#I am going to write banter and it is going to be GREAT

[medievalharlot]

Our Last Night 彡 Geto Suguru x f!reader

masterlist - taglist

Pairing: Geto Suguru x f!reader

Synopsis: You couldn’t believe what Gojo told you on the phone until Geto showed up at your door. When he confirmed the truth, all you could think about was that this would be your last night together

Wordcount: 3,5k

Tags: Smut 18+ minor DNI!, angsty smut, p in v smut, smut with plot, mentions of abuse and violence, slight enemies to lovers, doomed lovers, unprotected sex (wrap your willies)

A/N: I AM BACK!! I totally fucked up my exam but that is fine! I thought it would be nice to write for another fandom for once, and of course I had write for my pookie Suguru. This idea has been on my mind forever, it’s losely based on All I Ask - Adele. I just wanna give him a hug and take care of him :(. AH I am so glad I finally got to write angst, please let me know if you want more! ENJOY!

big ol' thanks to @izealia for beta-reading this for me, love you darling

When Gojo called you to tell you the news, you didn’t want to believe he could do something like that. That Geto would be capable of killing anyone, let alone an entire village. The idea shakes you to your core. Gojo sounded just as shocked as you but mostly angry. Angry at Geto, angry at the world. The thought alone is making your head spin while you walk to your apartment. Once you got your groceries home, you would search for Geto. All you could think about was seeing him. Yell at him, ask him why, ask him if he was going mad. Anything to get a reaction, because right now he was not picking up his phone. How many times had you called him? Maybe twenty times already? But he had not picked up his phone any of those times. With your grocery bags in your hands you rushed to get home, to try to process this information.

You weren’t the most talented sorcerer, your cursed technique was quite boring. A simple levitating technique that could be used on objects and people if they weighed below a 100kg. Your family had close ties to the Gojo-clan. The women in your family had so-called ‘blessed wombs’. Generation after generation they had bore powerful sorcerers. It’s how you got to know Satoru. You had many sisters, one of them was arranged to marry him once they were old enough. The two of you met at a formal dinner and hit it off right away. Satoru was the one that had encouraged you to attend Jujutsu High. The only reason you got in was because of your analytical skills, they have proven to be more than useful when you started going on missions. It was nice knowing Satoru was there for you at school as well, even if he was a year above you. It was nice, until you met Geto.

The two of you did not hit it off well. He hated the way you stuck to Satoru as if you were a small child and he enjoyed passive aggressively telling you that whenever you were alone with him. You and Geto bickered constantly until the two of you had to go on a mission together. During the mission you found out about the downside of his technique. For him to be able to summon curses, he must first consume them. You couldn’t imagine the taste of them, and you could see the repulsed look in his eyes as he swallowed the orb down. After that, you mainly just avoided him and Satoru. You preferred being on your own if it meant that the two of them got to be silly and laugh together.

It made Geto feel guilty. Eventually, he approached you to offer help with a subject you had been struggling with. Satoru might be smart, but he did not have the time to sit there and explain it to you. He had mentioned it once to Geto about how you had been failing your test. Feeling bad about how he basically took your only friend, he decided to help you. When you sat down together, it turned out you got along great. Study sessions turned into hangouts, insults turned into friendly banter and Geto turned into Suguru.

That summer you fell in love for the first time. You felt like a little girl with the way he made you feel, not that you would ever admit it. Satoru could tell and never let you live it down, but secretly he was rooting for the two of you to finally get together. He had told you he was getting sick of the two of you ‘eye-fucking’ every time you hung out. You couldn’t help yourself, you were falling head first and there was nothing that could stop you. The way he smiled, the way he talked, his beautiful hair and the way he would ruffle your hair when you met up. Everything about him made your stomach do somersaults. One soft summer night you had been brave, emboldened by the alcohol in the system you had kissed him. Neither one of you spoke of that night after Suguru had brought you home.

You softly curse yourself as you rush to your apartment. You should have known, you could have done something for him. Something was off ever since Riko had been killed. Despite how desperately he tried to act like he was fine, you could tell he was not. His features looked sunken in and it was clear he was not present in any conversation. That it could take such a dark turn was not what you had expected though. Suguru had always been a mannered guy, to do something so irrational was out of character.

When you grabbed your keys you noticed the door was already unlocked. Had you forgotten to lock it? Silently, you stepped inside. There were footsteps, somebody had broken into your home. You opened your door and stood face to face with him. Suguru. He had two girls with him, the three of them looking dusty. Ash covering their clothes. You open your mouth to speak, but the words couldn’t come out.

Suguru heard you drop your grocery bags. He turns around, looking at you. There is a tired and dull look on his face. “I had nowhere else to turn too.” The girls cower behind him when they notice you as well. “We need a place to sleep.” He says, looking at you with those kind but exhausted eyes.

“Are you here to kill me?” You whisper softly. There was no fear in your eyes. If this was the way you were going to die, then you were fine with that.

He shakes his head, taking a step closer. “Can we stay?” The atmosphere was tense, like something could explode any minute. Suguru turned his head towards the girls, then back at you again. “Just for tonight. I promise.” He asks you. “Please.”

How could you turn him away when he asked you so nicely. You took a glance at the girls, they looked tired, starved and beat. You frown, turning back to Suguru. With a hesitant tone to your voice you nod. “Fine, I have a spare room they can sleep in.” You grab your grocery bags again, bringing them to your kitchen. “They look like they could use a bath and a meal.”

After they had dinner and you bathed them, Geto tucked them into bed. The bed was slightly too small, but it would do for the night. You stood in the doorframe watching him bid the girls, Mimiko and Nanako were their names, goodnight. There was a sense of normalcy to it, like this is what it could be like. It made you wonder if under different circumstances this domestic display of caring for kids, your kids, would have happened as well. If only they were different..

He took his time, making sure they were comfortable. When he finally left the room he let out a sigh. The both of you didn’t say anything for a moment, you just looked at each other. You brush a particle of ash off his white shirt. “You’re dirty.” Neither of you could raise your voice louder than a mere whisper. “You need a bath.”

“I know.” His eyes follow your hands, looking down at the grime on his clothes.

You walk past him to your bathroom, turning on the hot water to fill up the tub. With gentle hands you helped him out of clothes. Even if you had loved him and lusted after him for months now, the air was not sexual when he undressed. Your hands ran across his strong arms, his muscled back. It was not that you could finally see how much weight he had lost, his ribs were visible when he lifted his shirt over his head.

Suguru looked exhausted when he finally sat down in the water. With a certain hesitation you sit down behind him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He pulls his hand out of the water, placing it on top of yours.

“Why?” You ask him, there was no context needed. He knew what you were asking about.

“Why should we bear the responsibility of protecting the weak, when they are the source of the problem anyway?” He did not look at you as he talked. “Why should we run an endless marathon when at the end of the line we are left with our friends dead. Why not eradicate the source.”

You knew he was talking about Haibara. A few weeks ago he died on a mission fighting a grade 1 curse. You didn't know Suguru had such a hard time processing his death.

You grab a cup, filling it with water and pouring it over his hair. The wet strands stuck to his shoulders. “But why did you kill all those innocent people?”

When you asked him that, he leaned away from your touch to look at you. There was an angry look in his eyes. “ They were far from innocent. They tortured those little girls, they kept them unfed in a cage.” Malice laced his voice, it scared you. “They abused them for something that was natural to them.” He turned back around, allowing you to run your fingers through his black locks again.

You grabbed a bottle of shampoo, pouring a generous amount on your palm and lathering it into foam. His answer left a bitter taste in your mouth, it made you not want to question further. The room was silent for a moment as you washed his hair. The rest of the bath was in silence, you dared not interrogate further about the girls that were currently asleep in your guest room. You decided to leave Suguru alone to dry himself off, leaving him with your fluffiest towels to get the job done.

Patiently, you waited for him to finish up in your bathroom. Your mind was going 100 miles per hour, you did not know what to think anymore. You paced back and forth, it was a habit you developed whenever you were stressed or nervous. He knew that.

“Knock it off.” He spoke, entering the room clad in only a towel around his waist. His hair was still slightly damp. With a few paces he stood in front of you, you couldn’t look at him. The realisation dawned on you what he was planning on doing a few minutes ago. He cups your face, tilting it slightly so you were looking at him. “Will you come with me?” His voice was nothing more than a soft whisper, revealing the vulnerability in it.

Tears stung in your eyes as you stared back at him. Oh how you wanted to come with him, to leave this mess behind and live your life with him. But you couldn’t, you weren’t a murderer. You couldn’t kill the entirety of the non-sorcerer society. Squinting your eyes close, you shake your eyes. “You can’t..” You started. “You can’t ask that of me Suguru.”

“I know.” He mumbled, he knew you were most likely going to say no. Suguru never saw himself as a savior, it was his obligation to protect the weak as a sorcerer, but he could not keep running in this endless cycle just to end up dead without even being close to finding a solution to the problem. You, on the other hand. You were good, you had always been. Even if he was distant towards you at first, you had your heart in the right place. His ideal was impossible to achieve, he was fully aware of that. But to him, this was the best way to protect the so-called weak. Eradicate or make them adept.

As it also hit him that this would be his last night with you, he pulled you into a hug. A silent, firm and warm hug. You couldn’t help but feel the tears stream down your face. If this world would have been perfect, you could stay like this forever. But the world wasn’t perfect, and you were about to lose the man you loved the most.

You did not want him to pull away, but he did. His dark eyes met yours once more. Then, he leaned in to kiss you. Without any hesitation you kissed him back, chasing the familiarity of his lips. His thumb rubbed your cheek, slowly pushing you towards the bed.

You let him lead you there, both of you needed this. A final moment of closeness. When the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed, you break the kiss. He looked down at you, an unsure look in his eyes. “I need us to be more than friends, just for tonight.” It was like he was pleading at this point. He needed to have you close, to share a memory of pure love.

Then everything went down in a whirlwind. You jumped forward to connect your lips once more, unbuttoning your blouse in a rush. His hands quickly found the back of your bra, unclasping it to make it fall to the ground. You needed to get your clothes off, it was almost like they were on fire. Quickly, you tugged your jeans off. Suguru’s hands were already massaging your breast, he didn’t even notice the towel slipping off his hips. Not that it would’ve stayed on much longer with how hard his boner was getting.

He sat down on the bed, pulling you in between his legs. Softly, he kissed your stomach as if he wanted to savor your taste. You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed to feel him inside you. “I want you.” You mumbled as you looked down at him, his mouth was still latched to your breast. Without even getting a reply, you crawled onto his lap. His hard cock sitting against your pelvis, you could feel your cunt drool at the thought of finally doing what you had been thinking about all those lonely nights.

“Are you sure?” He had pulled away from your breasts, looking at you again. You nodded, you haven’t been this sure about something before in your life. His strong hands helped you lift your hips, lining his tip with your entrance. A sigh of relief left your lips when you finally felt him stretch you out.

Suguru rested his head against your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. The two of you stayed there for a moment, just revelling in each other's comfort. You needed as much of your skin to touch his skin, the fact that he would be gone the next morning still present in your mind. Gently, you rocked your hips, coaching a moan out of Suguru’s lips.

There weren’t many words needed, just soft moans and whines. Neither of you wanted to talk, in fear of acknowledging what you both knew. This was your last night together. The next time you were going to see each other was on opposite sides. The chance that you were going to have to fight each other was real, and neither one of you wanted to think about that.

The pace was slow, the kissing was messy and the sex was sweaty. You could feel he was close, his dick twitching inside you. Suguru picked you up while still inside you and laid you down on the bed. You wrapped your legs around him and pulled his head against your chest. He wasn’t the only one that was getting close, with the friction you created while grinding down on him you were just as close to an orgasm as he was. Just a few more thrusts.

Suguru picked up the pace slightly, but it was still messy and sloppy. Just what you needed. “It’s okay.” He noticed the way you were clenching. “I’m close too.” He mumbled, his thrusts slowing down. With a final pound against your clit, you came. Your orgasms spurred him on to chase his own. While you were still coming down from your own, he cummed. A choked groan leaving his lips as he spilled inside you.

The two of you stayed there for a moment, panting and heaving. Suguru collapsed onto your chest, holding you close. He placed a kiss between your breasts. “I love you.” The tone in his voice was sincere. “I truly do.” His future was uncertain, he didn’t know where he was going to stay with his girls tomorrow and if he even was going to live past next week. But one thing was certain to him. He loved you, he loved you so deeply that he needed to let you go. You deserved to be happy with someone that was just as good as you were. He couldn’t ask of you to join his side, but his heart would always belong to you.

You placed a hand on his hair, petting it slightly. “Don’t say that.” You whisper with tears in your eyes. In another world you could’ve told him the truth. You loved him so much that you weren’t sure if you were going to get over this heartbreak. Deep down you wanted to yell at him, plead him to turn himself in and confess his guilt. Anything for it to remain possible that he could stay by your side. But you knew he had made up his mind, and you made up yours. The universe never intended for the two of you to be together.

That night was the quietest of nights. You couldn’t sleep, all you did was stare at the ceiling or stare at Suguru’s sleeping figure. You didn’t want to wake up to an empty bed. It was around 4 AM when you finally fell into slumber. When you woke up, he was already gone. Your heart ached dully. He had made his side of the bed, always a gentleman.

With heavy feet you got up and walked to your kitchen. The bed of the girls had been made as well. It made you smile, he was always so considerate towards you. You turned on the kettle, you needed a cup of coffee after tonight. Anything but the realisation that he was gone. As the coffee brewed you noticed the letter on the table. Hesitantly you brushed your fingers over the handwriting, feeling the ink on the paper as you read.

To my dearest friend, my love,

By the time you read this letter we have already left. I am glad you found sleep after all, I could hear you toss and turn all night. I don’t know where we will go, but I will figure it out. I promised you we were only staying for a night, so I wouldn’t want to burden you further. You are always welcome in our home, wherever we might end up. Even if you told me not to say it, I truly love you so much. I will continue to love you. Until the sun sets in the east, and comes up in the west. Until the rivers dry up and the sun falls from the sky. I love you. In another life we would have been together, but luck doesn’t work that way. I wish you all the best in your life. Until the next one.

All my love,

Suguru

[spnjediavenger]

First Interview (Charlie Cox x teen!reader)

Firsts (A ‘Big Brother Duties’ spinoff)

Title: Chapter 4: First Interview

Type: series; Charlie Cox x teen!reader (platonic!)

Warnings: so much fluff

Spoilers: none?

Notes: this idea came from @mirkwoodshewolf and this video and was sooo fun to write!

As always, love and/or constructive/friendly criticism is welcome and encouraged!

Disclaimers: i do not own daredevil, its characters, or plot but i DO own Emily Murdock

Word count: 1930

“Ok - your first Daredevil interview! Are you excited?” Charlie said, a big smile on his face.

Y/n bounced a little on her toes, twitching her head a bit to the side. “Yeah.”

“Wow,” Charlie said, his head cocking back in surprise. “That didn’t sound underwhelming at all.”

The girl chuckled a bit and shook her head. “I am excited, but I’m also nervous,” she said honestly.

“What are you nervous for? You’ll do great!”

“It’s just that it’s the first big interview I’ve done.”

“They’re literally having us playing kids games,” Charlie deadpanned. “I’d hardly call it a ‘big’ interview.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “It’s my first interview for a big production like Daredevil which has a big fanbase, and this is Buzzfeed we’re doing it with,” she spelled it out for her co-star.

Charlie threw an arm around her shoulders and shook her a bit. “I get it, I get it. But don’t work it up so much in your head. It’s not live, there’s no audience besides the Buzzfeed crew. If you want to worry about anything, worry about me kicking your butt at these games,” he said.

Y/n scoffed “Oh, you’re on, Cox,” she said, pushing him away and making her way to the studio door.

Charlie laughed and let himself have a triumphant smile. He knew that’d get her.

“So, before we begin: are either of you competitive?”

Y/n chortled a bit, covering her mouth with a fist, making Charlie grin.

“You’re probably looking at the two most competitive people in the entirety of the Daredevil cast and crew,” Charlie explained.

“Ok, perfect. The first game is going to be a staring contest - the first to laugh is out,” the host said, watching the two.

“Ohoho you are so screwed,” Charlie laughed, bending over a bit.

Y/n’s face scrunched up in irritation as she shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes. “You break more than me on set, Charlie,” she said indignantly.

“I do not!”

“Ok - countdown then start,” the host said, smiling at the banter. “Ready?” Charlie and Y/n assumed their positions facing each other. “3…2…1…go.”

Charlie knew this was a contest he already had in the bag so he started off by letting Y/n think she had a chance. He didn’t make any faces or pull anything - they just stared at each other for a few moments. But eventually, his mischievous spirit got the better of him. He opened his eyes as big as they could get, noting the small smile that immediately grew on Y/n’s face.

She pulled her lips in as she fought a giggle back. She shook her head at Charlie. Not good enough, she silently communicated through her look.

Charlie smirked and stepped closer to her, their noses practically touching. Y/n’s smile broke into a held back grin as she leaned back, trying to avoid him, but Charlie followed her, inevitably making her break into giggles and almost fall over. Charlie grabbed her arm and pulled her into a hug as he laughed, raising a victorious fist in the air.

“Too bad, little sister,” he chuckled, setting her on her feet.

Y/n laughed a bit and shook her head but wore a large smile.

“Alright, next up we have hungry hungry hippos.”

“Ok, I’m ready to redeem myself,” Y/n said, jumping a few times to hype herself up.

Charlie laughed at her behavior and stood as they picked hippos across from one another.

“3…2…1…go!”

The ruckus of plastic beating against plastic filled the room as Y/n and Charlie pushed the levers in pursuit of the little plastic marbles that rolled around the game board.

Charlie, seeing he was starting to become overtaken, stepped closer to Y/n and bumped into her a little bit.

“Cheater!” she screeched, keeping her focus on the game.

When only a few marbles remained, Charlie reached a hand over to squeeze Y/n’s side, eliciting a yelp. Despite this, Y/n was still able to beat him.

“YES!” she yelled, throwing her hands in the air and jumping. “See what happens when you cheat?” she said, playfully pushing at Charlie’s face. 

He chuckled and pushed her hands away. “I wasn’t cheating. I was just leveling the playing field.”

“First of all - totally cheating. Second - did you really just quote Monsters University?”

“You better believe I did,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “And, not cheating,” he mumbled after.

The host laughed a bit. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you two were competitive.

“Hey, we’re siblings on screen and off. Seems only fitting,” Charlie said, lifting his arms in a what can I say? kind of way.

“Here we go, you guys, onto our last one. We have a shock bump maze and we’re gonna see who can go farthest. You’ll each have two turns to try.”

“Should we give Charlie an extra turn since he’s old?” Y/n said casually, clasping her hands in front of her trying to look innocent.

“Hey! You watch yourself ‘mini Murdock,’” he said accusingly, mocking Y/n’s character’s nickname.

Y/n simply smirked and watched as Charlie went and quickly failed, making the girl cover her mouth with a hand to keep from laughing.

“Ok, we get two turns, right?” Charlie confirmed, looking at the host.

Y/n rolled her eyes and took his place. She picked up the wand and moved it around the curves and corners, suddenly hyper-aware of Charlie standing right over her shoulder. “Back. Away,” Y/n said, trying to keep her focus on the game.

“I’m not doing anything,” Charlie said, leaning even closer. Y/n elbowed him, making him stumble, and making herself hit the maze.

“Charlie!”

Charlie laughed, a bright grin on his face. “I was just standing there! You were the one to move and mess up.”

“You were breaking my concentration,” she said, then turned to the host. “Can he do that?”

Her question ignored, Charlie took her place for his second turn. Y/n stood at his 10 o’clock and stared wide-eyed at him as he started. 

“Don’t. Don’t you dare,” he said, a smile already on his face.

“‘I’m not doing anything’,” Y/n mocked with the worst British accent she could make.

Charlie laughed, then lost control of the wand. He dropped it, slumped his shoulders, and gave Y/n a deadpanned look before running at her and wrapping his arms around her, bowling her out of the camera’s view as they both laughed.

Needless to say, Y/n won that game as well.

“Ok so you two clearly have a good co-star relationship; how did that come about? Has it always been like that?”

“Great question,” Charlie said, taking the lead so Y/n wouldn’t feel pressured. “I feel like it was maybe a little slow to start, with Y/n being newer to the show and the rest of us kind of knowing each other already.”

“I mean, you guys weren’t clique-y though,” Y/n chimed in. “It’s not like you ignored me or anything.”

“No, no, definitely not that.”

“But it was also that I was so nervous around the others, especially Charlie, honestly. I was- yeah, you like that?” Y/n interrupted herself as she caught Charlie chuckling. Shaking her head, she continued, “I was already a big fan of Daredevil with season 1, so getting cast into season 2 was insane. Then getting to meet the person that brought Matt Murdock to life was surreal. But after being awkward when we met, it was easy to fall into a comfortable rapport with him ‘cause he’s a goofball.”

Charlie laughed and clapped his hands together. “I just do what I can to lighten things up.”

Y/n nodded with a big smile. “I feel like once I opened up it was what started the whole sibling thing. The more comfortable I am with someone, the more I mess with them. And it was great ‘cause we would just riff off each other and still do that.”

“Awesome, I love it,” the host said, smiling a bit. “Speaking of that bond off stage, let’s talk about the bond on stage. A lot of people loved the addition of Emily Murdock - what’s your favorite part of that addition?”

“She-”

“I-”

Y/n and Charlie chuckled after starting at the same time. Charlie held out a hand. “Ladies first.”

The girl smiled and looked back at the host. “At first I was nervous about coming into something established but I really like - and I think some fans have pointed this out too, how Emily brings out parts of Matt that we’ve never gotten to see before. You know, even though he has a joking side, especially with Foggy, he’s never had it so much as he does around Emily, and how he has this added role as a caregiver, or guardian I should say. Plus getting to see him open up to familial love because he thought he didn’t have any real family left but bam now he does.”

As she spoke, Charlie found himself smiling proudly as she quickly took charge of answering and all her nerves from before had seemingly vanished. When she was done, the host said his name and he turned to answer. “Well, now I wish I had gone first because she took all the good answers and examples,” he said, making everyone chuckle. “But no, I really do like that as well as getting to see how the other characters adjust to her as well - Karen having another woman around, Foggy having someone else to joke with. I’m also eager to see how things continue to play out with new villains and adversaries as we near season 3.”

“What’s been your favorite scene to film?”

“Aw man, we can only pick one?” Y/n said, earning a few laughs. “Crap…I’m gonna have to generally go with any playful scene between Emily and Matt. ‘Cause again, I just love when Matt opens up and welcomes this more lighthearted side of him.”

“Really?” Charlie said, shocked.

“Why are you surprised?” Y/n laughed a bit.

“I thought you’d resent those since it’s how I found out you were ticklish.”

“Oh my g-d don’t remind me. He holds this over me all the time,” she deadpanned to the host. 

“Hey, I take my sibling duties very seriously,” Charlie defended himself.

“What about you, Charlie? What’s your favorite scene?”

“Oh boy, my favorite scene…I do agree with Y/n’s answer but…I’m gonna have to go with Matt’s near-death scene. Aside from being emotional and a crowd-pleaser, it was the first time Y/n really wow-ed us since joining the show. I mean, we knew she was talented coming on, she went through the reading great, but she really was able to add a lot more and so many people on the cast and crew teared up as she, playing Emily, was going through breaking down and begging for Matt to stay with her - I’m honestly getting emotional thinking about it, my gosh. But yeah, I’m gonna have to go with that.”

