#all.. meant both. they are two. 💔

[anzuhan]

I have always wanted to play 4go but I don't think it'd on the switch, I only have that console 😭

are rebirth 1 2 & 3 any good?

the games are all on steam as well! it should write on steam what the specifications to run them is, 4go shouldnt be that straining; the rebirth games are remakes of the original mainlines, it has way more story than the arpg titles (minus 4go and newer ones like sisters vs sisters) which is good if you want to learn about the characters and the setting, the gameplay isn't terrible, but it also depends if you like TRPG/SRPGs (ex. fire emblem) or not. anzu personally doesnt like this kind that much, but nep games have a system that lets you freeroam before making an attack which makes it a bit more unique; if you do like TRPGs as well then you will probably like it whole 👍

^ also have to add if you like the more classic kind of TRPGs, you may also want to check out fairy fencer f series, also illustrated by tsunako and made by ideafactory/nis+compile heart; anzu just started that series around this time and it's just as silly with lovable characters as nep is, and also has a lot more men (or any men at all? w) if you care about that; genuinely the only downside to it to anzu is that it's a classic TRPG and anzu isnt personally a fan of them

[bucketbueckers]

WILD MOUNTAIN THYME

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: au, language, slight spoilers for sinners (2025) but it kinda deviates from the plot a bit, angst, blood, death, ending is happy but happy could be debatable tbh, complicated history between reader and paige but they love each other a lot 😕, smut, make up sex(ish), oral (r!receving) (bc what is sinners if not a movie about eating puss), scissoring, spitting 👅, what do you call sex when your partner is trying to kill you but they Can't so they're fighting against their nature and their body and mind but they get you off so it all works out (kind of?), period typical mentions of racism, homophobia, & misogyny, minor historical inaccuracies, slight soulmates, horribly rushed ending, terrible proofreading

wc: 22.5k

synopsis: You and Paige Bueckers had a complicated history. You existed in that weird plane between lovers and something doomed by a bitter narrative, a relationship marred by the hatred of your time and the impossibility of desire. The two of you weren’t ordinary — you were an orphan taken in by a Hoodoo practitioner, and Paige, who wasn’t quite something or the other, was a woman who just couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble. You should have known that she’d leave one day, not one to be tied down in a place she clearly didn’t belong. There’s no misery worth complaining about in the Mississippi Delta, but when Paige returns from Chicago with Smoke and Stack in tow, you realize they’d brought with them a whole lot more than ambition and foreign liquor.

notes: i have nothing to say besides i love sinners and i really hope y'all like this one 🙏 if you're hesitant about reading bc you haven't seen sinners, you really don't need movie knowledge, although i have a link to a totally legal website if anyone's interested in watching. this one was a challenge to write but im happy w how it turned out (even though i definitely failed my exams because i wrote half of this in a day when i should have been studying)!! please be gentle in the inbox bc i hurt myself with the end too but i debated three different endings and thought this one was Right 💔 as always tho i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

When it happens, you’re surprised. Almost devastatingly so.

You’re surprised because you know that you love Paige Bueckers. You had told her as much. You’re surprised because she had told you the same. Because she promised that one day, she would get the both of you out of the Mississippi Delta. That she’d take the both of you north, perhaps somewhere more tolerant of two women being together. It comes as a shock to you because of the way in which she left – silently, unassuming, simultaneously remorseful and unforgiving.

It’s surprising because she’d clearly been thinking about it for a while. She didn’t leave like she’d shared a stranger’s bed for a night, guilty and ashamed and clumsy all in one. Paige left in the same way you’d once watched a ranch hand put a horse out of its misery when it broke its leg – like it was inevitable, carefully thought out, meant more to save you than to keep you in pain.

That was the confusing part to you. You thought that you and Paige were fine. Having grown up together, you were friends for a long time until it blossomed into something more. Perhaps something more taboo, but you were never quite sure how something so pure could be considered wrong. You knew that you and Paige were unconventional. The Mississippi Delta was all thorns and flames, a region wherein its history was stiflingly pressed down on everyone who wasn’t white or male or wealthy. So, you knew that to be young, and women, and in love in the Delta was difficult, but that had never seemed to be an issue – not one that you would have allowed to tear the both of you apart.

She left you in the morning, and the night before was perfect in a way that gives you emotional whiplash. Annie, a Hoodoo practitioner who had taken you in at a young age, was out, leaving you alone in your shared home. You were standing at the counter, carefully layering pie lattice over a thick bed of apple filling, when Paige knocked and let herself in like she lived there her entire life. She may as well have, considering how much time she truly spent with you.

You grinned at her when she made her way into the kitchen, carefully toeing off her shoes, knowing Annie’s rules. She was carrying a bag in her hand which she set down on the counter before she pressed up behind you, her arms encircling your waist and her lips dusting a sweet kiss to your temple. “Smells good,” she’d commented, watching your fingers work the pie crust.

“Thank you,” you responded. “Flattery doesn’t mean you get to taste it before it’s finished, though.”

Paige sighed, the sound wounded and dramatic, and you laughed because you knew her so well. “What if I make you a deal? We can negotiate.”

You rolled your eyes, cutting the excess crust off of the edge, missing her warmth when she pulled away to reach for the bag she’d walked in with. “You’ve been spending too much time with Elijah,” you muttered. “Always tryin’ to swindle us good folk.”

You didn’t need to look over to see the mischievous grin on her face. “I prefer the term ‘looking for a bargain.’”

“A pig’s a pig even if you put lipstick on it,” you retorted, and Paige huffed something under her breath that sounded a lot like mockery. She pulled a container out of the bag, presenting it with a flourish, her smile wide like she’s holding diamonds. You glanced at her, then at the container, a smile of your own growing despite your attempts at trying to be nonchalant. “That ice cream?” you asked.

“Of the vanilla variety,” she said snootily.

“My favorite,” you hummed.

Paige pretended to look surprised. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “I had no idea. Although I heard it pairs real well with pie.”

“Baked pie,” you said gently.

“Pig’s a pig,” she responded immediately. “Baked or otherwise.”

You couldn’t help the sharp bark of laughter that ripped from your chest as you shook your head fondly. Reaching for a spoon, you dipped it carefully into the filling, still warm from combining the softened apples with the sugar syrup, and you held the utensil out for Paige. With a beaming smile, she enclosed her lips around the spoon, humming in happiness. It almost reminded you of when the two of you were younger and you always begged Annie to share the spoon when she was baking. That made you realize just how long you and Paige had been in each other’s lives, and how badly you wanted to stay in hers.

“That’s all you’re getting,” you chastised. You couldn’t keep your expression neutral for too long – Paige had looked so soft, so earnest, so full of love that it made something in your chest swell and slam against a cage made of bone.

But she’d just leaned in, a gentle hand settling on your hip, and pressed her mouth to yours with a sort of gentleness that feels like the flutter of eyelashes against your cheek and the warmth of the sun pouring in through the windows in the early morning. When she pulled back, the both of you were smiling, and she promised, “I got all I need.”

Your smile widened. She wasn’t talking about the apple pie waiting to bake in the oven. She wasn’t talking about the container of ice cream resting on the counter, already melting and the condensation sweating outside. In a language only the two of you could understand, she meant you. The two of you. The bond that you share and the love that you’ve nurtured despite society’s turmoil. It was sweet in a way that made you question how she could be so gentle, so in love with you, and leave you before the sun rose the morning after.

She spent the night. Once the apple pies were finished, you cut them into even slices while she carefully portioned out scoops of vanilla ice cream onto the top. She had looked so focused, leaning down to compare the amounts, and when she was sure, she handed you the plate that had more ice cream melting from the heat of the desert.

You and Paige retired to your bedroom, curling up in bed together with your slices of pie, bodies pressed together tightly under the blankets. You ate pie until your stomachs ached, laughed until tears slipped from your eyes, and kissed until her hand burned against your waist and the taste of her began to blend with the sweetness of the ice cream and the warmth of the pie.

It escalated from there. With the moon as your witness, you were sure that her lips had touched every inch of your skin and her hands knew the map of your body like it was her own. Like it was something sacred. That you were something to revere, to deserve, to love.

It felt different. Softer, vulnerable. Almost as though words weren’t enough and she was trying to fill in the blanks with her hands. You didn’t know at the time that it was an apology. You never considered that it was a goodbye, that your last memory of her would be one of love and not of her leaving you with the warmth of her body lingering in the sheets next to yours.

You laid together in bed, legs tangled and sheets bunched up at your chests. Your nose was tucked into the crook of her neck. She smelled like warm pie, like something earthy and sweet from her cologne, like something heady from the sweat that had glistened on her skin while she made you fall apart for her. The night was quiet, alive with the sound of crickets chirping, the slow drag of the wind through the crack in your window. You were asleep, breathing gently, ignorant of how Paige laid awake for hours.

It would have been so easy for her to change her mind, she thought. To stay in bed with you until late morning, to pull you back under the covers when you tried to dress. To begrudgingly (happily) follow you out for breakfast, then entertain (annoy) you at Annie’s shop, sneaking kisses when you weren’t organizing the roots or helping customers. It would have been so easy for her to tell Elijah and Elias that she wasn’t going to go with them to Chicago, to tell them that as terrified as she was, she was willing to be strong. For you. 

The south may never let the two of you be in love. In your lifetime, you may never be fully accepted for who you love. And that was scary, because all Paige ever wanted to do was love you in the open. Proudly, unashamedly. The thought of keeping your love indoors made her sick. You deserved someone who you didn’t have to hide with. That someone may never be her.

The letter she had tucked into her pocket was nothing more than a cop-out. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to leave your side if she had to look you in the eyes and tell you the reasons why she was leaving. It was an apology because literally and metaphorically, she could never be the man for you. She couldn’t be what society deemed as proper, couldn’t be the person to hold her family together, couldn’t be the one with the guts and the confidence to stay.

So her decision was made. She didn’t sleep a wink that night. As soon as the first breaths of sunlight poked through the window and the first rooster announced the moon’s retreat, she carefully slid out of bed, pushing her pillow to your chest, her heart shattering as she watched you bury yourself further into the blankets, seeking a heat and a body that wasn’t there anymore. She placed the note on your nightstand, tucked next to the satchel of black cohosh you keep for protection.

Paige stared at you for a long while, throat burning with the struggle of keeping her tears at bay. She watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathed, tried to commit your image to memory – the slope of your nose, the way your hair billowed out on the pillows, the dark bruise you sported under your jaw because selfishly, she wanted you to remember her after she left. She just didn’t know how badly you’d ache in her absence.

Unable to resist, she brushed a featherlight kiss across your temple, if only to remember the way your skin felt beneath her lips, and you hardly stirred. She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or for worse.

Then she was gone. And you were left to pick up the pieces of yourself.

“This all for you, honey? Just the thistle and the High John?”

The little girl peeking over the edge of the counter nods at you quickly, and you don’t bother to hide your smile as you carefully pinch off the High John and put it safely into the small, cloth bag. Thistle is quick to follow. You tie it gingerly, holding it out to the girl – Elise, you think her name is, a regular at Annie’s shop, and you make eye contact with her. Her brother Will ambles quietly behind her. “Now, you remember Miss Annie’s rules, right?” you ask her. “Don’t sell none of that on the way home.”

Elise smiles at you brightly, tucking the bag of roots into her dress pocket. “Yes, ma’am,” she agrees sweetly. In return, she hands you a folded up piece of paper – more like a credit than actual currency, but you and Annie both knew how hard people had to work to obtain these bills.

“Thank you,” you say, and the two children skip out of the shop.

From across the room, Annie glances at you. She’s busy rearranging and restocking her wares. Her lips curl into a smile, one that’s a quiet kind of pride, a silent appreciation. “Those kids love you,” she comments. You drop your head in a gesture of shyness. Finally satisfied with her work, Annie crosses the room and you hand her the currency. “I mean it. You remember the other day when you were stuck tending to the goat?”

You huff a little, leaning back against the counter with your arms crossed. “That goat hates me,” you mutter.

Chuckling, Annie continues, “Well, all Elise and Will could ask was, ‘Where is she? Can we see her? Can we say hi?’ Think they come more for you than for the roots.”

You laugh. “You know that’s not true,” you say.

Annie just gives you a knowing look, but before either of you can say anymore, you hear the crunch of gravel under tires. Instantly, your hair raises on end, knowing that you mostly get foot traffic. Cars were rare, especially amongst those who shopped with Annie.

You crane your head, glancing out the window, but you can’t see much. You and Annie share a look. You follow the older woman to the back door, peering out, and you simultaneously relax and tense up at the sight.

There’s a man squatting next to the grave of Annie’s late baby. He’s dressed formally, pristine, and he’s laying down white flowers next to the clearing. His blue hat sticks out like a sore thumb. You know instantly that it’s Elijah – or Smoke, as most people know him by, and Annie sucks in a deep breath next to you.

If Elijah is in town, then you’re sure that means Elias – Stack – is too. And if the twins are back in town, then that means–

“Let me go talk to him,” Annie interrupts your thoughts, already stepping outside before you can say anything else. For respect and privacy, you close the door behind her, but you almost jump out of your skin when you turn around and you spot her in front of you. You react before you can think better of it.

“Jesus!” Paige exclaims. She catches you by the wrist, a blade gripped firmly in your hands, surprise on her features and an amalgamation of feelings on yours. Guilt, shock, anger. Despite the fact that seeing her again pisses you off beyond belief, your body doesn’t know what your brain does – it still yearns for her as if the two of you were years younger, more immature and devastatingly in love when being in love was the last thing two women of your statuses should have been.

You missed her. You hate that you do. But you know you couldn’t be surprised by it, even if it’s been months – or closer to over a year.

“You welcome in all your customers like that, or just the tall and pretty ones?” she jokes, but her humor does little to diffuse the tension. Your eyes narrow and her face falls slightly. Paige, not unkindly, carefully pries your fingers off of the blade in your hand and closes it in on itself, handing it back to you handle-first.

“You can’t just creep up on people like that,” you mutter, pocketing the blade, and putting space in between your bodies like you know that she and her are more of an inevitability than a possibility. You’d fall right back into her without a second thought. “I could have killed you.”

Paige hums, shoving her hands into her pockets, and that’s when you get a good look at her. Growing up, Paige was never a woman for wearing dresses, something that clearly got her into a lot of trouble with a lot of people. She’d pretended like she never cared for their perception of her, but you knew it weighed on her, even when she dressed how she preferred. Now, she’s wearing a pristine pair of black loafers paired smartly with a deep, purple suit so dark that it looks black. Her blonde hair is pinned back in a low bun.

Despite the distance, it’s clear that time has been kind to her. She’s aged beautifully – no longer the sixteen year old girl you’d found crying in town, trying to hold onto both parts of her family like it was sharp, unforgiving barbed wire. Paige had always struggled to belong. You should have known that insecurity and fear would take her far away from you, but you wish you’d fought a little harder for her, even when you bear guilt and anger of your own.

Maybe she should have fought a little harder for you, too, but you’re older now. Wiser. You know the both of you could point fingers at each other for as long as you wanted to, but it would solve nothing.

“I don’t know about kill,” she muses, a charming grin right back on her face. “I taught you to fight. I know you.”

Confidence seems to be something she’d picked up in Chicago, too, or maybe it’s just audacity. The audacity to come waltzing back into yours and Annie’s shop like she wasn’t the one who left you before the sun came up with nothing more than a note, an apology, and the aching feeling in your chest that you may truly never be happy again unless it was with her. The audacity to joke with you like there’s not a greater distance between you and her than there is distance between Mississippi and Chicago. The audacity to claim that she knows you when, if she did, she would have stopped hiding behind a bravado she picked up from Stack and started with an explanation. An apology. Anything at all to let you know that what the two of you had wasn’t something you hallucinated and that she loved you in the first place.

You don’t humor her, your face twisting up. “What are you doing here?” you ask instead, your tone flat. That cracks through Paige’s poised exterior, her throat bobbing like she’s resisting the urge to flinch. You take a step closer to her. She stands several inches taller than you, but you stare up at her fearlessly. “What ran you out of Chicago? Was it the Irish mob? The Italians?”

Paige presses a little closer now, something in her eyes flashing recklessly, her body eclipsing yours. You don’t stumble back, nor do you avert your gaze from hers. If anything, you push your chest into hers, feeling your heart beating out of your ribcage, her breath fanning against your skin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mutters, brows furrowed in quiet anger.

“Don’t I?” you snarl. You pinch the fabric of her suit between your thumb and index finger, tugging it slightly, and in her surprise, she falls against you, her arms shooting out to cage you against the counter. But you hardly react. “You’re wearing a pinstripe top. Italian. Tweed trousers. Irish. Playing both sides again, aren’t you? Both at the same time?”

Paige says your name firmly, like she’s begging you to stop talking. You don’t, feeling the anger of her abandonment hit you again. “You can’t always be in two places at once,” you hiss. “But you always will be ‘cause you keep fucking running away.”

That makes her anger return tenfold. “I’m not running,” she scoffs.

You reach into your dress pocket, producing a worn scrap of paper, and you slap it against her chest with a firm noise. “Yeah?” you whisper, cocking your head. She holds onto your wrist with one hand, and with the other, she unfolds the paper, her body stiffening at the sight of the words scribbled in an all too familiar, messy scrawl. Her words, the very ones she’d left with you when she went off to Chicago, leaving the Delta behind in the fading shadow of the night. “What do you call this, then?”

She’s silent, her throat bobbing under the weight of her apprehension. You wonder if she’d admit it. If she’d apologize. But her blue eyes find yours, glassy with unshed tears, and you don’t realize you’re crying until her palm raises to wipe the water off of your cheek. Her hand lingers, though – her skin warm against yours, callused and rough from time but soft in a way that reminds you that it’s Paige in front of you. You’re not sure if that reminder is supposed to comfort you or make you cry harder.

“A regret,” she murmurs finally.

Oh.

Your eyes search hers. For deceit or for honesty – the difference between the two can be hard to tell apart most times. But you see earnestness. It makes you soften.

“I walked away,” Paige admits, her voice breaking. “From the one person in my life who’d made me feel like I belonged. Like I had a place. Like I was more than who my parents were or who my parents weren’t. I left a note and I ran to a city that cared for me even less than the Delta did.” She pauses, trying to find the words. “I regretted that decision every morning when I woke up on a dirty mattress in Chicago and realized I wasn’t next to you.”

“Was it worth it?” you ask, if only to hear the answer.

Paige doesn’t hesitate. “No. None of it ever was. Not when I had to lose you.”

“Why did you go?” You can feel the hesitation in her body, and you press a little further into her. “And make sure you tell me the fucking truth, Paige. No bullshit.”

“I didn’t deserve you,” she murmurs. “Shit, I still don’t. You deserve to be loved in the open, by someone who can provide for you and keep you safe. That was never gonna be with me.”

“I never wanted any of that,” you seethe, fisting your hand in her suit, dragging her closer to you. Her breath hitches, remorse and guilt on her face, but you continue speaking. “Do you understand that? I never needed anyone to provide for me, to keep me safe. I just wanted you to be with me.”

Paige doesn’t break eye contact when she utters, “They’d never let us be in love.”

You swallow your grief. “And what about we?” you say. “What about what we want? I’d rather love you in the dark than someone else in the sun.” You’re both silent. A lone tear slips from Paige’s waterline. You wipe it away gingerly, and her hand catches yours by her face, tangling your fingers together. “I just wish I got the chance to tell you that before you left.”

She nods, the motion like acceptance. Like she understands where you’re coming from – that she always has. That maybe she just needed to hear those words from you to understand it was never about what she thought you deserved, but about what the both of you wanted. As two women in the Mississippi Delta, it was always difficult to carve out that space for yourselves, to want so openly, to want each other so openly. You and Paige have been defying the norm for years now. You’d always thought that it would catch up with you. The love you had for Paige eclipsed that fear.

“Wasn’t the mobs in Chicago,” she confesses under her breath. You cock your head at her, and she deflates. “At least…not yet. The twins wanted out – something about coming back down here to open a juke joint. They brought liquor. Irish beer and Italian wine. They asked if I’d return and I…” The words get caught in her throat. She tries for a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It’s one that says I’ve done everything I’ve could so maybe it’s time to let someone else do what I can’t. “Figured it was time to stop running. From us.”

“For good?” you murmur.

“For as long as you’ll have me,” she responds, thumb brushing across your knuckles. “If that’s still on the table.”

You tilt your head back, far enough away just to look at her. To study her. She’s older now. So are you. The two of you weren’t always going to have a simple story, on account of the both of you being women and being completely different people. But you loved each other, and while you’ve never made it any less complicated for each other, you knew in your heart of hearts that you would take complex with her rather than easy and loveless with anyone else.

But you’re not one to kneel. Bravely, you ask, “And how do I know you mean that?” That gives her pause, something in her expression falling – like guilt and acceptance and a I deserved to hear that all in one. “How do I know I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and you’ll have left another note?” you continue. “You hurt me, Paige. I laid in bed for days and wondered why I wasn’t enough for you to stick around. That doesn’t go away overnight.”

“I know,” she admits, her voice cracking. She meets your eyes, the blue in them so easy to drown in, water shimmering on the surface like sun on the waves. “I can’t undo that. Believe me, I tried.” She laughs a little self-deprecatingly. “Every day I prayed that leaving you was a bad dream I’d eventually wake up from. That I’d find the courage to tell the twins that I was getting on the first train back here to right my wrongs before you slipped through my fingers completely. But I couldn’t – I thought I fucked us up. For good. I thought that we were something I couldn’t save or be enough for.”

Your chest is tight, but you can tell that Paige has more to say, so you remain quiet, your fingers trembling in her hold. She takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words to say, but her shoulders sag in a way that feels like acceptance. Like finally understanding that she may never say or do the right thing, but the effort in honesty is more than enough. You’d always try to fill in the blanks. You didn’t need her to be perfect. You just needed her to be here.

“I know I hurt you,” she continues. “But I also know that I love you – that I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen and you showed me what home is supposed to feel like. I know that I missed you.” Paige swallows thickly, not breaking eye contact, and she flattens your palm against her chest. You can feel the steady thump of her heart beneath your fingertips. “I missed you here.”

You can tell how much this means to her. You can tell that she’s genuinely remorseful, that she’s probably spent months beating herself up for leaving you in the way that she did. “I’m not expecting you to forgive me immediately,” she murmurs. “I can’t erase a year’s worth of pain overnight. Asking for one more chance is a lot, but I also know that I’d spend the rest of my life and then some making it up to you. I’m not running anymore. Not from you. Not from us. I’m not going to fuck this up again.”

You knew what your answer would be long before she answered you. Maybe you just needed to hear it – the promise, the vow that she’s not going to repeat her same mistakes twice. It makes the tension in your chest ease up, the lines on your face soften, and your shoulders relax. Your palm is still on her chest, so you lift your hand to trace the line of her collarbone absentmindedly. “I’m making pie tomorrow,” you say, glancing up at her with a wry, softer grin. It’s not forgiveness, but it’s something close to it, and Paige smiles brightly because she knows. “You should come by.”

She leans in ever so slightly, her lips brushing yours, and it makes your breath hitch at the contact. Her hands drop to hold you by the waist, her grip both firm and reverent like she’s committed to not letting you go unless you ask. “You gonna let me have the spoon?” she asks coyly, and your smile grows.

“Maybe,” you whisper. Then, you pull away slightly, enjoying the expression of shock on her face. “Now, tell me why you’re really here.”

Paige laughs, the sound full and relieved, and it makes you feel just a little bit more gone. “Already told you, baby,” she says. The nickname softens every sharp edge you’d whittled while she was gone. “The twins wanted to open a juke joint. Smoke came by to ask Annie if she’d cook.”

“Smoke did?” you echo, raising a brow, knowing about his and Annie’s lost baby. You knew that him coming here took a lot of guts. He wouldn’t have if he didn’t mean it. Paige hums in confirmation, the sound respectful as she knows the story, too. “They’re serious, huh?”

“Mmm,” Paige agrees. “Bought the old mill and everything.”

You exhale a little breathlessly, a smile on your face despite it all. “And you?” you ask. Paige’s eyes blink open, something curiously reckless in them. “Where do you fit into all this?”

“Was just hopin’ you’d still like me enough to dance,” she answers, her eyes bright and yearning. Her lips brush yours again, the touch like electricity after so many months of being apart.

You pretend to think about it, which makes Paige shake her head with a laugh and a grin. “Get me a bottle of that Italian wine and you’ve got a deal.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige murmurs, her eyes finding yours again with a flicker of hope. You can’t hide your amusement nor the love you have for her, so you finally give in, your lips meeting hers with a deliberate softness. She sighs against you as you press up on the tips of your toes for better leverage. Literally and metaphorically, it feels like coming home again. Your body could never forget Paige nor the way she makes you feel, even if the both of you were dealt an unfair hand of cards.

