn’t expect to feel like I was auditioning for a spy thriller."

You laughed, curling up next to her. "They’re intense, I know. But they really do like you."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure Natasha was two seconds away from interrogating me under a spotlight."

"That’s just her way of saying she cares," you teased. "She’s not used to letting new people into her world."

Kate sighed, her expression softening. "I get it. Honestly, I kind of respect it. They’re just looking out for you. And I can’t really blame them for that."

You leaned your head on her shoulder. "You’re amazing, you know that?"

Kate smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I try."

Meanwhile, back at the estate, Wanda and Natasha sat together in the living room, a bottle of wine between them. Natasha poured herself another glass, her expression thoughtful.

"She’s good for her," Wanda said, breaking the silence.

Natasha nodded. "She’s strong. And smart. I like that she didn’t back down."

Wanda smiled. "Reminds me of someone else I know."

Natasha rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, a rare look of contentment on her face. "I think they’re going to be okay."

Wanda reached over, taking Natasha’s hand in hers. "They are. And we’ll be here for them, no matter what."

The two women sat in comfortable silence, their bond as unshakable as ever, their love for you guiding every decision they made. And in that moment, they knew they had done something right.

Over the next few weeks, Kate’s relationship with your moms continued to grow. She joined you for family dinners, where Natasha taught her the finer points of strategy over a game of chess, and Wanda shared stories about Sokovia. Kate even earned points by helping Wanda set up a security system at one of their properties—a task that quickly turned into a friendly competition between the two.

"You’re lucky," Kate said one evening as the two of you walked hand in hand through the city. "Your moms are incredible."

"I know," you said, smiling. "But so are you. And I think they’re finally starting to realize that too."

Kate grinned, pulling you closer. "Well, if I’m going to survive in this family, I’d better step up my game."

You laughed, feeling a sense of peace you hadn’t known was possible. With Kate by your side and your moms’ approval, you felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead—together, as a family.

[antonluvr]

can't help myself falling endlessly

synopsis: an innocent movie night takes a turn word count: 3k status: 1/? (trying to update 2 times a week) genre: non idol au, fem reader, mutual pining, friends to lovers content warning: drinking, making out, heated making out

“Why do you have to work tonight? You know I’ve been dying to watch this movie,” you pout at Sohee as he gets ready for work.

“It’s not my fault they called me in. The overnight closer called in sick, and I opted to be on call. Besides, they’re paying me time and half for last-minute shifts. I can’t say no to that,” he shrugs, grabbing his keys and heading out. There you stood left with the project you decided to start.

With Sohee gone, you decide to text Anton. He’s always been your go-to for spontaneous plans. You can almost guarantee that he will come over on such short notice. 

Texting:

y/n: heyyyy question for youu

anton: hey! answer for youu

y/n: sohee has to work tonight :( wanna come over and watch that new scary movie with me? (u can’t say no)

anton: Scary movie? You know I’m terrible with horror, haha, but I guess I can be brave

y/n: YAYYA okay, come over as soon as you can then

anton: I’ll be there in 10

Anton has been friends with Sohee for almost his entire life. He’s always been soft spoken, quiet, and well-mannered. All completely different from your brother. It’s always been a surprise to you how they became such close friends. Over the years, Anton has also become one of your best friends, which is why you feel so comfortable inviting him over without Sohee there as the connecting friend. 

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rings. Despite coming over practically daily for the past decade, Anton still rings the doorbell and waits patiently outside. You peek through the window and see him standing there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets. Opening the door, you greet each other with a smile. 

“I tell you this every time, Anton. You can just walk  in or use the spare key we have hidden just for you,” you tease lightly. 

“I know; but it just doesn’t feel right. Even if this is my second home,” he laughs quietly as he takes off his shoes. 

“Well, I’ve created the perfect setup for us. I might have gone a bit overboard this time,” you say with a grin. Leading him downstairs where movie nights are typically held, Anton can see what you meant by ‘a bit overboard’. Y/N had made a pillow fort with the couch and a few of the kitchen chairs. Inside it was filled with an assortment of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals. In a small basket there was a variety of snacks and what looked like a bottle of soju. 