Y/n gave Charlie an appreciative smile as he talked about that scene and gave him a side hug as the host wrapped up. Afterwards, Charlie walked her back to their room in the building. “I know you were nervous at first, but I’m really proud of you, darling,” he said. “You did great.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” she smiled. “First interview down - about a hundred more to go.”

[spark-hearts2]

TADC BUBBLE THEORIES!? I HAVE TADC BUBBLE THEORIES! I CHALLENGE YOU TO A BATTLE OF THE ‘TISMS (tell me all about it right now)

I made a post about it! Linked here

But, to expand more on my thoughts, I honestly wonder if Bubble's bits are genuinely bits. As in, Bubble interrupts Caine with something that implies that the adventure is going to suck ass. Which, is obviously funny to us, the audience. But, considering these lines in universe, this is very self aware. Being self aware is necessary for good comedy, but what does it mean for Bubble of all creatures to be this way?

Bubble seems to be oddly dependent on Caine. He spawns out of Caine's hat, only seen around with Caine, only interacts with Caine, and Caine pops him when the bit is over. But at the same time his dialog doesn't make him sound like a sock puppet that Caine uses to bounce jokes off of. It's possible that I'm wrong and Caine purposely makes jokes at his adventure's expense, but I doubt it.

So Bubble is his own guy but for some reason he has been tied to Caine. Why? I have no idea. But I hope to god (Gooseworx) that Caine and Bubble's situation is explained further than funny guy and funny guy.

Gooseworx did say that Bubble only talks to Caine in the show, but what if that's because Bubble will become Abel, and therefor is no longer Bubble! Ohhh I've connected the dots. I've connected them.

[sunderwight]

Modern AU where Shen Yuan accidentally sugar-daddies everyone.

So for the purposes of this, Shen Yuan's family is basically $10 Bananas levels of cluelessly rich. Shen Yuan has almost never had to look at the prices of anything he wants. He and his siblings all get an allowance from the family's main account, which increases when they reach adulthood, and in the interest of fairness his parents made it all the same size. So Shen Yuan gets the same amount of money for his daily living expenses as his older brothers with their penthouse apartments and vacation homes and private jets, at least from the family account (since he doesn't work, he doesn't actually make as much as them in total because they earn more on top of their allowances).

And the thing is, Shen Yuan genuinely just lives a lot more humbly. He likes people but what would he do with a vacation house? Anything really nice would probably require him to fly to get out there, and he gets sick as hell on planes. Living in the central city is also not great for him, because the air pollution is so bad. Having a whole house to himself would also be ridiculous. So he has a reasonable apartment, in a reasonable area, and he splurges every so often on purchases that make him happy and take-out food that he likes, and of course he pays a cleaning service to come in twice a week. Most people assume he's comfortably middle class and has some tech job he does from home, but he's been getting a lot more than he's been spending in his monthly allowances for years now, and the figures are big.

Enter into this environment author Airplane and his trash novels. Novels, multiple, because in this AU there's no PIDW, and instead after some alternate PIDW prototype got popular in the harem genre, Airplane decided to churn out a series of copy-paste shorter stories rather than recycling the same subplots in one massively long epic.

Shen Yuan of course discovers Airplane's writing and becomes as obsessed with it as ever, except this time he notices that if there are delays between new stories, they seem to clear up faster whenever he throws some cash at the problem. And also that the drops in Airplane's writing quality coincide with times when Shen Yuan was having health issues and not keeping up with his VIP purchases. So, he works out that Airplane's probably doing the writing for the money, and that when Peerless Cucumber isn't paying the most for it, Airplane starts listening to the other buffoons in the comment section more to try and entice them to pay his bills instead.

Peerless Cucumber leaves a comment on one of Airplane's latest stories that kicks off the two of them actually chatting, and Shen Yuan eventually gets to the point of offering to fund all Airplane's writing, in exchange for Airplane not doing his crap sellout stuff to appeal to other readers anymore. Airplane thinks he's joking or maybe mocking him. Shen Yuan asks how much it would cost. Airplane fires off a ridiculous number. Shen Yuan doesn't even blink and wires him the first payment. Then he gets annoyed because Airplane leaves him on read for a while, but that's because Airplane is staring at his account balance in shock.

Of course, it's Airplane who starts referring to Peerless Cucumber as his sugar daddy. Shen Yuan is just like "based on your sex scenes I don't think anyone would pay you for that" and Airplane's all "but you WOULD pay for my sex scenes ^_~" and Shen Yuan's like "technically I am actually paying you not to write that shit" and so on. Usual banter. The quality of Airplane's writing improves dramatically, a lot of his readership drops off but he does get new readers and gradually builds up an even bigger fanbase than before, and so on, it all goes pretty well. He eventually writes a few things that take off to the point of getting physical publications and international translations. Technically Airplane no longer needs Shen Yuan to pay all of his bills by that point but he's not going to tell Shen Yuan that! The contract's still good as long as he keeps writing!

Then one of Airplane's online acquaintances runs into some financial trouble and asks for help.

Liu Mingyan used to beta read for Airplane back when he wrote fanfiction (she was like thirteen, Airplane was unaware because internet and hey free beta), and it seems her family has hit a rough patch. She wants tips on how to go pro, but Airplane explains that it was extremely difficult and he mostly lucked out by finding a single wealthy backer. Mingyan wonders if the same guy would be interested in her writing, Airplane sadly thinks not because Mingyan exclusively writes kinky danmei erotica and Peerless Cucumber seems pretty firmly in the closet still and also generally prefers plotty and world-building heavy stuff.

But like, Airplane has definitely gotten a vibe off of Cucumber-bro, and Mingyan's gorgeous older brother does video streams of himself doing cool martial arts and swordsmanship stuff. So he asks her permission and when she gives it, he recommends Liu Qingge's videos to Shen Yuan, being sure to mention that the guy in question can't really afford to keep up with his hobbies and oh what a shame it would be if he had to stop making art like that.

Haha, Airplane, you're not subtle.

Even so, Shen Yuan watches the videos and immediately agrees that Liu Qingge is beauty in motion, and that it would be criminal to deprive the world of more videos of his sword. Swordsmanship! That is the, the art of, martial arts! Definitely. He clicks the donate button, reasoning out that he'll just send a donation about the size of his usual monthly payments to Airplane and call it his good deed for the day.

Liu Qingge is very confused by this new follower from nowhere who suddenly dumped a little over a month's rent into his account. One thing leads to another, with Mingyan and Airplane conspiring to try and get Shen Yuan as a permanent patron, and then Liu Qingge being let in on it. Except that Airplane keeps referring to Shen Yuan as his sugar daddy, and well... it's not like Liu Qingge doesn't ever get 'those' kinds of comments on his videos. At first he's embarrassed, then offended, then mortified that his own younger sister is apparently setting him up to make premium private videos for what he assumes is some old pervert who is going to want him to do untoward things.

However, their options are pretty bleak at the moment, and Liu Qingge worries that if he doesn't do this then Mingyan might. She even mentions something to the effect of having planned to offer herself, and only didn't because she wasn't this "sugar daddy" guy's type!

Teeth clenched, Liu Qingge asks Airplane stiltedly for advice on how to... appeal, to this wealthy benefactor.

In the end though it's not nearly as bad as Liu Qingge feared. He winds up doing more videos in costumes and cosplay, which ought to have been an untenable expense, but Peerless Cucumber always ends up covering the cost of whatever he invests in plus extra. Sometimes he sends Liu Qingge stuff with a request to wear it, but so far it's just been like, badass warrior-themed or historical costumes. Nothing overtly pervy. He does some LARPing, he makes enough to start doing horseback archery again, convinces some of his good-looking peers from various clubs to spar with him, and ultimately the most risque videos he ends up doing are the ones where he demonstrates how to put on certain kinds of gear. He still locks those ones behind paid subscribers only, mostly because he feels like he's doing something illicit now, even if he used to show more skin on his older videos any time he took his shirt off.

Peerless Cucumber doesn't leave creepy comments, either. In fact he seems genuinely nice and supportive, it's hard not to like him, and so even once his situation levels out Liu Qingge decides there's not really much need to stop making videos for him. (He maybe even gets a little giddy thrill over... well, sometimes he finds it all a bit... just when he thinks about Peerless Cucumber watching him demonstrate his physical prowess and finding that alone worth... ANYWAY--)

So that goes on for a while, before Yue Qi enters the scene.

Yue Qi is the childhood friend of one of Shen Yuan's older brothers (Shen bros!) and Shen Jiu owes him a big favor for something that he won't talk about. At least he won't talk to Shen Yuan about it. But Yue Qi is also not the type to ask for help, and Shen Jiu is very bad at offering it, so when Shen Jiu gets word that Yue Qi is having some difficulties making ends meet, he tells Shen Yuan to act as the middle man. Go offer Qi-ge money, he knows you're nice he'll just accept it, and then Shen Jiu will pay the actual bill.

Well it turns out that Yue Qi doesn't just accept it, of course he sees right through it, and gently but firmly tells Shen Yuan that he's not interested in burdening Shen Jiu further than he already has. Etc, etc, stoic stiff upper lips and no proper communication all around. Shen Yuan panics because it's not working and he's also genuinely worried about Yue Qi by now, so he tries to figure out how to make it compelling and basically blurts that, well, see, the thing is that sometimes he pays men to entertain him. You know. To like. Do things, for him. So. He could also pay Yue Qi? To do something for him?

Yue Qi gets the wrong idea entirely, and at first is like, oh, no, A'Yuan, you shouldn't be paying people for that! These things should just happen organically! But Shen Yuan is very adamant that he believes in compensating people for what they do for him, it's not like he can't afford to, and it gets awkward but Yue Qi is like well he does have health problems. It's perhaps difficult for him to meet people. So then he starts worrying about Shen Yuan and all these strange men he's apparently paying for "entertainment". Does his brother know about this?

No of course Shen Jiu doesn't know! He'd hate it, and Shen Yuan doesn't want to hear about how he's doing everything wrong with his life again!

Then Shen Yuan mentions that his prior house cleaning service up and quit on him (they didn't), and if Yue Qi would like to earn fair compensation he could just come over sometimes to help instead, and Shen Yuan would pay him just to tidy up and hang out for a few hours! Which Yue Qi thinks is a fantastic idea, actually, even if Shen Yuan is only doing this because of his brother, this will give Yue Qi a chance to keep an eye on him and his so-called entertainers. Even if he sort of... ends up also being one?

Shen Yuan keeps everything above board, though his apartment always seems perfectly clean and he overpays way too much (Shen Jiu is still footing this bill after all), and Yue Qi starts to think maybe he actually is being paid for intimacy. Of a sort that they're maybe still working up to? Shen Yuan usually has a very thin face after all. He's kind of got two minds about this prospect. On the one hand, he's got his situationship with Shen Jiu, so dating his brother would be absurd. But on the other hand, it's not actually dating, and he does like Shen Yuan, and maybe if they can be good company for each other then Yue Qi won't feel so depressed and Shen Yuan won't need to hire strange men so often.

Meanwhile it's come to Shen Yuan's attention, perhaps through an offhand comment he read online somewhere, that people who are struggling financially often also struggle to "treat themselves". Because even when they have enough money to be comfortable there's often the looming specter of deprivation, and etc, so he figures he should start buying some of his dependents more treats and things. Since they might not buy them for themselves? And also he's enjoying doing this but shhh no he isn't, it's a huge hassle, he's only doing it out of basic moral decency, etc.

So like, Airplane starts getting little things that he'd put on some public wish lists, clearly sent by Peerless Cucumber. And he tells Mingyan to make a list for Liu Qingge too, and sure enough, Liu Qingge (bewildered, slightly flustered) tries to figure out what he's supposed to do with an album from a band he likes and some high-end leather polish. Ultimately settles on playing the music and wearing his nicest leather in his next video. Yue Qi starts arriving at Shen Yuan's place to be plied with his favorite coffees and to have scented candles awkwardly foisted onto him (Shen Yuan does not know what Yue Qi likes in gifts) (he buys these presents himself they're not out of Shen Jiu's pocket).

So finally Shen Yuan's parents start to notice that he's been spending a lot more than usual, and start to worry that he's either been taken in by a scam artist or is secretly dating a gold digger or has developed a drug addiction or something. But asking things directly like normal people is basically illegal in the Shen family, so they decide to hire a private investigator.

Enter Luo Binghe, a young man of humble background who is struggling to make ends meet after the untimely death of his adoptive mother, and is using his P.I. job and his online cooking videos to help pay his way through school (scholarship student). Usually his cases are more like, cyberstalking someone to find out if they're cheating on their spouse, or helping someone planning a lawsuit accumulate evidence on their corrupt employer, or other things like that. When he gets the Shen Yuan case, the idea that the Shen family's son is paying for "company" is well within his list of probable answers.

Though this one is a little... peculiar?

Mostly because Binghe can't find evidence of Shen Yuan actually getting what he would, presumably, be paying for. At first Luo Binghe just goes through the online paper trails, using the info that the Shen parents give him to figure out that Shen Yuan is paying Airplane and Swordmaster Liu (*cough*) what seem to be exorbitant prices just for trashy fiction and cosplay videos. He assumes this is a cover, that someone's actually delivering drugs or going over for "private meetings" or at least actually sending dirty videos as well, but even when he pays for Liu Qingge's VIP access it's just tutorials and such. Neither of these guys are even on any of the sites that are more lenient towards hosting explicit content. Luo Binghe's aware that kinks aren't always obviously sexual, but people don't usually pay through the nose for the kind of content they can easily find for free all over the place, either.

He digs a little more but keeps coming up empty on evidence to clarify which of the many vices the Shen family's son is actually indulging in. Which is a problem because that's the information they're paying him to find out. Plus his curiosity kind of piques as he reads Shen Yuan's seemingly quite invested comments on Airplane's writing and Liu Qingge's videos, looking to see if there's any kind of clandestine code or pattern. But near as he can tell, whatever else Shen Yuan might be getting out of these arrangements, he does genuinely like the stories and videos too? Well. Sometimes. Sometimes he's actually scathingly vitriolic towards Airplane's writing.

Luo Binghe decides that surveilling Shen Yuan himself is probably the way to go. That gets more complicated in court cases, but since the Shen parents just wants to know what's going on and aren't planning on prosecuting their son for anything, it doesn't matter as much if Luo Binghe gets information in sneaky or underhanded ways.

So, Binghe uses the account he created to access Liu Qingge's videos to chat with Shen Yuan a few times, and then recommends his own cooking channel. Shen Yuan doesn't seem too interested in cooking, so Luo Binghe makes sure to include a video that has an image of himself in his recommendation, and then films a few new videos of himself cooking with his shirtsleeves rolled up to three quarters and a few more buttons than usual unbuttoned, adopting a more flirty persona than he typically does for his shows. He takes his cues from some of Liu Qingge's more popular videos for how to be enticing bait.

It takes a few videos, but eventually Shen Yuan comments. Luo Binghe latches onto the chance to start talking to him, playing up a persona of a vulnerable young man with little means who is trying hard to make it through school, etc, and sure enough Shen Yuan seems interested. Well, most predatory people like vulnerable targets, don't they?

However... Shen Yuan just sends him a chunk of money.

Luo Binghe is confused.

Isn't he supposed to ask for something or create some kind of expectation of repayment first? But, maybe this is his approach to handling new targets. Maybe he's just trying to lull Binghe into a false sense of complacency, before he starts indicating what he wants from all of this. Luo Binghe makes sure to move the money Shen Yuan sends him into a separate account, so that if the Shen parents get angry about it then he can return it as a gesture of good faith.

But Shen Yuan just keeps sending supportive comments and donations. Eventually he leaves a comment that alludes to how badly he'd like to taste Binghe's cooking, and Binghe is like finally, but when he implies that they could perhaps meet in person and Luo Binghe could thank him for his support by making him something, Shen Yuan backs off.

Things eventually progress to the point where Luo Binghe, who is a totally normal person treating this like a totally normal job still thank you very much, is basically camping out in the bushes in front of Shen Yuan's apartment building. At some point he conscripts the aid of his weird cousin (finding his birth family was how he got into this business initially), and then almost immediately regrets it because Shen Yuan helps get Zhuzhi Lang a job doing landscaping for his building.

Why would he want Zhuzhi Lang close but not Binghe? Binghe is much handsomer! He'd make an excellent target for seduction! >:(

Anyway eventually Yue Qi catches Luo Binghe lurking around like a creeper and is like, finally, I have caught one of these suspicious men, whilst Binghe is like oh so he does have a lover, well this guy sucks and is clearly not good enough for him, and they both try and chase one another off and Shen Yuan comes home to a heated passive-aggressive-politeness war being waged in front of his apartment. Eventually he realizes the misunderstanding and calls everyone together (zoom conference? in-person meet-up?) to clarify that he is not paying any of them for "special favors", that was just Airplane being deranged about his sense of humor, and then he has no idea what to do when the prevailing response seems to be disappointment.

[alinathinkstoomuch]

WILL YOU BE MY FAKE FIANCÉ?

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: you find yourself in a sticky situation - you need a fiancé asap and the stern looking man at the bar seems to suffice. warnings: um reader thinks hotch is serial killer at one point, reader is actually really funny (LOL i was giggling so bad writing her dialogue), readers friends suck, the usual banter and chem word count: 3.8k

✧ masterlist

lemme know if y'all would want this as a mini series?? pls say yes because i had too much fun writing this!!!

It was silly, really. Actually, it was downright stupid. You had imagined a hundred different ways this conversation could go, each one more cringe-inducing than the last. And yet, here you were, en route to dinner with a group of women you still, for some inexplicable reason, referred to as your ‘friends.’

Except they weren’t friends. Not really. More like a collection of high school mean girls who had swapped lockers for brunch reservations, but still thrived on competition and thinly veiled judgment. Why you had continued to entertain their company remained one of life’s greatest mysteries. Maybe it was because some tiny, stubborn part of you still felt the need to prove yourself to them.

Old habits die hard.

Which was absurd, considering you had everything you’d ever wanted. A career you were proud of, a gorgeous apartment and a dog so beautiful he could model for Ralph Lauren. And yet, none of it mattered because you were missing one thing.

A love life.

Or rather, you had the start of one – an engagement, even. But much like a designer bag left too close to a lit candle, it went up in flames almost immediately.

And because self-preservation was clearly not your strong suit, you had told your ‘friends’ about the engagement… conveniently omitting the part where it had ended as quickly as it began.

No love lost there. He was a dick anyway.

Which brought you to now – marching toward an intimate jazz bar, running through all the ways you could break the news.

“Hey, ladies! So fun fact I am actually not engaged! But you were all right, turns out I’m just a walking red flag with great hair. Cheers!”

Yeah. That would go over well.

You pushed open the door to the jazz bar, smoothing your dress down and forcing your most dazzling, I totally have my life together smile. The inside was dimly lit, the hum of conversation mixing with the smooth sound of a saxophone in the background.

“Hi! There should be a reservation for under Veronica?” you told the hostess, who checked the list before glancing up apologetically.

“There’s no one here from your party yet, but I can show you to your table?”

Perfect. Just perfect. You nodded, following her to a sleek little table near the bar. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through texts until one popped up.

Veronica: Can’t wait to meet the fiancé! We’re running late. Be there soon! Xo.

Oh. No. No, no, no.

Your stomach did a dramatic, Oscar-worthy drop as panic set in. Your palms went clammy. Your perfectly planned exit strategies all disintegrated like cheap mascara in the rain.

You needed a fiancé. Now.

Your eyes darted wildly around the room, scanning the clientele for anyone remotely stupid – or kind – enough to rope into your plan. But instead, your gaze landed on someone who definitely didn’t look stupid. He looked serious, almost too serious. But he was alone, and that was good enough.

You shot up from your seat, heels clacking as you made a beeline toward him with the determination of a woman with everything on the line.

“Hi, hello,” you blurted out, earning a slow, assessing glance from deep brown eyes. “I need a favour. A huge, ridiculous, I-will-owe-you-my-soul kind of favour.”

“Sorry?”

“I just – I know this is insane, but I need you to pretend to be my fiancé for like, one hour. Maybe two. It’s a long story, and there is an actual pack of wolves arriving here any second, and if they smell fear, I am done for.” You clasped your hands together. “Please, please, please. I will do anything.”

He stared at you like he was debating calling security. Or possibly the nearest psychiatric facility.

“Everything alright?” Another voice joined. An older man, dressed impeccably clapped your very reluctant target on the back.

“I just need to borrow your friend, pretty please?” you said, turning to the newcomer with the kind of desperate charm that had gotten you out of speeding tickets before. “I promise I will buy you the most expensive bottle of scotch this bar serves. You drink scotch, right?”

The older man’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Oh, I love her,” he announced, before turning to his friend. “Take him. I was just leaving.”

Your supposed fiancé-to-be let out a slow breath, clearly reconsidering every choice that led him to this moment.

You beamed. “See? It’s fate.”

“This is – I –”

The man looked genuinely at a loss for words, which based on the suit he was wearing, was not a common occurrence.

“Come on, Hotch,” the older man grinned, clapping him on the back again. “Help the lady out. And I cannot wait to hear all about it on Monday.” He turned to you, extending a hand. “David Rossi.”

You shook his hand, relieved that at least one of them was enjoying this. “Nice to meet you, David. And I am really sorry for ruining your evening with your friend.”

“Oh, sweetheart, are you kidding? This is better than my evening. This is entertainment.” He winked at you before tossing a final smirk at Hotch. “Be good to your fiancée.”

With that, he strolled off, leaving you alone with the man you had just kidnapped into romance fraud.

You turned back to him. “So,” you said brightly. “Fiancé.”

He stared at you, face unreadable. “This is insane.”

“Yes, well, so is spending two-thousand dollars on a handbag, and I do that regularly. Now, come on.” You reached for his wrist and pulled him toward the table. “So Hotch is your name? Kind of… odd, don’t you think? Or is it a nickname? I don’t really have many nicknames – well, aside from what my ex-fiancé used to call me, but I’ll save you the details.”

Hotch exhaled through his nose, looking like he was already regretting this. “Do you do this often?”

“Fake engagements? No, not really. Actual engagements? Also no, considering how the last one went.” You sighed dramatically. “But you’d think after everything, I’d have at least one decent dating story. Instead, I have an ex who took our wedding fund and bought a motorcycle. A motorcycle, Hotch. Like, what exactly am I supposed to do with that?”

“He took your money?”

“And my sanity, which gives me the right to act this way in public.”

Before he could respond, a chorus of excited squeals erupted from the entrance.

“Oh my God! There she is!”

You moved to stand in front of Hotch. “I will do whatever you want me to. If you need me to kill someone and hide the body, I will literally be your girl – just please go with this.” You tugged at his tie, smoothing it down in a rush. “I’ll take the lead, you just look pretty.”

“That’s not usually how this works –”

“Well, Hotch, welcome to the world of desperate women. Now smile like you love me.”

He didn’t have the chance to argue as Veronica and her entourage descended upon you like a pack of well-dressed hyenas, eyes dancing with curiosity and suspicion.

“Finally! We were starting to think you made him up,” Veronica teased, her eyes scanning Hotch with an intensity that made even you nervous. “So? Introduce us!”

You plastered on your most graciously fake smile and looped an arm through Hotch’s, feeling the tension in his muscles as he clearly contemplated whether this was his personal hell. “Alright here he is! Meet H–”

“Aaron,” he cut you off smoothly, extending a hand toward Veronica.