You feel her grin against your lips, adjusting the angle of her head to deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangle in the loose hair at the back of her neck, warmth creeping into every crevice of your body.

The kiss doesn’t last nearly long enough. You can hear the turn of the lock at the back door and you and Paige pull away from each other quickly, working on adjusting your clothes as Annie and Smoke walk in, a quiet air around them as well. Annie meets your gaze – a brow raising in both question and concern. You nod at her, mustering a small smile, and her features relax, drawing your silent exchange to a close.

Finally, you gather your belongings, letting Paige lead you out towards their truck. There’s only space in front for Smoke and Annie, so you and Paige opt to sit in the back with the liquors, which you’re not too upset about. It gives you the time and the privacy to curl up next to Paige, your argument and reconciliation not completely forgiven nor quite forgotten. Right now, it’s enough for the both of you, knowing that you’ll have the rest of your lives to figure this out. You know that neither of you are going to let this slip away again.

Once you all make it to the old mill, you all get to work. You and Paige work on sweeping the floors and cleaning while Annie works on frying the catfish. Countless friends stream in – old and new – like the Chows, Delta Slim, a pioneering blues performer who you’d thought to have mostly been a legend, Smoke and Stack’s cousin Sammie, and even Cornbread, who’s been hired to play bodyguard.

Everyone’s in high spirits, laughing and enjoying the time. You catch Annie looking at you and Paige with a fond look in her eyes and you try not to blush too much, even when Paige spins you around to the beat of whatever tune Slim is plucking on the piano.

Before you know it, everything is ready. Paige helps to set out the liquor, smiling wryly at you when she stashes a bottle of her wine in her suit, and you laugh as you serve a patron some of Annie’s catfish. The old mill fills fast, people looking for a break, to have fun, to let loose and listen to Sammie sing the blues.

For this one moment in time, everything feels…right. Peaceful. Like there’s not a single worry in the world, and you think that you can get used to this. The sound of soul in your ear, of laughter and love swirling around you, the heavy feeling of Paige’s gaze on you while she regales some of the customers with charming stories about who knows what. Her eyes find you more than appropriate, though, and you find it hard to stay polite in front of everyone.

But she sidles up to you, empty wine glass in hand, and her smirk is mischievous, loose, like she’s about to ask you to do something you can’t quite say no to. Her hand finds your waist behind the bar, palm warm against your skin, and you raise a brow at her. “Think I can convince you to stop workin’ for a bit and have a drink with me?” she asks, gaze predatory and sharp. “Pretty sure I owed you a glass of wine.”

“Sounds like you’ve got ulterior motives,” you comment, looking up at her through your lashes. “You tryin’ to get me tipsy?”

“Just relaxed,” she murmurs, her eyes trailing your figure unashamedly. “Anything after that is purely coincidental.”

“I’m sure.” Your tone is flat, but your eyes are amused. “Would have thought that you’d give it a few more days before you tried finding your way under my skirt. Just this morning you were begging for me to forgive you.”

That sobers her instantly. She blinks at you like she’d forgotten all about that, and it makes you swell with affection for this idiot in front of you. “We don’t have–”

You can’t help but laugh, tanging your fingers in the collar of her suit, and you gently drag her a little closer to you. It makes her breath hitch, but the look on her face makes it all worth it. “Pour me a glass and meet me in the back,” you murmur, releasing her. Just before you walk away, you offer her a teasing smile. “And don’t keep me waiting.”

“Yes ma’am,” she rushes out, already reaching for another glass under the bar, and you know she’s hot on your heels as she follows you to the back. You leave the door slightly ajar and she shuts it as soon as she’s in, the lock clicking into place as you take a seat on top of the table tucked into the corner. Her gaze is a little predatory when she steps forward, looking as though she wants to ravage you but be respectful about it – like she doesn’t quite know where the two of you stand after your difficult conversation that morning.

But she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t rush to fill the silence, even as she holds the wine glass in between two fingers and slowly tips the bottle over, filling it with the dark red liquid. Your eyes follow the way her fingers move, the veins in her wrist that protrude, and it’s then that you’re reminded of just how beautiful Paige Bueckers is.

It’s not something you consciously forget. You haven’t seen her in a while, and this is the first time in a good amount of time that you’ve allowed your walls to fall down. To allow yourself to want her so openly. It makes you ache because you know she wants you to and this entire thing – her pouring the wine for you, her fingers lingering on yours when she gives you the glass, is more of a formality than anything else.

You wait while she fills her glass, too, and then you tap the sides in cheer. “To a successful first night,” you murmur, catching the dark of her gaze over the dim lighting.

“To you,” she says. “And to us.”

To hide the blush growing on your cheeks, you roll your eyes slightly, tipping your head slightly to drink the wine. You like that Paige’s gaze is hooked on you, following the bob of your throat as you swallow the wine. She already looks like she’s unravelling and all you’ve done is drink. “Always have to one up me, don’t you?” you state, and she takes a sip of her own wine. The flavor is pleasant – not too sharp, but not too sweet. You can see why Paige and the twins played the Italian mob like this. They make excellent wine.

“Just wanted to be honest,” she retorts. “Something actually worth toasting about.”

You raise your brows, watching her figure as she takes a seat in the chair next to the table, her gaze locked onto yours. “Are you not actually into the juke joint?” you ask, curious.

She shrugs a shoulder. Her eyes linger on the way your skirt rides up your legs when you cross them at the knee. “This was the twin’s project,” she says, not unkindly. “I was just here to help. And to stop running from the things I love.”

You snort into your wine. “That sounds like something to unpack.”

“Probably,” she admits. “Sometimes…I look at a good thing, and my first thought isn’t that it’s good. It’s how devastated I would be if I were to lose it.” That makes you soften, and you reach for her hand, intertwining your fingers. “I think that’s why I was so scared of…staying. I thought I wouldn’t be allowed to be happy for long, that it would be taken away from me. I didn’t want to lose you. I guess it was easier to leave than to risk it.”

“But not anymore?” you question.

She shakes her head. “Still lost you,” she says. “Just in a different way. One that hurt a lot more.” Paige takes a long sip of her wine before she speaks again. “There was this Italian guy I met while I was in Chicago. He caught me at a bad time. I was drunk off my ass at a pub, and I guess he recognized me from running with the mob. He took me home and I started rambling about you. About missing you. How you’d give me peppermint to chew on when I was plastered because it would help my headache.” That makes you crack a smile as you listen to her go on. “Think I got really upset and lost it, and then he says, ‘How lucky you are to have loved someone so strongly that saying goodbye is hard.’ I woke up the morning after. My head hurt, and all I could think about was you and how not having you turned me inside out.”

Paige pauses for a long moment, clearly having more to say. You just brush your fingers across her knuckles. “I don’t think I’m scared of that anymore,” she confesses. “Not – of losing you. I don’t ever want to do that again. But I don’t think I’m scared of loving you. That’s a blessing by itself. And no matter how long…or how short…I think I’m lucky to be able to do that.”

You swallow thickly, realizing the seriousness of the moment, and you admit, “I don’t want you to feel like you have to run from me.” That catches her attention. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this alone. We’re…together.” Your voice catches on that word, unsure if that’s a term you should still use to describe your relationship, and you think that was a good choice because Paige’s face lights up. “I just want you to choose me when it gets hard and trust that we can figure it out.”

“I will,” she states firmly. “God, I swear to you, I will. I’m not gonna fuck this up again.”

You smile at her, gently, because you know she’s not going to. Not when she swears like her life depends on it. “I trust you,” you promise her. “But even if you do…it’s gonna be okay. I don’t want perfection. I just want you.”

That makes her smile turn a little tender, a little bashful. “I can work with that.” She finishes the rest of the wine in her glass and her voice is a hoarse when she says, “Think you might be stuck with me now.”

Your smile turns a little mischievous. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

When she looks at you again, her gaze is a little dark, hungry. “Depends on how you look at it.”

You set your wine glass down, not bothering with a response before you shift on the table, facing her fully, and you cup her cheeks in your hands as you pull her against you. She’s quick – groaning against your lips like she’d spent the entire day thinking about the next time she’d get to kiss you, and her arms encircle your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin.

She tastes like wine and something unmistakably Paige that makes your head spin. Her lips drag against yours, already making something in your core swell with heat and tighten, her tongue brushing against your bottom lip in permission. You don’t give it to her, tangling your fingers in the loose bun at the back of her head and tugging slightly, and she gasps a little breathlessly at the feeling.

“You’re a brat,” she mutters, standing from the chair fully. The movement forces you to disconnect your lips and with the natural pause, you slide your hands under her suit top, pushing the blazer down her shoulders.

“You’ve got a lot of groveling to do,” you retort. “Something about spending the rest of your life making it up to me, I think.”

Her resulting smile is a little sharp when she looks at you. “Oh, is that so?” she murmurs. You nod, already reaching out for her, and you wrap your arms around her neck while you connect your lips again. It’s wet, hot, and the both of you slide against each other with little restraint, the alcohol in your veins loosening the both of you up and intensifying the feeling. “You just want me on my knees, don’t you?” Her voice had dropped low, her tone teasing and rough, and it makes you squeeze your thighs together, which was obviously something that she picked up on. “You liked that?” She says it like it’s a surprise to her, like she’s discovered a secret you didn’t want to share, and you feel her grin as she kisses you again, drawing a moan from your lips when she squeezes one of your thighs.

“Would that make you feel better, baby?” she coos, fingers trailing a hot path between your thighs, pressing against the thin lace of your underwear. You’re already breathing heavily, and judging by the way she sucks in a deep breath, you’re sure that she’s found the wetness at the apex of your thighs. “You’re soaked for me and all I’ve done is kiss you. Still all mine. Doesn’t matter how long I’m gone.”

Your cheeks burn, and your fingers grapple for stability on her shirt. She leans in to press another filthy kiss to your lips, her tongue probing out to trace your bottom lip again, and you’re too lost in the feeling to open up for her. She doesn’t like that – an annoyed sound building at the back of her throat when she bites down on your lip – just a gentle nip, enough to get your attention but not enough to truly hurt, and she slips her tongue inside while you gasp.

It’s pure dominance from then on out – she unravels you with her lips while her fingers rub maddening circles against your clit over the lace. She was right. She hadn’t done much, but she’s always been good at tearing you apart. Even if she hasn’t been near you in months, she still knows what works, how much pressure you need, exactly where to touch you. And your body responds like it knows Paige’s touch. It doesn’t embarrass you to admit that there wasn’t anyone else while she was gone. This feeling has been building ever since the day that she left, and you suppose that it is her responsibility to handle it.

She breaks away from your lips to trail kisses to your jawline, sucking a dark spot at the edge of it. You can feel her smile against your skin as your mouth falls open in wordless pleasure. Her fingers are insistent, continuous, as she follows a path across your skin that only she’s the expert in, her lips enclosing around the lobe of your ear, the spot behind it that makes you shiver, your pulse point, the base of your throat where your necklace glitters.

Paige lingers, a little breathless at the sight of you, and the hand not tending to your leaking cunt reaches up to cup your breast, thumb tweaking your nipple over your top. Moaning, your head falls back, giving her ample space to work with, and she latches onto your neck immediately. Her teeth scrape against your skin, drawing a ragged sound from your throat. Her words vibrate against you when she speaks. “So fucking beautiful,” she murmurs, punctuating her words with another kiss, her tongue poking out to trail across your body.

It makes you shiver for an entirely different reason now. You reach up with one of her hands to cup the back of her neck, pushing her a little closer to you, and her finger swipes a little more firmly against your clit, making you keen. “Please, Paige,” you beg. “Need you, need more.”

“I got you,” she promises, finally sinking to her knees. Breathless, you clench around nothing, instinctively spreading your legs for her as she peers up at you through her lashes. Her palms are warm against your skin as her hands slide up your thighs, pushing your skirt up to give herself more space to work with. “Keep your eyes on me.” You don’t have the brain space to ask Or else what? but you’re so high strung that you don’t want to test her.

The edge of her smirk is hungry, predatory, like she’s seconds away from drooling, and it makes you ache. She presses her lips to your thighs, littering gentle kisses across your skin while she makes her way towards your cunt. Needy, you cup the back of her head with your hand, encouraging her to get a move on, and her smile softens as she listens to your wordless command.

She tangles her fingers in the lace covering you and pulls it down with an agonizing slowness, breath catching at the way a strand of your slick sticks to the fabric and snaps when the stretch is too great. Then, almost deliberately, she folds your underwear, setting it gently on the chair she’d sat in, and you’re seconds away from beating the shit out of her. “Paige,” you hiss, trying for an assertive tone, but you just sound whiny.

She doesn’t respond – she doesn’t have to. She slides her hands under your thighs and lifts your legs gently over her shoulders, opening you up for her, and she groans at the sight like you’re one of the ancient wonders of the world. Paige doesn’t waste anymore time before she dives in, her tongue already relentless as she strokes from your leaking entrance to your aching clit, moaning against you and already addicted to the taste. You whimper, head lulling back as your fingers tighten in her hair, but she nips at your clit. It doesn’t sting, but it gets your attention, and you return your gaze down to her.

Your slick already coats her mouth, glistening in the light, her eyes hooded and pussy drunk in the way she always gets when she gets to put her mouth against you. She’d once joked that she could die happy down here and you truly never realized how serious she was until now. Her brows are pinched, pleasure evident on her face like she’s the one moments away from falling apart, and her tongue traces every sopping inch of your cunt as though she’s afraid to let a single drop go to waste.

Her tongue slides in to drink directly from the source. Her nose brushes against your sensitive clit and it sends a lightning bolt of white hot pleasure up your spine, curling low in your belly, and drawing a whimpering moan from you. She works you like it’s her last day on earth and getting you to come is her only chance at salvation. Her pace makes you a little dizzy, her tongue going from hole to clit to kissing the aching bud until the pressure makes your hips buck. She’s everywhere all at once as though she’s trying to reacquaint herself with your cunt, like she’s trying to make up for lost time.

She said she’d make it up to you. You think she’s doing a damn good job, especially when her fingers tighten around the fullness of your thighs, pushing herself in deeper, and you spread yourself open a little more, too far gone to care about much of anything that’s not how good Paige Bueckers looks when she’s on her knees with her face buried in your cunt.

And then she starts talking. There wasn’t a chance in hell that you were going to last after this, not when she’s holding onto you like she’s the one who’s about to float away, and whimpering, “Missed this.” The whine in her tone makes you a little crazy, your fingers tightening in her hair, your hips bucking against her face as you try to chase a high you know she’d rather die than deny you. “Missed you so fucking much, baby. Missed the way you taste. The way you sound – fuck, the way you fall apart for me.”

“Please,” you choke out, but you’re not quite sure what you’re begging for. Paige nods anyways, the motion causing you to gasp when her nose brushes against your clit again, and she somehow doubles her pace, her tongue sliding against you with a vicious efficiency that all but pushes you to the edge. You’re teetering on it now, inches away from slipping off completely, and you ramble, “Shit, Paige, so close. You’re so fucking good, love you so much–”

Your words get stuck in your throat when she latches onto your clit and sucks. You’re almost sure that she breathes the very soul out of your body as you crumble completely, your legs tightening around her head as your hips buck wildly against her mouth. The sounds spilling from your lips are unrestrained, unintelligible, but Paige hums against you and drinks up every drop from your cunt like you’re the first sip of water she’s had in years. She’s always a little messy when she’s got a glass or two of wine in her system, but you think you like her this way – when she behaves like your pleasure is the most important thing to her and that she died if you weren’t unravelling on her face.

Sensitive, you cry out softly, tugging her back by the hair to give you room to breathe. But she doesn’t budge, her grip tightening on your thighs, and she glances up at you, brows tented, chest heaving, her expression nothing short of begging. Her face is slick, lips, cheek, nose, and even her neck covered with your arousal, and it makes something in your core simmer with heat. “C’mon, baby,” she pleads, her tongue already working you again. The oversensitivity makes you tremble, but you’re bucking into her mouth mindlessly, needing to come for her again. “One more. Lemme give you one more.”

You’re nodding, but you know she can’t see it, her tongue already sliding through your folds and lapping you up with a fervor. It won’t take much – you know she knows that, and she hums against your cunt in pleasure when you leak into her waiting mouth. “So fucking good for me,” she mutters against you. She’s lost in your pleasure, which makes you ache again, already teetering dangerously close to the edge.

This time, you don’t even have the chance to warn her. Her teeth close around your clit, nipping gently enough to make your hips twitch, then soothing the sting with a harsh suck. You spill over her instantly, your second orgasm somehow feeling stronger than the first one, and your head falls back in desperate pleasure while her pace finally slows. Paige helps you ride out the aftershocks, her tongue cleaning every inch of you before extracting herself from your cunt with great difficulty. If you were any more conscious, you might be able to see the way she stares forlornly at you while she draws back, like she’s a soldier heading off to war.

You can’t focus on anything but the way her palms rub your thighs soothingly, how she unfurls your hands from her hair and tangles your fingers together to help bring you back down to earth. The hand not holding yours curls around your neck as she lifts herself into a standing position, pulling you into her body, pressing her lips gently to your temple while she strokes the hair at the base of your neck.

Strangely, that’s what actually brings you back into a state of coherency, because her lips are sticky and wet from where she’d just spent the better part of fifteen minutes sucking the soul out of your body through your cunt. “You need to wash your face,” you mutter, not actually that bothered by it, and you wipe your own slick off of your forehead immediately.

Paige catches your wrist, slipping your finger into your mouth and sucking gently, her cheeks suctioning from the pressure. If you could feel your legs, you might knock her ass to the ground and return the favor, but the surprisingly serious expression on her face gives you pause. “Don’t waste that shit,” she reprimands you, gingerly wiping the rest off of your face and licking it off her fingers. “Haven’t had you in over a year and you wanna deprive me?”

“And whose fault is that?” you retort, not really intending to be mean about it, and Paige narrows her eyes at you.

“I just gave you two earth-shattering, mind-numbing, toe-curling–”

“Get to the point.”

“Two orgasms,” she emphasizes. “Two. How many more until I’m out of the doghouse?”

You roll your eyes, a little amused by how fucking annoying she is, and you curl your fingers in the collar of her shirt to plant a chaste kiss to her lips. You can taste yourself, but it doesn’t bother you. “You’re an idiot,” you mumble.

“You love me,” she fires back.

At that, you can’t really help your smile, and the next kiss you press to her mouth is a little more gentle. Softer. Full of something that words can’t really convey, even as you admit, “I do.”

The beaming smile on her face would be a little endearing if you forgot about the two orgasms she’d just drawn from you. “I love you, too,” she promises, and part of you aches for a different reason now. You’re not sure how long you’d been waiting to hear those words from her again, but it makes warmth bloom in your chest, curling around your heart like it belongs there.

She helps you back into your lace underwear, only half pretending to not miss seeing you naked, and the two of you leave the back room with your empty wine glasses in hand. At the bar, Annie raises her eyebrows at you knowingly, but you don’t say anything for both of your sakes – Annie practically raised you, and there were things she just did not need to know. Paige, blessedly, keeps her mouth shut, but she smirks at you as though she’s already thinking about the next time she can have you.

Spirits are high in the juke joint. You can spot Smoke brooding on the second floor, something you’re not really surprised by, and you have no clue where Stack is. You spotted Mary a while ago, which didn’t really surprise you, either; she always had a difficult time staying away from trouble, but so does the blonde who’s lingering in your shadow, not wanting to let you out of her sight.

The party rages on for another twenty or so minutes – everyone is still singing and dancing. Delta Slim is still plucking away at the piano, and you’re deep in conversation with a woman who frequents Annie’s shop when you hear a commotion at the front door. That’s what actually surprises you. The night had been peaceful so far. Cornbread hadn’t actually had to enforce his bouncer duties, but it seems there’s a time and a place for everything.

You follow Annie (and Paige follows you) to the front door. You step up behind the twins, then Mary’s behind you, and you’re all a little concerned at the sight. Standing at your doorstep are three individuals. They’re holding three different guitars and the man on the far right has a lantern clutched in his grasp. They’re white, so you can see why their arrival gives everyone pause.

“We heard a tale of a party,” the white man at the front says. You struggle to place his accent, your head cocking in confusion. There’s something…off, about him, something lurking beneath the surface, and you can’t place that, either. But your gut is never wrong. You nudge Annie, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, and she nods. She suspects it, too. “Drinks, food, blues music and the like.”

Cornbread looks perplexed. “You did?” he asks, his tone believing.

“We like to drink,” the man says. “We happen to be musicians, and, uh…we walked here. So, we hungry as dogs.” The other man with the lantern backs this up with a very emphatic woof woof! that disgusts you immediately. You shift uncomfortably and Paige curls an arm around your waist subtly. “You wouldn’t mind us coming in, now, would you?”

Cornbread narrows his eyes. “I think y’all are in the wrong place,” he states.

“What makes you say that?” the woman asks.

The man turns his gaze from cornbread to the twins, his features softening. “You fellas must be the owners of this establishment.”

“That’s right,” Smoke agrees. “And you are?”

They introduce themselves – the man in the middle is Remmick, and his companions are Bert and Joan. But when Sammie comes into view to check on his cousins, Remmick’s expression shifts. “You must be that voice I heard from out here. It was beautiful.”

“Goddamn beautiful,” Joan agrees unsettlingly.

“Even through these walls,” Bert adds.

You narrow your eyes, only half listening to the rest of the conversation as you try to place why these travelers unsettle you so. It’s not the color of their skin – far from it. It’s the almost robotic detachment, the way they’re here, uninvited, and Joan and Bert have positioned themselves  on either side of Remmick and far enough behind him to be considered respectful. They’re not equals. Remmick holds a sort of power over them, and you feel like you’re nearing the answer the more you stare at them, at the way Remmick stares into the juke joint as if searching for something.

The conversation passes. Questions like where are you from? Are you Klan? Even an unsettling rendition of Pick Poor Robin Clean that makes your hair stand on end. Smoke ends it abruptly, not a fan of the lack of blues, and Remmick points out that he and his friends have a lot of money they’d like to spend. They exchange a few more words before they walk away with an exaggerated slowness, stopping just short of the road leading into the woods.

“They gave me the willies,” Pearline, another of the singers, mutters.

“Crackers at night time will do that to you,” Stack says. Then, Smoke and Stack start arguing over why they’re here, if they’re actually Klan, before Smoke firmly states, “Don’t let them in.”

That seems to be the end of that, and the tension dissipates slightly. You return to the bar with Annie and Paige in tow, something uncomfortable settling low in your gut, and you top off your glass of wine and you take a long, slow sip of it. “I don’t trust them,” you declare in a huff, feeling Paige’s hand slide soothingly around your waist. “That man barked.”

“Woof, woof,” Paige imitates, and you wrinkle your nose at her in a way that makes her face fall. “Not funny. Got it.”

“I don’t either,” Annie admits. She glances up to the second floor where Smoke and Sammie are locked in conversation. Something makes her lips twist as she cleans a glass, something that looks a whole lot like I hope he knows what he’s doing.

Across the room, you spot Mary and Stack conversing, then you watch as Stack slips a small handgun into a holster tucked under her skirt. You know what her plan is long before Mary walks smoothly to the bar, sidling up next to you and Paige, looking at the taller blonde with a quiet request. “They’ll listen to us,” Mary says, her tone soft, spoken like it’s one of the quiet truths about the world and society that you’ll have to accept. “Remmick and them. The twins aren’t breaking even – too much plantation credit. The juke joint won’t be able to operate for another night if they can’t afford it.”

Paige draws her bottom lip between her teeth. You know her well enough to understand that she’d made up her mind. You give Mary a gentle look and she nods solemnly, stepping away from you two and giving you some privacy.

“Five minutes,” Paige utters, her voice hardly above a whisper. You might not be able to hear her over the thrum of the crowd. “Just to feel them out and keep an eye on Mary.” You don’t say anything, only looking up at her with an expression of calm concern, and she reaches for your wrist, pressing your palm to her hip where you can feel the outline of her holster, the handgun settled against her skin, unassuming.

You had a bad feeling about them, although it was significantly better for Paige and Mary to be out there together, both armed, than to let one or the other go alone. You didn’t like the situation, but you couldn’t do much. Sucking in a deep breath, you enclose both of Paige’s hands around yours, bringing them to your lips, and the both of you close your eyes as you pray over her. For safety, for protection. For the clear eyes to spot deceit. When you finish, she brushes a quick, gentle kiss to your cheek, squeezing your hands once before walking out of the door side by side with Mary.

Your chest is tense the entire time that she’s gone, but you try to keep yourself distracted, chatting with Annie while the two of you work the bar in tandem. She serves the fried catfish while you pour the drinks, an easy rhythm between the two of you. Even though you’re busy with the crowd, your eyes still trail off to the front door, hoping to see the tall blonde walk in sooner rather than later.