“Did you do all of this in the ten minute span it took me to get here?” Anton asks in surprise. 

“Noo. But that would be really impressive. I started it before I texted you and just finished a few things when you agreed to come over because I knew you wouldn’t say no,” you tease. 

“What if I did say no?” Anton laughs, hanging his jacket on the couch and crouching to inspect the fort further. 

“Ah, I knew you would say yes because you love hanging out with me. Admit it,” you tease further. 

“Alright, I admit it, but don’t tell Sohee. He’ll never let me hear the end of it, that cry baby,” you both laugh at that statement. 

You pat Anton on the shoulder, encouraging him to make himself comfortable in the fort. The pat on his shoulder as you run upstairs to change catches Anton’s attention, lingering in his mind as he reflects on how special you made this hangout. It’s unlike him to feel this way around you, and he’s caught off guard by his own thoughts, having harbored feelings for you over the past few years. He’s always pushed them aside due to your close friendship and his bond with Sohee. 

In your room, you pause, catching yourself in the mirror. Thoughts of Anton flood your mind–his smile, how he admired your efforts. His warm tone stirred up the feelings you’ve kept hidden for him. You stand there contemplating what to wear, because no matter what time of year it is, the basement always tends to be colder. You opt for shorts because at least if you get cold, you can snuggle under one of the many blankets. Before heading down to the basement, you stop at the kitchen grabbing two shot glasses for the soju that sits down there. Coming down to the fort you announce to Anton that you brought shot glasses. You hand them to him as you kneel down to crawl to the open space next to him. You notice his eyes briefly wandering to your legs, causing a strange flutter in your stomach. Anton can’t help but realize how good your legs look in those gray shorts. And how you somehow looked even better with the two-sizes-too-big sweatshirt you paired them with. Almost mesmerized by the view, his breath hitches in the back of his throat as you brush past his body. Anton clears his throat awkwardly when you ask if he’s alright, nodding quickly with a sheepish smile. You continue your path and settle down next to him. But Anton’s mind keeps thinking back to how soft your legs look and how badly he wanted to feel them. 

“Helloo, Earth to Anton?” you joke, waving your hand playfully in front of him. Snapping out of the haze he didn’t realize he had slipped into, Anton looks over to you with an embarrassed smile. “Did you even hear the question I asked you, or were you too busy staring at my legs, you weirdo?” you joke, hitting his arm. 

“N-no, sorry,” Anton stammers slightly, feeling a bit flustered. “I was just lost in my thoughts for a second, didn’t even realize.”

“I was just wondering if you wanted to join me for a shot or two before we start this movie,” you ask once again.

“Oh yeah, yeah, I would love one,” Anton agrees eagerly. You pour each other a shot and clink the glasses together before downing the drink. Anton signals for another shot, and you oblige, repeating the same gestures as before. The second shot goes down a lot smoother than the first, leaving a pleasant warmth that lingers a little longer. 

“I think we should take a shot after the first major jump scare,” you suggest with a giggle, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. 

“I agree, but only because it will make me less afraid of the movie.” You press play on the movie and grab the bowl of popcorn, making yourself comfortable. Placing the bowl between you and Anton, you absentmindedly reach for popcorn as you watch the film. Occasionally, your hand brushes against his, and you offer a silent apology. 

During an intense scene, you notice Anton fidgeting beside you. You know he isn’t the best with horror, so you place your hand on his thigh to hopefully offer some comfort after the ineffectiveness of the shots. Without turning to look at him, you feel his eyes widen at the unexpected touch. The alcohol seems to heighten his senses, making the contact more pronounced. For a moment, his attention shifts away from the movie, his thoughts consumed by the sensation of your hand on his thigh. 

Shaking his head to refocus, Anton comes back to reality. Just as he regains his composure, a sudden jump scare on the screen startles him, causing him to jolt in his spot.

“God, I didn't think that was gonna happen. It caught me completely off guard,” Anton says with a sigh, “Guess we better pour that third shot,” hopefully covering up the fact that he was not paying full attention. 