She barely glanced at it before swatting it away. She then took a step forward, pulling him into a hug which he stiffly endured like someone who had never been voluntarily embraced in his life.

“Oh, honey, we don’t do handshakes here,” she purred, clinging for a second too long before releasing him. “You’re so handsome.”

You jumped in before Veronica could try something ridiculous like feeling his biceps.

“Right?” you grinned, linking your arm through his again. “Total catch. It’s why I snatched him up so fast.”

“And how did that happen?” one of the other girls asked as the group drifted toward the table.

Hotch, mercifully, was quick on the uptake. “She quite literally crashed into me – spilled her coffee all over my suit.”

“Oh my God, that’s so her,” another girl gasped, and you nodded rapidly.

“It was tragic,” you added, dramatically placing a hand on his arm. “The suit did not make it.”

As you neared the table, you reached for the seat, but before you could pull it out, Hotch’s hand brushed yours, stopping you. Instead, he pulled the chair out for you before you could protest.

Was he… really committing to the bit? Or was this just ingrained in his perfect gentleman DNA?

Before you could process it, the table erupted into ooohs and ahhhs like a live studio audience.

Thankfully, you caught a reprieve as the girls turned their attention to the wine list, debating the merits of a bold red versus a crisp white. Taking advantage of the moment, you lifted your own menu to shield your face and glanced at Hotch through the gap.

“I am so sorry,” you mouthed.

“You should be,” he murmured back, just low enough for only you to hear. But there was no bite to his words – if anything, you swore you caught the ghost of a smirk.

“So, don’t keep us waiting in suspense,” Veronica chirped. “Tell us about the engagement! How did it happen? All we got was a text saying you were engaged and a picture of your ring –” She paused, eyes narrowing as they moved to your hand. You followed her line of sight instinctively, cursing internally when you realised the problem.

Your fingers were adorned with rings – statement pieces, dainty bands – but notably none of them were an engagement ring.

Hotch, of course, noticed immediately. He exhaled lightly through his nose, like he was already preparing to clean up your mess.

“Oh,” you laughed, waving a dismissive hand, “I took it off to get it resized, you know how it is.”

Veronica’s brow lifted. “Resized?”

“Yeah, it was a little loose,” you rushed out, the lie forming faster than you could think it through. “Didn’t want to risk it falling down the sink or –”

“It wasn’t loose,” Hotch interjected once more and you froze.

Every pair of eyes at the table snapped to him.

“It wasn’t?” you echoed, unsure if he was about to throw you under the bus or save you from getting flattened by it.

Hotch leaned back, one arm casually draping over the back of your chair as if this was just another Friday night for him. “No,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “She just can’t stand the feeling of something on her finger when she sleeps. She takes it off every night, leaves it on the nightstand.”

Oh.

Oh.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. Not only had he just handed you an ironclad excuse, but he had done it so effortlessly that even you almost believed it.

The table collectively melted.

“That is so sweet,” one of the girls sighed.

“That makes sense,” Veronica finally conceded, though her eyes lingered on Hotch. She didn’t seem completely sold yet. “So, how did you propose? Give us all the details.”

Another reprieve – just as the waitress arrived to take your drink and appetizer orders. You had never been so grateful for a poorly timed interruption, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the question would be forgotten by the time she walked away.

It wasn’t.

The second the waitress disappeared, Veronica’s eyes flicked right back to you and Hotch, expectant.

 “You tell it better, sweetheart,” he encouraged, that same miniscule smirk making an appearance.

Oh, he was enjoying this too much.

“Well,” you started, buying yourself a second. “It was…unexpected.”

Hotch nodded solemnly, as if recalling a life-changing event. “Completely.”

You shot him a look before continuing. “We were on a trip –”

“A weekend getaway,” Hotch supplied easily.

“Right, exactly,” you said, catching on. “And it was… romantic?”

“Cold,” he corrected. “Snow everywhere.”

You blinked at him. Snow? Was this man just winging it?

“It was freezing,” you emphasized, rolling with it. “And I remember thinking, God, this would be the worst time to propose, because my fingers are so cold, I might drop the ring.”

The table giggled in delight, completely enthralled, hanging onto every word.

Hotch exhaled through his nose like this was all very serious business. “Which you nearly did.”

Your brows shot up. “Right! Yes, because I was so shocked.”

“You cried,” Hotch added.

You nearly choked. “I – what?”

He turned to you, gaze softening ever so slightly, voice dipping just enough to sell the sincerity. “You cried.”

And just like that, the table melted again.

“Oh my God,” one of the girls whispered, clutching her chest.

“Like, happy tears?” another asked, eyes wide with wonder.

Hotch’s lips quirked at the corner, and damn it, you had never wanted to throw your drink at someone so badly. “Of course.”

You forced a dreamy sigh, resisting the urge to stomp on his foot under the table. “I mean… obviously.”

Veronica tapped a manicured nail against her glass, eyes narrowing. “And what did he say?”

Hotch turned to you, expression a mystery, before casually resting his hand over yours. The move was so smooth, so convincing, that it had the exact opposite effect – it made your heeled foot find his shoe under the table, pressing down with just enough force to say don’t even think about it.

“I think I said something along the lines of…” He paused, eyes fixed on you. “If you need me to kill anyone and bury the body, I’m your man. Marry me, sweetheart.’”

You stiffened, your foot pressing down harder, while the table erupted in delighted gasps and squeals.

“Oh my God,” Veronica practically screamed.

“That is so romantic,” one of the girls swooned, gripping the arm of the woman next to her.

“I cannot with you two,” another giggled, fanning herself like this was the greatest love story ever told.

Meanwhile, you were trying very hard not to commit an actual murder.

You ripped your hand free from his grasp and covered your mouth with it, forcing what looked like a lovesick reaction but was actually a barely contained threat.

“What the hell?” you whispered between your teeth, smiling like the perfect doting fiancée.

Hotch, infuriatingly unbothered, leaned in. “You said to go with it.”

Your foot pressed down again. “I meant like a normal person, not a psychopath,” you hissed.

“Ugh,” Veronica sighed dreamily. “This is disgustingly adorable.”

You turned back to the group, still smiling, but if looks could kill, your fiancé wouldn’t have made it out of this dinner alive.

For the rest of the evening, you definitely had too much wine, and as the night stretched on, the conversation finally drifted away from you.

Instead, your so-called friends delved into their usual habits – gossiping about people they hadn’t seen since college, subtly competing over whose husband had the most prestigious job and complaining about their high-maintenance lives.

You nodded, smiled, threw in a well-timed oh, totally where necessary, but mostly, you just kept drinking. Hotch, meanwhile, remained the picture of polite disinterest, responding when needed as he sipped his bourbon. If he was suffering, he didn’t show it – except for the occasional glance in your direction, as if silently asking are you sure these are your friends?

By the time dessert rolled around, you were exhausted from the performance. Thankfully, your friends were equally buzzed, giggling and snapping selfies before finally, finally deciding it was time to call it a night.

Outside the restaurant, the group exchanged dramatic goodbyes, air-kissing and promising to “do this again soon” (lies, all of them), before disappearing into cabs and sleek black cars.

And just like that, you and Hotch were alone.

“You know,” you sighed, rifling through your purse in search of your phone. “I would apologize again for this, but I think if anyone owes an apology, it’s you.”

Hotch, standing beside you, hands in his pockets, merely raised a brow. “Me?”

You looked up at him with a glare. “Yes, you. You didn’t make this awful evening any easier. Snow? Really? I hate the snow.”

“I might be way out of line saying this, but you seem too good to consider that group of women your friends. Especially ones you feel you have to impress.”

“Impress them? That’s not what I was doing. I just –” You huffed, crossing your arms. “I grew up with them, and they’ve managed to make my life –” You stopped yourself, pressing your lips together before shaking your head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”

Hotch studied you for a moment, like he was picking apart every little detail. “I think it matters more than you’re willing to admit.”

You forced a laugh, throwing a hand in the air. “Well, lucky for you, you don’t have to care about it. You’re free. No more fake engagement, no more ridiculous stories, no more Marry me, sweetheart nonsense.”

His lips twitched slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he tilted his head toward the street. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”

You didn’t protest, abandoning the search for your phone and following your former fake fiancé back to his car.

Once inside, you rattled off your address as Hotch pulled it up on the satnav. Settling into the seat, you flipped down the visor mirror, swiping at the smudged mascara under your eyes.

“Do you have any tissues?” you asked, glancing over as Hotch reversed out of the parking lot.

“Check the glovebox.”

You reached over, popping it open and immediately froze. Because nestled between some paperwork and an actual box of tissues, sat a gun.

You yanked your hand back so fast you nearly dislocated your shoulder. “Uh. What the hell, Hotch?”

He barely spared you a glance. “Relax.”

“Relax?” you repeated, voice pitching higher. “There’s a gun in your glovebox! Oh my God. Are you – are you a criminal? Did I just spend an entire evening pretending to be engaged to a mobster? Jesus Christ, I really know how to pick them – I mean, you’re making my actual ex-fiancé look like a saint!”

“Check under the gun,” Hotch instructed, voice impossibly calm.

“Oh no, no, no, mister.” You flailed a hand in his direction. “You are not fooling me into touching your murder weapon so you can get my fingerprints on it and frame me for whatever crime you have committed using it! Please stop the car before I jump out of it. I swear to God, I will tuck and roll.”

Hotch exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over his face like he was deeply reconsidering his life choices. Then, with no ceremony, he flicked on the turn signal and pulled over to the curb.

Your heart plummeted. “Oh my God,” you whispered, pressing yourself back against the seat. “You are a criminal. You’re going to kill me. This is how I die.”

Hotch shot you a look, utterly unimpressed. Then, without a word, he leaned over –

You squeaked, pressing yourself further into the seat. “Oh my God – please don’t kill me –I haven’t been to Paris yet, and I still haven’t figured out how to fold a fitted sheet –”

His hand bypassed you completely, reaching into the glove box. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled something from beneath the gun and held it up to your face.

An FBI badge.

You stared at it. Then at him. Then back at the badge.

“Oh.” A pause. “Well, this is awkward.”

Hotch dropped the badge into your lap, but you immediately picked it up, flipping it over, holding it up to the light, just in case it was fake. There had to be fakes out there. You had gotten a police outfit that came with a badge for Halloween once.

Hotch watched your scrutiny with the patience of a saint. “Are you done?”

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “Okay, so in my defence, you could’ve led with that instead of just telling me to dig under a loaded firearm.”

“I assumed you were capable of following basic instructions.”

“That was your first mistake,” you muttered, still recovering from the emotional rollercoaster that was the last five minutes. You inhaled deeply, pressing a hand to your chest. “Well. This has been a night.”

Hotch shook his head, pulling back onto the road as you snapped closed his badge and placed it back in the glovebox, avoiding the gun like poison.

“So, FBI, huh?” you finally said, breaking the quiet.

“That’s what the badge says.”

You couldn’t help it – you laughed. A real, actual laugh for the first time this entire ridiculous, chaotic evening. And once you started, you couldn’t stop. It bubbled out of you, unrestrained, until you were clutching your stomach, gasping for breath, sure your mascara was completely smudged from the tears streaking down your face.

“Are you alright?”

You wheezed, waving a hand in his direction. “No! No, I am not! Because I just spent an entire evening fake-engaged to an FBI agent, and the first thing I said to you was – and I quote – ‘If you ever need to kill someone and bury the body, I’m your girl.’”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of proposition in my entire career.”

You snorted, barely containing another wave of laughter. “That’s comforting. Truly.”

He smirked, eyes still on the road. “Though, I’ll admit—it’s one of the more memorable introductions I’ve had.”

“Oh, great. So I’m going to be a story you tell people?”

“Most definitely.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Fantastic. Just what I needed, to be the punchline of an FBI dinner party.”

“Don’t worry,” Hotch said dryly. “I’ll leave out the part where you almost jumped out of a moving vehicle.”

You peeked at him between your fingers. “Gee, thanks.”

A silence settled over the car and eventually Hotch slowed to a stop in front of your building shifting into park. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel before he glanced at you.

“Well… this has been… a very unique experience.” Your hand found the door handle, but you didn’t move. You weren’t quite ready to step back into reality just yet.

Hotch nodded. “It has.”

“You sure you don’t want to keep up the act? I think Veronica was in love with you.”

“Do you want to keep up the act? Ten minutes ago, you were convinced I was a serial killer.”

“Well, technically, I thought you were a mobster. There’s a difference.”

Hotch tilted his head. “And now?”

You let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the seat. “Now? I think you might actually be worse.”

“Worse?”

You turned toward him, deadpan. “You’re FBI. Which means you probably know every loophole in the legal system. You could absolutely commit crimes and get away with it.”

Hotch let out a laugh, shaking his head. “And yet here I am, still just giving you a ride home.”

You placed a hand over your heart. “I appreciate that. Really.”

He smiled, his fingers still drumming lightly against the steering wheel. Another moment of silence passed before he nodded toward your building. “You should go before your neighbours start wondering why you’re sitting in a car with a strange man.”

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest. “How dare you? We’re engaged, remember?”

Hotch chuckled. “Not anymore.”

You clicked your tongue, reaching for the door handle again. “Shame. I was really looking forward to planning the wedding.”

“We’d have to agree on a season first. You hate the snow.”

You groaned. “I knew that was going to come back to haunt me.” Shaking your head, you pushed the door open and stepped out, turning back one last time before shutting it. “Well, Aaron Hotchner, thank you for entertaining my craziness.”

“Anytime.”

You gave him a small wave before shutting the door and making your way toward your apartment building. At the top of the steps, you hesitated, glancing back just in time to see his taillights disappearing down the street. And in that moment, you weren’t sure what you felt.

Was he someone you’d spend the rest of your life hoping never to run into again?

Or someone you’d regret not giving your number to?

dividers by cafekitsune

[pitchsidestories]

After the fall II Jana Fernández x Rugby!Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1711

summary: At a rugby match, Jana’s playful banter with her teammates shifts to worry when her girlfriend is seriously injured on the field. requested

author's note: Hi, we had so much fun writing this opposites-attract romance and hope you love reading it as much as we loved creating it! 💗💗

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

The first thing Jana noticed in the stadium was the fans. There weren’t as many as at her football games, but they were excited, loud, and passionate. Pride surged in her chest; she felt the inevitable sense that women’s rugby would soon see the same kind of rise that women’s football had.

She took her seat, looking out on the pitch, ignoring the chatter of her teammates. Only when they finally sat down beside to her, her attention shifted.

“As someone who comes from the motherland of rugby, let me give you all quick breakdown of the rules.”, Lucy said, relishing the moment.

Ona rolled her eyes at her girlfriend: “Lucy.”

Jana chuckled and turned to the English defender: “Are you really trying to mansplain the game that my girlfriend plays? This isn’t my first rugby match, Lucia.”

To emphasise, she dramatically flipped her hair over her shoulder, even though she secretly loved playing into those clashing stereotypes.

Bruna’s eyes widened as she sucked in a breath: “Oof, burn.”

The stunned look on Lucys face was priceless, even if it only lasted a few seconds.

“I’m not mansplaining…”, Lucy started to mansplain but then hesitated, seemingly realising that she was doing exactly that again.

“Wait, you’re dating one of them?”, she asked.

Ona shot her girlfriend an accusatory look: “Tsk, Lucy. I definitely told you that.”

“No, you didn’t.”, Lucy protested.

“Yes, I did. Like three times already!”, Ona insisted.

Jana interrupted before things got out of hand: “Before this turns into a proper fight, let me come back to your question, Lucy. Yes, I am dating a rugby player.”

“Great, now I know that too.”, Lucy said, smirking.

“Do you have any more questions on that topic or can we enjoy the game now?”, Jana asked, eyes already drifting back to the pitch where your team just walked out.

With a mischievous grin, Lucy replied : “Oh, I have a lot more questions, trust me.”

“Hey, Mario and I are back with the snacks.”, Laia interrupted, arms full of chips and popcorn. She and Mario squished past their teammates, handing out food as they went.

“Perfect timing, the game is about to start.”, Bruna grinned, happily grabbing a bag of popcorn from her.

Jana smiled: “Finally.”

The group went quiet as the rugby team huddled for the kick-off. But the silence didn’t last for long.

Lucy leaned over to Jana; eyebrows raised: “So? How did you and rugby girl meet?”

“Long story.”, the younger defender tried to brush it off.

Winking, Mariona replied: “We’ve got time.”

“So, which one is it then? Her? Or her?, the English footballer asked, nodding towards several women she suspected might be the one.

A soft blush coloured Jana’s cheeks as the brunette quietly gestured in your direction:“Her.”

“Nice thighs.”, Lucy remarked, raising her dark eyebrows suggestively, only to receive a nudge from her girlfriend.

Ignoring the teasing tone in the older woman’s voice, your girlfriend glanced at you with a dreamy look: “Yeah… she’s beautiful. And strong.”

“Perfect match.”, Mariona grinned. What she really meant was how lovely it was to see her this happy with someone who clearly meant the world to her.

 A horrified murmur rippled through the stadium as you went down, clearly in pain.

“Woah… what was that?”, Laia stared in shock.

Jana immediately went pale, muttering: “That was a bad tackle.”

“It looks really bad.”, Bruna admitted quietly.

Watching you, always so strong, now needing assistance from the medical team shattered your girlfriend’s heart: “It does… she can’t go on.”

“Jana..”, Ona said gently.

Jana offered her friend a weak smile, trying to reassure her and smooth away the worry etched across her face: “It’s okay.”

“You’re looking a bit pale.”, the Brighton footballer observed with equal concern.

Jana tried to swallow down the fear.: “I’m fine.”

The rest of the match passed in a blur. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t even recall the scoreline by the end, her thoughts were completely consumed by you.

Relief only came when Lucy stated, matter-of-factly: “Game’s over.”

“Do you mind if I…?”, Jana asked, already rising to her feet, her free hand running nervously through her dark hair.

“Go and look after her,” Ona encouraged, her tone full of understanding.

Jana gave a quick word of thanks and was already on her way, heart pounding against her chest.

Meanwhile, you laid there, dosed up on painkillers. Your eyes weren’t quite open, yet you still sensed her presence: “Jana?”

“Hi, amor. How are you? That looked rough.”, she said, kneeling beside you.

You reached up and softly cupped her cheek with your hand: “I’m alright, don’t worry, corazón.”

“Really?”, Jana raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by your reassurances.

You liked that about her despite her girlish appearance, she never took any nonsense from anyone.

Clearing her throat, the rugby physio, Kelly, stepped in and unintentionally broke the moment between the two of you: “She’s on painkillers. It’s a shoulder injury.”

Jana’s breath caught in her throat. A shoulder injury? Her mind raced through worst-case scenarios: rehab, surgery, time away from the pitch. She loves the game. How long will she be out? Will she be okay mentally with all this?

“Oh no.”, she whispered, the weight of it sinking in. Her gaze dropped to your hand resting on the stretcher, and she instinctively reached out to hold it. I should be strong for her. She’s the one hurt. But why does this feel like my chest is caving in?

You gave her fingers a faint squeeze, as if you knew exactly what was running through her mind. And maybe you did.

“It’s not a problem. I can handle it.”, you assured her as nonchalantly as you could manage despite your injury.

Jana gave you a soft smile, her thumb grazing the skin of your cheek: “You need to rest and recover, amor.”

“Your girlfriend’s got a point there.”, Kelly cut in, unimpressed by your display of affection.

You knew that when the physios’ jaw was set and her forehead creased like that, she was fully focused on her players' wellbeing.

Jana nodded at you: “I know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, I know you do.”, you replied, thinking back to the times you'd seen Jana on the other side of an injury. She was always a full-on professional.

“At least your girls won.”, she added, swiftly changing the topic.

You were already off the pitch, having your shoulder assessed by Kelly when the game ended. But you still heard your team’s celebration echoing into the treatment room.

“They did.“, you smiled, then asked: “Did your girls enjoy the game?”

“I think they did.”, Jana confirmed.

“That’s good.”, you said, smiling even wider.

“Would you like to meet them?”, your girlfriend asked, exchanging a quick glance with Kelly.

You nodded, excitedly: “Yes, of course.”

“Only if you feel okay enough.”, Jana added quickly, a note of worry in her voice.

You pushed yourself off the treatment table with one arm, your other one strapped tight in a shoulder brace at your side.

“I’m okay. Only a bit giggly from the painkillers.”, you joked.

Jana rolled her eyes playfully: “Oh god.”

Janas friends and teammates were waiting outside the stands. You smiled politely as you approached.

Lucy studied you openly, sweeping from your face to your feet and back up again. A smirk tugged at her lips: “So this is Janas girl?”

“I am.”, you confirmed.

“The thighs look even more impressive up close.”, she commented, glancing down at your quads, still dressed in dark blue shorts. You'd almost forgotten you were still in your kit.

For a second, you were taken aback, wondering if that was a normal thing to say or if the painkillers were messing with you. Whatever it was, you decided to take it as a compliment. At the same time, Ona elbowed Lucy sharply in the side.

“Ouch.”

You grinned, studying Lucy the same way she had studied you: “I could say the same about yours.”

“Thanks.”, she said before turning to your girlfriend: “I like her already, Jana.”

“I knew you would.”, Jana laughed.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you girls.”, you said with a warm smile to your partner’s friends.

“Lovely to meet you too.”, Ona replied kindly.

“How’s your shoulder?”, Bruna asked, her tone laced with concern.

You gave it a moment’s thought before answering honestly: “It feels fine now.”

“That’s good to hear.”, Laia said, visibly relieved. “We were all a bit worried especially Jana when you went down like that.”

As you were all professional athletes, there was a silent understanding that injuries were just as much a part of the game as wins and losses.

You mustered the bravest grin you could and reassured them: “She doesn’t need to worry about me. That’s just rugby.”

Later that evening, when you and Jana were alone in the quiet of your bedroom, she gently cupped your face in her elegant fingers, her eyes searching yours looking past the brave front you’d worn like armour all day.

“Amor… how’s your shoulder really?”, she asked softly.

You hesitated for just a second before admitting: “It hurts a bit.”

“Poor girl.”, your girlfriend murmured, full of empathy.

You let out a small chuckle: “What are you doing?”

“Kissing it better?”, she suggested with a grin, her laughter mingling with yours.

The tenderness in her voice, the warmth in her touch, it wrapped around your heart like a blanket. “Sounds like the perfect remedy.”, you whispered.

“I wish it worked like that.”, the footballer answered, her voice barely above a breath.

You gave her a playful smirk: “Trust me on this.”

“If you say so, it must be true.”, she said, smiling as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

“Then kiss me again.”, you asked, your voice tender.

And without a moment’s hesitation, she did softly, lovingly, like it meant everything.

After your fall on the pitch, something shifted in Jana. She realised she had fallen for you deeper than she ever thought possible. It scared her a little, that kind of vulnerability, but it also made her feel more alive, and more certain, than she’d ever been.

She was undeniably in love with you.