Eventually, she does, and Mary’s right behind her. You feel as though you can finally breathe a sigh of relief, although you wrinkle your nose when you watch Mary throw herself onto Stack and lead him into the back room you and Paige had already visited not even an hour prior. You suppose it’s a happy night for everyone, and you smile fondly at Paige as she rounds the bar once more, her palm finding your hip. “How’d it go?” you ask in a hushed whisper.

“Nothing to worry about,” she reassures you, but she doesn’t add anymore, which confuses you. Her hand presses against you a little more firmly, a knee slipping between your legs, and you can’t help but gasp at the pressure.

“Paige!” you hiss, glancing around, your heart in your throat. Annie is occupied with an inebriated man who is struggling to cut his fish, but it doesn’t make you relax anymore. Her grin is sharp, eyes dark, and you can smell the wine and something distinctly minty on her breath as she leans in. “You’re insatiable.” You try for a reprimanding tone, but you just sound a little breathless, feeling a heat coil low in your belly when she pushes you down on her knee slightly. “We just–”

“Still gotta make it up to you, don’t I?” she murmurs, the muscle of her thigh flexing under your weight, and you sigh softly at the drag, trying to not look like she’s ruining you in a room full of people. “Let Annie handle this. You deserve a break.” Her lips find the shell of your ear, her voice a rumbling, low timbre when she says, “You deserve to feel good, baby. Lemme help you.”

Still breathless, all you can do is nod, and she guides you upstairs, the both of you searching for a quiet corner. Paige pushes open the door to the loft area and her lips are on yours before the door clicks shut. She’s insistent, ravenous, something so different from the way she kissed you downstairs. Her hands curl under your thighs, lifting you easily, and she presses you against the door.

Your fingers tangle in her hair, ruining the bun she’d messily fixed after your earlier rendezvous, and she groans against your lips when you tug. She disconnects your lips, her head tilting back in pleasure at the slight sting of pain, and you don’t waste any time before you’re leaning into her. You sink your teeth into her neck, your tongue soothing over the mark. Her hips buck like the feeling of your lips on her neck already has her close to the edge. You trail your lips down, nipping at the vein protruding from the side of her neck, the tender area where her neck meets her shoulder. Paige’s fingers tighten around you, her muscles straining, and it sends white hot desire to your core when your palms slide down, feeling the definition in her shoulders and her biceps.

Your lips meet again and Paige breathes into you like she’s trying to gather your taste, to eat you alive. Her tongue meets yours, hardly needing permission this time around, and you sink into it, letting her unravel you. It’s a lot – the feeling of her teeth in your skin, the dangerous, almost instinctual way she kisses you, the primality in how she squeezes bruises into the skin of your thighs. It’s rough, heady, and right now, it is perfect.

You break away long enough to speak, your chest heaving. When you meet her eyes, her pupils are blown out, the darkest blue you’ve ever seen them, and you swear you see the smallest fleck of drool spilling out from the corner of her lips, but you can’t be too sure if it was from her or you. All you know is that you need her – right now. You need her, pressed bare skin to bare skin, her hips rutting against yours, her mouth on your chest or your neck or quite literally anywhere. “Need you,” you whimper, your lips brushing against hers, and she squeezes you once that feels like some strange mix between a warning and an apology.

She lifts you off of the door, her teeth scraping against your collarbone as she leads you backwards. There’s a fleece blanket spread out on the floor, the one that had been used to cover the piano during transport, and she lays you against it gently, a devastating contrast to the viciousness in which she’d kissed you with. Something in you aches at the sight of her. The heat coiling in your belly, the pulsating feeling between your legs, begging for attention. You’ve never needed anyone more than you need Paige right now.

When you peer up at her through your lashes, you’re almost taken aback by how different she looks. Her fingers are trembling as she unbuttons her dress shirt, but there’s simultaneously a stark rigidity in her spine, a tense feeling in her shoulders. It’s like she’s fighting between two different parts of her – her brain and her body, or something else otherworldly, like maybe some instinctual urge.

At first, you wonder if she’s only doing this because she feels as though she truly has to make up for her absence in making you feel good. Maybe something had gotten lost in translation or jokes that didn’t land well. So you reach out, stopping her movements when your fingers wrap around her wrists, and her entire body goes still. The tremor is gone. Her shoulders sag with something like realization, or relief, as though a weight had been lifted off of them. And her eyes – which had been burning with a heat, a desire you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, have calmed.

Gently, you whisper, your tone echoing a promise, “You don’t owe me anything.” You watch her throat bob as she swallows, her eyes trailing from your eyes, to your lips, before honing in on your neck, where the pulse from the organ behind your ribcage thrums in your neck. “We don’t–”

“I want to,” she breathes out, shrugging out of her shirt, and your eyes follow the lines of her body. You didn’t get to see them earlier. Her breasts are covered by her bra, something worn yet unshakingly reliable, the firm lines of her muscles crossing over one another and dipping beneath the waistband of her pants. Paige leans down, her hands pressed into the floorboards on either side of your head, her arms caging you in. The position shouldn’t make you feel as safe as you do, but she dips her head down to kiss you again. It’s gentler, more like what you’re used to from her, and the difference makes your headspin. She goes from rough to demanding to gentle and soft within minutes, and your body struggles to catch up.

“Wanna make you feel good,” she whispers, her voice wrecked, as she scrapes her teeth against your neck again. She pauses, her nose nearing your pulse point, where you’re sure she can feel the way your heart beats for her. Paige breathes in, like she’s trying to memorize the way you smell, and she presses a gentle kiss to your pulse point. She lingers there, her breath hitching, almost as though she’s forcing herself to keep moving. Like she knows she’s doing something she shouldn’t quite be doing.

“Wanna watch you fall apart for me,” she continues, her tongue darting out to lick the salt off your throat. She hums at the flavor and you arch into her. Paige leans back on her heels, reaching out for you, and she quickly unzips your dress at the back. “Wanna see you. All of you.” She punctuates her words by slowly pulling the fabric down, revealing miles upon miles of glistening skin, and her breath hitches at the sight. You’re bare, nipples already pebbling from the cool air of the room, and she sneaks in a feel as she pulls your dress down your torso.

It comes off easily. You lift your hips to help her out, leaving you in nothing but your lace, which is still damp from earlier. Her gaze lingers, and naturally, you spread your legs for her, allowing her to settle in between you with something like wonder on her face. But there’s something in her expression that’s still pinched.

You forget all about her weird behavior when her lips enclose around one of your nipples, her hand reaching up to fondle the other one. The pressure is otherworldly, all but forcing you to press up against her, and her free hand shoves your hips down with ease. You gasp a little, already sure that you’re leaking again, but she hums deep in her throat, the sound sending a shockwave straight through you.

“Paige,” you whimper, your voice breaking around a moan as she alternates, her mouth finding your other breast. “Please touch me.”

She laughs, fingers tracing the waistband of your lace, slipping under when you least expect it. But she doesn’t find your clit. She doesn’t press against you in the way that you need, doesn’t slip her finger inside like she usually would. She’s trying to draw out your pleasure, to make you beg for it, and that thought alone makes you wetter. “I am touching you, baby,” she teases. Her lips leave your breasts to trail down your stomach, nipping gently, soothing the sting with her tongue.

Huffing, you wrap your legs around her waist, tugging her a little closer to you, and something dangerous flashes in her gaze. “Don’t be a jerk,” you chastise, trying to sound strong, but your voice is breathless, full of need, and Paige knows it.

She grabs your thighs, pressing your legs back down onto the blanket, and leans over you with something dark in her eyes. “Don’t be a brat,” she retorts. The tone of her voice makes your entire body burn. “Think I don’t know what you need?” Her palms press against your stomach, fingers poking where she’d sucked brusies against your sensitive skin. It makes your hips jump. “You think I don’t know how to touch you? That when you’re turned on, and I press here…” Her palm finds your stomach, pressing down precisely, and a gasp falls from your lips. The smile on her face is far too smug. “…You make those sweet little sounds for me?”

“Paige,” you cry out again, feeling your need seep out of your cunt, surely staining your lace.

But she just keeps going. “You think I don’t know exactly how to fuck you? To make sure you feel me?” She shakes her head, lost in it, and she tangles her fingers in the waistband of your underwear. “I know you, baby. I know you’re soaking through this fucking lace for me. Know you’ve been wet all fucking night. If I had my way, I would have had my head between your thighs for hours until you cried for me.” Paige pulls your lace down slowly, her jaw falling open as she reveals your dripping cunt.

She glances at you, a satisfied little smile on her face, gaze heated, gone. “Is it that serious?” she coos, her tone teasing, eyes dropping to your thighs. “So fucking wet for me. Just want me to take care of you, huh?”

That’s when you spot it – the shining, viscous liquid pooling at the corner of her mouth, sliding down her chin, her neck. She’s fucking drooling. That realization hits you like a fucking truck, arousal seeping out of your weeping cunt, and you’re a little breathless when you ask, “Is that serious?” while you gesture to her lips.

Almost as though she’s coming back to herself, she reaches up, fingers finding the spit leaking out of her mouth, and she stares like she’s been caught. Something clears in her eyes. Embarrassment, maybe. Probably something else. Feeling your heartbeat in your cunt, you reach out for her hand, wrapping your lips around her fingers, and moaning in pleasure at the taste of her spit.

You can hear her groan – impossibly wrecked, destroyed entirely. She watches with rapt attention as you take her fingers down to the base, your tongue sliding between them, making sure you get every drop. When you’re done, her fingers are soaked, coated in your own saliva, and you drag a finger across the remainder pooling at the base of her neck. “What’d you say earlier?” you whisper, tone saccharine sweet. “‘Don’t waste that shit’?” You pop your own finger in your mouth while her brain catches up with her.

Ruined, she wipes her chin and her neck, offering her hand to you, and you don’t waste any more time before you’re taking her fingers in your mouth again, making sure to maintain eye contact. She groans, the sound low and devastating in her throat, her eyes not once moving away from you. When her hand is clear, she wraps it around your throat, not applying any pressure, but the hold is firm enough to push you back down onto your back. 

“Open,” she commands, and you do so wordlessly. The hand on your throat holds you still while, slowly, she lets her spit pool on her tongue, letting it fall into your mouth. You shudder at the feeling, your body impossibly hot, and her smile is a little reverent when she releases your throat to push your jaw up. You swallow immediately. Paige rewards you with a bruising kiss, groaning at the flavor of your combined tastes.

There’s no more foreplay from there, the both of you burning for each other. She fumbles with her belt buckle and shucks off her pants and boxers with an unnatural quickness. You reach for the hem of her bra, not wanting to be alone in your nakedness, and she raises her arms to allow you to pull it off of her.

The first press of her skin against yours feels like a lightning strike to your overheated skin. It makes you gasp, and she takes advantage of your pleasure to slip her tongue inside again, already working on pushing you to the edge with her lips alone. Her hands trail down to your thighs, pushing them open even more. She fits against you like a puzzle piece, pulling you flush against her, and you’re sure you ascend completely at the feeling of her wet cunt pressing against yours.

You both let out keening moans, your name falling from her lips while a curse falls from yours. Your fingers grapple for purchase on her back, your nails sinking in and scratching, and she moans against your lips at the sting of pain. Her forehead presses against yours, her hips rolling sensually into yours, and when your sensitive clits brush against each other, desire shoots up both of your spines simultaneously.

Her arms are caging you in again, the bulge and ripple of her muscles dragging you closer to a long awaited peak. Her hips roll with a newfound intensity, your combined slick making the slide impossibly smooth, and every brush of her clit against yours makes a moan tumble from your mouth. You’re unable to say anything, the pleasure immense and the words caught in your throat, and Paige kisses you like she understands, anyways. It’s needy, desperate, and reverent all in one.

Paige’s hips slam against yours, the both of you chasing your highs, and she releases your lips to press her mouth to your neck, directly over your pulse point. She kisses it, sucks a deep, bruising mark into your skin, and noses against your skin like she’s trying to memorize the way you smell – the way your blood smells as it courses through your veins. 

And then her teeth scrape against your neck. It makes you keen, tilting your head back to give her more room to work with, and she whimpers against your skin like the pleasure is too much. Her hips keep moving, even when her lips stall, but she mouths against your neck, almost as though she’s trying to gather confidence for something. Like she’s at war with her mind and she can’t make a decision. Like there’s something stopping her from sinking her teeth into you completely and feasting.

Eyes glazed over from pleasure, you finally peer up at her through your lashes, wondering why she’s pausing. Hesitating. Why she’s whining against your skin like she’s simultaneously hurt and seconds away from combusting with pleasure.

The sight above you isn’t one that you’d been expecting. It sobers you instantly, only halfway, the bump and grind of her clit against yours still sending shockwaves up your spine. There’s drool pooling at the corner of her lips again, but what truly gathers your attention and steals your breath away is the sharpness of her canines, the fangs protruding from her mouth. Her bottom lip is bitten raw, blood staining her mouth and dripping down her chin, as if she’d bitten her lip trying to prevent herself from biting you.

It’s then that you realize why the travellers had given you so much pause. Why you didn’t trust them. You’d been able to sense that lurking beneath the surface, they weren’t as they’d appeared. It wasn’t an inherent evilness. Even with Paige hovering above you, fangs out like she’s about to eat you alive, you can tell that she’s not evil. But she’s not herself either.

“Can’t,” she whimpers, almost as though she’s coming back to herself. You realize she’d been so weird ever since she returned with Mary because she’d been afflicted, fighting her mind and body and something else purely instinctual from the very moment she’d been let back into the juke joint. There’s something else in her head pressuring her to do something that she clearly doesn’t want to do – turning you, killing you – and she’s fighting every synapse and urge in her body to keep you safe. “I fucking can’t, ‘m so sorry.”

Her body and mind are split down the middle. Her fangs poke out, lips twisted up like she’s battling every urge to sink her teeth into your neck. But her eyes are as clear of a blue as you’d ever seen them. She doesn’t want to do this, doesn’t want to be this monster. Doesn’t want to hurt you anymore than she already has.

Then, there’s a flash of red in her eyes, something glowing, and she cries out as her head shoots back, her fangs digging into her lip again. She breathes heavily, and when she glances down at you, the red is gone and tears are pooling at her waterline. Blood dribbles from her lips, staining her teeth red. Your heart is caught in your throat, mouth open in disbelief and fear – not of her, but of what will happen if you lose her.

“Can’t hurt you,” she mutters again, her voice hoarse. “Won’t.” Her entire body shudders as she battles the urge. “Help me. Please, baby.”

Your fingers are trembling when you nod, wrapping your arms around her, and pulling her closer. She cries out like the temptation is blinding, pressing at every crevice of her body, but you trust her. God, you do. Despite everything that has led up to this moment, you know you’re safe with her. That she’d never hurt you. “It’s okay,” you promise, your voice steady, breathing hitting her ear. “You’re okay. Just move with me.”

You can feel her nod shakily, her hips resuming their slow motions against yours, and it’s this – this human connection, this bond between the two of you that’s more than just physical – that stabilizes her, tethers her to the reason why she can’t bring herself to sink her fangs in your neck and drain you like the urge in her brain is pressuring her to. “You won’t hurt me,” you whisper, squeezing the back of her neck, and she nods again. “Say it. You won’t hurt me.”

“I won’t hurt you,” she affirms, no hesitation, her forehead resting against your shoulder. Her breath comes out in a shudder, the pleasure coursing through her veins muddling with the uncertainty in her head. Paige noses against your neck, breathing in your scent, and something in her shoulders relaxes.

“You are not what he made you,” you say, one of your hands brushing through her hair.

“‘M not – fuck –” The words get caught in her throat, but she presses more firmly against you, and she breathes through it. “I’m not what he made me.”

Your lips find her cheek, her temple, grounding her, and your hips start meeting hers. “You are Paige Bueckers. You’re safe.”

Her voice is rough, but her tone is a little clearer when she repeats it. “I’m Paige Bueckers,” she whispers into your neck, her lips kissing your skin, almost like an apology. Like gratitude. Like a literal You are the only person keeping me here right now. “I’m safe.”

Your palms come up to cup her cheeks, pulling her out of your neck to meet her gaze. Her eyes are startlingly blue, tears slipping from her eyes, and her fangs are mostly gone. There’s still a slight edge on her canines, but you can feel it. She’s rejecting the bloodlust, the pressure of the hivemind she’s been trapped under. You kiss her gingerly, tasting the salt of her tears and the iron of the blood on her lips, and she sobs against your lips like that was the one thing she needed to remember who she was.

“I love you,” you whisper – you promise, and her hips are still chasing yours.

But you don’t give in. Not until Paige presses her forehead to yours, swearing vehemently, “I love you, too.”

You hold her gaze. Your eyes are steady, sure, and hers are trusting. She trusts that you’ll get her through to the other side of this, just as you trusted that she wouldn’t give into the feeling. So, you smile at her, faithfully, and you whisper, “Come back to me.”

She does. You latch onto each other as you fall apart in tandem. She’s still holding herself up by her hands, but her body shudders through the aftershocks as you kiss her temple, her nose, her lips, murmuring gently to her. You pull her onto your chest, her arms giving out, and she curls up next to you while she hiccups through the remainder of her tears. Her legs tangle with yours, her face tucking into the crook of your neck, her arms holding onto you like she’s afraid you’re going to run.

But you’d promised – the both of you did. There’s no more running from the people that you love. You brush her damp hair off of her forehead, kissing her skin gently, and it makes her shiver. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Paige look like this – scared of herself. Of what she is. She looks so young. It makes you hold onto her a little tighter.

“Where are you?” you whisper to her after a while.

She hardly shifts. “With you,” she promises. The last bit of tension in your shoulders dissipates. Paige is silent for a long moment. Then, you feel the heat of her tears dampening your skin, and you tighten your arms around her as she cries. “I’m sorry,” she chokes out, the same way a sinner might as he stands before God on judgement day. “I’m so sorry. I almost–” Whatever she was trying to say gets stuck in her throat, and you trail your fingers soothingly up and down her back as she finds coherency. “I almost hurt you. Again.”

“You didn’t,” you remind her, your voice firm. “You couldn’t.” Her breath catches like she’s trying to force herself to believe that. “I trust you. In every definition of the word. I trust you, Paige. If I’m not safe with you then there’s nowhere else I’d be able to survive. You didn’t hurt me. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s not your fault.”

Paige nods; then, brokenly, she murmurs, “It’s not my fault.” You hum in agreement, feeling her body relax against yours. You both lay in silence for a moment until she speaks up again. “You saved me.”

“You saved yourself,” you retort. You cup her cheek, your finger tapping against her temple, and you draw her eyes up to meet yours. “Up here. You did that. I just helped you down here.” You press your palm to her chest, where her heart is. She settles her hand over yours, sinking into you.

Then, Paige stiffens like she’s just remembered something. “Mary,” she states simply, and the dread seeps back into your chest.

“She took Elias to the back when she got back in,” you mutter. Paige glances at you once before the both of you haul yourselves to your feet, redressing quickly, and you make your way downstairs.

The both of you are already too late. The juke joint has been cleared out, with only a select few people remaining. Smoke, Annie, Pearline, Sammie, Grace Chow, Delta Slim. They all linger around the door to the back room. Mary’s missing. So is Stack, but Paige winces like she knows exactly where he is and what happened to him.

Annie catches sight of you first. Her face crumples with relief and she marches over immediately, pulling you into a tight hug that you eagerly reciprocate. “You’re okay,” she breathes out.

“I’m okay,” you murmur, mostly to soothe her, and Annie pulls away. She takes one glance at Paige and she stiffens, knowing that she’d left and returned with Mary. Her eyes narrow, but none of you get the chance to say anything before a handgun cocks and Smoke is pointing the barrel directly between Paige’s eyes.

She flinches, not because of the gun aimed at her. But because Smoke is one of her best friends and he hadn’t hesitated before he turned the gun on her. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand,” he says firmly.

For that, Paige has no real answer, but you step in between her and the barrel of Smoke’s gun. “Because she wouldn’t kill us,” you declare, your voice soft, yet it echoes in the emptiness of the juke joint. You glance back at her. Paige’s eyes are shining. “Couldn’t kill us.”

Smoke looks at Annie, who looks at you. Something in her features softens. “They’re not Haints,” she announces. “They’re vampires. Fangs, red eyes. Garlic, silver, sunlight, and wooden stakes are lethal. When they’re turned, they’re killed. Their soul is trapped inside their body and they’re unable to move on. But…there’s always a rare case. Sometimes souls are shared.” Annie meets your gaze again. “You’re the reason why she’s resisting the curse right now.”

You nod solemnly, already knowing as much, although you didn’t have the vocabulary for it. Smoke’s eyes linger on you. Then Paige. Then Annie. He lowers the gun, sliding it back into the holster, and Paige relaxes immediately. So do you. You step back, linking your fingers together. The tension in the room doesn’t completely dissolve, but it’s not nearly as heavy now.

Everyone starts making preparations. Annie assembles jars of pickled garlic. Silver jewelry is shared. Chairs are broken down and whittled into sharp, wooden points. Paige helps, but she’s a lot slower, her fingers trembling around the stake in her hand because she knows she’s holding the one thing that could ever kill her. You stick close by her if only to offer support, and you converse in hushed murmurs.

“You can’t stay here forever,” you say. Her throat bobs, quiet acceptance on her face. “The sunrise will kill you.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she argues.

You look at her. Your features soften. “Paige,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You couldn’t kill me.”

“Won’t.”

“I can’t kill you,” you confess. “Won’t.” She pauses, her gaze meeting yours. “I can’t sit here with you until sunrise and watch you burn up.”

“I don’t want to die.” Her voice is a quiet murmur. “I don’t want to be where you aren’t.”

You reach out, plucking the stake from her hands. She’s shaking. You slide into her lap, her arms immediately encircling you, and you press your foreheads together. “I don’t want to lose you either,” you say. “Which is why I want you to run when I tell you to. I’ll find you.”

She chokes on a laugh, but it’s watery. “I thought we said no more running,” she says, trying to keep the mood light, and you can’t help your giggle.

You kiss her gently. “If you die, you’re running away from me. You owe me.” She nods against you, her smile a little softer. “Promise me you’ll go when I tell you to.”

She’s silent for a moment. Her fingers trace your skin, the blue of her gaze searching yours. And she gives in. “I promise.”

You kiss her again. You hold onto her for a little longer, and then the both of you get back to work.

There are a few interruptions as you do. Stack returns with Mary in tow, asking to be let in. Obviously, no one lets that happen. Then Bo Chow returns – Grace’s husband, and you can sense that she’s moments away from giving in. At least, until Remmick shows up next to Bo and says something in Mandarin that makes Grace lose it. She’s dragged away kicking and screaming while someone slams the doors closed.

You can hear Remmick and the rest of the vampires locked in another haunting rendition of Pick Poor Robin Clean. Grace is at her wit’s end. You and Paige stay close, but commotion draws your attention. Smoke and Annie are holding Grace back while she thrashes. All you hear is, “Come on in, motherfucker!” and you know that your night is about to get a whole lot worse.

The subsequent fighting passes in a blur. You hardly remember it. You drive your stake through the chests of a few vampires, and so does Paige, even if the look on her face makes it look like she’s killing herself, too. You think you’re starting to make good progress until you see Stack hovering over Annie’s body, his fangs in her neck.

Everything goes devastatingly still. The fight still rages on. Gunfire echoes through the rooms, the cries of staked vampires falling on deaf ears. All you can see is the way Annie’s jaw hangs slack, pain etched on her face, and you can hear the agony in Smoke’s voice. Paige’s head turns, her face crumbling at the sight of her body.

She doesn’t hesitate. She tackles Stack, punching him clean across the jaw and disorienting him. The infighting causes a ripple of confusion among the vampires and it gives Smoke enough opportunity to stake the one holding him down before he rushes over to Annie.

You’re already next to her when Smoke falls to his knees next to her. He applies pressure over the wound at her neck, but you rest your hand over his, your fingers trembling. “It’s too late,” you tell him, your voice choked up.

Annie manages a nod, and with a weak voice, she wheezes, “You promised.” Her gaze is locked on Smoke.

He knows. With shaking hands, he reaches for his discarded stake. You wrap your hand around it, too, and together, you and Smoke both murmur, “I love you,” and Annie nods again like she understands. The both of you drive the stake through Annie’s chest, finally allowing her to move on and be at peace.

Her death causes a massive retreat. Paige grabs onto you, joining the rest of your friends as you hurry upstairs with Sammie. Delta Slim hangs back, cutting his own wrist cleanly, and drawing a crowd of the remaining vampires and allowing the rest of you the chance to escape.

On the second floor, there’s a door leading to a staircase outside. Smoke is ushering all of you out of it, and one by one, you make your way down. You glance up at the sky, noting how close to dawn you are. With your heart in your throat, you grab onto Paige’s hand, and you force her to meet your gaze. “Go,” you command.

She swallows thickly, glancing behind you to the crowd of vampires who have made their way out to intercept you. She doesn’t want to leave you. Not when this is what you have to face without her.