“What do you mean you didn’t see that coming? It was so obvious it was going to happen,” you tease, exaggerating your surprise. 

“Not to me I guess,” Anton chuckled nervously, still trying to cover up for his lapse in attention. 

“Uh-huh, are you sure” you ask, giving Anton a side eye. 

“I am positive. Cheers,” Anton replies with a wry smile. You clink your glasses together and settle back in to continue the movie. A few moments pass, and you start to feel a bit chilly and uncomfortable in your current position. You pull the soft blue blanket, your favorite, over the both of you and snuggle closer to Anton. Your head rests on his shoulder, and one of your legs is bent slightly over his. It feels natural and comfortable, and that’s all that matters to you.

Anton immediately notices the warmth of your thigh against his. As a lightweight, he can’t tell if the alcohol is making him dizzy or just the proximity. ‘Where do I put my hands now?’ he wonders, overthinking despite knowing where they would eventually rest. For the next ten seconds, his mind is a blur as he tries to ignore the gentle movement of your leg. 

Deciding to play it cool, he casually places one hand on your leg and other around your shoulder. A quick glance to the right shows you are undisturbed, completely engrossed in the film.

Anton’s heart was pounding, the kind of intense thumping that resonated through his entire body. With your leg on his, he couldn’t help but wonder if you could feel it too. His fingers, slightly trembling, rested against your legs, the throbbing more pronounced where they touched your thighs. 

In your mind, you began to see the subtle game you had initiated with Anton. You noticed he seemed a bit tense once again. You brought your arm over and let it rest across your body, landing gently on his upper leg. The touch, to his surprise, seemed to ground Anton. Feeling him relax into the feeling. 

Time passes and the movie carries on. You can tell Anton had become lost in the movie as he began to mindlessly move his hand up and down your thigh, the motion calm and unbothered. You shift into his touch, bringing your legs closer to your chest to give him better access to explore as he wished. The gentle caress of Anton’s soft hands sent a burning sensation through your stomach; the touch was euphoric.

His hand slid up, just grazing the hem of your shorts, and you found yourself aching for him to touch you more. You longed to feel his hands trace your body, to explore every curve and contour. Lost in your thoughts and the intensity of the subtle moment, you let out a small, involuntary moan. A testament to the desire that was building inside you. 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Anton asks, looking down at you with concern.

“Yeah, I-I just got to thinking for a second there,” you reply nervously. 

“Oh, what were you thinking about?” he inquires, his curiosity piqued.

“Uh, that we should take another shot. It’s been at least a half hour since we took the last one. I could use another one, what about you?” you respond quickly, almost in one breath.

“Sure, I could do another shot; I’m feeling a little wild,” he chuckles, sitting up to pour another round for both of you. You take the glass from him and down the shot immediately, barely pausing to clink glasses. Anton shakes his head, laughing before taking his own. 

Before he even sets his glass down, you move in front of him, positioning yourself on your knees with your hands resting on his legs. 

“What are you–” Anton was cut off mid-sentence as you closed the gap between your bodies. He could barely process what was happening. Feeling your soft lips on his, he closed his eyes, tasting the sweetness of the peach soju you had been drinking. Just as quickly as you kissed him, you pulled back. 

Anton blinked his eyes wide open, still in shock and struggling to fully process what had just happened. A million thoughts raced through his mind, but the overwhelming urge to tell you how sweet your lips tasted and how soft they felt was at the forefront. 

You watched as Anton’s natural blush from the shots deepened after the kiss. A moment passed in silence, and Anton still didn’t say anything. You began to worry that maybe you had misinterpreted the signals, and your heart raced with uncertainty. 

Anton pulls you back in for another kiss, interrupting your thoughts. This time, he relaxes into you, drawing you closer by grabbing your sweater. You adjust your position onto his lap and place your hand on the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. His tongue swipes across your lip, a bold move you never expected from him, but you respond immediately. He probes his tongue into your mouth, making the kisses more desperate and sloppy. 