[princesssarahblog]

𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

SFW and NSFW

warnin: there may be a mention alcohol, weed, adventure, sex (first sex too) and romance

author notes: I am writing for the first time smut.. I want to write something like this with many more characters obx, next one might be rafe (idk)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SFW

get ready for this naughty blonde diva to come to your house almost every day, at first you thought he just had nothing to do but over time you realized that your house is a new refuge for him, where he can relax and be away from his tyrant father

he is quite clingy to you (only you) jj will hug you almost constantly or especially kiss you. if you both have to be separated, he will grab you by the waist with his strong muscular arm and pull you in for a gentle passionate kiss. before the relationship, he would touch you often and try to touch you subtly to feel your skin.

we all know that jj is also a bit of a wild guy, and he might make bold and spontaneous decisions and you constantly dissuade him from his "brilliant ideas" and advise him to think logically together. but it would be better for you to make a decision yourself, and jj would help you implement it

lets you braid and style his hair when his head is on your lap or stomach, you’ll do little tiny braids or buns all over his head and he’ll love the giggles it brings out of you.

I think he's one of those guys who will sing some stupid songs he made up on the fly if you get offended by him. you start laughing at those moments, and you just shut him up, saying you forgave him, just so you doesn't have to listen anymore.

he's the kind of boyfriend who would go to great lengths to make you happy and will always be there for you when you need him. just be ready for a lot of playful banter and sarcastic remarks, this is just another display of affection from jj

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ NSFW

lots of quick rounds, this blond guy is constantly horny and needs sex urgently. he often gets horny at the wrong time and can take you away right in the middle of a conversation with friends without embarrassment

he likes it when you just turn into a puddle and can't say anything

he drives you crazy in bed, jj is just unrelenting. he needs to fill you with his cum at least 3 times. and he also loves when you hold on to his chest. he basically likes your touching his chest

you both remember your first time having sex very well. it was at your place, you were sweating and your pussy was on jj's thigh when you first saw his dick. and the guy often reminds you of it, teasing you and making you embarrassed

actually he comes to your house not only to hide from the world but also to have a good night with you. you are always afraid if your parents find out about it, your father often checks on you at night and once you almost got caught but everything worked out

will stimulate your sweet spot very strongly using your fingers, mouth and tongue. jj pulls you back in by your ankles when you try to squirm away from him, whining that you're too sensitive, you can't take anymore. it's too much

even during the solstice festival he somehow ended up having sex with you. he found you in the great hall after he escaped from rafe and you locked you in the closet. he showered you with kisses and told you how beautiful you were in the dress you wore for the festival. it was only because of you that rafe lost him and after that you and your group of friends left. and jj got to enjoy you and his favorite sweet spot.

asks you to sit on his face so he can eat your pussy!

jj intertwines your fingers together while you're riding his face cause he like that, murmuring how much he loves you, how perfect you are, how you're such a good girl for him. he also loves to squeeze your breasts and nipples in this position and naturally drive you crazy

- jj is the kind of person that will be hard to just start dating. In order to date him, you need to gain his complete trust in you. he is very protective and devoted, but all this can also quickly disappear. even if you date him, you will date him for a maximum of a week and blonde guy will dump you and you will be another girl for his own entertainment

[n0tamused]

How elves deal or even feel jealous? What/how easy is to make them jealous?

A/n: Hello, yes I can! You didn't specify which elves you wanted this for, so I just picked a few of the ones I thought would go nicely with this idea. Also, I am trying these different styles of hcs, so let me know if you prefer lenghtier headcanons or shorter ones like these? I'm trying to find some balance with requests and my ability to write them in time.

Contents: (all separate) Thranduil, Legolas, Lindir, Haldir, Glorfindel x GN! Reader. Jealousy hcs, not proof read lol

⋆𓄃Thranduil

-Thranduil can be quite jealous and, more so, protective over his beloved and he does not care to ever admit it. He is quite avoidant of his subjects and feels a bit shocked (or looks like it, he did expect you to point it out eventually tbh) when you point it out to him

-Would make sliding comments about your attention lingering too long on someone, or even something at times. 

-A play of words is sure to ensue if you keep pressing him for his reasons, and throughout he never raises his voice or anything of that sort, he is rather calm and eventually you come to understand that he is enjoying this, both the banter and the attention. This can be sometimes flustering or frustrating when he begins to smirk and offer sass and teasing words. 

-The Elven king has seldom ever expected to ‘fall into’ love like this, or to behave like this while loving someone, but even through his long years of living he is still learning some things. 

-Thranduil is quite wary of others, especially outsiders even if they are his distant kin. So he may keep you away from meetings or tedious dinners with any delegates or visitors that may seem like ‘too much’ for you to be exposed to them.

-He is stubborn, so chances are it would take a long time for him to let up on his views, as he deems it all necessary for your protection and happiness

-But even he cannot deny that he does carry a great weight on his heart and consciousness, and long, late night conversions are not something rare with him. He enjoys them more than anything else because he feels more justified to be vulnerable when the rest of the world falls asleep. He is more open to physical touch as well, and he tells you his worries and his feelings clearly then. 

🍃Legolas

-The prince of Mirkwood is still quite green in the area of emotions and how one deals with them, despite his years. But he is notably much softer in comparison to his father. 

-He would find it odd that he feels this way and would hide it away from you for the longest time until he can bear it no longer. It is like poison to him

-Although you would be able to see it all happening and coming down on him with the way he stares out at nothing, sometimes at the people besides you, the way his lips pull into a deep carved frown and how his jaw sets, almost uncomfortably, even for an elf - especially for an elf. His shoulders are so tense you can put a table on him

-Once he expresses his feelings to you he does apologize as well, he doesn’t want you thinking that he doesn’t trust you or that he believes you’d go behind his back and take the offer of another heart - he truly can’t explain the feelings and where they stem from.

-It’s multiple things all at once - he wants you safe and happy, and the people around may not have the purest intentions, but at the same time he feels odd that you sometimes seem to be having much more fun with someone else than him. So there’s quite a lot to unpack with him, but he is not impatient or unwilling to learn.

♬Lindir

-Lindir is more prone to fits of jealousy that strike seemingly out of nowhere, he is quite dense with it too although not nearly as secretive as he would like himself to be. He may be quiet, but the face he stays quiet with is a completely different story..

-His jealousy does stem from a sense of insecurity in his own ability to be a good partner for you, it eats away at him at times and he can take up to saying witty responses to the individual/s that he perceives as sources of his feelings. He is never malicious of course, neither to you or them, as he understand these feelings can quickly turn to poison

-He may require some more support from you at times like these, and in private he feels utterly defeated in face of his own jealousy. He is not the one to openly ask for attention from you, but at times like these he may ask you questions that may reassure him again. Hold his face in your hands and just kiss the elf, that would be my advice, plainly delivered 

-He would grow flustered at such actions, and he may even give you some sass for it, but he is never refusing your advances at pouring some more of your love on him 

°˖➴Haldir

-The Marchwarden of Lorien is not the most open when it comes to his own emotions and it can be difficult to read his exact trail of thoughts at times. But jealousy is not foreign to Haldir, he knows how it feels and he has long since come to truly dislike(hate) it.

-It is unbecoming of his station and just of his own character in general. Nonetheless, this jealousy he feels holds its roots in worry for your safety rather than any kind of distrust of you, and it's greatly amplified by the distance between the two of you when he is away on duty. 

-Haldir doesn’t act out on his jealousy, although he makes his opinion known if he agrees or disagrees with you on your choice of companions. If he is at home with you, he would also tag along with you, if you so desired or if he just really, really did not like the company you’re going to be with. He knows nearly everyone in Lorien, and so he knows who to be wary of. That is not to say anyone from there would be a liability when it comes to physical harm, he knows that much is less likely to happen, but when it comes to needs that are more from within, love, need for attention - then he is not so sure. He cannot read the minds of others, and everyone changes over time, even elves. 

-His jealousy does lessen up when he is with you, as he is not as worried when he has you in his eye. If there is danger, Haldir would do whatever was in his power to eradicate the source of it. 

-You may notice this particular mood on him by the stiffness of his jaw and the hard look he sometimes directs at no one in general, as if holding an internal monologue with himself over what he’s experiencing and feeling

☼Glorfindel

-The Slayer of Balrogs is not susceptible to jealousy, and he was never a jealous individual to begin with. And that’s also without mentioning that he trusts his partner as well, otherwise he would not be with someone he did not trust.

-After his re-embodiment he may come off as a little clingy - he stays with you for as long as he can, not letting any moment go to waste, even if you are an immortal being as he is. He leaves kisses on your hands and your forehead when no one is around to see, it is intimate and he simply wants you to know that you will always have his love and support

-He is also very clear in his communication with you, and trusts that you’ll tell him if anything is bothering you, although sometimes he does know to postpone telling you something if he believes it could put a strain on you. 

-He is quite free spirited though and open minded at that, just a chill guy, the chillest on this list I dare say

-All in all.. 10/10, would recommend 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[theesteppenwolf]

More Lucanis rambles because I’m still thinking about it and got nothing better to do :P

I am not here to tell anyone how to feel but putting words into peoples mouths who criticize the Lucanis romance (or Lucanis in general) for being unsatisfactory by saying;

“You don’t know what a slow burn is/ it’s because you expected zevran / you don’t get it he’s traumatized/ you just wanted something spicy and didn’t get it so now you’re mad” etc.

Is completely disregarding the fact that his lack of reactions and lack of content actually led people to believe he is bugged. Most DA fans didn’t expect spice or steam or whatever but they did expect an effective story, one they didn’t get.

This is at the end of the day a visual storytelling medium and implication will only get you so far, if i have to start thinking up entire plotlines in my head to make sense of the story or relationship progression then they failed at good storytelling. If i have to write paragraphs of explanations that the game doesn’t even remotely touch on then that isn’t a slow burn, it’s just a lack of content and poor pacing.

If he is traumatized and reluctant because of it you have to give me a scene where i can actually read that. If he is awkward and doesn’t know how to react to flirting you have to exaggerate to an extent for people to tell. If there is longing and angst give me banter that reflects it.

A romance in a game should give me some kind of deeper personal insight into a character and if i have to do the writers job and in my head think up those insights then the actual romance is mostly moot. I’m not saying give me all the details i’m saying at the very least give me a jumping point, some info buried in the game i won’t get otherwise. His romance fails at this.

Mary Kirby was fired yes and it’s awful what happened but unfortunately the product still remains and it leaves a lot to be desired for a big amount of people. When players are straight up going back on saves to romance someone else it’s a real problem. For me, it soured my first playthrough, especially later when i saw how Davrin and Emmrich had content, convos, specific romance outings and at the bare minimum actually had a noticeable reaction to flirting dialogue.

Again I’m not telling anyone how to feel, if it works for you that’s awesome, but to disregard his obvious lack of content by calling other fans basically stupid is incredibly disingenuous.

I love his character, loved it since The Wigmakers Job and he is still my favorite after my first playthrough. I think the beginning of his romance was very promising and the end is great but everything else is missing I’m sorry. His romance was not well executed and i honestly don’t think his character really was either. (But i won’t vent about that right now)

I know what a slow burn is, i was not expecting Zevran, i did not want a steamy romance. I wanted a well executed story and i didn’t get one. I am critical because i think it could’ve been great, i still love the game and i am not shitting on it, his character or other fans i just hate wasted potential.

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 19 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With an uncertain future, Bradley gets ready to leave for Virginia. But he works on a plan to make sure you understand just how much he will be thinking about you.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst, adult banter, desperate Bradley, 18+

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley felt sick to his stomach as soon as he saw the stationery set. At this point, the only thing on his mind was quitting his job so the two of you didn't have to be separated. The paper looked expensive; he would have loved to sit in his bunk and write line after line to you and your class, but he wouldn't be able to do that at all. 

"We can go back to being pen pals for a bit," you whispered, your hand coming to rest on his thigh, giving him a little squeeze. "I'll be refreshing my email inbox and waiting not so patiently for my mail to arrive. It'll be great. That's how I fell in love with you in the first place."

He felt guilty even though he had no control over the scenario. His heart hurt with loneliness already as he set the gift you gave him on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. "Gorgeous. That's not gonna happen." He swallowed past the lump in his throat and turned to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm confused," you said, hand still on his leg. He covered your fingers with his rougher ones and pulled gently until you climbed onto his lap. 

"Oh, god," he groaned, giving you a kiss before linking his fingers with yours. "I love that set of note cards. I would have taken them with me everywhere during my free time, and I would have written to your class constantly. And you would have been the recipient of some rambling love notes to be sure." Your brow was still creased with concern as he said, "No outside communication. For seven weeks."

Your expression went slack as a single tear rolled down your cheek. "You're joking."

"I'm not."

Bradley held onto your fingers as you whispered, "This keeps getting worse," through more tears. Your broken voice made his chest ache as you leaned closer until your cheek was resting on his shoulder. "I could go ages without you in person, but if I can't talk to you at all... Bradley."

Nobody else ever loved him the way you did. He'd be miserable without your letters, emails, dirty pictures and pretty face over video calls, but he finally had someone who would miss him equally. 

"I know," he muttered, wrapping his arms around you. "It's seven weeks of nothing."

You were crying in earnest now as you clung to him. "Nothing," you sobbed. "I won't even know if I'm supposed to collect you in San Diego or Norfolk when your deployment ends. And I won't know where you're being stationed."

"Fuck," he gasped. "Gorgeous, when I tell you that nobody would have much cared where I ended up before I met you, I mean it." He kissed you as you snuggled tighter against him. "As soon as I find out what's going on, I'll let you know."

"Seriously," you murmured, voice shaky. "You better tell me as soon as possible if it's San Diego or Norfolk in my future."

Bradley didn't know what else to say besides, "I fucking love you." He smiled for the first time in what felt like weeks as he added, "Are you really going to fly out to Norfolk and collect me if they make me stay in Virginia?"

You pulled away from him, eyes puffy with a scandalized look on your face as you said, "Of course. What kind of girlfriend do you think I am?"

The kind he was going to upgrade to his wife.

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

When you finally stopped crying, you were on the verge of a migraine, but you felt a bit calmer. Bradley got up to gather together some Advil, a glass of water, and a small gift wrapped in hideous paper.

"Your early Christmas present," he said, handing it to you after you swallowed two pills for your headache. "Well, it's actually kind of another gift for me, when you really think about it." He dropped down onto the couch again with his arm slung around your shoulders, and unlike him, you tore into the paper. Inside was a leather journal with little hand painted airplanes all over it. "Will you write in it every day so I can read it when I see you again?"

When you opened it to the first page, he had written you a note.

Gorgeous, I miss you with my whole heart. I can't wait to read about all of your adventures when I get home to you. Love, Bradley

"Yes," you whispered, closing it again so you could wrap your arms around his waist. "It'll just be a bunch of pages of me telling you how I argued with Jayden about his sloppy handwriting and how I asked Nia a hundred times to return to her seat. But yes, I'll write in it every day for you."

"I will eat up every page."

After that, he kept you by his side for the rest of the night. Even when you tried to dig around in the refrigerator to see if there was any food left, he was grabbing for you and kissing you. "You have no food," you said with a laugh, turning to face him. "What are we eating for dinner?"

"Hadn't thought that far," he muttered against your lips. "Just want you."

You took his face in your hands and ran your thumb along his scars. "If you don't eat, you'll get cranky. And you've got aircraft carrier food in your future."

Bradley grimaced and muttered, "Cabbage rolls," as he reached for his phone. "Let's get pizza today. And then maybe I'll try to talk the hostess at Salvatore's into letting us get takeout tomorrow. Then Thai on Christmas."

"And then you'll be gone," you whispered, dreading it all over again. "It never gets any easier, does it?"

"You're stuck with me, Gorgeous," he said, voice tinged with the tiniest bit of apprehension.

"I am." You kissed him before you said, "Pizza sounds perfect. Then I can help you pack a little more."

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

The last thing Bradley wanted to do was finish packing his duffle, but every time you looked up at him, eyes full of emotion, he was struck by several things. One, you really were so good at folding up his uniform components, something he noticed a few days ago. Two, every minute or so, you wrapped your arms around him, which made leaving with uncertainty so much harder. And three, you were absolutely nothing like Vanessa. 

Last time when he packed to leave, he was treated to her incessant whining over the fact that he didn't want to take her out to dinner. She was always annoyed with him wanting a quiet night in. She was always annoyed by his job. It was so obvious that she never missed him or loved him the way you did as he watched you carefully fold one of his flight suits before tucking it in his bag. 

"Gorgeous," he murmured, and as soon as your gaze met his, you had your arms wrapped around him again.

"That's enough for the night," you whispered, voice thick with emotion as he kissed the top of your head. Your face was pressed against his chest, and he could hear you trying to keep yourself calm. And god, he hated doing this to both of you. 

"I agree," he replied, keeping you close while he tossed a few novels he'd been meaning to read in as well. He'd have plenty of time to read a whole stack.

You wiped your eyes on his shirt as you said, "Make sure you read at night and stay away from all the women."

Bradley tipped your chin up so you were looking at him again. "Surely you're not worried about that." You shook your head. "Good. But now that we're on the topic... be a good girl and don't talk to horny assholes."

You started laughing as you slipped out of his grasp, wiping at your tears as you said, "Never. Now let me add one more thing to your bag." As you disappeared from the bedroom, Bradley put his bag on the top of his dresser. If he had time, he would move some of his clothing around so you had room for your things when your lease was up. Otherwise you were going to have to fend for yourself in his house and just make decisions for him. If he just had more time with you, everything would be easier. The one promising thing would be returning in time for Valentine's Day and Career Day at your school. If he was allowed to come back to San Diego at all.

"Fuck," he groaned, hating this unsettled feeling that was expanding in his chest, but as soon as you walked back in, he started to feel better. Seven weeks without you was going to be painful when he had such a visceral reaction to your touch and your words.

"Just in case you feel like jotting down your own thoughts every day for me to read," you said before tucking the stationery kit in next to his uniforms. You slid a large envelope that looked like it was bursting at the seams inside as well and simply said, "Some more reading material for you," before pulling him toward the bed.

And that's when Bradley figured out just how to make you feel a little less alone when he was in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

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

When you opened your eyes on Christmas Eve, you were already smiling. Your body was warm and tucked up against Bradley's, his big, heavy arm draped over you as he snored softly. You wanted to stay here and not move a muscle, because right now, everything was perfect. You could pretend like his duffle bag wasn't sitting on his dresser, mostly packed and ready to go. You could melt into the sweet ache deep inside from the hour he spent loving your body last night. You could close your eyes and go back to sleep.

Bradley's phone vibrated on his nightstand, and he groaned next to your ear. "Baby," he murmured, lips grazing your neck. "Don't get up yet."

You couldn't help but smile. "Your phone is vibrating. Not mine."

"Shit," he grunted, rolling away from you. Once he looked at his phone screen he seemed to wake up. "Nat's on her way to pick you up for girls' day."

"What are you talking about?"

You definitely hadn't planned a girls' day. Why would you want to miss out on any time with Bradley right now? You could have a day with Nat next week or next month when he was gone!

He had a little smile on his face as he pulled you close again for a kiss. "You better get dressed."

"Bradley! I'm not going out with Nat. You're leaving in two days!"

Naked and spectacular, he climbed out of bed and stretched. "Just for a bit. She wants to take you to get coffee, and if she tries to get me a Christmas present, I need you to make sure it doesn't suck." 

"You planned this," you said, annoyed as he reached for you, pulling you away from the bed where you could pretend there was no scary uncertainty in your future.

"Just trust me," he whispered, holding you close. "Besides, I need some time to sweet talk someone at Salvatore's into letting me order dinner to-go."

You could handle an hour or two with his best friend while you counted down the time you had left before his flight out of San Diego. "Fine, but I'm wearing your sweatshirt, and I'll be thinking about you the whole time."

Bradley sent you down the walkway with a kiss, and he waved from the front door in just his underwear as you climbed into his best friend's car. "I won't keep you out too long," Natasha promised with a smirk. "I can already tell you want to get back to him."

"Why did he plan this?" you asked, wanting the answers he wouldn't give you while trying not to be rude. "No offense, because I would love to spend an entire girls' day with you, but why today?"

She simply turned up the Christmas songs on the radio and headed toward Starbucks with a smile on her face. "I was thinking after coffee we could hit up the mall for a few minutes? I need to find something truly awful to get for Bradley. I'm thinking some pink running shorts to match mine. High visibility colors are very important when you're out running, and I just don't think he fully appreciates that."

You laughed. "If you buy them, he'll probably just wear them to try to embarrass you."

"I don't embarrass easily," she said smoothly with a devilish grin. "And dare I say you might like to pick out a little something that you could wear as a going away treat?"

"Wear?" you asked before you quite knew what she meant.

"Sure. I mean, I don't want to know any specifics about what the two of you get up to, because gross, but deployments are long and lonely, and you're definitely going to miss each other."

While Bradley had seen all of your cutest underwear at this point, you'd never worn anything that you bought specifically with him in mind. Your cheeks grew warm as you thought about it. Truthfully you didn't even own anything terribly sexy. 

"What would he even like?" you asked softly as she pulled into the Starbucks parking lot.

"On you?" she asked with a laugh. "Anything. Don't worry, we'll find something good."

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

When Natasha texted to inform him that you were on your way back to his house, Bradley quickly hid everything that had been out on his coffee table while he juggled his phone. The woman he was talking to on speakerphone wasn't falling for his lines at all.

"Listen," he told her, making sure there was no visible evidence of what he'd done in his living room. "I just really want tonight to be special for my girlfriend and I before I leave for my next deployment. Just one order of spaghetti and meatballs? That's all I'm asking."

There was a deep sigh followed by, "Be here promptly at 5:00 to pick it up. I'll take your credit card over the phone."

"Perfect," he replied with a smile, digging for his wallet. "The name is Bradley Bradshaw."

You walked in with shopping bags in your arms, and rushed toward him as he finished giving his credit card security code, and he pulled you in for a hug as he reassured the hostess from Salvatore's that he would be there at 5:00.

"Hi," he said, kissing you after he ended the call. "Did you have fun with Nat?

"So much fun," you told him with a smile. "We're going to try out a wine bar next week up in Oceanside." The idea of you hanging out with his friend while he was away made him feel calm, especially since Nat knew how important you were to him. "Also," you said, pressing your lips together nervously, "I think I'd like to sleep here for the rest of my winter break." Your volume dropped to a whisper. "I'm not sure if it will make me miss you more or less, but I want to be here if that's okay with you."

"I love that, Gorgeous," he replied easily. Hanging out with Natasha and then returning to his house where you belonged anyway felt right to him. "Knowing you're sleeping in my bed might result in some dirty notes from me," he said with a laugh as you bit your lip.

"Please," you whispered. "Yes. Write me dirty notes to read when you get back." Just when he was about to kiss you, he watched you bend and rummage around in a bag. "Also, this is your gift from Natasha." You handed him some bright pink fabric that he turned around in his hands, trying to figure out what it was. "And she told me to hold up the gift receipt for you."

When he finally figured out that it was a pair of ladies running shorts, he grimaced. "She's so annoying," he groaned, reaching for the gift receipt, but you quickly chuckled and tore it up. "What are you doing?"

"You're not allowed to return them." You dropped the bits of paper, and he tossed the shorts onto the couch.

"Whose side are you on here?" he asked, peppering your face with kisses. "Don't think for a second I won't just put a jock strap on and run in those shorts."

"I tried to tell her you would," you laughed as he scooped you up. "I kind of want to see it."

"Play your cards right," he murmured, grabbing his keys and taking you out to his Bronco. "Let's pick up dinner."

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

Your belly was full of spaghetti and meatballs when you managed to sneak away to the tiny laundry room and quickly hand wash your new bra and thong set while Bradley loaded the dishwasher. Nat assured you that he would enjoy this tiny thing, and you were trusting her here. You set both items aside to dry before walking back out to the kitchen.