“You promised,” you remind her, your voice cracking when you recall that those were Annie’s last words, too. Paige seems to recognize that, nodding, and she presses her forehead to yours once more.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs again, kissing you gently. You just hold onto her a little tighter. “Please be okay.”

“I will,” you swear – because you will be. Paige has made sure of it. “I love you.”

Paige glances up at the sky, at the way the sun has begun to peek out from the horizon. She bows her head in a defeated acceptance. “I love you, too.”

Then she’s gone – her figure disappearing behind the trees. Her absence still aches. As strong as you try to be, you don’t know what the morning holds.

The sun comes up while Remmick and Sammie are locked in on each other in the shallow pond. Smoke comes up behind you, looking defeated, and you wonder about what happened to Stack. All around you, the vampires clutch their heads in agony as the sun blisters their skin, bright balls of orange flame encompassing everything.

The night ends in a way that makes you wonder if it’d even happened at all. There are no piles of ash, no indication of what just transpired if not for the blood on everyone’s clothes or the burn marks at the front of the juke joint from Grace’s molotov cocktail. The morning is still. Quiet. You watch as Smoke and Sammie hug each other tightly, as if they can’t believe that they’re even alive. Smoke sends Sammie off. He was supposed to help his father with the morning service, and the fact that Sammie goes willingly reminds you more of a trauma response than anything else.

You watch the sunrise with Smoke. Neither of you say anything, a shared sort of grief in your heart. When he looks down at his dog tags, at the chest of weapons he’d stashed in his truck, you know of his plan before you think he does. Gingerly, you wrap him in a hug, and you murmur, “Say hello to Annie for me.”

His fingers tremble when he hugs you back. “I will,” he promises. “Go be with her.”

You nod, releasing him. You find a car that had been left behind, find the keys left on the seat, and you drive a little catatonically back to Annie’s shop. The sun is well into the sky by the time you make it there. Everything is quiet. Unmoving. You cut the engine, step out, and make your way to the door. You open it.

Paige has you in her arms before the door even closes. You sink into her embrace, clutching onto her tightly, because she’s somehow still the one thing that makes even a little bit of sense in this fucked up world. She lets you cry into her chest and you’re pretty sure that she’s crying into your shoulder, but the two of you just remain locked in each other’s arms. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask you if you’re okay or how you’re feeling. She knows. She gives you the space to quietly grieve, to not be strong. The both of you had lost so many people tonight. Friends. Family. Everything else.

She didn’t expect you to be okay. You didn’t know how long it would take for things to feel okay. To feel normal. Maybe the truth is that you might never feel normal again. Your girlfriend is stuck under this curse for the rest of her days, even though she’s still Paige Bueckers, but there’s so much you’ll need to learn. To do. You’ll have to change so much about your lives just to survive.

But you’d made her a promise a while ago. You would rather love Paige in the dark than have anyone else in the sun. You hadn’t realized the irony of your words until now, but you mean it. As long as you and Paige have each other, this new part of your lives might not be so difficult. It will just be yours. For now, that’s all you can really ask for.

“You still makin’ pie today?” she asks, her voice soft and exhausted at the edges.

It draws a light laugh out of you. It relieves you to know that you could still be happy after this. “Yeah,” you promise. “I’m making pie today. And you can have the spoon.”

Paige holds onto you a little tighter after that. And she doesn’t let go.

Life after the night at the juke joint is…different. An adjustment.

Sammie disappears to only God knows where, although in the years after, you’d heard whisperings of a blues singer who’d taken the world by storm. As much as you cared for him, you struggled with keeping up with him and his adventures. He reminded you too much of that night and everyone you’d lost – Annie, Smoke, Delta Slim, the Chows. Even Cornbread.

But Paige doesn’t remind you of the horrors. It’s always a little different with her, even if she isn’t what she used to be. She’s trapped in that supernatural plane between being human and something not quite. Following Remmick’s death, she was no longer shackled to that all-consuming hivemind of hate and malice. Not that she was fully in it in the first place – her heart was a little too human. She’s more like herself now than she was that night, which does bring you some comfort.

You’re not comforted by the fact that her soul is trapped in her body, though. Not comforted by the fact that she’s dead, yet she’s still living half of a life for your sake because she’d been unable to kill you while under the spell of vampirism and you were unable to kill her yourself, too. Paige is a walking folktale, unable to touch silver, eat garlic, or feel the sun on her skin. She hides in the shadows during the day and comes out during the night if only to feel your skin against hers.

You’re not an ordinary pair. You’ve never been – two women connected by fate and bonded by love in Mississippi. You fell in love despite the fact that the world thought you shouldn’t. You survived the attacks at the juke when it was improbable. Now, you’re still two women learning to navigate life as one of you ages and the other remains stuck at 23.

After that night, you return to town. You try your best to explain to Lisa, the Chows’ daughter, what happened. You don’t think she believes you – you wouldn’t either. But life goes on for her, even though her parents never return. You take over Annie’s shop, still serving Elise and Will and telling them that Annie and Elijah had actually gotten married and moved out of the Delta. They were too young for the truth, and you didn’t have the heart to explain it to them.

During the day, Paige helps you in the shop, confined to the shadows indoors, staring longingly out the window. She’d once told you that she never realized how much she’d miss the sun until it was gone. That made you feel a little guilty, but she just kissed you, forgiveness and atonement on her lips. She wasn’t going to hate you for being unable to kill her when that was also a crime she’d committed.

At night, she’s glued to your side, trampling gently over weeds and grass in the woods as you search for roots for the shop. You don’t practice the craft like Annie used to – it wasn’t your place. But honoring her memory makes you feel less like you’re drowning. Only after sunset is Paige able to go outside and feel the ground beneath her feet, inhale the fresh air without burning up. Truthfully, it brings you both closer, just having to figure out different ways to love each other.

Neither of you run, even when it’s hard. Paige is there to console you after horrible dreams of that night. You’re there with remedies when her gums ache. Her pain is a little more instinctual than it is medical, but it does bring her some relief. 

Stack and Mary came to visit one day. Paige had stood glaring at your side while the two of them spoke with you. They meant no harm. They told you that much when they knocked on your door and asked for an invite inside. Perhaps foolishly, you’d believed them, but you chose to believe they were capable of goodness despite their new nature, just as Paige was. Stack told you about a place they’d come across during their travels, a state in New England – Connecticut. It would be a fresh start away from the horrors of the Delta.

You weren’t sure. Part of you wanted to keep up Annie’s shop, honoring her practice and her traditions for as long as you could. It was difficult to be incognito when half of the town disappeared suddenly one night and the juke joint was littered with bodies. Stack and Annie hugged you before they left, telling you to visit if you ever found the time. You could only nod, and Paige was only able to breathe once they were gone.

You’re tangled in bed together that night, your head on Paige’s chest, listening to the juxtaposition in the sound of her breathing despite the lack of a heartbeat. You never knew that you’d miss that sound, either. Her nail drags up and down your arm soothingly, almost lulling you into a slumber, but she breaks it to murmur, “Connecticut?”

“It’s pretty far,” you respond. “A lot colder than it is here.”

“I wouldn’t be able to tell,” she jokes, which rips a surprised laugh out of your chest. Her finger pauses in its movements, but she shifts, slinging a leg over yours and pulling you closer. That wasn’t anything new – Paige was always physically affectionate, long before Remmick turned her into this. Now, it means something different. You’re warm. Having you close makes her feel a little more alive, even if the skin-to-skin contact can’t fully replace the lack of her own body heat. “We can’t stay here forever,” she continues, her voice softening. Then it breaks when she says, “I can’t stay here forever.”

Her family had long since been shattered down two lines. Still, it weighs on her, the idea of never seeing her parents again, or her siblings. She couldn’t keep them and lie to them about the nature of her being. She also knew they would never believe her fully or see her the same. It would be impossible to explain to people why you continued to age, yet Paige remained the same for years. Impossible to explain why no one ever sees her in town anymore, not even for the holiday celebrations she’d loved as a kid.

“I know,” you whisper.

You had no one left here besides her. All of your friends had passed during that night. Your only connection to the Delta was keeping Annie’s memory fresh. But customers would dwindle, and you know better than anyone else that Annie would tell you to move on. Be happy. 

You shift in bed, craning your head to meet Paige’s eyes, and you find that she’s already looking at you. She’s soft, her hair mussed, flowing down her shoulders in wavy strands. She has an imprint of your teeth on her neck from where you’d gotten a little too carried away but she wears it more like a badge of pride than a symbol of irony. Her smile is so tender, her hands cradling you like you’re her entire world, because you are and you know it and she knows it.

It makes you ache a little. But it’s a good ache. You don’t have to give the idea any more thought before you’re asking, “Well, how do you feel about the snow?”

She kisses you gently on the lips, chaste, innocent, something that makes you feel warm all over. “Anywhere’s good as long as it’s with you.”

It takes a few days, but eventually, the two of you make it to Connecticut. You settle down in a small town called Storrs, and honestly?

It’s really, really nice.

Storrs is nothing like the Delta. It doesn’t get nearly as hot. You feel a little more free here. And while you do miss the authentic fried catfish, you think that you can turn Storrs into your home. Your neighbors are kind and they don’t ask questions about you and Paige – they just leave you be. It’s not in a way that makes you think they don’t care about you; rather, it feels like respect and grace, because you weren’t different. You and Paige weren’t something to be stared at. You just were, and your neighbors seemed to understand the value in minding their own.

You and Paige attend three different welcome dinners, getting to know your neighbors and their families. They tell you what life is like in the neighborhood and which establishments were hiring. They send you home with leftovers and you make sure to clean and return them along with one of your homemade pies. It’s a comforting tradition of feeding and taking care of each other.

Paige lands a position at the local high school as an assistant coach for their basketball team. She knows next to nothing about the sport but the position had been vacant for years. She’s a quick study, though – she’d helped lead the team to the district championship by the end of the year. You were teaching language arts at the elementary school, having always enjoyed a good book, and the kids loved you, too.

And so your routine was simple. Not monotonous enough to be boring, but stable enough to be peaceful. Paige would drop you off at the elementary school with a kiss goodbye and a surprise in your lunch bag. It was always a sweet little note consisting of reminders to breathe and to smile. She’d drive to the high school, where she’d scout other teams and draw up training plans or practice drills, often being a role model to her boys and keeping them on the straight and narrow. They came to her for any and everything – advice on how to be better players. One even asked her how he should ask out his crush, which had endlessly amused the both of you as you chatted over it at dinner.

You asked her what she advised him to do, obviously. She’d gotten a little quiet, a small sort of smile spreading across her lips as she brought a piece of chicken up to her mouth. “Told him to be honest,” she said after a moment, looking at you meaningfully. You softened. “That he shouldn’t be afraid to want her.”

“Sounds familiar,” you commented wryly, and she smirked at you over a glass of water.

“Sounds real,” she shot back.

Your kids, while younger, aren’t lacking for stories, either. You tell Paige about the time you watched a boy push a girl on the playground during recess, only for the girl’s friend to step in, hands on her hips like a disappointed mother lecturing an unruly kid. He’d gotten punished, obviously, but it warmed your heart to see the girl standing up for her friend like that – without hesitation.

Then, on the same day, one of your students came to the front and loudly demanded to know where babies came from.

So maybe children came in all shapes and sizes.

Months passed. You and Paige don’t change. You’re still hopelessly in love, finding new ways to love each other. It’s all about the intention and effort and reading the nutrition labels on your food to make sure the suppliers hadn’t slipped garlic in there or making sure to keep the curtains drawn on the days there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It’s buying large umbrellas and telling your new friends that Paige has a severe skin condition where she burns easily in the sun and you have yet to find a sunscreen that works. It’s cuddling up with her late at night, pressed skin to skin with hardly an inch of space left between your bodies, because Paige craves the body heat like she craves having you next to her.

The school year eventually ends and over the summer, you and Paige visit Stack and Mary, as promised. They’re still down south. Mary looks radiant and when you hug her, you congratulate her on keeping Stack out of trouble. Stack had nudged Paige with a raised brow and a look that clearly said I’m keeping her out of trouble. You make a joke about needing an invite into their home and the four of you laugh about it three hours later when you’re all a little tipsy from the wine.

Seeing them makes you feel like you haven’t completely lost anything. That you can still find your family so long as you know where to look and as long as you trust them. You spend a few days with the two of them, and then you and Paige make your way back up to Storrs.

You teach, reminding your students of the importance in looking between the lines, in reading and learning from the source. Paige coaches, instilling grit, passion, and integrity into her players. It wasn’t about being perfect or anything of the sort. It was about doing what you loved with all that you were. The two of you live on, happily.

A year passes. Then two. You’re transferred from kindergarten to the second grade after one of the teachers retired. Paige gets promoted to head coach after winning the district championship win and taking her team to the state finals. You’re turning 27 this year and Paige is still 23. She likes to joke that she’s being preyed on by an older woman and you wish that she wasn’t virtually invincible because you’d like to flick her head just once and have it mean something.

The fact that you’re aging and she’s not isn’t really a concern right now. You’re happy. That’s what matters.

Paige asks you to marry her a year after that, when you’re 28. You say yes, obviously, and Stack and Mary make the trip up to see the both of you. Your wedding is intimate, private, not quite official but official in every way you need it to be. On legal documents, no one would ever know that you were Paige Bueckers’s wife, but you knew that, she knew that, and your closest friends knew that, so it was good enough for you.

You teach. She coaches. Storrs is your home now, even if you miss the Delta and everyone who didn’t make it out. Their loss isn’t your gain. It’s your memory and you honor them everyday. Slim, when you listen to the blues, thinking about how much he’d like this new shit, as Paige calls it. The Chows, when you go to the grocery store and smile at the elderly couple who runs it. You always pay a little too much, pretending not to hear them calling about your change when you walk out. But when you return days later and find that they’ve repaired a light fixture or have a new cash drawer, you can’t find it within yourself to mind too much.

TIme is constant. It moves. It’s unyielding. You get older. Paige doesn’t. But it’s okay.

Years pass. A decade. Two decades. Paige eventually steps down from the head coaching position at the high school because she’s supposed to be almost fifty but doesn’t look a day over twenty. Your neighbors ask how she remains so youthful, and her smile is always a little sharper when she says, “I’ve got great genes.”

She doesn’t look at you like you’re anything less than the woman she’s been in love with since she was sixteen. You don’t forget that, not when there’s crows feet at your eyes and your forehead is beginning to wrinkle. Not when teaching is catching up with you and the hair at the crown of your head starts greying. But you don’t give it up. Paige looks at you like you’re still the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen in her life. She finds other employment opportunities, ones where nobody knows who she is and wouldn’t be confused by her image.

She builds stuff now. She’s a carpenter. She plays basketball in her free time when she’s not working on projects and offhandedly, you comment, “Well, you could always enroll at that college a few miles away and play ball for them.”

You could tell she was always really into that idea, but something was keeping her here with you. You would never find out why and Paige would never tell you if you asked. But the truth was she just wanted to spend as much time with you before your age started actually catching up with you. Paige liked going on your late-night walks, breathing in the cool air and making you laugh by telling jokes that aren’t even funny anymore. Paige liked that you’d try to play basketball with her, even if you couldn’t fully dribble the ball between your legs. You knew that she just liked “defending” you, which meant that her hands wandered everywhere the ball wasn’t, but you liked it too, so you never called her out for it.

Nobody tells you how difficult it can be to be nearing sixty and being in love with someone who’s been twenty-three for three decades. You don’t have the same energy you did when you were younger. Paige didn’t love you any less.

Years pass again. You’re nearing seventy. You retired from teaching a few years ago, but you’re still active in your community, keeping up the local garden and smiling at the daughter of the elderly couple at the grocery store. Your neighbors ask you about why they don’t see Paige anymore and you can’t quite meet their eyes when you say it’s difficult for her to get out because of her arthritis.

You’ve lived a good life – that much you can admit. You survived, you got to keep Paige, and you made a career for yourself at the elementary school. You were afforded a lot more happiness than you ever thought you would have. You wonder what it would be like if things were different – if you and Paige were both cursed to be forever young, or if the both of you hadn’t made it out before the sun rose. You like what you’ve built, so this life was good enough for you.

The 90’s roll around and in spring of 1991, you’re sipping on tea when Paige quietly informs you, “I think I’m going to apply to UConn.”

You try for a wry smile. “Perfect. A twenty three year old with, what, sixty years of basketball experience? That’s just what that new coach needs.”

That made her laugh a little. “I think I’m prepared enough to walk on,” she teases. “Hopefully those freshmen don’t pick my pockets.”

You raise your brows at her and she relents like she’s accepting the possibility that she will get embarrassed by eighteen year olds. Like…actual eighteen year olds. Then you soften, setting your tea down, and meeting her gaze. “You’re serious?” She nods shyly. “Well, just make sure you bring your own pen and paper to class,” you say, lips quirking again. “Us teachers aren’t made of money.”

She laughs again, the sound gentle. Paige stands to brush a kiss across your temple, murmuring, “Don’t worry. I’ll be the best student ever.” She’s off to locate the application, and you smile at her retreating figure.

Neither of you are quite sure how, but she manages to get in. You didn’t consider the fact that her diploma was awarded in the 20s, and truthfully, you don’t really want to know what she did to get her application accepted. By fall, she’s enrolled full time at the University of Connecticut. In August, she walks directly into Geno Auriemma’s office, requesting to walk on in tryout. Afterwards, Paige will tell you that Geno stared at her for a solid minute and a half until she felt like she was slowly being gaslit. “What the hell,” Geno had said, standing up from his desk. “I’ve got time today. Let’s see if you can actually hold a ball, hotshot.”

You knew that Paige could do a lot more than hold a ball. Considering the fact that Geno let her join the team, you guess he figured out that Paige could do a lot more, too.

Everyday, she comes home with stories from practice, telling you about the drills they ran and how Geno sees perfection and demands something more. She doesn’t have to tell you for you to know that she really likes the intensity, the rigor. Geno works them so hard that she forgets she’s able to live forever because one practice makes her feel like it’s her last day on earth. You’re just happy that she’s happy.

You attend all of their home games, unable to be seen with Paige until the both of you are home and you can congratulate her on a good game. But the next four years pass quickly. The first three are winless. You and Paige both know that the Huskies are very close to a national championship win.

In 1995, they finally earned their long awaited one. Their first program win, Geno Auriemma’s first national championship win, and Paige’s, too. She’d led her team there, filling out the stats sheet, and she cried when she held the trophy for the first time.

It must be different for her, you think, to have been cursed to live forever from a young age. There will be no growing old for her. No children or grandchildren to ask her what it was like to win UConn’s first national championship. There will be no huffing and puffing about dentures or anything of the sort. She probably won’t be remembered after this year, but winning feels like building something permanent. It feels like being alive – like truly alive, and you wonder if she holds any resentment towards you for being unable to save her at the juke joint.

But the kiss she dusts across your cheek afterwards, the long hug she pulls you in – sweat and all – makes you feel like she could never be angry at you for that. Especially not when she murmurs, “Thank you for giving me this life,” and you realize that the two of you had sacrificed so much for each other without truly knowing it. Whether the two of you realized it or not, you made something beautiful with the life you’d been given. Not many people can say that.

Paige doesn’t keep the championship net, only the small fragment that she’d cut down. She leaves hers with Geno, who obviously doesn’t understand why she wouldn’t keep it, but he’d coached her long enough to realize there’s no arguing with her.

You think that this is what happiness feels like. What love and fulfillment feels like. All you really know is that you were glad to do it with Paige.

After the national championship win in 1995, the years pass in a blur. You’re slowing down. You can feel it.

You’re well past 90 in 2000 when you realize that this was it for you. You’ve lived a long, good life. You’ve seen a lot, touched the lives of many people around you, and you know that there’s not much waiting for you here. Having no tangible family, assembling your will is an easy task, opting to have your wealth donated to the UConn women’s basketball program anonymously.

In early July, the evening is just beginning to wind down when Paige finds you sitting on the porch. The sound of crickets echo around you, the distant hoot of owls cooing, accompanied by the sound of squirrels running through the underbrush. She takes a seat next to you on the sectional, not a day past twenty, a staunch dissimilarity from you.

You’re both silent for a moment. Contemplative. You don’t have to say anything to know that the both of you are likely thinking the same.

Softly, she murmurs, “I’d like to watch the sunrise with you,” and you know better than anyone what she means by that. What the consequences of that mean.

So you do. She grabs a blanket from inside, large enough to drape over your shoulders, and she helps you onto the earth. Paige guides you to the edge of your property where a small pond rests, the glow of the moonlight reflecting off of the still waters. You sit together, your head on hers, and you spend the entire night talking.

You reminisce about the first time you’d met – you, adjusting to life in the Delta, and Paige, wanting desperately to get out of it. The both of you laugh when she recalls the first time she’d ever met the twins. Elias claimed they were cousins, baiting her perfectly. You remember all of your firsts. The morning when she left you for Chicago – even now, she still apologizes for that, to which you respond with, “Well, don’t leave me in our next life. How about that one?” and she laughs, a determined little smile on her face as she declares, “I’d spend every moment of it looking for you.”

The hours trickle by. For years, you’d thought of this moment, about what would occur when one of you inevitably decided that it was time to go. You imagined nerves. Uncertainty. Fear. Now, you’re comforted by the knowledge that you and Paige are just going to find your way back to each other no matter what. All you feel is a deep rooted peace, like you’ve finally earned a happy ending after the turmoil of your life. Maybe in the next one you’d be able to love her openly, but your promise from this one stands: you’d rather love her in the dark than take someone else in the sunshine.

You hear the chirp of birds before you see the sunrise. You feel Paige stiffen next to you, knowing it’s more of an instinctual discomfort than it is pain or fear, and you wrap her hands in yours, calming her with the heat of your body. She tries to relax – she does, but the both of you know this is it. It’s a heavy feeling, not one of a damning finality. One of hope, because no matter what, there’s so much more waiting for you both.

You glance at her. Paige is already looking at you, her gaze reverent and full of love, and she dusts a kiss to your wrinkled cheek. The sun is rising higher now, the rays poking through the trees and peering above the early dawn clouds. Her body begins to shimmer, some sort of golden flame licking at her skin, and she breaks your stare to look up at the sky, a slow smile curling on her lips.

“I love you,” she whispers to you, something like a promise. A vow, one that will hold true for more than this moment. “Don’t keep me waiting, okay?”

You smile, too, reaching up with your hand to cup her cheek. It’s warm to the touch. “I’ll see you soon,” you swear. “I love you.”

Her hand wraps around your forearm, leaning into your touch, and she presses the lightest ghost of a kiss to the inside of your wrist as the gentle flames consume her completely. Before you know it, Paige is gone, and your hand falls to your side limply.

But you’re not too far behind, either. You wrap the blanket tight around your body, leaning your head against the rich soil, and you gaze out at the pond before you, memorizing the blue of the water, the peace of the moment, the beauty of the life you and Paige managed to create for yourselves when it all felt impossible. Content, you shut your eyes, knowing that it’s finally time to rest.

(The next time you open them, Paige is standing before you, her arms extended wide, and you sink into her embrace like you know it’s the one place you’ll always belong. Like she’s the one place you’ll always be able to call home. And maybe it’s because she is. Maybe it’s because the two of you are just getting started, and you have so much time together. Your lives are just beginning.)

bonus

Coach Geno Auriemma, now in his sixties, is poring over recruitment film in his office during a calm day in May 2015 when his associate head coach, Chris Dailey, knocks on his door. She enters moments later, iPad and clipboard tucked close to her chest with a pensive expression, and sits down across from Geno.

He looks up, brows raised and lips drawn into an unimpressed line. He hardly seems concerned by CD’s expression as he says flatly, “What did Stewart do now?”

CD ignores that comment. “I was looking through the middle school film. Watch #1 in blue.” She flips the iPad around, pressing play on the video on screen. Geno hones in on the player in question – blonde, perhaps a little undersized compared to her peers, but he can tell this is an eighth grader playing on varsity. She’s dribbling the ball at the top of the key, calling for a screen, and she ducks around the defender on the right, stopping just short of the free throw line and shooting the ball gracefully from the midrange. It sinks in – because of course it does – and the player backpedals for defense.

It’s then that the camera catches her features. It’s grainy, but Geno can recognize that face anywhere. The assured confidence, maybe a little misplaced and delusional, but it’s almost as trademark as the midrange pullup. Something in him simultaneously softens and breaks.

In 2000, Paige Bueckers, the player who had won UConn’s first national championship for women’s basketball in 1995, had disappeared. Not a trace. She had no family to reach out to, and when Geno approached police and authorities for a wellness check, he’d been told that there was no record of her. Nobody could explain how she lit up the court every week yet ceased to legally exist. It would become one of UConn’s greatest memories. Surely everyone had just missed something.

But this? This wasn’t a coincidence.

“Paige Bueckers,” CD says quietly. “Same face. Same jumper. Same player.”