His hands rest on your waist under the sweatshirt you’re wearing, and he starts to slide them up, creating goosebumps all over. He breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath and taking in the sight of you. Seeing your face flush from the heat and intensity. When he leans in again, he aims for the crook of your neck, kissing the skin repeatedly, each kiss wetter than the last. 

As he takes in the skin on your neck and gently sucks on it, a small gasp escapes your lips. Tilting your head back, you allow his lips to roam freely over the exposed skin. Feeling the constriction of your sweatshirt, he tugs at the hem, silently prompting you to remove it. Without hesitation, you swiftly discard the article of clothing. 

Beneath the hoodie, there is nothing, revealing a breathtaking view of your plump breasts to Anton. His eyes widened at the sight, momentarily captivated by the unexpected reveal. Quickly refocusing, he darts to the newly exposed skin, using his teeth to graze the skin gently, eliciting a soft moan from you this time.

“I love how you sound,” he murmurs, his hands moving up to caress your breasts gently. The words, coupled with his actions, draw out another soft moan. Any shyness he had felt earlier dissipates as he shamelessly flirts with you now. 

His hands move with deliberate precision, drawing involuntary arches from your body as you press closer to him. You begin to grind in his lap, silently urging for more of his touch. With a bold move, you bring your hand down to his zipper, feeling the growing bulge in his jeans. 

“You feel so hard,” you whisper, adding a bit more pressure to your touch. A low groan leaves Anton’s lips in response, sending a shiver of anticipation through you. That sound makes your core tense; you crave hearing it again and again. 

Anton has always been quiet, but you have a feeling he would become so vocal for you if you continued down this path. Just as you start to pull his t-shirt over his head, the front door slams shut, startling you both. 

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” you both whisper to each other. Sohee’s unexpected appearance shattered the intimate moment that enveloped you and Anton. Both of you scramble to compose yourselves, hastily getting dressed and tying your hair into a bun,trying to cover up any evidence. Returning to your original seats, now slightly more distant from each other, you steal a glance at Anton and notice his bulge is still visible through his sweats. 

“Hey, you might want to cover up,” you whisper urgently. Anton grabs the blanket and hastily conceals himself, pulling his legs up to his chest. Just then, Sohee sticks his head into the fort.

“Hey, guys, how’s the movie?” he asks cheerfully, squeezing in between you and Anton, oblivious to the charged atmosphere.

“It was pretty good,” you managed to say, exchanging a quick, almost guilty glance with Anton, who nodded in agreement. Anton, still visibly flustered, shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the blanket over his lap discreetly hoping Sohee wouldn’t notice the lingering flush on his cheeks or the tension that hung in the air. You stole a glance at him, sensing his attempt to appear nonchalant despite the lingering desire and uncertainty. 

“Yeah, it was intense,” Anton added quietly, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness. Sohee, unaware of the mood, began playing the next movie. Wanting to join you both in your hangout session. 

“Why are you back so early?” you ask him, silently hating him for interrupting your moment with Anton.

“They ended up not needing me for the whole night, but they are going to pay me for the whole shift.” he replies, grabbing a handful of popcorn. You and Anton exchange nervous smiles, each other struggling to maintain composure while internally grappling the change in dynamics. 

Finally, as the movie drew to a close, Sohee stretched out, breaking the tension. “Well, that was something,” he said with a wide yawn. You both watch Sohee gather his belongings and head up the stairs. Standing still, you both wait to hear Sohee’s door shut, and when it does you and Anton begin taking care of the fort. Despite everything that just unfolded, it didn’t feel awkward being alone with him. It felt almost natural. 

Once everything was taken care of, Anton stood up, brushing his pants nervously. “Well, thank you for inviting me over. Even if I have no idea what movie we just watched, or what happened in it,” he says with a slight chuckle to reassure you that he enjoyed what happened. Secretly hoping it would occur again, or even progress further. 