"You don't have a Christmas tree," you remarked, wishing you'd picked one up today from one of the many parking lots trying to unload them at the last minute.

"I told you I don't really celebrate holidays."

"You're doing a great job of celebrating this one."

He washed his hands and tossed the towel aside. It was barely seven o'clock, but he asked, "You feel like calling it an early night?" You agreed, ready to feel his warmth along your entire body as you fell asleep.

You got undressed and climbed in bed, and he did the same. Bradley's hands were everywhere, but his lips were gentle on your neck and shoulder as he whispered your name. "I love you. It's going to kill me inside when I can't talk to my favorite pen pal. Last time, you had my heart pounding every time you sent me a new email."

Tears stung your eyes in the darkness; you'd done a pretty good job of holding it together all day, but this was going to be your undoing. "I promise, every time you think about me, I'll already be thinking about you, too."

Bradley's arm tightened around you, his thumb stroking your skin, soothing you along with his sweet words as you fell asleep.

When you woke up on Christmas Day, his body was still right behind yours where he belonged, but when you rolled over to look at his handsome face, you knew the hours were going to go by too quickly. "Morning, Gorgeous," he murmured, voice raspy from sleep as he cracked his eyes open. "Let's go see what Santa brought."

You didn't have any other gifts for him, unless you counted your new lingerie which you were saving for later after dinner. And the printer you bought so he could have some photos of you without his phone on the aircraft carrier. But when you got out to the living room, there was an envelope on the coffee table.

"What is it?" you asked cautiously as you picked it up. But your heart melted immediately. It was a gift card for the wine bar in Oceanside.

"There's enough on there for you and Nat to take a few trips up if you like the place."

"The two of you have been plotting, I see," you remarked, taking a deep breath before snuggling up against his chest. "But nothing will beat the horribly expensive bottle of wine I accidentally made you buy on our second date."

Deep laughter rumbled through Bradley's chest as he said, "The look on your face just made me love you more." You groaned thinking about it. "Come on, we've only got one day left and then seven weeks of nothing. Let's make French toast and have sex on the couch and eat Thai food and watch movies."

You wore his sweatshirt around all day, licked maple syrup from his lip and rode him until he was whining for you. The Thai noodles went perfectly with Home Alone. Then you took a shower together and deep conditioned his hair, dragging your nails along his scalp until his eyes closed.

"I'm going to miss this," he whispered after every single thing you did. When you toweled his hair dry, he looked at you with so much emotion. "I'm going to call you as soon as I know what's going on with the Pacific versus Atlantic Fleet. And either way, I'll try to be as patient as I possibly can, but I can't live without you, Baby."

"Bradley."

"Shit. Even the way you say my name makes me ache."

"I want you here with me. I already hate this." A sob escaped your lips without warning. "I want you to come back for Career Day."

The words were barely out of your mouth before he said, "I will be here for Career Day no matter what. Disappointing you is bad enough, but I don't want the eighteen kiddos to miss out on spending the day with their favorite Naval officer."

You laughed. "You're not disappointing me, Bradley. This is just hard, because I love you so much."

If you couldn't see a future with him, this would have been easier. He set you down on the bathroom vanity, and you watched him carefully shave around his mustache, kissing you randomly so you had to wipe shaving cream from your nose, and then he started collecting his toiletries for his duffle bag. He was naked and perfect as you stayed huddled in your towel, wondering if you could even manage to pull off wearing the items that were surely dry now and draped over his laundry room sink.

"Where are you going?" he asked as you ducked past him toward the door.

"Meet me in bed."

You rushed down the hallway and threw your towel in the empty washing machine as you took a minute to touch the pretty lace fabric before sliding the thong up your legs. Next you hooked the bra in place, and it didn't matter if you didn't look perfect, because you felt good. And you wanted him to have this memory.

When you cautiously strolled into the bedroom, Bradley was still naked, laying on top of the bedding, looking at a small piece of paper. "I'm just double checking my packing list, and I..." His gaze shifted to your body, and you did a little turn for him. The paper drifted to the floor as he sat up, his hand coming to rest on his cock. "Come here."

Biting your lip, you did as you were told. Bradley's feet swung over the edge of the bed, coming to rest on the floor as his cock bobbed between his thick thighs. "Here I am," you whispered, standing between his knees with your hands on his shoulders. "Your going away gift."

One strong arm wrapped around you, and you squeaked as he pulled you flush against him. He kissed the rounded tops of your breasts above your new bra, one after the other before looking up at you. "What did I do to deserve this?" he rasped, his nose running along the lace as his fingers tangled in your thong.

Already so turned on, you tried to answer him twice before words came out. "I wanted to give you a proper send off. Something extra special." Then he kissed your furled nipples through the flimsy bra cups and you moaned, "Something to think about when you're lonely."

His fingers were digging into your butt as he grunted. His wide brown eyes were fixed on your face as he parted his lips and sucked on your breast, the black lace wet everywhere now. He was being a little rough, but it felt like he was worshipping you at the same time, and when his lip found your neck, he asked, "Is this little getup new?"

"I bought it yesterday," you gasped as his fingers slipped inside your thong, stroking your wet pussy. "Just for you."

Then you were on your back with your head on the pillow, Bradley's heavy cock resting against your thigh as he hovered over you. "Just for me, huh?" he grunted, biceps flexed as he fought to keep his breathing under control.

You nodded, running your toes up along his calf and thigh until your leg was hooked around his hip, ready to give him whatever he wanted. "Of course it's just for you. I'll wear it again when we meet back in the San Diego airport or in Norfolk. And I'll wear it when you're away and I'm touching myself."

"Fuck," he growled, pulling your panties to the side and running his cock through your wetness before pushing himself so deep inside you that it took your breath away. When you whimpered, his lips crashed against yours as his hands dug beneath you to unhook your bra. "Touch yourself right now." When the flimsy lace ended up on the floor while Bradley fucked you, he guided your right hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips before placing them on your breast. "I want to watch."

Bradley's pupils were wide, lips parted. When you looked down your body as his cock disappeared inside you over and over again, you felt even more turned on. When you ran your fingers along your nipple and up between your bouncing breasts, his eyes followed your every move. "Like this?" you asked, feeling bold as you added your left hand as well.

He gave you a harder thrust. "Exactly like that, Gorgeous. And what are you going to think about when you do?"

"My boyfriend," you managed before his mouth met yours in a deep kiss that only lasted a few seconds. "I'm going to think about my boyfriend. I'll miss you so much."

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

Bradley's hips slowed to a gentler pace as he listened to you gasping and panting beneath him. There was no way you'd miss him as much as he'd miss you. He closed his eyes and thought about returning home to your arms in seven weeks and heading back to work in the Pacific Fleet. He hoped you'd appreciate the little surprises he was leaving behind for you. More than anything he wanted you to think about tonight when you got yourself off.

His rough excitement at you in the new lingerie melted into something sweeter as he fucked you with long, languid strokes. Your lips were on his neck and collarbones as he whispered how much he loved you over and over. When you came, it escalated quickly, sudden and loud as he ran his thumb across your clip. He couldn't hold on after that, and he let your body hold him in place with soft squeezes as he caught his breath.

"I have one more thing for you to pack," you whispered, voice ragged as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"I really hope you fit in my duffle," he mused, and you laughed softly.

You kissed his ear and whispered, "I bought a small photo printer since you won't be able to use your phone." He shivered at your words. "You can print out a photo or two of us together... or maybe you want to take a new one right now to print out?"

"Jesus," he grunted, kissing your lips. "You're spoiling me." He reached for his phone on the nightstand and snapped a few pictures of your fucked out face and your body with his cock still buried deep. "I am very spoiled."

When you stood and plugged in the printer with lips puffy from his mustache in just your thong, he couldn't keep his hands off you. He had his photo gallery open on his phone and his arm around your waist as he selected the picture you sent him ages ago with the sun setting behind you. "This one is an absolute necessity. So is this one of us together. I don't think I should take any with me where you're naked, just to be safe," he mused, and you threw your arms around him.

"You'll just have to use your imagination," you told him as the photos printed.

"That'll be easy with this fresh in my mind," he murmured, looking down at your tits pressed to his chest. "I'll be thinking about you nonstop."

Bradley's hold on your body was unrelenting as he dropped the photos into his duffle and led you back to bed. It was getting late, and his flight to Virginia was early. You snuggled up on his chest with a soft smile on your lips. "I hope you do. I hope you think about me constantly and write me notes."

He kissed your forehead. "Not just you... your whole class. Have to keep them interested in aviation. But you're my favorite pen pal."

You laughed and buried your face against his neck, and he could feel your breathing grow a little more ragged as you whispered, "I love you so much. Just be safe. I don't really care if we have to figure out long distance or relocation as long as you're safe, Bradley."

That's how he fell asleep, wrapped up in your arms with your sweet sentiments in his ear. And the next morning, when his alarm went off, he welcomed your tears, because they made him feel like he was important to a woman for the first time in his life. You cried softly as you sat on his lap and went over his packing list with him one more time, and your cheeks were wet as you kissed him.

Bradley let you button up his khaki uniform shirt for him, your fingers shaking as you smoothed down the fabric along his chest. "Thank you, Gorgeous," he whispered, watching helplessly as your face crumbled into more tears.

When he drove the Bronco to the airport, your fingers were linked with his in the silence as the light from the rising sun hit the buildings downtown, promising to bring another perfect day to southern California. His hand tightened around yours, knowing he was going to be flying into so much uncertainty. His voice sounded strangled to his own ears as he parked at the curb under the signage for departing flights. "This is it. I'll text and call you as much as I can when I land before they lock me down, but this is it for seven weeks."

You crawled onto his lap, holding him tight as he kissed you, and now his tears mingled with yours. "I love you, Bradley," you promised, and he believed you as he held you in his arms and climbed down onto the pavement. He pulled his duffle from the backseat and dropped it to the curb as he held you against him, unwilling to leave before he told you a few more things.

"I'll keep myself safe, but you need to do the same. If you need something, you call Natasha right away, okay?" You nodded against him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. "My stuff is your stuff, so do whatever you want at the house and with my Bronco. And tell me you love me every day in the journal so I can read about it when I see you."

"I will," you sobbed as he finally set you down. "And I'll be waiting to hear you tell me if it's San Diego or Norfolk."

He swiped your tears away from your cheeks and kissed you one last time before he picked up his bag and headed for the door. When he turned back one last time, you were clutching his car keys and crying. "I love you, Gorgeous."

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

We'll see how they manage apart. I think she might do a bit better than Bradley will. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 20

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@horseslovers2016

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

@mygyn

@yuckosworld

@daggerspare-standingby

@nessjo

@trickphotography2

@lyn-js

@marve2014

@furiousladyking

@godsfavoritebabe

[godricgryffinsnore]

Dellaaaa hi my loveeeeee! Hope you are well and hope you've been having a great day so far!! Just wanna drop an idea here, up to you to write it out - but I've been thinking a lot about professional Quidditch player James and reader is interviewing him. He's all friendly and flirty with his answers and I just - swoooon at the thought of him giving out flirty answers to interviews.

Sending you lots of love, angel! mwaaa~

Bludgers and Butterflies ♡ : A James Potter Fan Fiction.

pairing : James Potter x fem!reader

summary : When a charming Quidditch star meets a shy but witty journalist during an interview, playful banter turns into something far more magical—proving that sometimes, all it takes is one conversation to change everything.

warnings : Extreme fluff, Mild suggestive flirting, Excessive charm from James Potter, Heart-melting romantic declarations, Potential swooning, (Proceed with caution—side effects may include giggling, blushing, and uncontrollable smiling.) Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

della's note : I am utterly delighted to write about Professional Quidditch Player James Potter—because honestly, who wouldn’t be?! The man’s got that messy hair, golden-boy charm, and enough flirt energy to power the entire Hogwarts castle. Writing this felt like sipping hot cocoa while being serenaded by a broomstick-riding flirt with a heart of gold. Huge thanks to Miko for requesting this—you’ve sparked a very fluffy daydream and filled it with smirks, blushes, and a whole lot of James Potter magic. 💫💛 Hope you enjoy, my love <3 and THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!!

word count : 1k

main master list <3

banners : @uzmacchiato and @cafekitsune

The lights of the press room glared down like a thousand eyes—unblinking, expectant, and annoyingly hot. James Potter leaned back in his chair with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent a lifetime being watched, admired, and occasionally tackled mid-air by Bulgarian Beaters.

And then she walked in.

Not the league president, not the publicist, not even the press coordinator with his eternal clipboard. Her. The interviewer.

She wasn’t wearing anything extraordinary—just a smart set of robes, ink-stained fingers, and the softest little smile. But Merlin, did she shine. Like a Snitch in sunlight. Like a poem whispered at midnight. Like the exact kind of trouble James would gladly fall headfirst into without a helmet.

He straightened up at once.

“Mr. Potter,” she greeted, offering her hand, her voice a melody dipped in honey and ink.

“Call me James,” he said, shaking it and wondering if she could hear the way his heart was currently conducting a Quidditch match in his chest. “Or future love of your life, if you prefer.”

She blinked. Laughed. Tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you always this forward with journalists?”

“Only the ones who look like they walked out of my daydreams.”

Merlin’s pants, was that too much? He cursed internally. But she just gave him that shy little smile again—the one that felt like a bludger to the ribs.

They sat, and she brought out her quill. “Let’s begin. How does it feel to be the youngest Chaser to ever win the British-Irish League?”

James pretended to ponder. “Honestly? It feels like the world is conspiring to impress you.”

She let out a snort, quickly masked by a cough. “Stick to the sport, Mr. Potter.”

“Fine,” he said, grinning. “It feels good. Like scoring the winning goal while your mum’s in the stands and your dad’s pretending not to cry.”

She scribbled something down, cheeks tinged pink. “And what motivates you during high-pressure matches?”

“You.”

She looked up.

“Alright,” he amended with a smirk, “you and the sheer fear of getting smacked in the face by a rogue Quaffle. But mostly you.”

“I’m going to write that down, you know,” she warned, though the blush on her cheeks betrayed the storm he was starting in her heart.

“Please do. I want future generations to know that I fell for the girl who asked me about high-pressure matches and accidentally stole my soul.”

The interview continued, filled with professional questions answered with entirely unprofessional charm. She tried to remain composed, she really did. But James watched her fidget with the edge of her parchment, bite the tip of her quill, smile without meaning to.

By the end, she was flustered, flattered, and more than a little amused.

“Well,” she said, packing her things. “That’s all for today.”

James stood with her, his hand grazing hers by accident—or fate.

“Wait,” he said. “Before you go. Can I ask you something completely un-sport-related?”

She tilted her head. “Go on.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, his voice dropping just a little. “Can I have your number?”

She laughed—really laughed this time. And then, with a sigh that sounded like it carried every secret wish she’d ever had, she handed him a tiny piece of parchment with her name and contact information. A soft, shy smile bloomed on her lips.

James stared at it, then at her, as if he’d just been handed the map to every dream he didn’t know he had.

“This is it,” he said softly, to no one and everyone. “This is the woman I’m going to spend my entire waking life with.”

Her eyes widened. “You just met me.”

“I know,” he said, already breathless with devotion. “But I’ve caught Snitches in storms and played with broken fingers. And nothing has ever felt more right than you standing in front of me with ink on your hands and that smile on your lips.”

She smiled wider, a little dazed, a little delighted, and before she could reply, he stepped back like he’d fall even deeper if he stayed a moment longer.

── .✦

Later that night, James flopped onto his bed and pressed his enchanted mirror to his lips.

“Sirius.”

It took three seconds before Sirius Black’s face appeared, his hair a mess and his expression suspicious.

“Did you get hexed again?”

“No,” James said, a smile creeping onto his face, softer than clouds and warmer than Butterbeer. “I met someone.”

Sirius blinked. “What, like a fan?”

“No. Her.” James stared at the ceiling, dreamy and dazed. “She interviewed me today. And I swear, Pads, it was like flying without a broom. I’ve never felt something like this.”

“You’ve known her for five minutes,” Sirius deadpanned.

“I know, but—her smile, mate. It could unseat gravity. I made her laugh. She blushed. She gave me her number. And the second she did, I just knew. I want to be by her side. I want to see that smile every day. I want to be the one she talks to when she’s tired and when she’s happy and when her tea’s gone cold.”

Sirius stared at him like he’d been confunded.

“You’re not joking.”

James shook his head. “I never believed in love at first sight, but just one glance at her, and I felt like—like I’m home.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Sirius grinned. “You’re completely gone.”

James sighed, lovestruck. “Completely.”

And for once, Sirius didn’t tease. He just nodded.

“Then go get her, mate. Go find your home.”

[bitchface24-7]

Hi this is my first time requesting a story so please bear with me (my first language isn't english)

Can you make a jayvik fic when they are in the lab struggling to crack open a code or an ecuation and reader (preferably male or gn) disides to help them and they find out reader is really smart or even smarter than them but they barely help out because they are just a lazy potato

HIDDEN GENIUS - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: you’ve always been great in school. Barely studying, amazing grades, and your teachers loved you. If only you participated a but more in class. A prodigy is what they’d all call you. But you’re burnt out. You’re tired of all the expectations, so you’ve taken a backseat in academics. Until your two boys are struggling, and you could easily help them.

warnings: fluff, pre-established relationship, V and J stressed tf out and here you are cutting up an apple to eat, you help them… eventually, teasing, banter, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. As a burnt-out gifted kid myself, I hope this is relatable. Also, I've been eating apples like crazy these past few weeks, so y'all are having some now too LMAO

This is a lot shorter than my average writing. I'm just trying to get back into my groove. So I hope y'all still enjoy my small blurbs ❤️

Your boys are stressed.

It's easy to see.

Jayce is pacing, running his hands through his hair and muttering in irritation. Viktor just sighs every once in a while and swears under his breath.

The chalkboard is dusty, due to the amount of time they've redone their calculations. It’s a mess. Jayce's clothes are ruffled and Viktor has chalk all over his hands and a bit on his face.

They're completely drained.

You slowly look up toward the board as you finish cutting up your apple into slices, the core left onto the paper towel on your desk. Your eyes scan the board quickly— and you immediately see where they've gone wrong.

“You forgot to equalize the equation. Also, is that a negative sign or a smudge of chalk on the board?”

Viktor and Jayce stop their crash out and slowly turn to look at you, Jayce looks bewildered, Viktor looks feral.

The slight man whips back around and half-hazardly fixes the equation. His arm tense, the chalk clicks against the board in a gross way that makes you cringe; but Viktor’s on a roll. He's not gonna stop.

When he's done, he slams the chalk down into the holder, breaking it in half. Jayce looks away from you as you crunch down onto an apple slice and sees what Viktor’s done.

He fixed it.

He fixed it!

This stupid equation that's been kicking their ass for far too long has finally been solved— and they weren't the ones to do it.

You were.

You solved it as you enjoyed their suffering. As your feet were casually crossed at the ankles as you munched on your apple slices like a child. Jayce kind of hates you right now.

He definitely loves you right now.

“Why haven’t you helped us out until now?! My god… so many breakdowns and crash outs that could’ve been avoided if you helped us…” He questions rapidly, his tone rising with each statement.

You just laugh, “I enjoy watching you two suffer. You look so pretty.”

Jayce's mouth drops and Viktor huffs out a small exhale from his nose, “Sadist.”

“Only for you two, my love.”

You casually munch on another apple slice as your boys look at you with fond exasperation. You're kind of an asshole, but you're their asshole.

They're definitely going to bother you more often now that they know you’ve kept your brain from them.

Viktor looks gleeful as he tells you this, you groan, and Jayce just looks lovesick.

“You're a sadist too Viktor! Damn you!”

A dark hum is all you get in reply, “I never said I wasn't. Should I not use all the tools in my arsenal?”

“Is that all I am? A tool?”

“You're the prettiest one I've got. Neck and neck with Jayce. I'd say the two of you are tied.”

Viktor just continues to work on the blackboard as you and Jayce gape at him.

Damn.

He got you good.

(Guess you'll be helping them out after all huh?)

AHHHHH I've been in the biggest writer slump recently. So I hope y'all enjoy this tiny piece. I may do more bullet form fics since they help my flow in writing. I'm not too focused on the fluffy stuff and get to give you the meat and potatoes of the story. Xoxo love y'all ❤️

[pazziescapism]

Break Our Ice - Chapter 1

pairing: paige x azzi

wc: 7.8k (what?? holy shit)

au fic what??, figureskater!Azzi x icehockeyplayer!Paige

fake dating, just like playful banter teasing relationship to lovers, basically paige and azzi dancing around each other

a/n: okay so!! first post/fic kinda nervy..AHAH all these great writers on here have really inspired me so yeahhh, I haven't written fanfic or really written anything in a REALLLYY long time so um yea im a little rusty ngl. anyway, the motivation needs to keep pumping so i would love to here some live reacts or just any comments and feedback, lwk unedited so like if u see anything just lmk so here goes nothing!! love y'all (wait also im from australia, yep, all the way down under, i tried writing this with like american spelling n what not cuz we use british english) - but if i made any mistakes again let me know <3

Over a decade of figure skating, and Azzi hasn't ever hit anyone with an ice skate.

She was currently considering it, but she figured that the fact she hadn’t was mostly a sign that she was a good person, on the account that she thought of it and was actively refraining. Surely, that made her a better person than someone who never had to resist the temptation.

“Thank you for that fascinating look inside your brain,” Caroline says when Azzi voices this thought. “I hope you see a therapist about these disturbing violent urges.”

“Nobody likes a backseat psychologist,” Azzi tells her, and twists away before Caroline can tell her she’s misusing the phrase or something unwaveringly supportive.

It’s easy to lose herself in the motions of this routine, which is a beginner practice she chose for a cooldown. And the quieter her mind gets, the less homicidal she feels, which is probably better for everyone all around.

“Oi,” someone calls from the spectator stands, and Azzi’s mind splashes red very briefly. “I just said we booked this rink.”

Paige, the potential victim of ice-skate homicide, is looking over the stands, her jawline clenched in a way that looks very lickable (but she very quickly buried that thought).

“Didn’t you hear?” Azzi says brightly, spinning away, one foot crossing gracefully over the other. “You aren’t allowed to book the rink on the first Saturday of the month! It’s free use!” She calls over her shoulder.

She spins back around in time to see Jana, the giant Egyptian on their team, straighten up to a full height of probably 6’2. “Oh, okay! Sorry to bother you!”

She turns to leave and is stopped by Paige’s hand gripping her shoulder.

“Jana,” Paige says, her eyes shutting briefly as if praying for patience. “Wisen up, huh?”

Azzi snickers, sliding nearer to see that angry jawline up close, but her fun is quickly spoiled by the sight of the hockey team coach approaching the rink, evidently coming to see what the hold-up was.

“Ah, well,” she says hastily, crossing to the other edge to exit the rink. “I tried!” She yells across the ice to where the team is, and she swears on her life she can see Paige try to hide a smile.

She meets up with Caroline in the locker room, because of course Caroline had left at the specified time instead of sticking with Azzi to piss off the hockey team.

It wasn’t that Azzi enjoyed it, really. She was just generally opposed to getting walked over. If the end result was that the delicious-looking vein in Paige’s neck began to show, that was only a side benefit.

(And if Azzi and Kaitlyn occasionally go to their games, Azzi will maintain to her dying day that it is actually to throw them off their game and not an attempt at manifestation.)