“Born 2000 or 2001?” Geno asks. CD nods resolutely, and the head coach leans back in his chair. At his age, he’d thought he’d seen everything, but this takes the cake completely. “Well,” he mutters after a while. “Guess I must have really pissed someone off to have to coach her twice.”

In the same office years later, the 2020 season has just begun, and Geno is waiting for a student to arrive for a meeting. Her name had sounded so familiar to him, and after the whole situation with Paige Bueckers, Geno is learning to trust his gut a little more when it comes to things that feel more like fate than coincidence.

There’s a gentle knock at his office door, and he calls for the student to enter. That’s when you walk in, a little flushed from your walk over, bag slung over your shoulder. Geno knows he’s never seen you before in his life, but there’s still something familiar about your face, the energy you’ve brought into the room simply by sitting. You’re a kinesiology major – pre-med, you’d specified in your email to him, inquiring about whether or not the conditioning team would have any space for a freshman looking to intern.

If you were any other person, he would have told you that his hands were tied with the season’s preparations and recommended that you reach out to the conditioning team. But this was different. You were different, and so was that blonde point guard from Minnesota whom he’d put his heart into recruiting – not because she would change the program. She’d already done that back in 1995. He did that because he knew God didn’t put people in his life twice in a row for no good reason.

You and Geno talk for a few minutes, and he’s no closer to placing where he knows you from until there’s another set of knocks on his door. He has half a mind to send them away, but in walks Paige Bueckers, and that’s when the entire room stills. You and Paige lock eyes like he’s not sitting a few feet in front of the both of you, awestruck expressions on both of your faces like this isn’t the first time you’ve met – even though it is.

In this life, at least.

You introduce yourself to Paige and that’s how Geno realizes. He knows that infatuated look in Paige’s eyes. It was the same one she had so many years ago when she was clearly in love but couldn’t quite be honest about who it was and whatever fashion it came to be in. Geno may never understand the true nature of why Paige had kept you a secret while she was at UConn in 1995, but he knows what this is.

It’s not a coincidence. He wasn’t the man to believe in fate or luck. But this is just how things are supposed to be, so he bites back a smile when Paige stands in his office like a bumbling idiot in your presence.

“Well, Bueckers?” he says dryly, which gathers both yours and Paige’s attention. The blonde’s ears are slightly red, which amuses Geno to no end. “You gonna keep flirting with our new conditioning intern or are you gonna show her around the facility?”

You look at Geno with a gleeful expression, shock lacing your features, and Paige stutters over her words as she nods, saying, “Yeah, I got you, Coach.” Clearly having forgotten what she’d initially come in to pester him about, Paige holds the door for you, shutting it gently, and Geno can hear your shared laughter through the walls.

He smiles to himself, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. This wasn’t the first time you and Paige have met. He knew that much to be true even if he couldn’t prove it. He also knew that this wouldn’t be the last time, either, and he would never admit it, but he’s really, really grateful to have been part of yours and Paige’s stories twice.

[skullsfiction]

Could you do a part 2 to please date my sister in law with max and r getting married?

wedding of the century | max verstappen

part 2 of ‘please date my sister in law’

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: one year after charles sets up his sister in law with max, the world is preparing for the wedding of the century.

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername, landonorris, and 819,717 others!

maxverstappen1: to be wed 💙

view comments below!

user1: OH SHIT ITS HAPPENING

user2: STAY CALM EVERYONE!! STAY CALM!! STAY FUCKING CALM

user3: charles leclerc found yelling out in happiness, 3:21 AM, monaco.

user4: oh my god

user5: omg

user6: the pictures are so cute 🥹

user7: THAT SHOUDLVE BEEN ME

user8: marrying max? or marrying yn?

user7: BOTH

user9: max waited no time to put a ring on that

user10: AHH IM SO EXCITED

user11: i can live out my wedding fantasies through you guys 🥹

user12: i know charles is freaking out rn

charles_leclerc: oh yes. i’ll be over with the binder in five minutes.

user13: he’s actually at lot more calmer then i expected

yoursistersuser: nope! he yelled for a straight ten minutes after this was posted

user14: yeah that sound more like him…

user15: so happy for you two 🤞

landonorris: so when can i pick up my bridesmaid dress?

maxverstappen1: you mean your groomsmen suit?….

landonorris: i know what i meant

user16: i hope max takes her last name

danielricciardo: how funny would it have been if she said no

maxverstappen1: not funny at all

danielricciardo: tough crowd

user17: ahhhh congratulations!!

user18: NO PLS NO

user19; you have shattered my heart

yourusername: FUCK YOU BEAT ME TO IT

maxverstappen1: YOU TOLD ME I COULD MAKE THE ANNOUNCEMENT FIRST??

yourusername: I LIED I WAS GOING TO BEAT YOU TO IT

maxverstappen1: HAHAH SLOW POKE

user20: these are the two getting married btw

user21: i didn’t want you anyways 😒

liked by, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and 916,016 others!

yourusername: officially a #fiancé! 😾

view comments below!

user22: so it’s real….

user23: why wouldn’t it be real?

user22: idk i was hoping max went crazy and just started making shit up

user24: you know what. hell yeah.

user25: mama a happy future ahead of YOU 💜

user26: CONGRATULATIONS!!

user27: no….

user28: this just broke my heart

user29: so happy for you two 🥹

user30: if anyone deserves this happiness, it’s you!! congratulations 🎊

oscarpiastri: oh he wasn’t kidding

oscarpiastri: you said yes?…

yourusername: i cannot deal with your negativity today oscar

oscarpiastri: IM JUST SAYING

oscarpiastri: you said yes?…

user31: let’s all say thank you charles!!

charles_leclerc: YES THANK YOU CHARLES! WE ALL THANK CHARLES!!

charles_leclerc: and too think they all called me crazy for setting them up!

charles_leclerc: HA

charles_leclerc: and to think…

user32: you’re talking to yourself babe

landonorris: i can’t wait to pick up my bridesmaid dress

yourusername; we talked about this lando

landonorris: i know 😔

user33: does this mean lando isn’t a bridesmaid? because i would KILL to see that man in a dress

user34: HELL YEAH!!

user35: true love, rock on 🤘

user36: 50 percent of marriages end in divorce

user37: genuinely, why would you say this

user36: i’m a hater to my core

user38: no you’re a bitch to your core

user39; oh damn

yoursistersuser: love you babe 💜 but pls tell charles he can calm it with the wedding planning

yourusername: and you think he’ll listen to me?

yoursistersuser: no, but it was worth it a try 💔

liked by, yourusername, maxverstappen1, and 720,015 others!

charles_leclerc: it’s always hows the wedding plannING? and never hows the wedding plannER? 😕

view comments below!

user40: nobody gaf how you are, WHENS THE WEDDING?????

carlossainz: when’s the wedding?

user41: you signed up for this buddy, when’s the fricking wedding???

oscarpiastri: when’s the wedding?

user44: uh huh, uh huh, yep totally agree! when’s the wedding?

user45: who cares, when’s the wedding?

user46: i don’t care, when’s the wedding??

landonorris: when’s the wedding?

user47: don’t give a shit, when’s the wedding?

user48: chop chop wedding planner, when’s the wedding????

danielricciardo: when’s the wedding?

user49: OMG CHARLES NOBODY CARES ABOUT YOU, WHENS THE WEDDING????

user50: shut up when nobody asks, when’s the wedding????

maxverstappen1: when’s the wedding?

user51: boy who asked? when’s the wedding?????

charles_leclerc: I WAS GOING TO ANNOUNCE THE WEDDING DATE. BUT YOU SICK FUCKS DONT DESERVE IT! SO FUCK YOU ALL!!! YOU WONT KNOW WHEN THE WEDDING IS!! HA HA HA. LOSERS.

user51: charles wait we were joking

user52: don’t pmo

user53: DONT BE SUCH A BABY!!! WHENS THE FUCKING WEDDING?

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz, and 1,027,017 others!

maxverstappen1: i’ve reached peak happiness

view comments below!

user53: you are fucking kidding me

user54: CHARLES I WILL KILL YOU

user55: WHAT

user56: WHEN

user57: HOW

user58: WHERE

yourusername; 💙💙

user59: BUT YOU JUST PROPOSED??? LIKE THREE MONTHS AGO

user60: no, you guys are actually so fake for this

user61: wow, i can’t believe this

landonorris: congratulations!! i still think me as a bridesmaid would’ve been amazing but….

maxverstappen1: let it go lando

landonorris; FINE

user62: charles when i find you

user63: i say we all kill charles on his birthday

user64: how could you guys do this to me??

oscarpiastri: loved the shrimp! 🦐

user65: THEY HAD SHRIMP

user66: charles planned a whole wedding in 3 months???

use67: that’s actually so impressive

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, user68, and 927,518 others!

yourusername: i win! 👰‍♀️

view comments below!

user68: you’re actually fucking kidding me. charles leclerc when i find you

user69: not to much now, he did plan this in 3 only months

charles_leclerc: THANK YOU!! HOW ABOUT SOME APPRECIATION FOR MY PLANNING

user70: stfu. it’s your fault non of us knew when the wedding was going to be

user71: these pictures are so cute 🥰

user78: living through you guys rn

user79: someday i hope to be married to someone who loves me as much as max loves yn

user80: con😭gra😭tula😭tions😭

user81: so happy for you guys!!! i will go kill myself now!!!

user82: THAT SHOULDVE BEEN ME

user83: that man did NOT wait to put a ring on it

user84: if he wanted to, he would

user85: let this be a reminder to women that if someone wanted to marry you, they would!! congratulations 💙

oscarpiastri: loved the shrimps 🍤

user86: we get it oscar

oscarpiastri; no. you don’t. the shrimp were delicious.

user87: don’t brag

oscarpiastri: i’ll brag all i want. you can’t do anything about it because i had the shrimp and you didn’t 😹

user88: oh damn

user89: someone’s passionate about the shrimp…

yoursistersuser: love you to the moon and back 🌙

yourusername:💛💛💛

charles_leclerc: i’m hearing a lot of ‘love you’ and ‘shrimps’ but i’m not hearing enough ‘thank you charles for planning a beautiful wedding in 3 months and taking time out of your very BUSY racing career to make sure my wedding was amazing’

yourusername: don’t act like you didn’t beg me to let you plan the wedding

maxverstappen1: yeah, me and yn were fine with eloping

charles_leclerc: please guys, no need to thank me! it was my pleasure ❤️

oscarpiastri: the shrimp were great man

liked by carlossainz, maxverstappen1, user90, and 710,761 others!

charles_leclerc: since no one else will say it 😒 thank you charles for planning a beautiful wedding in 3 months and taking time out of your very BUSY racing career to make sure my wedding was amazing

view comments below!

user91: i’m still pissed at you for not telling us when the wedding is

user91: it was a beautiful wedding tho

charles_leclerc: thank you charles!!

charles_leclerc: of course charles!!!

charles_leclerc: beautiful work!! especially with the very short time you were given

user92: maybe we shouldn’t let charles plan anymore weddings, it looks like they’ve drove him insane

carlossainz: i look gorgeous

oscarpiastri: the shrimps were chef kiss 🤌

landonorris: what is with you man?

georgerussell63: are you still drunk?

user93: charles posting more photos then the actual people who got married is so funny 😭

user93: it really sums up their relationship

user94: beautiful wedding planning charles!! 👏

user95: how much do you charge??

user96: i still can’t believe yn and max got together, engaged, and married in less then 2 years

user97: i bet she’s pregnant

user98: WOAH

user99: where tf did that come from

user100: or maybe they just love each other??? not everyone waits years and years hoping that their shitty bf will propose to them

user101: oh! okay!

user102: you ate those decorations up charles

user103: the flowers??? gorgeous

user103: if yn and max ever divorce, i will kill myself

oscarpiastri: great shrimp 🥰

user14: what tf is wrong with you

. . .

thank you fo rrequesting!!! life’s been busy but i hope you guys didn’t forget me 🩶

[zlut4rina]

Under Pressure

Storyline: Under tables and under pressure. Wasn't long till 'she' finally had enough of their peering eyes.

Pairings: G!pCeo!Karina x Secretary!Femreader

Warnings: straight to smut, sight plot at the end angst(?), slight breeding kink, oral sex, unprotectedsex, that's all tbh.

Note: I love you, kockrina 🤤🤓😍 she's also kinda mean n confusing 😒.

Word count: 3k (Finished this in the middle of math class, half of my English💔)

___________________________________________

The office was quiet, almost as if everyone had an off day. But deeper into the building, at the top floor. If you were nosy enough, you’d hear faint sounds coming from your bosses office. One would think she was busy taking calls and signing papers. Oh, she was busy. Just not with the kind of work that’ll help grow the stocks.

“Oh fuck, y/n” Karina, your boss. Was moaning your name. This wasn’t anything new to you. You guys had been something going on between the two of you the second you took the interview for this job. Her fascination and interest in you only grew as tike went on.

She reached down to your head, gripping some of your hair she changed your movements to match her desires. You were under her tables giving her the best blow job she’s had this week. Your reason for being under the table was just because she wanted you there. You both found it hot, so why not? It’s not like anyone is going to come in without permission.

Her jaw hung open as she used your throat. Her movements gradually sped up, becoming sloppier and more desperate. Thrusting into your mouth, hitting every spot. Her grip on you became tighter. And her moans grew louder, biting her lip and shutting her eyes as tight as possible. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Each thrust gained its own name. It slowly became too much for you, holding her thighs as tears rolled down your cheeks. Poor baby, it felt too good even when it hurt a little. You’d do anything to please her, whether it meant dealing with her being rough just a little. Every now and then.

“You gonna take it all, baby?” she looked down at you with a smirk. Noticing the way you looked down on her, she found it so cute. Gently stroking the hair out of your face. She hung her head back with her mouth open wide. You focused your pleasure on her sensitive areas. Sucking and licking her tip, sending her over the edge. Shoving your head down to take all her length. She came down your throat with a long groan. Slowly riding out her high, she trusted into you at a steady pace. Letting go of your hair, you lifted your head up. Sticking your tongue out to show you did exactly what she wanted. “Fuck your so cute..” She spoke dragging her thumb down your tongue. Pushing it in making you suck on her again. Locking eyes with her as you continued to mimic your previous movements, on her fingers. She stood up and took her thumb from your mouth. A faint popping sound could be heard. You stood up with her moments after. Pulling you into a heated make out she began to tug at your clothing, Unbuttoning your pants as her tongue explored your mouth.

When she finally undid your bottoms, she stuck her hand inside. Feeling how soaked you were through your panties. She sighed into the kiss, the feeling of your juices coating her fingers drove her insane. “Just for me, huh?” She spoke into the kiss. Smiling at you when you responded with a whine and a lip bite. Breaking away from you, she began to trail kisses and licks down your jawline and neck. She drug her fingers through your wet panties as she did. You put your hands on her waist to balance yourself, feeling yourself get weaker by the second. Grinding your body on her fingers, as desperate, needy sinful sounds came from your mouth. Your body practically begging for her to touch you more. She bit marks on your neck and collarbone. Usually she’d be opposed to things like this, wanting to keep things as professional as possible. But she had to mark you. She needed to let everyone know who you belonged to.

She slowly tucked her hand into your wet panties. Running her fingers through your folds. “Only I can get you like this, baby” trailing kisses from your collar bone. She pulled away to admire her work below. Biting her bottom lip as she looked up at you. Your eyes shut closed, and your chest rose heavily. “so cute...” her hand reaching to your chin, making you lock eyes with her. You whined under her touch, nails digging into her sides. She pulled back from you completely, leaving you empty. You pouted at her disappearance. “Take em off.” She sat back into her chair and crossed her arms. Looking up at you in anticipation. You hesitated at first, she’s never asked for anything like this. You slowly started to remove your blazer. It fell to your feet, and you kicked it away. Your usual shyness disappearing during the act. You started at your top button, slowly undoing each one as you made your way down. You slipped out of your shirt, leaving you in your bra. Karina watched you closely, looking you up and down. You reached for your bra until she stopped you. Shaking her head, “Let me” was all she said. And it sent shivers down your spine. With a nod, you focused your attention on your bottoms. Your pants already being unzipped were easy to slip out of. You pulled them down to tour ankles and kicked them from beneath your feet.

She didn’t hesitate to pull you close by the hem of your panties. She began to kiss and nibble at your skin. Licking and leaving marks in places she’d only know. Caressing your hips and tugging at your remaining clothing. She was desperate, but she wasn’t going to let that be known. Humming against your skin as she tasted you, her fingers reaching into your garments again. Rolling your silky wet clit in circles. You gasped at the intense connection, your hand gripped her hair. Pulling her face closer to your body as you tried your best to remain standing. She took her hand out and began to slowly pull down your pretty pinky lacy panties. As they slowly went down she began to kiss lower and lower as they slipped. She took them from the floor and placed them into the drawer in her desk. “You know who you belong to right?” She began to kiss you again. Retracing each mark she previously made. You nodded and let out a breathy ‘yes’. “Please … Jimin ..” your voice was soft, filled with desperation. Stroking her hair as she left her signature all over your body.

She brought her face lower, giving your clit a long, slow kiss. “So pretty” she whispered, her breath colliding with your heat. She drug tongue through your soaked slit, till she reached your clit. Sucking so agonizingly slow. She began to lap up every fluid she could reach. Gently entering her tongue in and out of you. Gaining a long moan from you each time. The way she admired your face changes with each movement of her muscle. It felt too good, grinding on her face in gentle yet desperate patterns. That was until she pulled away, not giving you a chance to react. She lifted you up and rested you down on her desk. Luckily there wasn’t anything in your way, making it easier for her. “You think they’d flirt with a pregnant lady?” she leaned close to your ear and whispered. Though you couldn’t see but you could tell she was smirking. Sending kissed down your jawline and neck Till she reached your chest. Where your matching lace bra sat. Cupping your breast perfectly for her. She almost didn’t want to take it off, you looked too good. But alas she wanted to touch you, feel every inch of your being.

As she kissed your upper half, she slowly unclipped your bra. Earing a quiet whine from you. She smiled against your skin. She moved it out of her way and immediately went down on you. Cupping your breast in one hand, and the other in her mouth. Your mouth hung open, a gasp escaping your lips. She used her other free hand to position her cock perfectly with your silky entrance. “Maybe I should pump you with my kids to keep them away huh?” she entered you roughly. Letting out a long breathless groan against your nipple. You moaned, your hand holding her hair tighter. “Not everyone’s willing to be a step dad, y’know” she smirked, releasing her lips from your harden bud. She leaned back and then held back of your knees up. Before starting she stared at you, tilting her head with a stupid grin on her face. To her the sight was priceless. Your body covered in her disgusting, dominating signature. Marks all over your body, a little bit of drool down the corner of your mouth. Your half hooded eyes staring up at her. You brought both your hands to your face. One wiping the drool from your chin with your wrist. While the other covered your eyes with the back of your hand. Even in times like this, you still managed to warm her heart. As cold and intimidating as she was, you new how to get that soft side out of her. As she stared at you her gaze softened. Lost in a trance she almost forgot all about the situation at hand. Biting away a smile, she began to thrust into you slowly. Not wanting that look in your face to go. She found you so cute like this. The way you waited so patiently for her. Allowing her to use your body whenever she felt like.

Her pace quickened inside you, he length making her able to hit that sweet spot so easily. Not only that but the pure skill she had when it came to pleasing you. Even during your first time together, she fucked you like she already had you once before. The way your arousal was spreading on her pelvis and shaft, sent her into a blind state. She loved the way your body sounded and responded to her. You might not be good with your words when it came to telling her how she makes you feel. But your body always speaks louder than you in any situation. She threw her head back, lost in pleasure. “Fuuuck..” her eyes shut. She moaned out, she began to get rougher. Loving the way you feel around her. She always managed to fuck you like her first time. Like a virgins first ever experience with sex. Your moans were like music to her, if she could she make a Playlist of just your sounds of you enjoying yourself. All because of her.

You brought your hands to her hips, holding on to her as she pounded into you. Your eyes were shut close, sweat keeping your messy hair in place on your forehead. Your mouth opened from time to time. As you moaned and whine for her. “That’s it baby …” She bent over to you and kissed your chest. “Let them hear, let them know who’s ruining you right now..” She bit and marked your chest. Adding an extra layer of ecstasy to you intense pleasure. “No one can touch you like I can.” She growled against your skin. She let one of your legs go, and brought her hand to play with your clit as she fucked you. The dual sensation in your sensitive area drove you crazy. Causing you to whine and squirm under her touch. Seeing how sensitive you had gotten she laughed at you. Pulling her body up just a little to grt a better view of you. You put your hands on her shoulder, needing something , anything to hold on as you felt your climax nearing. Your nails dug into her shoulder as you moaned loudly.

“Your so perfect baby..” her thrust became messy, losing her rhythmic pace she built up before. You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her closer. “Can I baby?” her breathy moans where getting shorter as she neared the edge. Understanding exactly what she wanted you nodded, desperate for release. She bite down on your neck, her groans becoming deeper in pitch as she fucked you harder. Her rough pace and thrust told you everything you needed to know. The sounds of wet skin slapping together, and the moans of to lovers echoed throughout her office. “Fuck.. Jimin!” you moaned loudly as you climax hit you like a fright train. Creaming all over her shaft, she didn’t stop there she still needs to cum too. “Your so pretty baby.. just for me” her thrust grew frantic and wild. Hitting your spot repeatedly, bringing you over the edge once again. As she came inside you with a long loud groan. Her movements slowly in down ad she whined in your ear, enjoying the sensation of your mixed fluids around her length. As you both came down from your high together, she lifted her head up to kiss you all over your face. Whispering compliments and praises to you.

“Nobody can fuck you like I can.” Her demeanor changing. Her voice dominate and stern. “You belong to me, only my..” She kissed you neck again, leaving one last mark on a surprisingly still empty space. This was a new side of your lover, she wasn’t really the jealous type. But seeing how her workers talked about you, the way they watched and looked at you for far too long. It made her beyond upset, knowing you were oblivious to their wandering eyes, and sexual compliments. She had enough, she couldn’t keep acting as if it wasn’t bothering her.

She needed to have some excuse, some way to tell you how she felt. So she chose today, but today was different. Not only was she upset about her disgusting perverts she unknowingly hired. But her other reason being was because of your argument earlier. When you walked into work today, the office had all eyes on you. That was until someone told you to go to Karina’s office. Stating that she was looking for you, it was an urgent matter. As you made your way to the elevator your heart felt heavy, and your stomach was doing every trick in the book. Every possible horrible outcome was flooding your brain. You hadn’t don’t anything wrong you thought. Maybe she was just upset at something, and needed to see you for support?? The elevator stopped. At the top floor, her floor. You felt like you were going to have a panic attack. Things have been a bit rocky with her, the past few weeks. You fought at lot, way more than usual. Karina would always dismiss you, saying your reason for being upset at her was stupid and unimportant. Her words hurt, a lot. But you couldn’t voice that, you needed this job. And seeing how quick she was to fire everyone else scared you. You loved her, more than you should. It’s wrong, it truly is, but you use can’t help it. The way she treats you versus everyone else is evidently different.

Walking down the hall to her office you stopped. Shaking nervously, scared of what’s to come if you open that door. You knocked before entering, peaking your head through first to adjust the situation before heading all the way in. There she was, at her desk. Her fingers rubbing circles on her temple. She was obviously frustrated and upset just by her demeanor. “Karina …” your voice was soft and low. Carefully you let yourself in, taking small quirt steps. “You wanted to see me?” You tried your best to mask the obvious fear in your voice as it shook. Sitting down in the seat in front of her desk. Without looking up she spoke, her tone stern. “We need to talk.” Hanging her head lower as her fingers tangled in the back of hair. She sighed, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. Her head finally rose, making eye contact with you. Noticing the worried and scared look on your face her expression softened.

You fought back tears, you hated being this vulnerable. But with her you were like a baby, an open book. “Our relationship is quite, interesting don’t you think?” You titled your head a little, confused and eager to see where she takes this. “Y/n. You can possibly be okay with … with this.” She said pointing her finger at the both of you. “Do you even know what we have going on?” she said leaning closer onto the table. “It’s a mess, we’re a mess y/n” all you could do was sit there and listen. As much as you wanted to but in and add our input you stopped yourself. The last thing on your mind right now was upsetting her even more by creating an argument. “I can’t say I’m not attracted to you. That’d be lying.” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “I’d hate to see you with anyone else, as well.” This confused you, was she breaking your heart for fun? “I heard your coworkers talking about you. It was disgusting.” Her face grew visibly upset. Recalling the event where two mean where explain their ‘Crush’ on you in dehumanizing ways. Obviously, she fired them after hearing that, her emotions got the best of her. “So what are you saying …?” you finally spoke up. She looked up at you, examining your face and how glossy your eyes were. “Oh, Honey.” She pouted seeing you so sad. “I’m saying your mine. My beautiful mess” she reached a hand across the table and wiped a fallen tear from your cheek. Pulling you into a kiss, that lasted way longer than it should’ve. “I can’t let anyone else have you” she spoke into the kiss, pulling back to look at you once again. Admiring the way you easily submit to her.