You smiled back at him, feeling a sense of closeness and tension lingering between you. “Yeah, definitely more eventful than expected,” you admitted, your voice tinged with nerves and lingering desire. Anton nodded once more, offering you a small wave before heading upstairs to leave. You watched him leave, but something told you to catch him before he left. You sprint up the stairs and see him at the front door. You walk towards him to say something, but you are quickly interrupted with a swift kiss. He pulls away, you smile at each other and part ways for the evening. 

[yiiyiiwrites]

🗡️ | Relics and Ruins | 1

[Series masterlist] [acotar masterlist] Summary: you come from a long line of healers in the dawn court, but it seemed to have skipped you completely. So you find that your mind is more equipped to read magical objects, fixing broken or cursed relics. What you don’t expect is an Illyrian warrior seeking your expertise on his favourite broken dagger. 1455words

The blade on the table rattled to a stop, whatever secrets it whispered, you did not understand the language it spoke.

A shadow lurked over the table, you glanced to the night courts high lord, Rhys opposite you, a smirk pulling his lips as his eyes flicked from you and his friend behind you.

“Are you going to stand over me whilst I work?” You raised a brow, neck aching as you twisted in your seat and looked to the Shadowsinger.

Rhys muttered an apology on behalf of his friend. Azriel stepped back from your desk, allowing the light to creep back in. You swatted one of the stray shadows still lingering, it rolled over your finger like the curl of smoke.

The small studio space you rented, barely allowed enough room for you to navigate. Tables and shelves filled with an assortment of objects still screaming at you to fix. You were sentimental when it came to the place, the first and only part of the court that was yours. Knew the layout like the back of your hand, large windows that bathed the area in light that no dark corner could be found. And you hated the dark.

You bit your lip trying to suppress the smile at the awkward Illyrian’s taking up the space. Their Highlord’s wings vanished before he entered the confined space, the other two however had tucked their wings in tightly and tried not to move too much within the organised mess.

The longhaired one, Cassian had given you some valuable information on a shield you’d given up on decades ago. You couldn’t help but mirror his smile whenever he offered you one, brows scrunching as he translated the text engraved on the metal.

The other winged male did not speak to you, he hung back clouded by shadows. Every now and then, little black wisps brushed against the tip of your short hair, a breeze ghosting over your shoulders.

But when he did finally speak, you found yourself wanting to look at him. The knot in your stomach twisting, his smooth voice called to you and it felt familiar, comforting. You wanted to hear it again.

“How long do you think it will take to mend?” Azriel leant on the desk, gloved hands supporting him as he gazed down at you. His attention solely on you, even up close he was breathtaking.

You blinked, hands fumbling over the desk as you knocked a pile of ancient tomes over. Dust settling in the air, the action kept going on like dominoes. A cannon ball hitting the mannequin of ancient armour into the hoards of Elven bows stacked up high.

Cassian tried to catch the next thing falling, but his wings flared ever so slightly as he tried to keep his balance. Forgetting about the tight space, his wings swiped the entire contents as well as the shelf off the wall. Metal clanged to the floor and he froze.

“Do not touch that,” you snapped, running to Cassian, your fast movement making him step back. “Unless you want it to haunt your dreams for the next hundred years.” You nudged the fallen contents with your boot, keeping them all together.

“We would not want that,” Rhys paused, glancing around the studio and the mess scattering what was left of the floor. “Perhaps we should allow you the time to do your work.” He flicked his wrist, the Elven bows stacking on top of one another.

You couldn’t help but gasp, it would have taken you hours to sort out the mess, but Rhys had put most of it back in its original place. Except the items you warned them not to touch, even that being extended to another persons magic.

The three men walked through the studio, you following closely behind them. Your hands hovering behind their wings as if waiting for them to knock into more things as they went.

Cassian doesn’t meet your eyes as you stand in the doorway, the three of them tense as if waiting for one of them to speak. You turn to Rhys expecting him to say something.

“We have business with your Highlord, so we will be around if you need anything,” Azriel said, bowing his head slightly. His shadows twirled in frenzy, black wisps tangling in your hair one more time.

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the pesky wisps.

Azriel cleared his throat, shadows returning to curl round his ear as if to tell him a secret. “How long do you think it’ll take to mend the truth-teller?”