“A poked bear may stumble in its sleep but eventually its eyes will open,” Caroline tells her.

“Caroline, you really are a weird girl,” Azzi says. “Repeat that with real-life words, please.”

Caroline thinks this over. “One of those guys is going to snap and hit you one of these days,” she offers instead.

Azzi scrunches her nose in disdain. “You should be more worried about me snapping.”

“I am,” Caroline says. “I’m worried that them snapping will make you snap and then we’ll get banned from this rink.”

“Out of curiosity,” Azzi asks, swinging her bag of practice clothes over her shoulder. “Why are you getting banned in this scenario?”

“I wouldn’t cooperate with law enforcement when they came to arrest you,” Caroline says solemnly.

Azzi stares at her, strangely touched. “Thank you. I’ll try not to get arrested.”

This resolution is tested immediately after leaving the rink, which had admittedly not been in Azzi’s plans.

“Azzi!” Jayden yells at her, jogging over from where he had been standing by his car parked outside the rink. “Hey, Azzi, listen-”

“I’ll piss on your grave and listen to your corpse roll,” Azzi says, but only quietly and only to herself.

“I got two tickets to a hockey game a week from now,” Jayden says, catching up to her, smiling that horrible smile that makes Azzi want to knock his teeth out. “I got a lot of girls asking me to come, but I thought I’d take you out.”

“Oh, did you?” Azzi asks, as flatly as possible. She’s already walked to the bus stop, and now she’s stuck waiting there while Jayden talks at her.

“C’mon, we can make a whole thing out of it,” Jayden says, oblivious to the murderous vibes Azzi is projecting.

“Not interested,” Azzi says. “Take one of the girls.”

“Aw, but I want to take you,” Jayden says, almost whining. “Besides,” oh god here it comes, “you do kind of owe me, for the whole free rink access.”

There it is. There is how Azzi has been roped into accepting nearly every invitation this stupid bastard has thrown her way over the last few months out of some desperate attempt to try and buy his way into her pants.

“I owe your dad,” Azzi reminds him, though she knows it won’t work. “Who owns the rink. Not you.”

“You know my dad wouldn’t want you to turn this down,” Jayden responds, like he always does. “He wants us to get closer.”

Azzi, in no small way, owed Geno her career, a debt that mattered more to her than any other chain she was attached to. And, no, Geno would not want Azzi strong-armed into going on pseudo-dates with his son, but it would make him upset if Azzi started fighting with the bastard, which was bound to happen soon because Jayden did not like to be told no.

“I can’t,” Azzi says, more out of spite than anything else.

“Why not?”

“I-” Azzi licks her lips and stares at the pimple sprouting on Jayden’s chin as maliciously as possible. She hopes it explodes. “I have a girlfriend who wouldn’t like that.”

Even as she says it, she regrets it. She isn’t even sure why she said it.

“A girlfriend,” Jayden echoes, his tone incredulous.

“A girlfriend,” Azzi maintains, desperately committed to her sinking ship. “She’s kind of overprotective, really.”

God, she’s fucked the second Jayden asks to see a picture. Or by next week, when Jayden inevitably asks why her so-called girlfriend has yet to drop by when Azzi practices. And then she’ll have to explain that she lied, and then Geno will look at her all confused and disappointed like the time Azzi had basically melted the entire rink by accidentally turning off a master switch that killed all the power in the building, and then her career and all her professional relationships will be burned down and it’ll all be Azzi’s own fault because she can’t keep her mouth shut and deal with a couple hours with Jayden. And apparently she likes to self-sabotage.

Azzi feels like she’s going to vomit. She feels like the sidewalk she’s standing on is starting to cave in beneath her, like the sky is suddenly bearing down on her shoulders, too heavy to carry, so close to pushing her to her knees.

“Hey!” A familiar voice calls from behind her. “You forgot your skates!” Azzi manages to turn on shaky legs to see Paige jogging towards her in sweatpants and her hockey jersey. She’s carrying a pink bag that had been a present from Kaitlyn, which Azzi uses to store her skates when she’s taking the bus.

“Ah, Paige” she manages to say through the depths of her spiralling thoughts.

She’s got a light sheen of sweat on her forehead- she’s probably been practicing, Azzi thinks dizzily- and her shoulders seem especially broad with that jersey on.

“Here,” Paige says, holding the bag out. When Azzi doesn’t make a move to take it, she clicks her tongue and, in a shockingly gentle movement, pulls Azzi’s hand up herself, so that she can place the bag on her palm. Then Azzi takes it, clumsily adjusting her grip so she’s holding it properly by the handles. Her breath is still coming too fast, her lungs burning in his chest.

A heavy hand settles on her shoulder, fingers settling near the nape of her neck shaking her lightly so that Paige can peer up into her eyes. “Hey,” she says, in a voice so soft it could have given Azzi an instant warmth in her con other, much different, circumstances. “What’s wrong with you?”

Paige’s hair is in its usual braided style, always neat, yet effortless like someone hadn't even wasted a second of their time putting it up like that. She’s got nice eyes, Azzi's noticed them before. A sort of blue that pierces into your soul and stays there. Her eyebrows are currently pulled down low, making the skin of her forehead wrinkle. 

Jayden, who had been blissfully silent, up until now, decides to chime in. “Is this the girl?”

Paige steps forward, frowning. “Who’s this?” She asks, and she’s talking to Azzi but she’s looking at Jayden, and Azzi’s never been quite this grateful for Paige’s slight resting bitch face before. 

“Just a friend,” she says smoothly. “Azzi, properly introduce us sometime, okay?”

“Sure thing!” Azzi says, as nicely as possible, which makes Paige head turn towards him again. It doesn’t matter because Jayden is already slithering back into his car that cost way too much money, not to mention insurance premiums, making excuses about why he has to leave.

It’s only once Azzi can’t even see the fumes created by that hideous fucking car that she lets her shoulders drop, her forehead drooping to rest on Paige’s shoulders. A little voice in her brain pops up to tell her that, in normal circumstances, she would rather die than be this vulnerable in front of this girl. But right now, in these circumstances, Azzi has just barely avoided having a panic attack in public and Paige’s jersey smells sweaty but not dirty, and her shoulders are such a steady place to rest her tired head.

“Um.” Paige says, and then a hesitant hand is rubbing her back, up and down in comforting strokes.

“Thank god you’re so scary, p,” Azzi mumbles, fisting his hands into jersey material on both sides of Paige’s chest, unwilling to pull away just yet. Fortunately, Paige doesn’t try to move, just keeps running her hand down Azzi back. It’s oddly comforting, Azzi’s breath starting to level out again.

“Don’t tell me you were letting that guy bully you,” Paige says, disbelieving. “You? I once saw you make Nika cry. Actual tears!”

Azzi laughs, despite herself, and finally stands up straight. She reluctantly releases the jersey she had clenched in her fists, and watches the material stay gathered where she had grabbed it.

“It’s hard to explain,” she says. “And I think your teammates are looking for you.”

KK has, in fact, wandered out, her hockey stick held out in front of her chest like a protective barrier.

“They were probably worried we’d killed each other,” Paige says, and makes a gesture Azzi can’t see at KK, who beams and gives her a thumbs up before running back inside.

“She did look glad to be out of the crossfire,” Azzi says, amused.

“Ah, you scare her,” Paige says dismissively, and then looks at her carefully. “Hey, uh-”

Azzi’s not sure what she expected, but it wasn’t for Paige to step forward and chuck her under the chin. “Cheer up, alright?“

“You’re ridiculous,” Azzi says exasperatedly. She doesn’t say thank you, but she hopes Paige can see it in her eyes. Maybe not. Either way, Azzi thinks, watching the girl lope away, she had been a temporary solution to a much bigger problem.

“It’s not a problem,” Kaitlyn tells her that evening. Azzi thinks she might be rolling her eyes, but she can’t tell because her face is smashed into her couch cushion, so all she can see is the thin cracks beginning to line the fabric. Kaitlyn is prone to rolling her eyes when Azzi complains to her, so it’s a strong possibility.

“It is a problem,” Azzi says into the couch, not budging from her comatose position. “I’m never leaving my apartment again. My body will atrophy, and my flesh will rot, and you’ll find it here, on this couch, being eaten by flies.”

“You sure have a talent for dramatics,” Kaitlyn says, blatantly unsympathetic. “If figure skating doesn’t work out, I’m sure you have a career waiting for you in monologuing.”

“I think you would make a great Hamlet,” Caroline adds helpfully, perched on Azzi’s armchair like an overgrown crow, brown hair cascading how her shoulders. 

“Or the evil witches in Macbeth,” Kaitlyn says.

“I wish you guys were dead,” Azzi says, and rolls over onto her back so she’s looking at the ceiling instead. God, her ceiling is so fucking ugly, and she can’t even get it fixed because she’s never going to the Olympics, and she’s going to be poor and useless and tragically beautiful for the rest of her life-

“What is wrong with you?” Caroline says, and Azzi realizes belatedly that she’d been saying all of that out loud.

“I’m so fucked,” Azzi says, and her voice shakes more than she had meant it to. “What do I do?”

“You could confess you lied,” Kaitlyn suggests. “And say it was a spur of the moment thing, whoopsie.”

“And then what?” Azzi says glumly. “I’m stuck following Jayden anywhere he wants to go for the rest of his life, and being polite to him even when he starts acting like I’m some kind of Oliver Twist orphan his father took in and nurtured and I owe him my first born child”

“Christ,” Caroline says. “Just get your little hockey player to pretend she’s your girlfriend.”

Azzi sits up at that, tousled strands of hair falling out of her braids. “Are you completely insane?”

“I think it’s a good plan,” Kaitlyn says, unerringly loyal to the end. “You’re so smart, carol.”

“It’s an awful plan,” Azzi hisses. “What am I supposed to say? Sorry I’ve been actively antagonizing you and your team for a bit, please pretend to be my girlfriend to keep my career alive, and also if you notice I can’t stop blushing when you’re near me, don’t pay it any mind, I just think you’re really pretty?”

“Not exactly like that,” Caroline says. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

Azzi stares at her for a minute, trying to will Kaitlyn to show some sort of outward contradiction. When it doesn’t work, she collapses with a huff back onto the couch. “I’m fucked,” she repeats.

KK the first one to notice her the next day, hovering awkwardly around the entrance as the team wraps up. Azzi remembers what Paige had said about KK being scared of her, so she tries her nicest smile, giving a small wave with her right hand.

“Hey!” KK says easily, coming up to her. She’s still in her hockey gear, but her ice skates are off. “Are you looking for Paige?”

“I am, yeah,” Azzi says slowly. “How did you know that?”

KK blinks at her, her head tilting slightly to the side in silent question. “You’re always looking for Paige.”

“Am not,” Azzi says, too defensively but she’s saved from hearing whatever KK has to say about that when Nika comes up to them, slinging an arm over KK’s shoulders, and making a mean face at Azzi.

“Don’t bully KK, her nerves can’t handle it,” Nika says and then takes a closer look at her face, and stops, eyes narrowing. “Woah, what’s wrong with you today?”

Azzi can’t imagine what she looks like right now. She has trouble sleeping at the best of times, and last night had been one of the worst. She had spent most of it lying on her back and picturing herself penniless and destitute, until the swirling darkness had seemed to take on a physical shape and that shape had started to laugh at her. By the time she’d gotten up, she hadn’t even had time to fix her hair, or cover up the dark circles that had formed under her eyes.

She pictures herself, her hair tangled and her skin greasy, and a new zit starting to pop-up over her cheekbone and just about turns herself around and walks out of the building all together.

“Azzi,” Nika says, “Azzi, Azzi, Azzi.” She’s waving a hand in front of Azzi’s face, concerned eyebrows visible through the gaps in her fingers.

Azzi flinches and smacks her hand away. “Listen,” she says. “I’m not in the mood to argue today. Is Paige here?”

Nika and KK have matching flabbergasted expressions, which is less than flattering. “You’re not in the mood?” Nika asks, like Azzi has just told her the Earth is going to get flattened by an asteroid in thirty seconds.

“I’m just-” It’s occurring to Azzi that this is possibly a really terrible plan and she should go home and think it over some more, without Kaitlyn’s cackling laugh in her ear, or at least come back with her hair brushed properly. “Yeah, I’m not in the mood, I’m gonna go, honestly-”

“No, don’t go!” KK says quickly, her hand lashing out to wrap around Azzi’s arm. Azzi stares at her dead-eyed, and she winces and repeats, quieter. “Don’t go, Paige’s just changing out. She took a hard hit today, so we let her off without helping clean up. She should be here any second.”

“Azzi?”

“Speak of the devil!” KK says, sounding relieved and steps fully away from Azzi so she can see Paige approaching them, a long bag slung over her back. Her jacket is nice, Azzi notices, an expensive brand Azzi sees at competitions sometimes. It’s zipped up fully, the black fabric clinging tight to every defined muscle in her arms and chest.

“You don’t practice here today,” Paige says. She looks concerned too. Azzi is getting a little tired of these hockey players looking concernedly at her.

Azzi can think of fifty million different things to say here. Maybe a ‘how did you know that?’ or a ‘what do you care?’ or ‘hey can I talk to you?’

What comes out of her mouth is, “are you okay?”

Because Paige’s got a red, swelling mark on her jaw, sure to darken into a bruise over the next hour. She seems a little surprised by the question, her eyebrows lifting. “Yeah, just took a hit this practice. It happens.”

“Right,” Azzi says, because she knows that, because she’s seen a hockey game before. She shifts from foot to foot carefully. She’s become horribly aware of how her tongue is sitting in her own mouth. “Happens.”

“Yeah,” Paige says slowly. She looks like she wants to check Aziz’s temperature. “Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” Azzi snaps immediately, her shoulders rising to her chin. “Do I look tired to you?”

The answer is yes, probably, and it would be right. Azzi is exhausted, and she does want very badly to sit down. Still, something in her eyes must show that Azzi is running low on straws to grab at, because Paige doesn’t say yes immediately, just pauses and shakes her head slowly.

KK and Nika are both still there, Nika draped over KK’s back, watching the two of them like she’s seeing a particularly rough tennis match.

“What are you guys still doing here?” Azzi says, irritated.

Nika only smiles insufferably, lips curling up. “There she is. All back to normal. C’mon KK, let’s leave them alone.”

Azzi watches them traipse off, her irritation rising inexplicably when she sees they’re holding hands.

“I actually fell when I got hit,” Paige says apologetically, distracting her. “So if you’re here to see me, I’m going to need to sit down. For my leg. Which hurts.”

Azzi fixes her in place with a hard glare, her feet firmly planted where they are.

Paige’s eyebrow twitches, just a little. She grabs her leg, completely unconvincing. “Ouch.”

The glare is getting a little hard to keep up.

“Fuck,” Azzi says, after a moment, feeling the burning frustration in her throat subside. It hits her suddenly, as her mind clears, what she must look like to Paige, and her lips twitch. Paige’s eyes widen in alarm and Azzi breaks into laughter, a genuine laugh, rising up from her chest, her shoulders dropping back down, her body relaxing like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Sorry,” she says to Paige, who is staring at her. “That wasn’t hysteria. Sorry. I just realized I was being stupid. Also, you suck at lying. Let’s go sit down.”

Azzi kicks absent-mindedly at the legs of Paige’s chair, too nervous to look up and meet her eyes. “So, that’s the situation,” she says. It sounds more insane when she says it out loud than it had when she’d practiced it.

“Sure,” Paige says. They’ve sat down in a dingy little fast food place next to the ice rink, empty at this time of day, which is good for professional athletes who need to discuss crazy people schemes in relative privacy. A packet of limp fries sits between them, grease saturating the packet, spreading in blobs across the thin paper.

“Sure,” Azzi mimics. Her kicking grows faster, the chair legs squeaking as she hits them harder and harder.

A hand wraps around her ankle the next time it flies to kick the seat and Azzi finally looks up to meet Paige’s eyes.

“If you break it, I’m not paying for it,” Paige says warningly, and then releases Azzi’s leg.

Azzi kicks the chair one more time for good measure and then sweeps her legs under her own chair. “Can you just say something?” She asks, trying to cover the flush rising to her face. “And if the answer is no, that’s okay, but just so you know I’m trusting you to not tell anyone else that I asked you-”

Paige runs her hands over her face, groaning, and for the first time Azzi notices that her ears are bright red.

Knowing they’re in the same boat makes her inclined to be kinder, and Azzi settles down in her seat, determined to wait her out.

“Alright,” Paige says. “We need to talk about this somewhere else. People could walk in here any time and the last thing I need right now is to become tabloid fodder.”

“Ah,” Azzi says knowingly, both of them standing up. “Olympics selection is coming up.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, scrubbing a hand through her hair, making it even more frizzy. “Also, I generally don’t like seeing my face on newsstands.”

Azzi considers that, as someone who also does not love to see their face on newsstands and even more so on tabloids yet somehow always ends up on them. Azzi used to really struggle with all the added media requirements but it seems that it just seems so come with the whole ice skating package. “seems reasonable..”

“Oh, that’s right,” Paige says, leading them out into the parking lot. “You’re always doing all those modelling campaigns. I guess you see yourself a lot, huh?”

Azzi smiles. “I took two medals at last year’s Grand Prix,” she says. “I’m in high demand, p”

Paige looks skeptical. “Oh really? Ask one of your model friends to date you for real.”

“Why do that, when I could hang out with you?” Azzi asks, cheerful once again. They’ve reached Paige’s car, which is apparently the more private place Paige had been talking about.

“The windows are tinted,” Paige explains, as they both climb into the vehicle. It’s a nice car, Azzi thinks jealously, trying not to stare too obviously at the smooth, expensive-looking interior.

“Do you think any of the players from your team are going to get selected?” Azzi asks, leaning against the passenger side window to look at Paige.

“Well,” Paige says, slanting a crooked grin in Azzi’s direction. “Me, obviously.”

As the smirk turns into a soft laugh Azzi feels her heart constrict and tries to remember how to breathe properly. “Obviously,” she says, and if it doesn’t sound half as sarcastic as she meant it to, Paige doesn’t mention it.

“Nika, too,” Paige continues, thoughtfully. 

“I guess I’ll see you there,” Azzi says, and watches the crinkle around her eyes make a reappearance.

“Why can’t you just use another rink?” Paige asks. “If you won two medals already, you can probably afford it.”

Azzi tips her head back and tries to think of the best way to explain this. “Figure skating isn’t like hockey, or football, or basketball. We don’t get contracts for the season. We get paid if we win, and the costs of equipment and training add up. A lot of professional figure skaters rely on their families, or work side jobs. Plus, we retire early, so I need to save up while I’m ahead.”

Paige is watching her steadily, blue eyes giving Azzi her full attention. Somehow, Azzi hadn’t expected her to be this good of a listener.

“And this rink is private, so no fans show up to watch you practice, and it’s near my house.”

“It’s near mine too,” Paige shares and Azzi stores that information away in a small folder of her brain with a picture of Paige’s face taped over it.

“That’s not even it, though,” Azzi continues. “Figure skating’s hard to get into, if you don’t have any connections. When me and my family moved here- our last city didn’t even have an ice rink. I learned to skate on a frozen over pond. When we moved, I used to practice before school, after school, weekends, whenever we could afford it. Geno set everything up for me, he got me a good coach, he made all the right introductions. I do owe him, whatever he might think about it. I don’t want to make him upset.”

Paige is silent for a moment and then slumps forward over the steering wheel, making a noise like a dog throwing up, her forehead hitting the top of the wheel.

“Paige?” Azzi says, immediately concerned. “What the fuck?”

Paige doesn’t lift her head up, just mumbles to the floor. “Have you just been secretly cool this whole time and I didn’t know it?”

It’s enough to startle a laugh out of Azzi, the second time today.

“I feel like there’s definitely a less insane solution,” Paige says, straightening up. “But I can’t think of it, so I’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it?!”

“Just said I would.”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says, beaming so hard her cheeks are starting to ache. “Paige, you are a lifesaver. I will never say anything about your hockey team again.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Do you want a ride home?”

Azzi nods, so incandescently happy, she thinks she might be glowing, practically bouncing in her seat as she turns to buckle her seatbelt.

When she looks back at Paige again, Paige is already looking at her.

Azzi blinks. “What?”

“Nothing,” Paige grinds out through gritted teeth as she starts the car. “Nothing.”

“By the way,” Paige says, as the two of them inch through the weekday traffic. “Why do you take the bus anyway? Aren’t you worried you’ll be recognized?”

“No one is looking for a figure skater on public transport, Paige,” Azzi says. “Besides, I never learned how to drive, I much prefer being a passenger princess.”

Paige looks over at her, incredulous. “You never learned how?”

“I was busy,” Azzi says defensively. “I’m only twenty-two, you know. And there’s lots going on in my life.”

“I wasn’t judging,” Paige says, “just surprised. I failed mine like three times.”

Azzi sits up straight in her seat. “Three times? How do I get out of this car?”

Paige tsks disapprovingly. “Relax, it’s fine. I passed in the end, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, on the fourth try,” Azzi mutters. “I’d probably pass the bar exam if I took it on the fourth try.”

“You are not funny” Paige says, but she’s smiling as she says it. “Better to try and fail than never try, right?”

“Personally,” Azzi says, as haughty as she can manage. “I’d rather try and succeed.”

When they pull up in front of Azzi’s apartment complex, Azzi is nervous again, fidgeting with the hems of her sleeves as Paige parks.

“Should we like,” she winces even as the words leave her mouth, “come up with rules, or a plan or something.”

“We could,” Paige says dubiously. “But if you say some corny shit like ‘rule one is don’t fall in love with me’ I’m gonna break up with you.”

“I wasn’t going to say that!” Azzi snaps. Then because she can’t help herself, she adds, “Anyway, that would be the last rule. For dramatic effect.”

“I can’t believe people think you’re scary,” Paige says. 

“Shut up,” Azzi says, ineffectively, as she pulls out her phone. She opens up her Notes app, and types in ‘Rules’ into the header.

“Nerd.”

“Hush.” Azzi types in ‘Rule 1’ and then stares at it.

“Well?” Paige prompts.

Azzi scowls at her. “Rule number one is don’t be mean to me.”

“Rejected,” Paige says, and unbuckles her seatbelt to settle a little more comfortably into her seat.

“Fine,” Azzi says. “Rule one is, we have to keep going for about two months. That’ll be enough time to convince Jayden the relationship is real, and for him to get off my case.”

Paige agrees, so Azzi moves on. “Rule two is you have to go with me to weekly dinners at Geno’s house.”

Paige sits up at that, alarmingly straight. “Every week?”

“Well, not if you’re super busy,” Azzi says, a little taken aback. “I can try to get you out of the first few, but we’ll definitely have to go to a few.”

“It’s just,” Paige pauses, and then looks at Azzi, seeming incredibly pained. “I’m like, a really bad liar.”

The earnest worry on her face is too much to bear, and Azzi turns her head to stifle her laughter into her shoulder.

“I can still see you laughing,” Paige says heatedly. “I’m serious!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Azzi says, still giggling a little. She holds up her hands. “Not laughing at you, I swear. I’ll do most of the talking, you can just sit back and nod along. I’ll tell them you’re shy.”

“Of course you will,” Paige says, shaking her head. “Fine, yeah, that’s alright then.”

“Rule number three is,” Azzi hesitates, trying to think of something that’ll annoy Paige to just the appropriate level. “Rule number three is you have to drive me home from practice everyday.”