“I see the way you look when they compliment you” her gaze darkened as she spoke. Her thumb trailing down to your lips slowly. She stared at your lips for a while. “Get under the table.”

___________________________________________

(U like how I ended it? 👅 a silly reverse, heh)

[cbeargyu]

rockstar!beomgyu?…

( maybe make him toxic aswell….)😝😝

REVENGE

summary: you never meant to kiss beomgyu. and you definitely never meant to let it happen again. but when the boy you love breaks your heart and your oldest friend looks at you like he’s been waiting his whole life to ruin you… revenge suddenly feels a lot like salvation.

pairing: rockstar!beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smut, angst, toxic relationship, cheating, friends to lovers.

warnings: infidelity, rough sex, possessiveness, dirty talk, emotional manipulation, light choking, toxic dynamics, mention of heartbreak and crying, jealousy, one (1) very unhinged rockstar, degradation + praise kink, creampie, bruising, guilt turned into arousal, emotionally destructive behavior.

wc: 4,9k

notes: omg anons have such spicy ideas 🔥 i loved it, i just wanna confess that a certain part of this fic is based on real events 💔 yes, i was someone’s rebound… bye 💀😭

you’re moaning into his neck, breath hot and sticky as your body rocks against beomgyu’s, the faint scent of beer mixing with the sweat clinging to your skin. the air in his apartment is thick—too warm, too heavy with everything unsaid, everything unhealed. his fingers dig into your hips like he’s trying to make you stay. like he’s scared you’ll disappear once it’s over.

you can’t even remember how many times you’ve said this would be the last.

“fuck, y/n,” he groans against your ear, voice rough with need, “you feel so fucking good…”

your eyes flutter shut, and for a second you let yourself drown in the feeling—his body pressed to yours, the heat, the pleasure—but then your mind betrays you, dragging you back.

you are riding him like he’s the only thing that ever made you feel alive. drunk on beer and heartbreak and the taste of revenge.

how did it come to this?

it’s blurry now, but you remember high school. back when beomgyu was just a boy with a cheap guitar and fire in his veins. he was wild even then—raw talent, untamed charm, a little too reckless for his own good. he’d get into fights with other bands after shows, bloodied lip and bruised knuckles like some badge of honor, and you… you’d always be there. cleaning him up, scolding him gently, eyes full of worry he didn’t deserve.

you weren’t like the others. you were soft where he was sharp, warm where he was cold. he’d watch you in the crowd like you were the only thing that mattered. he told you once that loving you felt inevitable, like breathing.

but you got scared.

when he confessed, heart in his throat and all, you told him you wanted to stay friends. you were terrified of what loving him could do to you. to both of you. and he just nodded, forced a smile, said “yeah, friends is good.” because even then, he’d rather have a piece of you than none at all.

time passed. you became an interior designer. he became a fucking rockstar. headlines, award shows, rumors, tattoos. but you stayed in touch—occasional texts, quick calls when your schedules allowed it. you never drifted completely.

and then came donghyun.

you met him in college, started dating two years ago. he was kind, at first. safe. steady. you let yourself believe in that fairytale. until the distance crept in. until his kisses felt more like habit than desire. you kept asking yourself, did i do something wrong? did he stop loving me?

the night it broke, he told you the truth.

"when we started dating... i wasn’t sure it was what i wanted. i told you i was over her, but... i wasn’t. i thought i could be, but—i’m sorry, y/n.”

the words split you open.

you cried so much that night, you couldn’t even see the screen when you typed beomgyu’s name.

“are you busy?” “no. where are you?” “can you come over?” “already on my way.”

twenty minutes later, he was at your door.

hair longer now, messy and beautiful, piercings glinting in the hallway light. he was breathing hard like he ran up the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. in his hand: a plastic bag with cheap beer.

you couldn’t stop crying. he dropped the beers on the kitchen counter and pulled you into his arms without a word. just held you while you shook in his chest.

“he said he wasn’t even sure,” you whispered later, curled up on the couch. “he said he was still thinking about her. all that time... i was just a fucking rebound.”

his jaw clenched, eyes darkening. “that bastard never deserved you.”

“i feel so stupid, gyu.”

“don’t,” he said, voice low and serious. “don’t you ever say that. you loved him. you gave everything. that’s not stupid. that’s beautiful.”

“why wasn’t i enough?”

he looked at you for a long time, like he was deciding something.

“y/n,” he said softly, leaning in. “that wasn’t your fault. he’s the one who didn’t know what he had. you... fuck, you’ve always been more than enough.”

the kiss happened slowly.

his hand on your cheek. your breath hitching. his lips brushing yours like a question—like a warning. and then, you kissed him back.

soft. desperate. too long coming.

when you pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. “you need to make him regret it,” he whispered, thumb stroking your skin. “you need to make him feel what it’s like to lose you. you need to feel good again. you deserve that.”

he didn’t ask for anything else that night. didn’t push.

but that was the start of the end.

after that night, you distanced yourself.

you didn’t mean to cut him off completely—hell, you couldn’t. it was beomgyu. but something about that kiss left a shadow in your chest. it was supposed to be just a moment. just comfort. just a stolen breath between sobs. nothing more.

you still texted, still called now and then. his name stayed pinned in your inbox. but you avoided seeing him in person like your life depended on it. like you knew that if you saw his eyes again, if he looked at you the way he did that night, you wouldn’t be able to lie to yourself anymore.

and besides… guilt was eating you alive.

because no matter how “harmless” the kiss was, you were still with donghyun.

donghyun, who promised he loved you. donghyun, who swore you were his future.

donghyun… who you later found texting his ex behind your back. joking with his friends about how maybe he should “catch up with her” again. laughing at the idea of her "missing his mouth." and not in a wholesome way.

when you saw the messages, your chest cracked all over again.

it didn’t matter that you had kissed someone else first. you still felt like your soul was being peeled apart, like you were always the one bleeding more. and maybe you deserved it. maybe not. but either way, you couldn’t breathe when you read those words.

still, you stayed.

and then came his concert.

beomgyu’s new album dropped like thunder—critics raving, fans losing their minds, his name everywhere. and somehow, despite everything, he’d put you on the guest list for the showcase. vip pass. no questions asked.

you told yourself you wouldn’t go.

but you went.

the venue was packed. lights flashing. fans screaming. and when he stepped onto that stage, guitar slung low on his hips, hair damp and wild, voice sliding over the mic like honey and gravel—your throat went dry.

he looked like sin. pure, unfiltered, heartbreak and lust wrapped in leather and ink.

you swallowed hard, trying to force your thoughts back into a box they didn’t want to stay in. because there he was—beomgyu, singing like the world owed him something, like the stage was the only place he could be real.

and god, you hated how much you still felt him.

after the show, the backstage buzzed with people. artists, stylists, industry big shots, security guards keeping the crowd out. your small flower crown sat awkwardly among the giant bouquets and expensive gifts.

when he saw it, he smiled.

“you actually came,” he said, walking toward you. “i didn’t think you would. thought you were still avoiding me.”

you hesitated. “i wasn’t avoiding you.”

he raised an eyebrow. “really?”

your mouth opened, then closed. then opened again.

“…okay. maybe i was.”

he nodded slowly, gaze sharp but unreadable. “why?”

you bit your lip. eyes drifting to the floor. “after that night… i got scared. i’ve never done anything like that before. never kissed someone else while i was still in a relationship. it felt—”

“like revenge?” he said, smirking a little. “because that’s all it was. he hurt you. so you hurt him back.”

you didn’t respond.

because that wasn’t who you were.

or… maybe it was. just for that moment.

you pressed your lips together, looking anywhere but his face.

he stepped closer, voice softer. “how’s that relationship going, anyway?”

you hesitated again. you wanted to lie. to say everything was fine. to keep pretending.

but you didn’t.

you told him what you found. the texts. the jokes. the way it broke you.

he didn’t hold back. “wow,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair. “i used to at least respect the guy because you picked him. but now? nah. he’s a fucking piece of shit.”

you flinched, but didn’t disagree.

“so why the hell are you still with him?”

“because i love him,” you said quickly. too quickly. too defensively. “i… i love him, gyu. i can’t just let go—”

his face twisted. “he’s making you feel like crap, and you’re still here defending him. what the fuck is wrong with you?”

your brows drew together. “don’t talk to me like that.”

“then stop talking like you're proud of being treated like garbage,” he snapped. “you sound like you’re begging to stay hurt.”

his fingers closed around your wrist—not enough to hurt, but tight enough to ground you. to make your chest seize.

“stop it,” he said through gritted teeth. “i don’t want to hear any more of this shit.”

you blinked, stunned. your mouth fell open, but no words came out.

“if he makes you feel like this,” he said, voice low and furious, “then break the fuck up with him.”

you stared at him, lips parted. heart hammering.

you wanted to scream that he didn’t understand. that it wasn’t so simple. that love was messy, complicated, that you had history—

but then he said it.

“remember that kiss?” his voice dropped, rough like gravel. “how did it feel? did you hate it?”

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. your face burned. because the truth sat heavy on your tongue.

you didn’t hate it. you hadn’t hated a second of it.

and that scared the hell out of you.

because beomgyu was too much. too intense. too real. and worse—deep down, a part of you still regretted turning him down all those years ago. even now.

but you had a boyfriend.

you weren’t supposed to want another man.

even if that man made your heart ache in ways your boyfriend never could.

beomgyu stepped in closer, his presence swallowing the space between you both until your back met the cold wall. the sharp click of your heels echoed faintly on the floor, and for a split second, his eyes flicked downward, lips twitching.

“you look so fuckin’ good in those,” he muttered, almost to himself, his gaze dragging up the length of your body. the slit in your dress revealed just enough of your leg to make his jaw tense, and the swell of your chest, pressed tight in that low neckline, had his breath stuttering for a moment.

then, slowly, his hand reached up—warm, calloused fingertips trailing up the curve of your neck until they cradled your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheek. your breath hitched the second his body pressed into yours, his heat, his scent, everything suffocating.

“you have no fuckin’ idea how many times i’ve thought about you,” he growled, voice low, raspy, like he was barely holding himself back. “since that night… fuck, y/n.”

his nose skimmed along your neck, lips ghosting just beneath your ear, and then—he inhaled.

deep.

like he needed your scent just to breathe, like your skin was the only thing that could keep him alive.

you shivered.

his breath was hot against your throat, and your skin prickled, hypersensitive, the space between your thighs suddenly aching with heat.

“and you?” he whispered, his lips grazing your ear. “have you thought about me?”

you didn’t think. couldn’t.

“yes…” it fell from your lips like a confession. like a sin.

and that was all it took.

his mouth crashed into yours, all fire and fury and desperation. it was nothing like the soft kiss you’d shared before—this was punishment, this was craving, this was everything he’d been dying to take from you. his lips moved against yours with raw hunger, tongue parting your lips, tasting you like he was claiming you.

your hands pushed up against his chest, not to resist—but to feel. and god, he felt good. solid, toned, his body firm under your fingertips. you slid your palms over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of him, the tension in his muscles.

his hands gripped your waist tight, sliding up your back, then down again, fingers digging in just enough to make your breath hitch.

he broke the kiss just barely, your foreheads resting together, panting.

“don’t feel guilty,” he said, voice dark, ragged. “he fucked up first. you deserve this. you deserve to feel good, baby.”

your chest rose and fell rapidly, torn between reason and heat, but his mouth was already back on yours—his lips moving, tongue claiming, body pressing harder against yours. you gasped when his knee pushed between your legs, spreading you gently, firmly. his hand slid down to your thigh, gripping it, dragging it up to his hip so your leg wrapped around him.

his mouth moved to your neck, kissing, biting, licking over the spot just below your jaw. “let me give you what he couldn’t. let me make you forget that piece of shit.”

you whimpered. “beomgyu—”

“don’t think,” he murmured against your skin, “just feel.”

he bent slightly, gripping under your thighs, and in one swift motion, lifted you. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the hem of your dress riding up, leaving little to the imagination. he carried you effortlessly to the nearby vanity table, pushing aside cosmetics and water bottles with a sweep of his arm before setting you down on the surface, stepping between your legs.

his fingers found the edge of your dress and slowly pushed it up your thighs, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “look at you,” he whispered, hungry. “god, you’re so fucking beautiful. you don’t even know.”

your head tilted back slightly as his fingers slid under the thin lace of your panties, stroking softly between your folds. you were already wet—aching—and he groaned when he felt it.

“fuck, baby,” he hissed. “he never deserved this.”

your hips jerked forward into his hand, needing more, and he didn’t hesitate. two fingers slid inside you, curling just right, thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. your moan escaped before you could stop it, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt.

“that’s it,” he muttered against your collarbone. “let me hear you. let me ruin you.”

your head fell back as he pumped his fingers in and out, his mouth trailing hot kisses over your chest, down the valley of your breasts, tongue dipping just beneath your neckline.

“you want me to stop?” he asked suddenly, voice low, teasing.

“no,” you breathed, desperate. “don’t stop. please—”

he grinned, feral. “then say it.”

“what..?” you gasped.

“say you want your revenge.”

you blinked, body trembling under his touch, your climax building fast in your core.

“say it, baby,” he coaxed, fingers thrusting harder. “say you wanna make him pay.”

your mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut. “i… i want it. i want my revenge—”

“fuck yes you do,” he growled, crashing his mouth against yours again as your orgasm tore through you, sharp and hot and overwhelming. your body shook under him, thighs clenching around his waist as he swallowed every sound, every moan, every broken little whimper.

when you finally stilled, breathless and dazed, he pulled back just enough to look at you, thumb brushing your lips.

“we’re just getting started,” he said, voice wicked. “and i’m gonna make sure you never forget what it feels like to be worshipped.”

you barely had time to catch your breath before beomgyu was tugging your panties down your thighs, slow but deliberate, eyes never leaving yours. they dropped to the floor in a silent surrender, and he pocketed them with a smirk like they were a fucking trophy.

“i’m not gonna fuck you here,” he murmured, breath hot against your lips, “not like this. you deserve better than a quick fuck on a vanity. not when i’ve waited this long.”

before you could answer, he scooped you up again like it was nothing, his arms strong under your thighs as he carried you out of the dressing room, ignoring the voices and laughter muffled behind the door.

“w-where are we going?” you asked, barely able to think straight.

“my place,” he said simply. “somewhere i can hear you scream without interruptions.”

you whimpered, burying your face in his neck, and god, he smelled so good—sweat, leather, cologne and stage adrenaline. he smelled like temptation and danger and everything you knew you shouldn’t want… but did.

the ride in the black suv was silent, electric. your dress was bunched up around your hips, your bare pussy pressed against the rough fabric of his jeans as you sat on his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around you. he kissed your neck lazily, like he had all the time in the world, but his cock was rock hard beneath you. he didn’t even try to hide it.

once at his apartment, he kicked the door shut with his boot, not bothering with lights. the glow of the city poured in through the massive windows, casting shadows across the sleek, dark interior. guitars lined the wall. platinum records caught the dim light. this was his kingdom—and tonight, you were the only thing he wanted in it.

he dropped you on the bed, eyes heavy, lips parted.

“take it off,” he said, voice husky, pointing at your dress.

your fingers trembled as you reached for the zipper, but he stepped forward and caught your wrists.

“no,” he whispered, “let me.”

slowly, reverently, he pulled the dress down your body, baring inch after inch of your skin, his lips brushing each new piece of flesh like a prayer. your tits spilled out of your bra, tight and full, and he groaned under his breath like he was in pain.

“fuck, y/n…” his hands cupped them gently, thumbs rubbing over your nipples until they peaked. “you’re a fucking dream.”

he kissed down your stomach, his rings cold on your thighs as he spread them apart, taking his time to appreciate the view.

“this pussy,” he muttered, running a finger along your slit, “doesn’t deserve to be wasted on a piece of shit who doesn’t know how to treat you.”

you moaned softly, but he didn’t give you time to reply—he leaned in, mouth hot and wet against your core, tongue sliding between your folds like he’d been starving for it. he licked you slow, deep, sucking gently on your clit, fingers spreading you open.

your hands tangled in his hair, tugging, hips grinding up against his mouth.

“beomgyu—fuck—” you gasped.

he hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt through you, and your thighs clamped around his head, body trembling. he didn’t stop—he kept going until you were falling apart again, crying out his name, legs shaking uncontrollably.

when he finally pulled away, his lips were glistening, his eyes dark, his jaw set with hunger.

“on your knees,” he commanded, voice rough. “now.”

you obeyed before you even thought about it, dropping to the floor and looking up at him with flushed cheeks, your mascara smudged and lips swollen from kisses.

he unbuckled his belt slowly, eyes locked on yours, pulling his cock free. it was thick, veiny, and already leaking. you swallowed hard, instinctively.

he chuckled darkly. “open your mouth, pretty girl.”

you wrapped your lips around the tip, letting your tongue swirl over the head, tasting him. he hissed, one hand gripping your hair tight as he fed more of his length into your mouth.

“that’s it,” he growled, fucking your mouth slowly, “just like that. fuck, your mouth feels so good—better than i imagined.”

you gagged slightly as he hit the back of your throat, but he didn’t stop, hips rocking steadily, praising you in broken moans.

“gonna fuck you now,” he said, pulling out with a wet pop and dragging you back to your feet. “gonna make you forget every time he made you feel like you weren’t enough.”

he turned you around and bent you over the bed, your chest pressing into the sheets, ass up for him.

he rubbed the head of his cock through your folds, teasing your entrance, and then—he pushed in.

deep.

you both gasped.

“so fucking tight,” he groaned, leaning over your back, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding up your spine to your throat. “like you were made for me.”

his phone buzzed on the nightstand. he didn’t even look at it—just reached out lazily, tapped the screen and muttered, “i’ll be late. got something to handle.”

you heard him on the line with his manager, voice casual but firm. “start without me. i’ll join after... yeah, don’t wait.”

he hung up and tossed the phone aside, then grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling your head back just enough so your cheek pressed against the mattress.

his pace started slow, dragging out each thrust, making you feel every inch of him. but it didn’t take long for him to snap his hips harder, faster, your body jolting with each stroke.

“does he fuck you like this?” he snarled in your ear, “does he make you scream?”

you shook your head, eyes rolling back. “n-no—only you—”

“that’s right,” he growled. “only me.”

his hand tightened around your throat, not enough to hurt, just enough to make your breath catch.

“this is your revenge, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear. “so take it.”

his thrusts turned brutal—sharp, punishing, hitting the deepest part of you over and over. your cries filled the room, ragged and desperate, echoing off the walls with no mercy. his grip on your waist tightened like he wanted to mold your body into the shape of his cock, to ruin you for anyone else. to make sure you'd never forget.

“you feel this?” he grunted against your neck, breath hot and heavy. “no one else is gonna fuck you like this. no one else is gonna own you like i do.”

your fingers clutched the sheets, knuckles white, tears stinging the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity. it was too much—his pace, his size, the weight of his body against yours, the filthy things he whispered in your ear.

“i bet you’re still gonna go crawling back to him,” he spat, jealousy burning under every word. “still gonna lie next to that asshole like you’re his.”

you whimpered, shaking your head weakly, but he didn’t buy it.

“nah,” he growled, pulling out suddenly and flipping you over, grabbing your legs and shoving them open. “look at me.”

you blinked up at him, dazed and fucked-out, mascara running down your cheeks.

“you better break up with him,” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, “or i swear to god, y/n, i’ll fuck you in front of him. i’ll bend you over his couch and make you scream my name while he watches.”

your mouth fell open in shock, chest heaving.

“and i won’t stop,” he added, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen entrance, “until he knows he lost. until he knows this pussy—” he thrust into you hard, making you sob out loud, “—was never really his.”

“beomgyu—” you moaned, overwhelmed, body burning from the inside out.

“you think he deserves you?” his hands pinned your wrists above your head, cock slamming into you mercilessly. “he made you cry, he lied to you, he fucking humiliated you—and you still love him? you’re fucking pathetic.”

you cried out, the words cutting deeper than his thrusts, but somehow… it made you wetter.

“you wanna be ruined?” he hissed. “you want someone to actually break you? then let me do it right. let me be the one to destroy you, y/n.”

his mouth found your breast, biting down hard on the curve, then licking over it with his tongue. one of his hands slid down between your bodies, fingers circling your clit.

“i’m gonna make you cum again,” he said darkly. “and when you do, i want you to say it. say who you belong to.”

you tried to resist, tried to hold it in, but your body betrayed you. the coil snapped, the orgasm ripped through you like a wave crashing too hard, too fast, and you screamed—legs shaking, eyes rolling back, tears spilling.

“say it,” he barked, still fucking into you through your climax. “say my fucking name.”

“b-beomgyu—!” you sobbed.

he groaned like he was finally satisfied, pulling you close and burying his face in your neck as he came inside you, cock twitching, filling you up with thick heat.

you lay there under him, destroyed—physically spent, emotionally wrecked, your thoughts tangled in guilt and pleasure and fear.

he didn’t move for a moment. just breathed. heavy. hot. his fingers brushing your jaw as if you were fragile now that he had broken you.

“you’re not going back to him,” he whispered.

not a question.

a fucking order.

you lay beneath him, breathing uneven, the scent of sweat and sex thick in the room. your thighs still trembled from the intensity, from the way he’d made you cum like he hated you and worshipped you at the same time. beomgyu hadn’t said a word in the past minute—his face buried against your neck, body still pressed to yours, cock softening inside you.

for a second, just a second, you wished he’d hold you.

but then his voice broke the silence.

“you’re still thinking about him,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. the accusation hung in the air like smoke. “even after everything i just gave you.”

your heart dropped.

your lips parted, but nothing came out. you didn’t know how to explain it—the ache in your chest that refused to go away. the confusion. the guilt. the goddamn love you still felt for someone who didn’t deserve it.

“gyu…” you whispered.

he pulled back, face twisted into something you couldn’t name. anger? heartbreak? pride?

“don’t,” he cut you off. “don’t make excuses.”

your eyes welled up. “i don’t know what to do.”

“yes, you do,” he said bitterly. “you just don’t want to admit it.”

you turned your face away, ashamed. “i’m scared…”

he leaned down, lips brushing your jaw, your cheek, your temple. “i know,” he breathed. “but if you go back to him… if you choose him over me again… i swear, y/n, i won’t be there the next time he breaks you.”

you looked up at him, tears streaming silently, and in his eyes—you saw it.

not just lust.

not just revenge.

something raw. something real. something that had been growing since you were kids and that neither of you dared name.

“why are you doing this to me?” you whispered, voice cracking.

he exhaled shakily, jaw clenched. “because you’re mine. and i’m fucking done pretending i can watch you belong to someone else.”

your heart clenched so painfully it felt like it might stop. you could say no. you could walk out, gather what little pride you had left, go home and cry again.

but you didn’t move.

you reached for him.

he didn’t need another invitation.

his lips found yours again, slower this time, deeper—like he needed to pour every unsaid feeling into your mouth. his hands cradled your face as he kissed you like it might be the last time. but it wouldn’t be. you both knew that now.

he slid between your thighs again, cock hardening quickly against your entrance, and this time, when he entered you, it wasn’t fast or rough—it was claiming.

your nails scratched down his back, your legs wrapped around him, and all that tension, all that heartbreak, turned into moans and gasps and breathless whimpers.

you knew this wouldn’t end well.

you knew you were falling, spiraling.

but if this was the fall—

you wanted to crash with him.

you lay there tangled in beomgyu’s arms, skin sticky with sweat and sin, lips swollen from too many kisses, body marked with the kind of bruises that didn’t hurt—but reminded you exactly who had been there. your breath was still shaky, but your mind had never been clearer. there was no room for regret now.

the guilt that once sat heavy on your chest had melted into something hotter, darker—an intoxicating thrill that buzzed beneath your skin like a drug.

vengeance.

it tasted like his lips, like his cum dripping down your thigh, like your name moaned against your ear by the man you were never supposed to touch. and as you traced lazy circles on beomgyu’s bare chest, your eyes fluttering shut, all you could think about was how sweet it would be to see the look on donghyun’s face when he finds out what you’ve done.

because maybe revenge wasn’t just a dish best served cold— maybe it was better hot, breathless, and soaked in sweat.

and god, you couldn’t wait for seconds.

[bear-yawns]

　𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗞𝗘𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗚𝗥𝗢𝗪 𝗙𝗢𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥.　franco colapinto · #43

genres : fluff ... established relationship ... franco x fem!reader.　 request : anon for franco + sleeping on their chest for the 100 event.　word count : 0.8k.　warnings : partial long distance relationship ... they're both really clingy ... spanish petnames in italics ... not proofread.　 note : my franco 💔💔 honestly really hoping he gets a chance to drive this season cause i just miss him!!!　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

Long distance was never easy for any couple. Some swore that long distance could never work, while others tried it and found it too hard to maintain. For you and Franco, it was a small price to pay compared to the happiness of being together, but it didn’t make it any easier. You both made do as best as you could. 