“It will take me a while, I need to familiarise with the energy surrounding the blade.” You could already hear truth-teller beckoning you. A broken echo, the voice not quite pronouncing your name properly. But it called.

They bid you goodbye and you returned to the room of relics. The noise always a welcome distraction than listening to your own thoughts.

*🦇*

Azriel’s shadows had not stopped mumbling of the girl of sunlight. He kept swatting them away, the text he was trying to read in front him blurring at their constant interrupting.

“You think she knows?” Rhys asked, his hands in his pockets as he watched the sun bathe the sky in dusky pinks and orange hues.

The thought crossed Azriel’s mind, part of him thinking there was a moment when their eyes met, but the way she retreated from his shadows made him think otherwise.

“Nah, there’s no way. Too much energy in that room. Don’t know how she can surround herself with all those relics,” Cassian said, his fingers rubbing his temple.

Relics kept their energy and magical properties forever, outliving the ones that created them. They might not be able to wielded again, but if one was worthy enough to channel that power the object would call for whoever it could hear. Most times it was a distant mumble, only a trained ear or shadow could hear it.

“Now you know how we feel brother, when we spend too much time with you.”

Cassian pulled up the chair opposite Azriel, smirking as he got himself comfortable. “Maybe I should help her, you know familiarise that energy surrounding truth-teller. I do know some riveting tales…”

“The only thing snapping will be your neck if you meddle,” Azriel spat, he slammed his book shut as if closing anymore discussion on the mender in the dawn court.

The anger spread like wildfire in his chest, ever since the bond snapped he’d been overwhelmed with emotions. His shadows were equally as messy, not sure whether to follow him or stick behind with her. A few stray wisps fell back, hiding between the relics in her studio and keeping a safe distance.

Azriel couldn’t get her off his mind, he wondered if she’d ever been beyond her home or stepped into the darkness. He knew that his life wasn’t for everyone and didn’t want to subject someone full of so much light, to something so cold.

“Did you sense it whilst we were there?”

Cassian’s question dragged Azriel back to why they were truly there, the matter of his mate paused until they got what they were looking for. But Azriel didn’t realise that the one thing he’d be looking for was her.

“No, nothing.” Rhys turned as the doors opened, the dawn courts high lord entering.

“Well why didn’t you ask my favourite mender?” Thesan asked, but he waved his hand as if answering his own question. “She did let you in, did she not?”

“I fear that our missing relic is still under the mountain, her collection did not give us any clues,” Rhysand said glancing to Thesan, the warmth in his eyes dulled at the mention of the mountain. He too had been trapped beneath it, the last resort of returning was changing to a definite return.

“Ah,” Thesan paused, a strained smile twitched his lips. “ You see the mender is a relic herself. She too survived under the mountain and is the reason we have so much knowledge on the subject.”

Azriel felt the tight pull in his chest, so she had known darkness. He rubbed his chest, wondering if she felt the same jolt there too. His shadows being a reminder of her time there, maybe that’s why she preferred the light glaring down upon her. No curtains or furniture blocking the large windows that dominated the small studio she worked in.

“Would she be able to show us the way without actually going there?” Cassian asked. Azriel thankful that he had spoken up first. His thoughts were tangled, but they all led to her and her safety.

“You would have to ask her.”

[Part two]

I wrote this on my phone and not edited so might be some errors

[specialagentlokitty]

Arthur x reader - at first sight

Any BBC Merlin fic with Arthur x reader - Anon💜

Not much caught Arthur’s attention, a young Prince like himself all he really through about was training, getting ready to take his place as king.

He had never thought himself as one to settle down, find himself a partner, someone to rule by his side.

That was until he met you while on a quest, passing by your small house on their way to a village you were outside tending to your flowers.

He only caught a glimpse of you, but it was enough to make him stop his horse and just watch you for a moment.

The way the sun bounced off you, the little smile you wore on your face as you admired your flowers, the small tune you were humming under your breath.

He was smitten.

And everybody noticed.