She looks at Paige expectantly, hoping to see that thrilling neck vein start to stick out, but the other man just looks thoughtful. “I probably can’t everyday,” She says.

“Paige” Azzi says, staring at her, wide-eyed. “I was just kidding, I obviously don’t expect you to just drive me around.”

“I guess it depends on how our practice schedules line up,” Paige continues, like Azzi hadn’t spoken at all. “Send me yours, and I’ll see, alright?”

“Paige-” Azzi says, bewildered by how quickly this conversation has gotten away from her, but Paige keeps speaking.

“Rule four,” she says. “Since we’re already doing this, I have a family function to go to about two months from now too. If I do this, you have to come pretend to be my date for that.”

“Ooh,” Azzi says. “The Paige Bueckers can’t get a hot date on her own?”

“You’re one to talk,” Azzi says, impassive.

Azzi sticks out her tongue, but adds it down into her notes. She isn’t sure what to do with rule number three, so she leaves it on there, and then shows the list to Paige.

“Sure,” Paige says affably. “There we go.”

Azzi hesitates. “Just like that?”

“Do you want us to spit and shake?” Paige says, amused.

“Definitely not.” Azzi looks at the list of rules in her phone again, chewing on her lower lip. “Just like, should we sign something?”

Paige sighs heavily, and then holds out her fist, pinky finger extended. When Azzi doesn’t move, just looks at her, she wiggles the finger impatiently. “C’mon.”

“Just checking- Are you seven years old, by any chance?” Azzi asks, but holds out her pinky anyway.

Paige doesn’t respond, but her eyebrows furrow slightly in focus as she loops their pinkies and then touches their thumbs together. “There. Now we’ve pinky promised.”

Azzi wants to pull on this girl’s cheeks. She wants to chew on her cheekbones. She wants to take Paige’s face between her two hands, and pepper little kisses over her nose. “Yeah,” she says helplessly. “Pinky promise.”

Azzi shows up at the rink again the next day, late in the evening after practice, and Paige waves her over from a bench where she’s wrapping up her gear and stuffing it into a bag. She’s wearing the same expensive jacket Azzi had seen yesterday, and for the first time, Azzi wonders just how much Paige earns in a year. Their team is good, she knows that, so she imagines it’s a lot. Definitely more than she earns, Azzi thinks bitterly. Nobody so much as questions her approach as she makes her way over, making Azzi wonder what Paige told her team. They had never really discussed it, so she guesses it’s fine if they know that Azzi needed a fake girlfriend.

“What’s that face for?” Paige asks as she gets closer, so Azzi makes an even worse face, scrunching up all her features and sticking out her tongue.

“Gross,” Paige says, and she looks like she’s going to say more but Jana and Ice are both coming over, the two of them together creating an almost overwhelming whirlwind of energy. They don’t question Azzi’s presence at all, looking vaguely eager as they approach.

“Hi Azzi, Paige,” Ice says. “Are you coming out with us for drinks next week, Azzi?”

Azzi turns to Paige, who shrugs as if to say up to you. 

“I might,” Azzi says, uncertainly, and in an effort to be nice, she adds, “sounds like a real party.”

“The last time I was at a party was when my sister got kidnapped,” Jana says thoughtfully and Azzi isn’t sure which part of that statement should be addressed first.

“What?” She settles on.

“It was a search party, obviously,” Jana amends. “Not like a ‘ha-ha’ party. We were all very worried.”

“Sorry,” Paige says, looking as dazed as Azzi feels. “Did you say your sister got kidnapped?” 

“It was a misunderstanding!” Jana says brightly. “You know, KGB agents and stuff. She was alright in the end.”

“Good for her!” Ice says, evidently not bothered by this story at all. 

As the pair leave, Azzi turns to Paige and mouths kidnapped? Paige shrugs helplessly.

“What did you tell them anyway?” Azzi asks once the two of them are out of earshot. “About like- this whole thing?”

“About you propositioning me?” Paige asks, and Azzi winces at the word choice. “Nothing. I was going to lie and say we were dating if someone asked, but no one’s asked.”

Azzi pauses. “You were going to lie to your teammates for me?” She asks, feeling strangely warm at the thought.

“I would’ve tried,” Paige says, grinning. “I think I overestimated how much attention they pay to their surroundings.”

She pats the spot on the bench next to her. “Are you getting back from practice?”

“Yeah,” Azzi says, sliding onto the bench, so that she’s straddling it, facing Paige, one leg on either side. “Mats today.”

Paige hums a questioning noise, her eyes still focused on the tape she’s wrapping around her stick.

“When you do like jumps and stuff,” Azzi shares, feeling strangely shy. “You have to practice somewhere you won’t get hurt as bad before you try on the ice.”

“Can you get the same effect?” Paige asks, seeming genuinely interested. “Like, isn’t it different on the mats versus the ice?”

Azzi is struck, just then, by how strange it is to be sitting here, talking to Paige like a normal person, explaining the details of figure skating to her like they’re friends.

“Um,” she says out loud. “Yeah, it’s different. But it helps to get the footwork down.”

Azzi keeps talking, feeling like she’s separating a little from his body as Paige keeps working on her equipment, nodding along at all the right places, asking questions when Azzi stops speaking.

When Jayden slams a hand down on her shoulder, it feels like a sharp and unwelcome return to reality.

“I thought I’d drop by, but you weren’t at the bus stop,” Jayden says, in a stupid long coat that makes him look like three children stacked on top of one another. Azzi frowns.

“Paige is driving me home today,” she says, and Jayden turns to look at Paige who’s briefly paused her work to observe their interaction.

“So this is the girlfriend, huh?” Jayden says brightly.

Azzi nods, and stands up, moving to stand behind Paige, nudging her back gently. She feels a little jittery already, and she mostly just wants Jayden to leave, to let Azzi return to the conversation she had been having before he arrived.

“We actually have to leave,” she announces, and she can see Paige start to place her equipment into her bag again, starting to pack up. “Sorry to ditch as soon as we see you.”

“I was just wondering,” Jayden says, ignoring this, “because you guys don’t seem very coupley at all. Not to judge, or anything.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Azzi says sharply. “What does ‘coupley’ even mean?”

Couple things, she thinks desperately, what are couple things?

Her smile beginning to twitch at the corners, she reaches down and very hesitantly places a hand on Paige’s shoulder. Her face immediately begins to burn, blood rushing upwards so fast she’s starting to feel dizzy. That was so fucking stupid.

Straight-faced, Paige reaches up and pats Azzi’s hand. Pats it. Once, twice, and stops, returning to her task.

Azzi isn’t sure whether she wants to laugh or cry. This is where their attempt at public displays of affection ends, apparently. Azzi slowly lowering her hand onto Paige’s shoulder like she’s touching a hot stove, and Paige patting that hand twice.

She looks down to see Paige’s face and Paige looks back up at her, and when their eyes meet, Azzi can see that for once, they’re in complete agreement. We are terrible at this.

Jayden doesn’t seem to miss the terrible awkward exchange (it would be like missing an especially bloody train wreck, in Azzi’s opinion), judging by the narrowed suspicious eyes he’s aiming at the two of them.

“Strange,” Jayden comments, casually, so casually. “Azzo normally goes for brunettes”

That is both underhanded and untrue. She does not go for brunettes. Azzi doesn’t “go for” many people at all at all. People go for her. They might as well just show up at her house and form an orderly queue.

Azzi is currently less worried about the slander of her reputation and more worried about whether Paige would get worked up and hit Jayden over this.

“Really?” Paige asks, tipping her head back to look at Azzi for confirmation.

“I don’t chase,” Azzi says lightly. “I attract.”

Paige rolls her eyes, not meanly- something Azzi could mistake as fond if she didn’t know any better. “Well, there you have it,” she tells Jayden.

“She doesn’t like hockey players much, either,” Jayden says, clearly still on this. This part, at least, is true.

“Are you trying to ask a question?” Azzi asks, her tone biting.

Jayden is not phased by Azzi’s biting tone. “Just seeing if she’s really up to your usual standards,” she says, and Azzi wouldn’t even blame Paige if she hit him for that one. Still, she tightens the hand on Paige’s shoulder in warning.

Azzi shouldn’t have worried because Paige doesn’t even blink, just lifts her eyebrows, slightly sardonic. “Are we having a dick measuring contest? I would've brought my ruler.”

“Not a contest,” Jayden says, that fake smile slipping off his face. “I was just asking some questions.”

Paige snorts, continuing to pack up her gear. “Ask away.”

“Ask away later,” Azzi says hastily. “Because we have to go right now. No time for an interrogation.”

“Not an interrogation, either,” Jayden says, sticking his chin in the air. “Alright, I’ll go. Give you two some privacy.”

He looks at the two of them as though she’s expecting them to tell him to stay. When nothing is forthcoming, he turns on his heel and strides away, hands tucked into the deep pockets of that flaring coat.

“Looks like fucking Vader in that thing,” Paige comments, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Cartoon supervillain.”

They start walking towards the exit, the small musty hallway that leads into the parking lot.

“You handled that surprisingly well,” Azzi says. “I kind of expected you to hit him.”

Paige glances at her out of the corner of her eye, that familiar scowl on her face again. “I’m not that easy to piss off. It takes a little more than that to rile me up. Give me some credit.”

Azzi stares at her, mouth agape. “Are we talking about the same Paige? You’re so easy to rile up. Incredibly easy. It’s thrilling every time.”

Paige comes to a stop, and turns to point a thick finger at her chest. The two of them are standing alone in the dark hallway leading to the exit door, one dusty light bulb flickering on and off above them. The bruise on her face is turning a nasty colour, unlikely to fade for another week.

“You,” Paige says, squinting at her accusingly, “are just a special breed of irritating.”

With that, she turns and walks away, leaving Azzi standing still behind her, watching her retreating back.

“Was that a compliment?” Azzi yells after her, not moving from her spot. The sound of Paige’s answering laugh echoes off the walls, bouncing back towards her, Azzi’s lips pulling up in response, as she runs to catch back up.

“Wait,” Paige says, once they’re in the parking lot. Night has already fallen, early in the wintertime, the pavement around them lit up by tall streetlamps, casting yellow light over their faces. “Here, I’ll get in the passenger seat, and you drive.”

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Azzi asks, not moving.

Paige shrugs, already moving around to the passenger seat. “Come on, the lot is empty, I’ll teach you how.”

“Do you even know how?” Azzi asks, reluctantly accepting the keys Paige is proffering towards her, “I kind of figured that you just annoyed the test takers with your persistence until they let you pass.”

“Bruh,” Paige says mildly. “Go on, get in.”

Once Azzi’s sitting in the driver’s seat, she just stares at the wheel. There seem to be an awful lot of controls.

She turns to Paige. “What now?”

“Well, first you have to buckle your seatbelt,” Paige says, and Azzi scowls.

“I know that.” She doesn’t move.

Paige sighs. She seems to do that a lot around Azzi. Then Azzi is frozen for a different reason, as Paige leans over her, one hand gripping Azzi’s shoulder as she reaches for Azzi’s seatbelt, smooth muscle shifting under her skin as she brings it over Azzi’s body and buckles it.

“Dear god,” Azzi whispers. Paige smells good.

“Relax,” Paige says, taking her mumblings for nervousness. “You can’t possibly mess up that bad.”

Azzi frowns. “How do you know that? I could be the worst driver you’ve ever met.”

“I doubt it,” Paige tells her. “I crashed the car the first time I took the test.”

Azzi stares at her. Then she starts the car.

“Right pedal is gas, left is brake,” Paige says. “You have to put the car in reverse to get out of the spot, and then press lightly on the gas.”

“Right,” Azzi says, and moves the gear stick accordingly before pressing on the gas. The car lurches forward, coming to a jerky stop right before hitting the curb in front of them, Azzi’s blood draining entirely from her face.

“So, that was actually drive,” Paige says calmly, one hand braced on the window. “Reverse is lower.”

Once Azzi gets used to the controls, they manage to go in large bumpy circles around the parking lot.

“How did you fail the second time?” Azzi asks, carefully executing another terrible turn.

“Try to stay on the right side,” Paige says, unbothered by the possible damage Azzi is inflicting on her car. “I almost hit a stop sign. They got really mad about that one.”

“I would be making so much fun of you over this if I wasn’t so tense right now,” Azzi informs her. "Remind me to do it later."

“Looking forward to it- make sure you’re slowing down before you turn.”

“What about the third time?” Azzi says. She presses too hard on the brake, and the car nearly comes to a full stop in the middle of her next turn.

Paige seems to be pouting, by the sound of her voice. Azzi debates taking her eyes off the road long enough to check. “I waited almost a full year before taking it the third time. I practiced basically everyday. It went so well, the instructor was telling me I was one of the best drivers he’d tested that year.”

Azzi snickers. “And?“

“And on the way into the test center parking lot,” Paige says, “I hit the curb. Automatic fail. They wouldn’t even let me test at that center anymore, I had to go out of the city. Never trusted a driving instructor since.”

Azzi gives up on trying to hold back and bursts out laughing. To her surprise, the car doesn’t immediately crash.

“You’re laughing,” Paige says, and her face is stony, but Azzi can hear the smile in her voice. “I share my deep, personal, insecurities with you, and you’re laughing at me.”

Azzi shakes her head, small giggles still escaping her. “Those poor test administrators, you must have made them miserable.”

She can imagine it very easily, a smaller, angrier Paige, marching into a testing center with the energy of a Marine off to combat. The thought makes her snort with laughter.

“You look pretty when you laugh,” Paige says, and it’s that soft, honest voice, so rare to hear from her. Azzi’s laughter breaks off as she turns to look at her, captivated by that gentle sincerity, so unexpected from this girl, so sweet to hear.

“Az- the brakes!”

The car rolls over a curb and comes to a slamming halt right before a small tree, the branches brushing the windshield, leaves already fallen off in the winter cold.

She called me Az, she thinks, and presses her forehead into the steering wheel and smiles- a small giddy smile, just for herself

[hellobykittys]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐈𝐌)𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓.𝐈𝐈𝐈 ✦ 𝐂𝐋¹⁶

SUMMARY: Charles Leclerc, a Formula 1 star, faces the decline of his reputation after breaking up with art curator Alexandra Saint Mleux. Under pressure from his team, he is forced into a fake relationship with one of the most popular influencers of the moment. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. WC: 3.4k WARNING: teasing, fake relationship

PREVIOUS PART | MASTERLIST | SMAU VER | NEXT PART

Monaco was especially sunny that morning, the calm sea reflecting the clear, cloudless blue sky. For Charles, the scene felt almost cruel, given the weight he had been carrying ever since Sofia and Lorenzo presented the PR plan to him. Now, the most delicate part of the operation was about to begin: the first public appearance with Y/N.

The meeting had been carefully planned to look casual and discreet, far from prying eyes. Of course, strategically placed paparazzi would make sure the moment was captured, but the idea was to create an authentic, almost spontaneous vibe. The plan was a drive through the streets of Monaco in a sports car, followed by a stop at a low-key café. Simple enough to stir up a buzz without looking forced.

When Charles arrived at the meeting point, a mischievous grin already played on his lips. He spotted Y/N from a distance, flawless as always. She wore a white summer dress that could have come straight out of a fashion editorial, paired with simple sandals and sunglasses reflecting the shimmer of the sea. She looked like part of Monaco’s perfect backdrop.

He waited for her to get into the car before greeting her.

“You look like you just stepped out of a summer campaign,” he said as she opened the door, his tone laced with a bit of teasing.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her expression already skeptical. “And you look like you just rolled out of bed,” she replied, giving him a pointed look at his slightly messy hair and basic t-shirt.

Charles chuckled, adjusting the steering wheel. “Give me a reason to look good, and maybe I’ll make an effort.”

Not in the mood for his banter, Y/N just rolled her eyes and settled into the seat. Charles started the car and drove at a slow, relaxed pace through Monaco’s narrow streets, which seemed to irritate her even more.

“You know you’re going to have to look interested, right?” she said without looking at him, her eyes fixed on the view outside.

“I am interested,” he retorted, leaning slightly toward her. “Just not sure if it’s in the drive.”

Y/N turned her head to stare at him, her look making it clear he was already testing her patience. Before she could respond, Charles spoke again.

“I didn’t know you had a place in Monaco,” he commented casually, referring to the house where he’d picked her up earlier.

“I don’t,” she replied, returning her gaze to the road. “It’s a friend’s place. Would be weird to have a boyfriend in the city and stay in a hotel, don’t you think?”

Charles raised his eyebrows, surprised by the logic. “Your mind works fast. How did you come up with that?”

“I won’t take credit for this one,” she said, crossing her legs elegantly. “It was Sofia’s idea. Since your house wasn’t an option, my friend kindly lent me a room.”

He laughed, caught off guard by the comment. He hadn’t even considered offering his house—well, Sofia probably made sure that wasn’t an option. “Sofia really thinks of everything, huh?”

Y/N shrugged, turning her attention back to the scenery.

The comfortable silence was broken when Y/N turned on the radio and picked a random song from Sabrina Carpenter’s new album. She began humming quietly, as if she were alone.

Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised. “So you like Sabrina Carpenter?”

“I do,” she replied, not bothering to look at him.

“Great,” he said, smiling. “We should go to one of her shows on my week off. What do you think?”

Y/N turned to look at him, her gaze sharp. “Like you did with your ex?” she teased, her voice dripping with irony. “Going from Swiftie to Carpenter. I don’t think your fans will like that. I can already picture the TikToks with ‘Déjà Vu’ playing in the background. I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.”

Charles laughed, clearly unfazed by her sharp tone. He even seemed to enjoy it.

“So you were following my old relationship? How cute. Didn’t know you were also a fan of mine.”

“In your dreams,” Y/N shot back immediately. “I’m just a chronically online girl.”

Charles laughed louder, taking the chance to tease her even more. “Well, at least you admitted you pay attention to me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that escaped.

The café they chose was small, discreet, and strategically positioned with a partial view of the sea. The place was perfect: charming enough for a date, secluded enough to avoid crowds, but of course, there were a few paparazzi already strategically spread out.

Charles and Y/N settled at an outdoor table, the sun in Monaco bathing the area. Before she could pull out the chair, Charles jumped ahead, making sure to exaggerate the gesture as if it were a scene from a romantic movie.

“Thanks, Prince Charming,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Anytime, my princess,” he replied, a mischievous smile on his face, more for teasing than to please.

Y/N just rolled her eyes and adjusted her dress as he took his seat at the table.

A few minutes later, the waiter appeared with the menu, leaving them to decide at their leisure. The silence between them was slightly uncomfortable, but not unbearable—more like a tense calm.

After flipping through the menu for a few moments, Y/N closed it and made her choice. “I’ll have a lemon water and a chocolate tart.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Chocolate tart? For breakfast? That’s pretty bold of you.”

She smirked, challenging him. “And you? What are you going to order? Something more ‘appropriate’?”

“An espresso and avocado toast,” he answered with a touch of theatricality, closing the menu.

The waiter took their orders and left, leaving them alone again.

Charles leaned back in his chair, watching Y/N intently, and asked the question that seemed to be bothering him. “Okay, so what do we do now?”

Y/N crossed her arms, leaning slightly over the table. “What do couples usually do on dates like this?” she asked, as if it were obvious. “I believe they talk, right? At least that’s what I used to do.”

Charles let out a short laugh. “Sounds easy when you say it like that.”

“Because it is easy,” she shot back, with a superiority in her tone. “Or maybe you’re less experienced with relationships than you let on.”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “I’m a great boyfriend, ma chérie. I’m just trying to figure out which version of me you want the public to see today.”

Y/N gave an ironic smile, adjusting her sunglasses on her head like a tiara. “Surprise me, Leclerc. Just try not to overdo it.”

Charles flashed a mischievous grin. “Overdoing it is my specialty. You should know that by now.”

She just shook her head, murmuring something softly that Charles couldn’t hear, but it sounded like a challenge. The tension between them was almost palpable—a mix of competition and chemistry that they both stubbornly ignored.

“Are you going to want me to accompany you to the Monaco GP?” Y/N changed the subject, her tone casual. “I was thinking… I think it might be a bit too soon for me to go with you. Maybe it’d be better if I went with some friends.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly uninterested in her concerns. “I think all this caution is over the top. Aren’t we supposed to make people think we’re together? So just show up with me there.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference between letting people know and rubbing it in their faces,” Y/N explained, as if it were obvious. “I’ll go with some friends and we’ll meet in more discreet parts of the paddock. It feels more natural.”

Charles sighed, a half-smile forming on his face. “I don’t get why you ask for my opinion if you’re just going to decide everything on your own.”

“I just want to be nice and make you think your opinion matters,” she replied, with a sweetness that was obviously fake.

“You’re evil,” he said, amused, but with a tone of surrender.

The brief silence that followed was broken by the waiter, who brought their orders. Y/N thanked him politely, while Charles just nodded, still observing every move she made as if he were trying to figure her out. He seemed to study her as if she were a puzzle full of unexpected twists.

“So,” Charles began, stirring the sugar into his espresso. “If we’re going to pretend to be a couple, we need some backstories. You know, those little tales that all couples have.”

Y/N cut a small piece of her pie and looked at him over her lemon water. “And what do you suggest? Should we make up a romantic trip to Paris or something?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious idea in the world. “It’s cliché, but it works. Or maybe something simpler… like our first date?”

Y/N laughed quietly, a sound that mixed irony and amusement. “No one’s going to ask us that, but you’re right. We need to think of some details: how long we’ve been together, what we know about each other… those things real couples would know.”

Charles leaned forward on the table, his gaze full of mischief. “I could tell you all about me right now, but you’ll have to do the same. It’s a test.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and took a sip of her water. “I don’t mind telling you the basics. Now, if you really want to seem convincing, you’ll need to put in a little more effort.”

“Effort? I’m a Formula 1 driver, chérie. No one knows how to perform under pressure better than I do.”

She smiled but didn’t bother to respond, focusing on finishing her pie. Charles watched her for a moment, noticing the smile that seemed sincere, almost carefree—a curious contrast to the controlled and flawless persona she usually displayed.

“You’re taking this more seriously than I thought,” he remarked, lifting his espresso cup, a mix of surprise and admiration in his voice.

“It’s not just your image at stake,” she replied simply, but there was something in the determination of her tone that caught Charles’s attention.

The conversation took an unexpected turn. They began sharing basic details about each other—hobbies, likes, and even a few funny stories that came up spontaneously. At some point, without either of them realizing, they laughed together, as if they were long-time friends. From a distance, anyone watching would see just another couple on a casual date, exchanging smiles and light conversation.

As Charles finished his coffee, Y/N made a comment about the pie, but before she could continue, a fan approached hesitantly, interrupting their conversation.

“Charles, can I take a picture with you?” the boy asked, admiration shining in his eyes.

Charles smiled warmly and stood up without hesitation. “Of course!”

Y/N stayed seated, watching the interaction from a distance. She saw the driver crouch down to meet the boy’s eye level, exchanging a few words before posing for the picture. The scene was incredibly genuine—something she’d never admit out loud, but it made her smile faintly.

When the picture was taken, the boy looked at Y/N, hesitating for a moment before saying, “Sorry to interrupt your date. You’re really beautiful, and you make such a cute couple.”

Y/N blinked, slightly surprised by the comment, but quickly regained her composure.

“Thank you,” Charles replied, winking at the boy. “You’ve got good taste.”

The boy laughed, thanked them again, and ran off toward his parents, leaving the two in a brief moment of silence.