While he flew out every other weekend for races, you ended up sacrificing your sleep schedule for daily video chats, even if they only ended up being five minutes long. You didn’t have much time off work, but you saved up the few vacation days you could for the rare trip out to Europe to tag along to a race or two. You loved being in the paddock with him, seeing his excitement for the cars first hand. It was always hard to be away from him, and travelling with him meant those small extra hours together. 

Goodbyes were your least favourite part of it all. Once he was already gone, you could count down the days until he was back, but before he left, there was only a sense of dread filling your body at the thought of the inevitable. Franco had already packed his suitcase, and you had double and triple checked it for him. He was more forgetful than he would like to admit, so you always made sure he brought everything he needed. 

You were cuddled up in bed, ready to sleep although neither of you felt tired yet. You laid completely on top of him, arms around his waist, cheek resting against his chest, his fingers dancing along your spine. There was a silence and hesitance in the air as neither of you wanted to talk. His flight was in a few hours, and this was your last chance to hold him before he would be gone for more than two weeks. 

There was so much you would miss about him as soon as he was gone. He had only been back for two days, and him having to leave already felt cruel. You wished for more time to be able to soak up his presence. His soft teasing words, his familiar scent, his silky curls, his light breathless laugh, his whispered te amo’s and mi cariño’s— you would miss them all bitterly as soon as he was gone. 

“You really have to go?” you whispered, the words barely heard as your lips pressed against his hoodie. His fingers paused their rhythmic back and forth across your back, instead trailing down to your waist.

“It’s only two weeks.”

“Two and a half,” you corrected.

“Two and a half, then I’m right back in your arms, amor,” he repeated softly. You frowned. No matter how many times he tried to reassure you, it wouldn’t stop how badly you would miss him. And no matter how many times you wished he didn’t have to leave, it wouldn’t prevent him from going. 

“You still need to call me as soon as you land. Even if it’s just for five minutes,” you mumbled. Tiredness seeped into your voice and body from the lulling nature of his steady strokes on your back which he had resumed, and the quiet raspy inflection of his voice when he called you amor.

“It’ll be the first thing I do.” 

You looked up to find him studying you fondly, eyes poking a silent teasing “what?” at you when your gaze fell to his lips. He knew you would kiss him. You always did before falling asleep. Even if he was already deep in his dreams. And this time it lasted a bit longer than normal. You knew you wouldn’t have the opportunity for a long time. You tried to memorize the feeling of his plush lips on yours again, even though it was already concretely fixed in the back of your mind like it had its own special spot. It was something that would never leave your brain. 

“Happier now?” Franco asked, trailing his hand up to tuck some of your hair out of your face. Your fingers had found their way into his curls during the kiss, as they often did. 

“Marginally. My heart will still break tomorrow,” you complained.

“I’ll put all the pieces back together as soon as I can,” he promised, lips curving in amusement at your constant clinginess. As if he didn’t feel the exact same way. It was exhausting to be apart from you for more than a few days. You always made life feel so easy and lively for Franco. It was rather dull without you. 

You kissed his nose— one of his most perfect features, and settled back into his arms. His heartbeat reached your ears, and your breathing naturally matched it. 

“You make it hard to be apart from you, mi vida,” you whispered. He held you a bit tighter.

The distance was always unwanted, but perhaps it made the small quiet moments together even more precious.

franco taglist: @caffeineboi,, @divierses

[tannieastrology]

Composite Observations

💔 Ive noticed that alot of long term couples have asteroid briede conjunct the sun which makes sense because its literally the asteroid of marriage and union.

💔 Cancer rising couples will find it very hard to leave each other even when they arent good for each other. From the moment these two meet they feel so comfortable with each other and will feel like "home". They are each others comfort people but ive often noticed that these relationships tend to stagnate especially if the rest of the chart has complicated placements. They are also very moody around each other lmfao. The fights get intense and almost "domestic" which is why its important to be careful w cancer placements because codependancy can become an issue.

💔Gemini Rising couples are so cute and fun omg. So flirty and when youre near them you wont even feel like youre third wheeling. The fun couple.

💔 Libra Rising/ Venus in 1st house omg literally everybody shipped us together. Everyone always assumed we liked each other(which i did but he didnt) and told us we had such good chemistry. We looked really good next to each other but it was hard getting close to him beyond that. Our Venus was in libra first house but it squared our 7th house ruler mars in the 10th house, so we argued alot since the day we met. Our arguements were public and everyone had an opinion but they also all shipped us at the same time lmfao. If you do tarot you would know that justice is represented by Libra so our entire friendship had themes of "justice" in it. Our disagreements sometimes became very bitter.

💔 About 10th house mars, im starting to not like this placement ngl. I definitely feel like in this house it acts more as a malefic. There will be power struggles and difficulties seeing eye to eye if AFFLICTED. I think if its not afflicted then maybe you can push each other to grow together in yalls career but for the person I had this with it was our 7th house ruler and made multiple squares in the chart. Literally everybody had an opinion in our business and also like i said the fights were intense. The thing is we were immature kids. Im sure if we were adults it wouldnt have been that bad and we wouldnt have acted out of ego but it was hard seeing beyond it sometimes. Now as im older I feel like im starting to really admire how talented he is( I always have) but in a way now where I want to support him instead of trying to piss him off lol. Another thing is when Mars transited over our composite 10th house we had a huge fight and everyone at school knew it. I cut him off.

💔 Speaking of transits yall pleaseee look at them for the composite chart they are so so so accurate. They have predicted almost every issue I had with him. Another thing I noticed was if you set the transit for January 1st of that year it will predict the themes between u and that person off the composite transits. Every year this had been so accurate as to what happened and its worked for multiple couples I observed. For example when venus and mars was transit on the 5th house during new years the couple started dating that year. It acts as a solar return.

💔 Alot of long term couples have sun in 4th house composite and they are actually healthy.

💔 I love 11th house placements in the composite like yall will just naturally get along so well. This is the true "crush" feeling you would get sometimes more so than the 5th house but instead yall will have a friend dynamic. Just be careful not to get friendzoned LMFAO

💔 8th house placements are not for the weak and having it in the composite can be more complicated than having it in synastry. You were meant to meet this person because both of yall need to go through a psychological change through a partnership of some kind. I dont think 8th house placements are toxic if people are self aware but theres not a lot of people out there who are mature like that at a young age.

💔 Good luck if you have saturn in 12th house with someone. Yall will constantly have issues that neither of yall will understand how to fix. Boundries will be nonexistant and honestly it will be hard to form a partnership. This is IF yall hide from each other and do not communicate. You need to be vulnerable with each other. This is one of the biggest indicaters of a karmic partnership and its painful. Theres always this feeling of something feeling off and hurt in the back of your mind even when something isnt wrong. Ive seen from astrologers that saturn feels comfortable in this house and saturn here represents longevity but the benefits of this placement will not come through until yall go through some serious struggle.

💔 Chiron conjunct the mc will expose all of yalls pain to the public. A couple that had this through aries chiron transit the MC made it known eventually that they become toxic and everyone just thought of them as the couple that fights and hurts each other alot. They also broke up near this time.

💔 Ive noticed that the MC represents the status of the relationship. Having jupiter transit the MC made the couple have good luck and were trying to get together romantically. They also had asteroid anteros(god of requited/mutual love) conjunct jupiter in 10th house as a transit and EVERYONE was talking about them at school and were trying to get the two together.

💔 Lowkey I feel like davison charts(which can be read exactly like a composite) are even more accurate than composite charts. Not to say composites arent accurate but when it comes down to showing the overall long term duration of the couple I found that davisons are more accurate.

💔 If yall have venus square saturn just pack it up lmfao the universe do NOT want yall together and I often see couples trying to work it out but in the long term they often arent compatible. They force it and try to go against the grain and it never works out.

💔 I hate seeing jupiter squares in composites yalls values will be so difficult to align

💔 Jupiter in the 5th house is such a good place for romance. Ive also heard of couples doing "it" very early on in the relationship and most of them had this placement.

Hope Yall Enjoyed💋

[baxndaid]

sal fisher x reader 🖇️🎼💍 -- popular!reader headcannons!! + scenario

a/n ; i need him so bad sorry.........idgaf..............pls request more sal

(🎵) - he judged you a little bit a first like he didn’t mean it but it just came naturally since you surrounded yourself with all the bullies, jocks, and standard mean girls

- you were lowkey a mean girl too like you had your little group and you should snicker and laugh whenever sal and his friends walked past

- and while you DID feel a TAD bit bad, you and your friends would make fun of his prosthetic head sometimes </3 it was just for a laugh

- but yes, he didn’t like you very much - with people like travis, he could somewhat understand since travis had home issues and… had no friends 🤓 you? you had everything by the looks of it

- you were popular, pretty, and everyone seemed to gravitate towards you

- overall, you were the cliche mean girl who bullied the quirky main characters (who sal and his friends, ever so graciously, gave themselves the title of)

- speaking of cliche, you two started talking when you both were forced to sit next to each other in math class, and you hated math

- he would help you though, which surprisingly you appreciated, in turn, you would help him with his art class portfolio which he also appreciated

- this didn’t mean you were entirely nice to him either, far from it, but when it was just you two it was a lot more chill and you could visibly see him relax around you when your friends weren’t there

- sal desperately wanted to be able to talk to you confidently without you or your friends shoving him into a locker, he wished you could talk to him as nicely as you did in math class

- because you worked so well in class together, you were often paired together in projects

- sally would be the most excited since that meant more alone time with you, while you were teased by your friends (they told you that you should pack pepper spray before you stepped into his room just in case, how loving!)

- as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was attracted to you, i mean, who wouldn’t be

- he would often space out while his friends spoke amongst themselves, a distant look on his… eye? larry caught on and thought that his best friends strange behaviour came from a girl he liked~ awww

- yeah little did he know 💔 it’s the worst person you know

- larry wouldn’t take it likely knowing that sal has formed a small crush on the person who terrorises him and his friends on the daily

- “dude! you know how bad she can get!”, ashley agrees, sal waves his hand at them dismissively

“it’s fine guys!”

- larry glares at the back of his head as sal walks away, knowing that he has a class with you next

- his friend group thinks your a demon and you’ve possessed him into liking you despite your behaviour

- back to you two, as time passes you get friendlier with sally, the bullying turning into teasing, even with your friends around

- you didn’t miss how sally looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking, he would stutter and look around frantically if you caught him, you thought it was cute

- he wouldn’t show you his face, since you’ve made fun of his prosthetic before and he didn’t want to ruin whatever weird relationship you had built by showing you his disfigured face

- sally is one of the most patient (and slightly pathetic) guys you’ve ever met, so naturally, you form a small crush on him too, but you’d never admit it

- when he walks by you in the corridor, you’d yank his backpack towards you harshly, making his back jolt into your chest

- you’d then wrap your arms around his shoulders, essentially trapping him with his back towards you, and ask him about his day

- sally was a little apprehensive as first, being unable to tell whether you were about to bully him or casually do something sweet and brush it off straight after

- though he soon found that 9 times out of 10, you would be doing something affectionate ❤️

- his friends didn’t like this, obviously, but in due time they’d get used to you, they just wanted to know if sally was being messed with or if you were genuine

- sally would probably have to be the person to confess becuase lord knows your way too stubborn to admit that you actually like the blue haired guy you’ve been bullying just a while prior

- he would be sweating his ass off while shifting in his chair while he found a good time to confess, while you cluelessly played with his cat

- his dad wasn’t home, and he made larry wear a wig and makeup so he could practice his speech (in which todd and ashley recorded without the two knowing)

- but his memory failed him and his mind went blank, so he decided to wing it

- he tapped your thigh, distracting you from gizmo, and you turned to look at him curiously. he looked like he was falling apart as your gaze practically pierced into him

- he gulped silently and turned to you fully, his eye(s) looking down, and told you his feelings (the best he could at least)

- you stare at him for a minute, silent, to be honest he was getting a little upset at the lack of response. he wished you’d say something, anything instead of looking at him like he just killed somebody (💀)

- to his surprise, you leaned in slightly, but stopped and touched the chin of his prosthetic

“can i?”

- he gulped, and nodded his head as he reached for the straps behind his head to take his prosthetic off with ease. he only undid the first one, and only lifted the mask enough for you to reach his lips

- his mouth had a small cleft up to his nose (or whatever was left of it), on the left side of his mouth, his teeth were exposed, scars and missing flesh adorned his face

- despite this, you leaned in fully and managed to close the gap between you, sally’s hand reaching for yours as you kissed, you held each other

[ithebookhoarder]

Never Let You Go (Aaron Hotchner x F!Reader)

Description: Being married to Aaron (A.K.A. your boss and the love of your life) has both it advantages and disadvantages - and being reprimanded by him for risking your neck in the field is definitely one of the latter... 💔

A/N: Hi everyone. I'm alive! Sorry that this is so short but it sort of just wrote itself and was a nice way to help try and ease me back into writing again as it's been a hot minute here 😅

Warnings: Angsty Hotch, arguing, mentions of threat, mentions of weapons, implied murder, references to abduction, sexual references, implied cases / unsubs. (Let me know if I missed any)

Masterlist

You knew when Aaron was angry. You knew the signs very well this far into your relationship, not only as a fellow member of the BAU but also as his wife. He didn’t even need to voice it for you to notice it, rolling off of him in waves… and unfortunately for you, you knew exactly what had caused it. 

You hadn’t meant to throw yourself into the proverbial frying pan, but when the Unsub you had been tracking had grabbed an innocent girl as a hostage you had simply acted without thinking. You had offered yourself instead, knowing your value meant he would not dispose of you as quickly as the others he had taken - and that your team would have to let him leave the parking lot you had chased him to. He knew it too, which was why he had quickly accepted, resulting in you being hauled into a van with a gun pressed against your head. 

Of course, the team had done exactly what you’d expected and located you within an hour. They had mounted a rescue and you had been safely back, unharmed, within mere minutes of the team arriving outside of the cabin. 

All in all, it was a win in your book… but not in your husband / boss’s.  

He had been the first through the door, intent on getting to you whilst Morgan tackled the Unsub into handcuffs. He had quickly cut you free, checked you weren’t seriously hurt, and escorted you back outside, tucked securely under his arm. However, the second you had made it back to the cars, Aaron had pulled away and hidden behind a mask of white hot fury. 

His silent temper had only got worse since you’d all got off the plane, with a thick and suffocating silence filling the car on the drive back. Everyone looked at one another anxiously, knowing better than to risk being the one to say anything and accidentally cause him to erupt in their direction. In fact, a minor miracle had occurred with Spencer not saying a single word until the whole team had spilled out of the elevator, even if it looked like it had caused him physical pain to do so. 

Hell, even Penelope had taken one look at everyone’s faces and done an immediate u-turn back to her lair, muttering she would ‘come back later’.

Unfortunately, you didn’t really have that option when Aaron was your husband and you both shared a car and a house… which was why you had watched as the others grabbed their belongings and finished debriefing, leaving their case files on Hotch’s desk for him to review on Monday. You’d followed along, the last to enter his office and leave your own on the top of the pile. 

However, your fingers had barely let go of the manilla envelope when you heard Hotch clear his throat, turning his attention squarely to the last two agents stood next to you. 

“Good work, everyone. Morgan, Prentiss, you can go. Have a good weekend - Y/N, stay where you are. We need to talk.” 

Shit. 

Your husband’s tone was calm but icy, telling you that this wasn’t up for debate; it was an order and god help anyone who went against him. It was why Emily and Derek made for the door without another word, although Emily shot you a final look over her shoulder, as if checking you were alright. 

You nodded subtly, trying to reassure her as she and Derek made their way out the door, closing it behind them. You knew without asking that the rest of the team would be watching from down in the bullpen, trying and failing to work out what was being said as Hotch ripped you a new one.  

Taking a deep breath, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him. 

You hated seeing his beautiful face so hard and devoid of feeling. It was like a whole different man to the one who slept beside you every night, and greeted you first thing every morning. 

You gulped.

A cold sweat had formed on the back of your neck as he stepped closer slowly, deliberately dragging out the tension. You had to fight the urge to break off the staring contest between you, refusing to surrender to him just yet. It was probably why you opened your mouth first, desperate to beat him to the punch in case you lost your nerve. 

“Before you say anything, I know what you’re going to say, and I know what I did was dangerous and went against your orders,” you rambled, “I’m also well aware of the consequences and I won’t apologise for what I did, not when the option was risking that young girl and the rest of the team-“ 

“I am your superior here, Y/N. What I say goes. That is not up for debate, ever. You do not give me orders,” Aaron seethed, making you fall silent without even raising his voice - which somehow made it worse. It was as if your guilt was swallowing you whole. “What happened today will not happen again, am I understood? You do not ignore my orders whenever you feel like it, nor do you get to lecture me about why you did what you did. And above all? You never tell me to let you go, unarmed and alone, ever again. Is that clear?” 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, wishing silently for it to swallow you up.

“You know I was doing what anyone else on this team would’ve done. He had an innocent girl, Aaron, and he was cornered,” you countered. “He would have killed her the second he left the parking lot, or opened fire then and there. It was the only way to get him out of there, without risking the team and everyone in that area-“

“As the head of this team, I did what I would’ve done if anyone else had been in that position - which is tell you not to risk yourself - but as your husband,” he choked, “I cannot even begin to describe what I felt when he had that gun pointed at your head and that van door closed.” 

You gulped. You felt his pain drawing you in like a gravitational pull, making you desperate to reach out and soothe it from his brow.

“Aaron… You know I didn’t do this to hurt you,” you cooed. To your relief, he nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist and curling you into his chest as if needing to feel you were actually stood there in front of him.  

“It might surprise you to realise that I do know that. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make any of this easier.” You could feel the tension physically radiating off of him as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I… I thought I’d lost you. I... I can't lose you... I won't lose you or someone I love. Not again.”

“I know. I’m so sorry… I’m right here, my love. I’m right here… Always.”

[bambooswordwielder]

Obsessed with the fact that Shen Yuan only transmigrates when all the Peaklords have settled into their positions for a few years because the idea of Shang Qinghua being stuck watching Shen Jiu and Liu Qingge arguing for nth time about some budget detail that is DEFINITELY getting overblown now and just being stuck thinking

"Damn this would've been such a good enemies to lovers plot line... Imagine how much I could've made off of them..." and regretting not monetising their rivalry more before he killed off Liu Qingge ( "Oh and the angst Shen Qingqiu would've faced after his secret lover died and everyone blamed him for it! Fans would've been begging for more extras!" 🐹💔)

Like all the peaklords are desperately trying to mediate and fix the situation and Shang Qinghua is just imagining his one hundredth Fix-It Fic/AU where Shen Jiu is the King's trusted scholar and Liu Qingge is the King's personal bodyguard

Everyone thinks when a single tear falls from Shang Qinghua's eyes its because during Liu Qingge and Shen Jiu's fight they destroyed both his newly drafted budget (for the fifth time that month) and the fact they also destroyed the table (for the third time that week and the week just started)

Reality is Shang Qinghua is crying because he thought of an angsty death scene for the two Romeo and Juliet style because both their families couldn't accept them being together

Years of this pass and at some point he even picks up writing again (specifically about characters clearly based on Shen Jiu and Liu Qingge) and he gets really popular, popular enough his novels start to flood all of Cang Qiong and even Liu Mingyan takes some inspiration from them

Everyone knows damn well that the characters are clearly meant to be Peaklord Shen and Peaklord Liu, but no one tells because they all are legitimately waiting for the next volume of "Battle-to-your-poisonous-heart-and-peaches"

Does everyone know it's Shang Qinghua... Noooo.. Would anyone admit if they did know.... No.

Then all the sudden on day Shen Qingqiu suddenly looked in the dictionary and discovered what the word 'nice' is and now he doesn't abuse his students 🐹🤯

He even let himself get poisoned and potentially ruined his cultivation for life for Luo Binghe of all people!? Um excuse Airplane Logic, but the MC is supposed to only get all the good stuff AFTER he falls into the abyss!

And what's this about Liu Qingge helping to 'clear' his meridians so he has to personally visit Qing Jing peak every week?? Def something is off, an author knows fishy when he sees it

For how many years Shang Qinghua is stuck watching these two do their whole "You're my precious Shidi" and "I'll always be here for you" act and he's just stuck eating dogfood wondering when exactly is the marriage extra coming in and why the System won't tell me why Shen Qingqiu is acting all happy go lucky now

Shang Qinghua notices Shen Qingqiu talking to Yue Qingyuan more, he notices Qing Jing disciples running straight to Shen Qingqiu with joy and excitement rather than the reserved fear they had before, he notices how Shen Qingqiu only glares at him twice every meeting than before!

Maybe this isn't his version of PIDW, maybe it's a fan made version where Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu fall in love and with the power of love and friendship Shen Qingqiu learns to be kind and to care and isn't going to cause Luo Binghe to go down his dark path and maybe they can all have a happyily ever after—

*Endless Abyss Arc*

"Oh fuck–"

[Before Endless Abyss Arc]

*Shang Qinghua watching from a distance as Luo Binghe is practically clinging to Shen Qingqiu's side. Shen Qingqiu pats Luo Binghe's head and Luo Binghe does THAT smile he only does for his wives*

"Well this is an interesting fanfic..."

[After Airplane Reveal]

"Wait... So you're actually a transmigrater as well, Cucumber-Bro?"

"Yeah, and?"

"..."

"Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Do you hate, or have you at least at some point hated, Liu Qingge?"

"I– No–Wait what???"

"Let me reword it. Have you ever considered murdering him at one point?"

"WHYAREYOUASKINGMETHESEQUESTIONS!? YOUKNOWWHATHAPPENEDTOSHENJIU! IMNOTRISKINGHISFATE!"

"... So I'll take that as a no."

"OBVIOUSLY!?"

"So it's just a normal Friends to lovers 😮‍💨 No flavour 🙄"

Shang Qinghua was then brutally attacked.

[During the Five Years SY was dead]

*Shang Qinghua watching Liu Qingge go every single day to fight Luo Binghe for Shen Qingqiu's body*

"Oh my Airplane.... It's not a enemies-to-lovers... It's not Teacher X Disciple... It's a bloody love triangle with both! Oh how much money this plot would've made me 💔 I would've been able to pay for four months worth of rent and groceries!"

Random Disciple visiting An Ding: "Um.... Is Shang-Shibo okay? He fell on the ground?"

An Ding Disciple: "Leave him. He does that sometimes. Now about your budget request..."

*Shang Qinghua screaming in the background*

Random Disciple: "..."

An Ding Disciple: "..."

Random Disciple: "Should we check on–"

An Ding Disciple, now dragging other disciple away: "Let's settle this at your peak."

Years later when Bingqiu have already had their wedding and everyone has become somewhat tolerant of their relationship, Shang Qinghua just sighs loudly and Shen Yuan asks him what's up. Shang Qinghua looks him in the eyes and just shakes his head.

"My ship...💔"

"..."

"OW– Why did you have go hit me on the head!?"

"Because I don't want to know what's going on in there and I need to make sure what's in there stays in there."

[arieslost]

ok i don’t know if it’s just me who gets really giggly when it’s late at night but imagine laying in bed with lando and you’re just rambling about smth so stupid that it ends with you two just giggling at nothing. like getting full on stomach cramps from laughing but there wasn’t even anything funny to begin with

anon u and i are the SAME! once its past midnight i always end up becoming a victim of the late night sillies 💔

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

1:30 am | ln4

you knew you were up too late when you nearly tripped over the loose edge of the blanket you and lando had been sharing on your way back to the couch, and when he had caught you before you could hit your head or anything, you started laughing.

“oh, no,” he’d groaned dramatically. “got the late night giggles already, huh?”

“uh-uh,” you shook your head, even though him saying the words “late night giggles” was enough to make laughter start bubbling up in your throat again.

something always shifted in you when the clock struck a certain hour at night, and lando had only been witness to it a handful of times before you moved in together.

now, you’d managed to get through the rest of the movie the two of you were watching without laughing, even if it meant biting your lip hard and refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend. it was bad enough feeling his eyes on you every time he wanted to see your reaction to something that happened on the tv. making eye contact would just take you out entirely for no reason whatsoever.

which is why you think you’ve successfully avoided making a fool of yourself when you’re both finally laying in bed with the lights out at the fine hour of 1:30 in the morning.

“you’re so far away,” lando grumbles, dragging your body into his so his one arm is around your shoulders and your face is nestled in his neck.

“better?” you ask, smiling when he shivers as your lips brush his skin.

“mhmm.” he’s quiet for a moment, running his fingers up and down your arm. “you’re gonna come to miami, right?”

“yeah, if you want me to.”