“Looks like somethings caught your interest.” Gwaine smirked.

The others paused as well, looking over.

“I can understand why, I’ve never seen such beauty.” Lancelot nodded.

Leon and Percival both nodded and Merlin paused his horse next to Arthur’s, looking over as well.

Though he had to agree with everyone you were stunning, he was actually looking for signs of magic, though he couldn’t see anything clear.

“We should really get going before it gets too late.” Merlin mumbled quietly.

“Yeah yeah.” Arthur grumbled as he carried one.

Throughout the whole quest and the way back he couldn’t stop thinking about you, maybe that’s why he found himself here a few days later, no guards, he was taking a huge risk.

That’s why he soon found himself hesitating by your fence.

Was this a good idea? What if you were dangerous? What if something happened?

While he was overthinking he didn’t notice you had come outside, and he didn’t notice the fact you were stood there staring at him until he heard your quiet voice speak up.

“Can I… help you with something…?”

He jumped a little and blinked a few times to clear his head as he snapped his gaze to you.

“No… I… well…”

Arthur quietly cursed himself before sighing, composing himself.

“I’m Prince Arthur I passed here a few days ago and I couldn’t help but notice your flowers.”

Your eyes widen and you give a small bow of your head.

“I’m sorry sire I didn’t know.”

Arthur shakes his head a little with a small chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, do you mind if I ask you some questions about your garden?”

You quickly shake your head, gesturing for him to come in as you sit down on your porch in an attempt to make yourself look non threatening.

He walks in, but makes sure to keep a few feet between the two of you.

“Where did you get such an assortment, even our gardeners have trouble getting such a wide range of flowers.”

“Oh I uh… I’ve been growing them for years now… I trade with travellers for new seeds to try grow…”

Arthur nods a little bit.

“Are they hard to come by?”

“A little, but it’s just knowing who can get you what you want…”

He gives a small hum as he nods again, and he leans down to admire the range of colours and shapes and patterns of flowers that you had.

“What are these called?” He asked.

You hesitate for a moment before shuffling a little closer to take a look.

“Those are bluebells…”

Arthur gives a small smile as he quietly repeats the name to himself.

He spent the next few minutes asking about a few more flowers you had before he left, and you were stood there a little embarrassed and confused.

And once or twice a week Arthur started coming more, he found peace in your garden, it was relaxing, and he found himself wanting to help you just to spend time with you.

He’d do things that would be frowned upon for a prince, getting his hands dirty gardening, mingling so casually with someone who would be classed as below him, but he didn’t care.

Today was no different, he came to yours and waited outside but when you didn’t come out he got a little worried and impatient and walked to your door before knocking.

After a moment he decided he had enough and pushed the door open.

“(Y/N)?” He calls.

“One moment!”

Arthur steps inside, closing the door quietly behind him and waits there, and sure enough a minute later he hears the padding of your feet.

He was happy you were home but he frowned the moment he saw you limping out, a bandage around your foot and leg and he rushed over.

“Why are you up?! You should’ve told me you hurt your leg when I called your name!” He scolded.

He supported you and gently led you back to your bed, helping you settle back down and got your comfortable.

“Now tell me what happened.” He demanded.

You laugh sheepishly at him.

“I… I may have tripped down at the village…”

He gives a small sigh.

“And what did the doctor say?”

“He said it was just a sprain and that I had to rest for a few days that’s all.”

Arthur nodded a little, dragging a chair up next to your bed to sit down.

“And when did the doctor say this?”

“A couple of days ago.”

Arthur hummed and nodded, raising a brow at you.

“And have you been resting?”

Your sheepish grin was all Arthur needed to know to confirm what he thought, and he gave you a disapproving look.

“What an earth were you thinking walking around and not resting Hm? You’ll just be making yourself so much worse than you have to be!” He scolded.

Arthur sighs and shakes his head.

“You’re impossible aren’t you?”

You give him another sheepish grin, and Arthur just chuckled and shakes his head at you, getting up to make you some tea.