“Cute couple, huh?” Charles remarked, sitting back down and crossing his arms with a mischievous smile.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a nearly imperceptible smile appeared on her lips. “Just a polite kid trying to be nice. Don’t get too excited.”

“Yeah, sure,” he teased. “But maybe he’s just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

“So that means our plan is working,” she replied, taking one last sip of her lemon water. “But for today, I’ll let you enjoy the compliment.”

Charles laughed, and for a moment, the teasing gave way to something lighter, almost comfortable.

After a few more minutes of conversation, during which Charles managed to get a few more laughs out of Y/N—to his satisfaction and surprise—they both realized that time had passed faster than expected. He called the waiter to ask for the check, insisting on paying, which earned him another skeptical glance from her.

“You know you don’t have to try to be a gentleman with me, right? I’m not impressed,” she said while he signed the receipt.

“I know,” he replied with a provocative smile, standing up to push her chair in. “But I like to keep up appearances. What if the waiter decides to tell some tabloid I’m a terrible boyfriend?”

She let out a soft laugh, grabbing her purse and adjusting her sunglasses before they headed toward the car together.

Outside, the Monegasque sun was still mild, but the sea breeze made the weather pleasant. They walked side by side, a discreet distance apart, but the curious glances of a few passersby were already starting to appear. Charles opened the car door for her, which earned him another skeptical look.

“I didn’t know you liked acting so much,” she teased, settling into the seat.

“It’s not acting,” he said, leaning in slightly to look at her closely before closing the door. “It’s natural charm.”

She rolled her eyes as he walked around to the driver’s side, starting the car with a smooth motion.

The drive back to her friend’s house was calm, but not without the usual comments. He insisted on driving slowly, claiming he wanted to enjoy the view, which left her slightly impatient.

“Are you scared to drop me off or are you just trying to annoy me?” she asked, pretending to sound casual as she fiddled with the strap of her purse. “You’re definitely enjoying pretending to be my boyfriend a little too much.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you don’t seem all that different.”

Y/N just shook her head, choosing not to fuel the conversation any further.

When they finally reached her friend’s house, he stopped the car in front of the gate. Before she could open the door, Charles stopped her with a comment.

“See you at the Monaco GP? You’ll need to be in front of the podium when I win the race.”

She paused, looking at him, confused, before smiling enigmatically. “You’re way too confident for someone who’s only won once on this track.”

She opened the car door and got out, walking toward the entrance without looking back. Charles watched her for a moment, chuckling quietly to himself before starting the car again and driving back home.

Even after he had turned the corner, the interaction lingered in both of their minds—though neither of them would admit it.

The heat of Monaco was beginning to give way to a cool breeze as the sun set, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink. Y/N had just stepped out of the shower and could hardly wait to throw herself on the bed and relax. Pretending to be the girlfriend of a Formula 1 driver was proving to be more exhausting than she’d imagined.

She flopped onto the soft mattress and, almost instinctively, grabbed her phone. Among the notifications and irrelevant messages, one caught her attention. It was from Clara, asking about a picture of her and Charles kissing at a club.

Y/N’s heart sank for a moment. She clearly remembered that night. One of the few times she’d let her guard down, and Charles… well, he had been irresistible, more charming than usual. But how had that photo surfaced now?

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered to herself, sitting up on the bed and zooming in on the image to take a better look.

She let out a deep sigh and opened Instagram. The post already had hundreds of thousands of likes and a flood of comments. Some praised them, saying that she and Charles made the perfect couple, while others speculated about the “fake” nature of their relationship.

As she scrolled, a mix of discomfort and irritation washed over her. It wasn’t just the invasion of privacy; it was the fact that this could ruin all the work they’d done to control the narrative.

Meanwhile, at Charles’s house, the driver was lounging on the sofa, distracted by a game on his console. His older brother, Lorenzo, walked in with his phone in hand, wearing a mischievous smile.

“Hey, petit frère, you didn’t tell me things were going on with Y/N,” he said, plopping down on the couch next to Charles and showing him the phone screen.

Charles paused the game and looked at the photo. His expression was a mix of surprise and irritation. “Where did you get this?”

“It’s everywhere. Someone posted it just now, and it’s already gone viral,” Lorenzo replied, trying to hold back his laughter. “So… wanna tell me what happened? If you two had something going on, you could’ve told me, it would’ve made my job and Sofia’s a lot easier.”

Charles huffed, tossing the controller aside. “It was months ago, at a party. Nothing big. Just one night.”

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “Nothing big? Doesn’t look like ‘nothing big’ to me when you’re kissing like that.”

“You’re not helping,” Charles retorted, rubbing his temples. “This is going to mess everything up. We had a plan, and now this photo pops up out of nowhere.”

“Well, you know how the internet works,” Lorenzo said, still amused. “But honestly, you two look pretty natural in that picture. Maybe this helps, you know? Shows you’ve been together longer than planned.”

Charles shot his brother an exasperated look. “You really think Sofia’s going to buy that? She wants everything under control, and now there’s a picture from months ago that could ruin the whole plan.”

Lorenzo shrugged. “You get yourself in trouble, little bro. Not my problem, but… just out of curiosity: was it just a kiss?”

Charles hesitated for a moment before shaking his head, a sly grin creeping across his lips. “Of course, it wasn’t just that. But she acted like it never happened. I woke up, and she was already gone.”

Lorenzo burst into laughter. “So, that’s why you’re always trying to get under her skin. It bruised your ego, huh?”

“Shut up, Lorenzo,” Charles grumbled, but there was amusement in his voice.

Back at Y/N’s house, she decided to call Sofia before the situation got any more out of hand.

“Please tell me you saw the photo,” Y/N said as soon as Sofia picked up.

“I saw it,” Sofia replied, her voice calm but tinged with concern. “I’m already keeping an eye on social media. We can’t ignore it, but we also can’t look desperate to control it. I’ll come up with a strategy, but you need to talk to Charles. You two need to align on what you’re going to say if anyone asks.”

Y/N sighed, already tired just thinking about talking to him again. “Alright. I’ll call him now.”

She hesitated for a moment but finally dialed Charles’s number.

“Y/N,” he answered quickly, his voice alert.

“So, you’ve seen it?” she asked, getting straight to the point.

“Of course, I’ve seen it. Lorenzo hasn’t stopped laughing since he found the photo,” he replied, mixing frustration with humor.

“Great. Now I have to deal with you and your brother,” she retorted, rolling her eyes.

“Look, it’s not the end of the world. We can use this to our advantage,” Charles suggested, trying to sound optimistic.

“Use it to our advantage?” Y/N repeated, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how much this could complicate everything? All the work to look like the perfect couple is going down the drain now!”

Charles paused, his voice softening. “Or it could show we really have a history, that what’s going on now didn’t just come out of nowhere. I think people will buy it.”

Y/N stayed silent for a moment, thinking it over. “Okay, maybe you’re right. But we need to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“We’re already on the same page, chérie,” he said confidently, and something in his tone, as annoying as it was, managed to reassure her in some strange way.

“So, should we meet tomorrow to iron out the details?”

“It’s a date,” he responded, and Y/N could almost picture his smug smile on the other end of the line.

“It’s not a date,” she shot back, ending the call before he could respond.

Still holding her phone, Y/N flopped onto the couch, taking a deep breath. If the day had already been long, the night was shaping up to be even longer.

tαglıst: @charlesgirl16 @sltwins @lizzyzzn @seonghwaexile @weekendlusting @kahhorri @oikarma @freyathehuntress @nichmeddar @janeh22

[bisexual-horror-fan]

saw ur multi may request post and just HAD to request this. Poly Billy x Stu with a breeding kink? Preferably fem or gn reader. I've been itching to read some new Poly Ghostface fics

Ay! Great, great, request! I don’t write breeding kink often, but it is a really fun one to do, and I took this one a bit of a darker route, hope everyone loves this one, second entry into Multi-May, and it was a really fun one to do. I am still accepting requests for Multi-May btw, so anyone who wants to get theirs in, please do! Your fic might be the next one I write!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 2.3K. Poly!Ghostface, Billy Loomis X Stu Macher X FEM!Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: DARK FIC. Dub-Con. Tampering With Birth Control. Breeding Kink. Creampie. Rough Sex. Threesome. Vaginal Sex. Vaginal Fingering. Sloppy Seconds. Messy Sex. Cum Play. Dirty Talk. Banter. Begging. Multiple Orgasms. Overstimulation. 

—

Over And Over.

—

You love them coming inside. 

The biological drive behind it all cannot be understated, thousands of years of hard-wired feelings to want, to crave, to need a thick cock cumming inside your wet and willing cunt. Sure, a facial or a shot in the mouth still has some appeal, but nothing compares to getting it right where nature tells you it should go.  

They have a deep desire that matches yours to receive perfectly, they want to give, they want to provide and fill you up over and over, with the idea that it will, hopefully, eventually take root and then the evidence will be undeniable by you becoming pregnant. At least that is what the dirty talk and idea behind the kink implies, actually getting you knocked up isn’t the ultimate goal, the real reason is simply a shared love of it and finding it hot as fuck, using it as a vehicle to wring as much pleasure as possible from the act.

At least that is what you thought. 

They have a different view of it, what you said was in part true, sure it felt good and made the sex better, but the pair had decided a long time ago that they wanted you forever, didn’t want you going anywhere. What better way to tie themselves to you permanently than to get you pregnant? They are positive, if it takes, that you’ll keep it and by extension, them. So they do some work on their end to ensure it, you don’t exactly hide your birth control, tampering with it is laughably easy, then the fun part, fucking you over and over while what is in your system runs its course until the inevitable happens, they aren’t in a rush. 

Naturally some further precautions are taken, and you go along with your hips being propped up to help the large amounts of cum pool against your cervix, with them fingering the mess back into your loosened hole. The times you can’t rest are when the plug comes out, a thick and wide thing to keep the cum in and prevent it from spilling into your underwear, it can’t keep it all locked in but holds the majority, when the toy comes out the rush of slickness that follows is immense. 

Again for you, the thought of questioning any of this never occurs because you are confident you are safe, you think it is just to elevate the kink and scenes, all the while you are blissfully ignorant to them fucking with your pills, unaware that with their intervention it is taking your normal 99% protection with perfect use down several notches every single day. 

Most people don’t know what days will change their lives forever, going through it normally, only upon reflection can they point and say, “There, that’s when it happened.” This is one of those days you will think back on and see the whole picture. 

Tonight is for the three of you, this week has been busy, trying to get your schedules to line up has been tricky, but it’s your collective Friday, a few days off, so this is extremely needed. 

You are pinned down on the couch by Stu is sitting over your head, his hands on your shoulders, your own hands circling his wrists, grip tight, nails biting into skin, as he watches with rapt interest.

Billy has his hands tucked right behind your knees, forcing them to your chest, folding you effectively in half while he fucks into you deeply, his hips slamming into the backs of your thighs, before pulling out nearly completely before diving in again. You cannot help the sounds that slip out, pathetic moans and gasps are torn from your mouth with every loud smack ringing out with your body and his meeting. 

You can tell that Billy is getting close, the sweat on his brow as his grip under your knees tightens, the rhythm he had set earlier getting uneven, the pace getting faster while curses stain his tongue. Stu notices, he is talking him through it, “Fuck, come on, do it man, pour it in her, nice and deep.”

“God yes, gonna-” He doesn’t get the full words out before his sentence breaks off with a groan, and he does just that, his hips flush with your body, buried completely inside as he unloads. You feel the pulses, accompanied by that delicious warmth spreading, your breathing as laboured as you lay there, waiting for Billy to collect himself enough to pull out and for Stu’s inevitable turn. Billy leans down, more of his weight pressed to you, a soft kiss to your lips that you return momentarily before he pulls back, his hands release you and your knees go slack, no longer held tight to your chest. You watch as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and Stu asks, “Good one?” 

He hums in the affirmative, and holds his hand out, a gesture as he points, “Pillow.” 

Stu lifts his hands from your shoulders, and you stop gripping his wrists, he turns and picks up the pillow and passes it over. You are adjusted, and you know what they want, your arm hooks under your own knees, the pillow is slid underneath so it keeps your hips in their current upward position, as opposed to Billy doing it, allowing him to move freely. He gets up and asks casually, “Water?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” Stu comes over to sit in the space where Billy had just left, you call, “Yes please.” 

Stu licks his fingers before his hand falls between your thighs, he says simply, “Keep holding those legs up.” 

You nod once and inhale sharply when his fingers get to work, slipping over your clit, your head falls back against the couch cushion. If one cums in you, the other usually gets you off before fucking you to add to the mess, the idea is that it increases the chances of getting pregnant, you don’t know how true that is, but you aren’t going to complain about enthusiasm for your enjoyment. 

You are already very warmed up, so Stu’s touch isn’t gentle nor rough, just firm, consistent pressure, exactly where you need it, tight circles drawn that draws a nearly dreamy moan from you. Billy comes back promptly, water bottle in hand, he holds it out and Stu takes it, he drinks deeply, his hand between your legs not stopping. 

Billy’s eyes are on your form, how you twitch and tense, sigh in pleasure, he poses a question, “How’s she doing?” 

Pulling the bottle away and handing it back, Stu responds, “Good, she’s kept all the mess inside, so far anyway.” 

You cut in as you breathlessly say, “You could always ask me yourself, I’m right here.” 

“I could, true.” He kneels on the floor next to you, his gaze locked on your face as he asks, “So how are you doing?” 

You open your mouth to respond and Stu, in that way only he can, presses down harder and speeds his fingers up, causing the words to die on your tongue, replaced with a choked moan instead. Billy smirks and raises his eyebrows, responding as if you actually spoke a coherent sentence, “Really? You don’t say.” 

Stu is snickering, and you try to bite out, but with how out of breath you sound, on top of it being cracked around the edges with your moans, it falls flat, “Fuh-fuck yo-you.” 

“Hurry up and cum so I can.” Stu teases, and you can feel it building already, you’d gotten halfway there when Billy was fucking you, getting back to the edge is not a challenge. “Gimmie ahh, minute-” You moan and Billy reminds, “Tall ask. You know how impatient Stu can be.” 

You are in fact well acquainted with how impatient Stu can be, you doubt you could ever forget it, even still, you don’t leave him waiting long. It is one of those orgasms that creeps up on you, the build starts slow and seemingly gets faster, like a train picking up speed, until the moment turn from, “I think I’m getting close.” to, “I’m on the edge!” and finally, thrown suddenly clear off and into, “I’m cumming-”

He works you through the bliss until it bleeds into painful overstimulation, leading to you batting at his hand, begging, “St-stop it.” 

“Alright, alright.” He lifts his hands away, and you exhale at the relief you feel. You are offered the water, you lift yourself only slightly and drink your fill, soon as you have swallowed the last mouthful Stu is getting ready to fuck you. There is no position change, the name of the game is keeping all the cum inside, and thus far you haven’t spilled a drop, if never stays that way. 

It isn’t like Stu always has to go second, but he seems to prefer it, the extra messy nature of sloppy seconds appeals to him, seems to make him fuck you harder. He has his hands pressed to the backs of your thighs, his thumbs spread your slick lips open and he presses the hot and flushed tip of his dick to your hole. 

“Been dreamin’ of this-” He presses his hips and begins to slide inside, a weak groan breaks off when his head is enveloped by you, “-haven’t cum all week, been saving it for you.” 

God, you know that isn’t a small feat, even during a busy week Stu always finds time to take care of himself, holding back so he can really fill you, it serves the exact purpose he wants, it makes a fresh wash of arousal soak your brain. He doesn’t stop his forward momentum until he is totally inside, once he is, a shared moan spills forth. 

He lingers for a moment, Billy still on his knees has his eyes on the point you are both locked together, he doesn’t look away when Stu starts to move. He fucks in and out at an easy pace, halfway out and then back in, grinding down on that perfect spot on every thrust in, making your cunt ripple in response. Billy can’t stay out of it, the same way Stu never can, he leans down and kisses you, a filthy moan into his mouth from how it immediately lights up your nervous system. Getting kissed while getting fucked is one of the best feelings possible, you cannot get enough of it. 

It is never stays easy, it turns rough quickly, and you take it gratefully, the kiss breaks, head falling back to the couch again as the pace is increased. You are thankful the walls of your place are thick because you are not quiet, moaning, crying out, panting and the sound of skin on skin, and soon, Billy talking. 

Speaking up, he says to Stu, “I think this’ll be the one man.” 

A deep groan in response, “You think?” 

“Oh yeah, no doubt, it has to be. She’s going to get pregnant this time for sure.” Fingers push some of your sweaty hair back off your forehead, and he prompts you, “You want it, right?”

With a shaky nod, your tongue flicks over your dry lips, uttering over the sound of sex, “Yeah, yeah, I do-”

“Say it then.” He urges, and you do, with a small shiver you indulge in your shared kink, playing into it, “I want it, I want it so much.” 

“Not to me, to him, beg him for it.” Billy directs, and you look up at Stu, you can see how much he is becoming effected too, keep in mind he hasn’t cum in over a week, he won’t be lasting much longer, “Fu-fuck, Stu, please, cum in me. I-I want it bad, M’ dyin’ without it.” 

It is more than working for both of you, feeling that familiar curling pleasure deep, the throbbing of your straining clit, the tenseness of your body over all as he slams in harder, “C’mon please, please, get me pregnant-”

It is as if those last three words moaned longingly yanks Stu to the edge, sudden and unexpected as he breathes out, “Shit-” His hips stutter to a harsh stop as he starts to cum and that is when you start to really overflow, with how rough he is, how wet you are and the both of their more than ample loads it is bound to happen. As soon as he is collected enough he pulls out and still panting he starts to finger the mess back into you, Billy reaches out to help, he can tell how close you were and how Stu came before you could again, his fingers rub your clit to help get you there. 

You always cum so quickly at this point, two thick fingers pushing the slippery cum back inside and pressing against that sweet spot every single time they enter you and the perfect friction and stimulation on the outside does you in rapidly. Body shuddering and sweat slick as you are gripped by the peak of your orgasm, it is drawn out until you are thoroughly spent and exhausted. Soon the hands lift one last time, leaving your swollen and stuffed cunt alone, and you are glad for the hard-earned break. Your arm released from behind your knees, you are so comfortable you could fall asleep right here, and you just might. You can hear the boys talking about what a good time that was and about you getting knocked up and you, all happy and sleepy are, of course, agreeing with a light laugh, “Yeah, I sure hope it happens this time.” 

Again, it’s fun! This is all in the name of insane orgasms and engaging in kink, you play along happily. 

Until the test comes back positive a few weeks later, and you are able to trace it back to this night. 

[bbyobbyo]

Ever since you stopped using his Spotify account in the mornings, you find other ways to mess with your boyfriend.

A short continuation of this fic, but can be read as a standalone.

content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon, banter, reader and jihoon just have a permanent jam session going on, they’re in love i swear

wc: 857

note: ahhh they’re back!! thank you to everyone who read the first part and gave it love😊 this has been rotting my brain for a while and i originally was playing with this concept for the original but couldn’t pull it together but we’re here now! shoutout to @highvern because it was partly inspired by her fic “Between the Titles” which is such a great read that i highly recommend along with literally everything else she writes!! all the songs featured here are real and from an era of kpop I hold near and dear to my heart so if you recognize any of them, you’re a real one 🥰

Jihoon is not a morning person, never has been. As he sits in the dressing room of the filming studio, he can feel his eyelids getting increasingly heavy. Some of his members are actively sleeping, in fact, and Jihoon knows he’ll be joining them soon if Wonwoo takes any longer in that makeup chair.

Blasting in his ears is his usual Bruno Mars playlist, a sad attempt to try to recover his energy before he knocks out next to Mingyu sleeping on a mat on the floor, but to no avail because his mind slowly slips away until a piercing airhorn noise jolts him awake.

SEVENTEEN TEEN TEEN NEOWANA SAI E

Uhh. This was definitely not his Daily Bruno Mars Mix.

He immediately searches his screen to find out what happened when he finds his answer in the form of a text from you.

[8:18 am] good morning sleepyhead :)

[8:18 am] hope I didnt scare you too bad :)

He scrunches his face up in disbelief, half amused that you managed to catch him off guard with possibly the most annoying wake up song on Seventeen’s discography, and half annoyed at the realization that he must’ve forgotten to cancel your Spotify Jam session from yesterday.

He decides to leave your text on read. After all, he has plenty of time to be petty today. Furiously searching through his library, he queues up a song and before Mingyu can finish singing the first chorus, he smashes the next track button in smug anticipation.

Now Playing: Fxxk U • Gain, Bumkey

And he doesn’t have to wait long before he gets your reply.

[8:20 am] oh i see how it is

Now Playing: This is War • MBLAQ

If Jihoon wasn’t awake before, he definitely is now. Even as he gets called in to do his makeup next, he thinks carefully about his next move.

Now Playing: LOSER • BIGBANG

…

Now Playing: WHO, YOU? • G-DRAGON

An audible scoffs escapes from his lips as he involuntarily tilts his head back in amusement, much to the dismay of his makeup artist who had just started on his foundation. He mutters a shy sorry before resuming his search for a reply. Maybe he needs to take a different approach to this if he hopes to continue having Jam sessions with you in the future.

Now Playing: Whatcha Doin’ Today • 4Minute

As Jihoon eventually discovers, his hopes to change the topic of conversation were in vain as two songs were suddenly queued one after another.

Now Playing: Why Don’t You Know • CHUNG HA, Nucksal

Next in Queue: Mind Your Own Business • Ailee

Jihoon thinks he’s met his match, coming to the realization that he could never out sass the love of his life. But he wasn’t willing to back down so easily either.

Now Playing: I’m so sick • Apink

Next in Queue: Because of you • After School

Your next move nearly sends him to tears.

Now Playing: Excuse Me • AOA

Next in Queue: You Don’t Love Me • Spica

Next in Queue: I ain’t going home tonight • Navi, Geeks

Next in Queue: I Don’t Need a Man • miss A

As he chuckles to himself for what seems like the hundredth time this morning, this newfound form of entertainment suddenly becomes incredibly precious. Although you see each other nearly every day, Jihoon realizes just how much he misses you, talking to you about everything and nothing at all, bantering like you’ve known each other for your entire lives.

Now Playing: Am I too easy? • U-KISS

...

Now Playing: Mystery • Beast

Even though he couldn’t be with you physically, he knew you were enjoying yourself just as much as him on the other side. He could almost picture your smile of satisfaction as you found your next song, knowing that he would appreciate your humor. And appreciate he did, happily tapping away at his screen until his makeup artist puts on his finishing touches and tells him to call the next member.

Now Playing: Gotta Go • CHUNG HA

Next in Queue: I’m Busy • 2NE1

Next in Queue: Plz Don’t Be Sad • HIGHLIGHT

…

Now Playing: Okay Dokey • MINO, ZICO

Little does he know that his members are in the corner snickering at the sight, knowing that only one thing could have their producer smiling like an idiot at his phone the whole morning.

Soon enough, Jihoon and his members get swept up into their schedule involving the filming of various contents for their Youtube Channel, a task that usually takes the entire day if a game is involved. Thankfully, the game allowed for members to go home early, a rare treat considering how competitive his members can get when it comes to shooting content.

After his usual rounds of “good work everyone” to the company staff and his members, he gets ready to see the person who been on his mind (and in his ears) since the morning. Taking out his phone, he queues one last song while exiting the building.

Now Playing: Run to you • SEVENTEEN