It was one of the reason he fell for you, but he wasn’t going to tell you that just that

[kakushino]

I'm married, Miss

Tomioka Giyuu x Fem! Reader

Your husband is a changed man when drunk.

Tags: fluff, alcohol consumption, post-Muzan era (so minor KNY spoilers?) Word count: 0,8k

Masterlist

Giyuu and you had gone on your customary monthly date night - to the lively izakaya you had first met at, introduced to each other by Tengen. It was a place that also served good food, other than the good alcohol, which was a definite bonus, but you were not thinking about any of the details of how or why you became a couple.

How could you, when Giyuu seemed to be deep in his cups and looking cute enough to eat?

A slight flush overtook his face some time ago, making you admire him with a bright smile. Your husband was so handsome, wasn’t he?

He took a small piece of food from the shared plate of assorted meats you shared, still a little clumsy with his left hand. He had an adorable frown marring his brow, his lips set in a pout, before he finally managed to successfully bring the bite to his lips, his expression relaxing as he chewed. 

He truly was a changed man when drunk.

“I love you,” you told him, still staring at him with a wide smile on your face.

Giyuu paused, blinking a few times, as if he’d just noticed you were there. “I’ll have you know I’m married, Miss,” he retorted neutrally, stumbling over his words a bit, the frown from earlier returning.

His answer surprised you. How much had he had to drink? Before you could tell him you were his spouse in question, he started to speak.

“I’m afraid you have no chance against her. She’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He jabbed his chopsticks in your direction, as his coworker Obanai used to do with his finger, accusatory. “You might be pretty but she’s prettier.”

Laughter bubbled from your throat. “Is she? Tell me more about her, please.” 

Giyuu’s frown was replaced by a completely neutral face, the only indication to his intoxication the blush on his cheeks. He was dead serious about ‘his wife’, it seemed. “She’s amazing,” he said breathily, adoration clear despite his expression. “My pearl, gods, what I wouldn’t give to hold her right now…” He looked down on his hand, still holding the chopsticks as it rested on the table, looking like a sad puppy. “She’s so-” he gestured oddly in the air, snapping his chopsticks as he concentrated, “she’s so comfort-shaped.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, your smile turning lovesick as you took in your drunk husband. He was just so adorable, wasn’t he? He loved you as much as you loved him. 

“She’s my treasure, flashiest treasure - she’s always got this glow, you see?” Giyuu leaned forward as if he were telling you a great secret. “She’s beautiful.” He nodded sagely, agreeing with himself.

You couldn’t help but to ask him a personal question that had weighed on your mind for a time while he was out of it. “Oh, what about her bad traits? Surely, every human has a bad trait? Like, does she snore, or is she annoyin-”

“Absolutely not!” Giyuu looked offended at that. “My wife- my wife and annoying? No, never. Never ever-” he slurred his speech a little, waving his chopsticks threateningly in your face. “And how dare you say she snores! My pearl only ever releases the sweetest sounds known to man, but you-” he pointed at you angrily, “-you are hurting my wife’s honor, and I will fight you for that.” As if to prove a point, he jabbed his utensils into one of the meats on the plate and ate it, glaring daggers at you.

You were pleasantly surprised at the valiant defense of your character; it only made your husband more endearing, and you really, really wanted to continue teasing him - especially knowing he would remember this in the morning - but your bladder felt too full to sit still for much longer.

You excused yourself, which Giyuu ignored, still munching on the food with vigor. You kept giggling under your breath as you went to the lavatory, a sense of light schadenfreude making you grin wide, knowing he would suffer in the morning and regret his choices. Now however, you would enjoy the situation.

When you came back, your husband greeted you warmly, recognizing you at last. “Heyyy, my pearl,” he smiled warmly, leaning forward against the table to be closer to you. “I missed you - so much.” 

“I just had to go to the toilet, dear,” you reminded him with a soft laugh.

His flushed face scrunched up into a pout. “There was someone insulting you while you were gone. I defended you though.” Giyuu sat up straighter, preening a little, waiting for your compliment.

“Thank you, dearest,” you could only grin at that. Oh, you so would enjoy him remembering the night come morning.

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