“what kind of question is that, babe?” he cranes his neck in a way that tells you he’s fixing you with a judgy look even though you can’t see each other.

you shrug, feeling the giggles building up again for no reason whatsoever. “i dunno.”

“obviously i want you there, why wouldn’t i?”

“i dunno,” you repeat. “it’s miami. maybe you just wanna party with all your homies.” and just like that, you’re laughing again.

“oh dear god, here we go,” he sighs, pressing his lips together to repress his own laughter as your body shakes against his. “my homies? when have i ever referred to any of my mates as my ‘homie’?”

he sounds so incredulous that you laugh even harder. “oh, you’re so british! i can’t call them your mates, lan. it sounds too weird.”

“so homies is the word you went with? why can’t you be normal and just say my friends?”

“why can’t you be normal and say your friends?” you shoot back, and that does lando in.

“it’s not funny,” he tries to admonish, and it’s entirely true, but it’s a moot point when you can barely understand him through his laughter.

“stop laughing then!”

“you stop!”

naturally, that makes you both laugh harder still, to the point where you have to roll away from him, clutching your stomach from how badly all the laughing is making it hurt.

“i can’t breathe,” lando gasps from behind you.

“stop laughing,” you repeat. “you’re killing me.”

“i think i’m dying,” he continues like he didn’t hear you, and he honestly might not have because your face is half shoved into your pillow in your attempts to stifle yourself.

a few more minutes go by of the two of you absolutely losing your minds before you’re finally able to catch your breath.

“ow,” you whine, holding your stomach. “i think i just grew a six pack.”

“i think mine just became ten times more defined,” lando says, voice raspy from all the exertion on his vocal chords.

“ooh, lemme feel.”

“absolutely not, because you’re going to tickle me,” he grabs your wrist out of thin air. “i know your tricks, baby. i’ve laughed more than enough tonight thanks to you.”

“not my fault you’re weird and british.”

“i love you,” he says sweetly, pulling you back towards him and kissing your forehead. “now’s where you say, ‘i love you too.’”

“i love you too,” you reply dutifully, blindly reaching for his face so you can kiss him properly. “even though you’re weird and british.”

he kisses you again. “i thought it was especially because i’m weird and british.”

you snuggle into his side, now thoroughly exhausted. “please don’t make me laugh more, lan.”

you both know he’s right, of course, but you usually need to have the last word, so he lets you get away with it. he does love you, after all, even though you had him in stitches over nothing at 1:30 in the morning.

word count: 790

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: this was sooo self indulgent, like i was laughing as i wrote this because the term “homies” is so silly to me for some reason. also helped me test my dialogue skills!! n e wayz…

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff @personwhoisther @bernelflo

[cherriive]

﹒⌗﹒i wanna be yours ⸝⸝

summary :: what happens behind the scenes of a collab from you and karina when filming a cute song?

info :: fem reader, wlw, karina is just a tease, reader gets easily embarrassed, very short, not proofread

Not a lot of people would've thought that Karina herself would ever collab with one of the cutest idol of her generation for a song like this.

But what no one was expecting was for Karina to be so flirty with the poor girl throughout the recordings.

Right now you were having your makeup done for one part of the MV, while Karina was just filming some behind the scenes. She was just talking to the camera, before suddenly approaching you.

You both just stared at each other while your makeup artist was putting on some lipstick on your lips, and of course Karina couldn't keep her mouth shut.

“I wish I could touch your lips like that too.”

That was so out of nowhere that it took your brain a second to process what she said.

“What?!”

Your eyes kept changing from looking at her face – which of course she was smirking – and the staff behind her, silently asking if it's okay to say that to the camera.

With no one to shut Karina down she decided her main goal was to make you as flustered as humanly possible today. And she was going to achieve it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

While filming one of the scenes, Karina was supposed to hug you from behind while you two smiled. Just a cute and normal scenario between friends.

“Heyy!! Come here!”

Karina exclaimed happily while jumping on your back, making you almost fall.

And like the great friend she is, she had to pinch one of your cheeks while having that sly smile on her face.

“You're so cute.. I wish I could kiss you everywhere..”

You tried to pretend you didn't understand what her words meant, but it's quite obvious to anyone who sees this that your face is as red as it could get.

What's wrong with her today?

And the worst part was having to maintain a calm demeanor, all while feeling Karina's breath on your neck.

“Yah, don't say these things..”

Karina poked your cheek once, laughing at your reaction. There was just something so, so interesting about your responses and way of acting, she couldn't help herself!

“Do you prefer if I say this when we're alone?”

“Hey!!”

ᯓᡣ𐭩

You were talking to the camera, saying some random things to it like how you felt about this song, what inspired you to write it, etc.

And while you were focused in doing so, Karina walked over to where you were seated, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

Not that you minded, if anything you leaned on her while still speaking.

Karina who seemingly was lost in her own world, suddenly gave you a kiss on the top of your head, making you instantly shut up and look at her with a shocked, but flustered expression.

“What?” – she asked with an innocent face, holding back her laugh from how funny you looked, all shy because of her.

“Karina stop doing this..”

“But why? You like it.”

At this point you were surprised no one tried to tell Karina to shut up and stop saying stuff like that to the camera.

You knew everyone would begin to make random theories about you two, especially since the song was about love. And you asked Karina to collab with you by choice.

.. It didn't sounded like a bad thing though.

a/n :: this turned out worse than i thought, i might write this with someone else later to redeem myself💔

[artmsdoll]

just ask next time ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a yuma fic based off of this anon req !

content : nsfw writing about yuma (18+, if ur uncomfy pls don't read), yuma x fem reader, both are 18 in this!!, quickie in the bathroom, hickey receiving, ass grabbing, fingering + yuma munch

wc : 1500

a/n : GUYS IM ACC SO SORRY FOR GOING MIA FOR LIKE TWO WEEKS (?) AFTER DROPPING THAT FIRST MAKI FIC💔 THE WRITING BLOCK WAS INSANE BUT IM BACK!! also also tysm for all the support on my first fic!! also this is kinda ass... IM SORRY.. i tried

no one really knew what you and yuma were.

your friends gave up on trying to figure it out months ago. whenever they even bothered asking, you’d just shrug and say something like, “he’s so annoying and immature, i can’t stand him.” and, without fail, you'd always end up mentioning that one time he rejected you in front of everyone… in your first year of middle school. but so what if you’re petty.

and yuma? he’d just roll his eyes and say, “she’s so full of herself, thinking she can get away with things because her face is half-decent.” he remembered that same day in middle school, convinced you only asked him out to embarrass him in front of the whole school. so he rejected you. coldly.

you both swore you hated each other, but your friends saw the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching. and how your tone always changed a bit whenever you talked about him, even if it was negative. somehow, almost every conversation circled back to the other.

“did you see his new hairstyle? blonde? seriously? is he trying to look like an idol or something?” or pointing out when he would purposely roll up his sleeves, loosen his tie, or unbutton his collar and fixing it for him, looking at him dead in the eyes with a smirk while he looked like a deer in headlights.

yuma’s friends had heard enough things like “is she really putting on lip gloss again? who even cares? we’re at school.” a pause. “not like i was looking at her or anything,” to know that if love and hate were a spectrum, you two were so far on the hate side it practically wrapped back around to love. at this point, you loved to hate each other… or hated that you liked each other?

whenever he walked in or out of somewhere at the same time as you, he’d hold the door just long enough to seem polite, then let it slam in your face. or you'd walk past him in class and his books would “accidentally” fall over.

all of this with the shared goal of being a harmless inconvenience to the other… or maybe to stay in the others head…

but this one day, you decided to take it up a notch.

by that, you meant pulling out the skirt you hadn’t worn all semester (and rolling it up), and the button-up shirt that hugged your chest a little too well in all the right ways.

you didn’t even look at him when you walked into school that morning, you didn’t have to. as you passed him in the hallway, you felt his eyes on you and heard him say, “what the hell are you wearing?”

you giggled to yourself and answered with your back and lowk ur ass still to him , “the uniform…. don’t tell me you’ve never seen a skirt before.”

a pause.

 then you heard him mutter, just loud enough for you to hear it, “keep acting like that, and you won’t make it to class.”

you didn’t know if he meant you’d get dress-coded or… something else. either way, you were almost satisfied with your daily yuma teasing.

without thinking, you turned around, smirked, and met his eyes. “oh? is that a promise?”

his eyes darkened. you heard his footsteps. his hand caught your wrist, and before you could say another word, he was dragging you down the hallway to the nearest gender-neutral stall. the door slammed shut. and seconds later, your back hit the cold tiles.

“what’s this all for?” you asked, looking up at him (even though you already knew damn well).

“i could ask you the same thing. trying to get my attention, huh?” his hands rested loosely on your waist.

you giggled. “i can tell it’s working.”

you couldn’t even finish your words when he pulled you in closer and pressed his lips on yours, slightly opening them. he quickly backed off, his hands still on you and slowly making their way up to right under your chest that was tightly pushed up in your blouse.

“tell me to stop.” he whispered, his voice rough.

“no way.” you pulled him back in holding his shirts collar tightly and slightly shifted so you had his thigh in between both of yours. your almost bare cunt that wasn’t covered by safety shorts today, only your panties that were supposed to be the wild card here, but i guess he didn’t last until then rested on his leg.

you don’t know what came over him, or you, to finally crack like this but you weren’t mad.

as your kiss turned sloppier, you desperately pulled on his tie to signal you wanted more. 

he slid his warm hands up, palms grazing your chest as he fumbled with your buttons, rushed, messy, like he couldn’t get you uncovered fast enough. his mouth slowly made its way to your tits, placing short kisses all the way down. then he latched on, sucking right below your collarbone until the pressure made you let out a breathy whimper. biting down just enough to make you shiver… just enough to mark you. he pulled back, lips red, his gaze dropping to the blooming mark on your chest. his thumb brushed over it.

his other hand slid down, sneaking under your skirt. to his surprise, there was nothing between his touch and your skin.

“no shorts either?” he smirked.

“now you get it…” you giggled.

that was all the confirmation he needed.

he lifted one of your legs up and tucked your panties to the side.

“let me know if your leg gets tired okay?” his tone softened.

“mhm”

his fingers rubbed over your slick folds, passing his thumb over your clit a few times as your back arched on the cold tiles and you let out a few more whines. with no time to waste, he entered two fingers in your dripping cunt. trying not to make any more noise than you were already making, you pressed your lips on his once more. he fingered you within an inch of your orgasm. 

you don’t know where this sweet side of him was all along, but he couldn't switch up that fast. 

when he could tell you were just about to cum, he pulled out his fingers, gently lowered your leg, shoved his digits in your mouth as he watched you suck on them. 

“please don’t do this to me, this is a form of teasing i will not accept” you almost pleaded, but with that sweet tone. 

“oh i’m not done” he answered, teasing you, as he kneels and picks up your leg once more. you feel him grab the side of your panties as he slowly lowers them. he didn't waste a second to bury his face in your pussy while both of his hands squeezed your ass. moving his tongue in circles, hitting every spot and sucking on your clit lightly. you were almost at your limit, grabbing his hair and throwing your head back. when that knot in your stomach came undone, you felt his warm mouth cleaning up every last drop of your sweet juices. 

you both took a second to catch your breath. 

“how are your knees? i can’t have you do all this for me and not return the favour” you chuckled. 

“don’t worry about me!”

“no i’m serious! we cou-” but the bell cut you off. “oh i guess first periods’ over…” 

“yeah… you could say that we’re even now.” he helps you fix your skirt and your buttons, and then fixes his tie that was now loosely hanging around his neck. “so much for my tie being on wrong… oh and by the way, next time you want something from me, just ask, okay? the principal was talking about giving you those gross gym shorts to change into..” he teased. 

“oh my god..” you felt a little embarrassed now. 

then he quickly kissed your lips again while giving your ass one more squeeze before opening the door and leaving by himself, as if you guys weren’t five minutes away from hitting it raw in the school bathroom. 

you were glad that that was settled… you think.. but now you just wanted more. 

[transboyswitchytales]

🥛Milk Block & Cut Strawberries 🍓

Request 🦊 : 1. reader/us refuses to nurse, and agatha gets a little irritated, but she lets it go for now. (i even made a few dialouge) "sweetheart, it's time for your milk" - ags - "but mommy i don't want to" - reader and rio is just watching this happening. i was thinking that reader/us is a little shit sometimes and because we doesn't want to nurse, agatha's mood switches and she basically snaps at everyone. let's say that we haven't nursed in like two to three days, and finally we just give in. hehe i will send in more requests, and ughhh i think you just gave me a nursing kink 💔💔 but i love you anyway. 🦊

WARNING : Nursing / Breastfeeding Kink / Mommy Kink / Daddy Kink / Daddy Rio / Mommy Aggie / BDSM 24/7 / Found Family / Coven Loves R / LGBT and Pride Talk / Jen insert in queer history / Queer Coven of Witches / Cordelia/Misty Mentioned / BDSM Contracts / Reader is a Sag/ Reader is afraid / Anxiety meds and fear of letting people in / Witch Holiday is an actual Holiday/ Upset R and Aggie / Happy Pride Month Ya'll🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️

I don't know why I can't make a story one shot right now. Everything is a fucking series and I need to be locked up.

🦊 I hope you don’t hate me. I finally finished your list my friend. I hope you forgive me for taking forever. I love you, and your kinky brain. This fucking took me an eternity to think of how I wanted to do it. But I hope you like part 1.🦊 kink is safe with me friend.

You're deliberately kind

You make efforts to share your time

You're not afraid of your feelings

And you're not afraid of mine

I never knew love could be soft

I never knew love could be light

You had so much on your plate for the past three days. You were getting the last of it done, and you were convinced Agatha was about to kill Rio because of you.

You were in charge of the coven to get June 11: Full Strawberry Moon celebration ready. It meant Sagittarius, your sign, and focus on ambition, discipline, and achieving long-term goals. This was really important to you, you are a Sagittarius. Therefore it was your job. And Agatha was losing her mind. 

Let’s take it back three days before. 

Monday:

Lilia poured you tea and you bounced back and forth on your feet. Rio was reading ‘The Amityville Horror.’ She’d decided to read all of your favorite books this year, and so far she’d ready twenty six off of your list. And something about it was insanely intimate. 

Agatha was sitting in Rio’s lap half listening, but not really. She was reading over Rio’s shoulder, she’d secretly been stealing from your book stack. Though she didn’t want to admit to Rio’s good idea yet. 

Turns out dating a witch and Death was truly the most any partner had ever tried to woo you. They were both extremely dedicated in different ways to romancing you. They actually put in effort, learning you, and figuring out what brand of love worked for you. How you liked to be touched, how you like your eggs in the morning, and what things to never say in an argument. 

Rio and Agatha had been together for centuries, so when they asked you on a date you were confused. You’d been polyamorous before, as you’d shared with them, but you didn’t think they had been. 

Turns out, they hadn’t ever before you. Which was also mind-altering information. 

You were a baby witch, technically in the coven. 

You were in your late twenties, out of college, and had accidentally moved to this shitty town after the hex. You were older than Billy, you’d turned into a big sister to him in fact. But you were nowhere near as old as Agatha and you never got a straight answer on how old Rio was. 

So it had been a shock.

Their mutual attraction to you.  

You’d met the coven after their stint on The Road. You’d been recruited by Alice in a bookstore actually. You’d come for the magic, not the friendship, not the found family. None of that was something you thought possible. 

Falling in love with Agatha and Rio was not on your radar. And when they asked you out, you were sure you were being punked. 

But here you are, two years into dating them, and about two years and four months into the coven. And Jen and Lilia had decided you’d be the one to get all of the Strawberry Moon prep. 

When Lilia poured your tea and Jen told you you were practically giddy. 

“Oh maiden’s tit, please don’t jump for joy,” Jen said but she was smiling at you. 

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?” You shouted, and Lilia put one hand over her bad ear, the one next to said vampire bite. 

Billy wrapped his arms around you! And you both jumped up and down, much to the coven's delight. Lilia always said having youthful witches around made the craft all the better. Seeing it through your eyes for the first time made her feel like a girl again. 

You all were in Lilia’s tiny apartment, which she was moving out of next month, thank fuck. But you agreed to meet here the last time, before you all moved her shit for her into a new place. Jen and Lilia with standing in the kitchen with you as Alice made another dinner. 

Agatha and Rio were on the uncomfortable armchair, Agatha’s legs fell over the side as she sat in Death’s lap like a cat taking an afternoon nap. 

“Wait what day is it?” Billy asked, suddenly upset. 

“June eleventh.” Alice said, and she reached into Lilia’s tiny oven and pulled out dinner she’d made.

“NO!” You and Billy both shouted, and Jen and Lilia flinched at the volume again .

“Hey! Can we use our inside voices, little witches?” Alice says in her ex cop voice and you and Billy both look sorry. 

“What do you two have going on, that none of us are doing?” Jennifer asked and you heard the jealousy in her tone. 

“Pride is the twelfth! We were going to go for two days!” Billy shouted again and Alice arched an auntie eyebrow and he shushed himself by covering his mouth. 

“What is pride?” Lilia asks turning to Jen and Alice for help but they both open their mouth and Billy responds. 

“It’s not here in town. We were going to drive to the city and get fucked up-”

Rio dropped her book against her chest but Agatha was already getting up to come talk now, suddenly very interested in the conversation. 

You hadn’t told either of your girlfriends what you were going to do yet. 

“Billy, what part of I need to talk to my girlfriends first before you bring it up at coven tonight did you not get from my text?” You state the text verbatim and glare at the young gay boy. 

“Probably the part where I open my mouth and out us, sorry.” Billy makes his signature oops face and you sigh and feel Agatha’s hand on your lower back and you turn. 

“Hi.” You whisper, and she arches an eyebrow like ‘you can do better than that, talk fast.’

“Can someone tell me what is a Pride?” Lilia tried again and Jen looked to Alice for permission to explain, but Billy once again spoke. 

“It’s a celebration of queer people, it’s a whole month thing but..like there’s parades across the world. It’s to celebrate everyone, but there’s like a huge party. There’s gonna be drag queens performing, tons of gay men dancing, lesbians probably wearin leather and strap ons on floats! Planned Parenthood will have a booth for sure! The transgender floats are always so cool. I asked Eddie, but he can’t go this year, he’s got family stuff.”

“We have a pride in New Jersey?” Alice asked now squinting at you, as if it was your job to tell her and you failed. 

 “I suppose humanity is learning some form of kindness then.” Lilia muses but sips her tea, she has the knowledge that queer people have always been, and always will be. Where Billy is just experiencing this for the first time. 

“Kinda fucked though, right?” Jen says, and you feel Agatha pulling the back of  your leather belt, ready to talk privately. 

“Aren’t you bisexual?” Billy says he doesn't get her point, and Jen looks offended at him. 

“I’m not saying that there shouldn’t be a pride teen. I’m saying that celebrating queer history is good and all, but if you have watched the news lately, we still have a fucking long way to go. And I don’t know if a bunch of floats is really appropriate. You are a teenager, you weren’t even alive for the 80’s, I was there. I went to the protests, I lost my friends.” Jen says, and she’s got a look in her eyes now, one you know well. Alice takes the oven mitt off to rub the back of Jennifer's arm and it seems to help her a little. 

“That’s why it’s so important to gather, important for Billy to experience, right?” Alice tilts her head to look at Jen now. “To celebrate who he is, you fought and paved the way, so they could be safe and celebrate together. That is a pretty good reason to have a party, yeah?”

“Jen…Do you maybe wanna go?” Billy asks and you hold your breath and Jen pretends to play coy, looking to the side. 

“We should all go.” Alice states and Lilia looks excited at the idea of half dressed people on floats. 

“A word.” Agatha says, but you don’t break away right away to her and Rio, who’s tapping her foot on the floor like an angry Dad. 

“I was at Stonewall, you know,” Jen says, and Billy’s eyes grow ten sizes. 

“NO WAY!”

“I was living in New York at the time, I had friends…we didn’t know it was going to be a riot.” Jen shrugs like she isn’t a part of history. Billy throws his arms around her, and she doesn’t hug back immediately. 

“Thanks.” Billy whispers and you swear you see Jen shed a tear but she wraps her arms around the queer teenager. 

“Of course.” She responds, and you feel Agatha tug you harder, and you are quickly swept out the door by Rio and Aggie. 

“Damn ow! What?” You say and Agatha is glaring at your tone and you bite your lip now. 

You three had engaged pretty quickly into a kink BDSM dynamic. 

And what had been a small secret quickly became your 24/7 life, and it was insanely intimate and sexy. All of it you’d talked about in length, and a contract sat at your three’s home, Rio took a knife and stabbed it into your bedroom wall. Which was insanely hot, and Agatha couldn’t even find it in her to complain about it. 

More on that later. 

“Sorry for my tone Mommy.” You whisper, and Agatha softens only an inch, but you and Rio both know it’s a huge amount.

Cars pass outside of Lilia’s store front/apartment. 

“When were you going to bring this up?” Agatha asks, and Rio folds her arms over her chest. They are a perfect picture of upset Domme’s telling their submissive ‘no.’

You try not to smile or focus on how their disciplinary stance makes you aroused.  

“Um, I needed to see if I could even take off work.”

This was another point of tension; you worked at a book store two towns over. This really upset Agatha. Who tried to tell you that you needed to quit. At first she’d told you that she and Rio had access to a huge amount of funds. You never asked how or why they did, but you knew it was true.

You’d pushed them off about this, after a month of dating you noticed Agatha’s car in your work parking lot. Then you noticed Rio sitting on a bench the next day. 

Then they started to come into the large book store. You rolled your eyes when your coworker and friend told you; ‘Those two MILFS must think that you are cute, because they won’t stop staring at you.’ 

Your co-workers quickly learned that they were your girlfriends and you’d just used the excuse of ‘they’re overly protective.’ 

You had to fence a lot of questions for their stalking attitude. But in truth, you realized Agatha and Rio didn’t like you unprotected two towns over. 

But you continued to go to work, and they continued to follow you. Eventually, you just asked if they wanted to use the same car, ya know, carpool to work. 

Eventually, Rio got bored and started to read. You’d told her she picked up a bad book, hence the book recommendations. Agatha started bringing your favorite coworker coffee when she brought you your afternoon cup. 

The owners even started to like them there. People didn’t steal as much with Rio’s angry glances. 

But Agatha never settled on you working and Rio’s eyes would lift off the book to stare at the emergency exits. You knew they were waiting for trouble. 

“You didn’t think to talk to us?” Rio says, and it sounds more hurt than you were expecting. 

“We’ve never really, I mean..Since we started dating, I haven’t really spent a lot of time away…and I thought I should bring it up only if I could even get the time off.” You shrug, and both of them look upset. 

“Leather and Strap On’s,” Agatha repeated the key terms she took away from Billy’s excitement of Pride. You threw your hands up, ok yeah. But that wasn’t really Pride. He was a teenager so that was what he saw. 

“So yes, there are those things, but that’s not all it is.”

“Getting fucked up.” Rio repeated the part that upset her too. 

“Have either of you ever been?” You tried not, and Agatha ground her jaw and Rio nodded. 

“Yeah, I’m old baby. I’ve been, I’ve been to a lot of parties. And I know this is important. But I also don’t like the idea of you getting fucked up hours away from us. It’s not the Pride part that I’m worried about.” Rio says, and Agatha turns to glare at her partner. And you haven’t seen this a lot before. Rio and Agatha banter and bicker, but when it came to rules for you, they were usually pretty similar. 

“You're not?” Agatha seethes. 

“No, I’m worried about what happens at parties. I’ll go with you, Aggie you can stay if you want.” Rio steps in relationship shit in that moment. 

“Hell no, what makes you think I’ll stay while you two go?” Agatha grinds out in irritation and Rio’s eyebrows go so far up her forehead she knows she’s fucked up now. 

“Can we do this at home, after the coven meeting, please?” You ask, and they both look at you like they want to disagree, but Agatha opens the door for you and you walk back inside. 

Jen is on Lilia’s old ass ipad ordering an outfit for pride and Lilia and Billy are talking about queer history. Alice looks happy you’ve re-joined the group. 

“Dinner is getting cold, Strawberry girl!” Alice nicknames you, and you are not happy to say that the name sticks for the next two centuries after today. 

When you get home, Rio unlocks the door, Agatha kicks off her boots and you start up the stairs to the bedroom. 

It takes about twenty-five minutes of you all going about your nightly routine for Rio to break the silence. 

You take off your jeans in the bathroom, and Rio’s got a mouth full of toothpaste she makes from herbs. Somehow she stays minty for so fucking long, so you started to steal her toothpaste, Death pretends not to notice. 

She points her toothbrush at you now after she spits into the sink. 

“You don’t keep stuff from us. That’s why Aggie and I are most upset. It’s another thing you do, that pushing us away thing.” Rio said and she goes to brush the back of her teeth.

You are taking out your earrings, which were Agatha’s earrings, and you were putting them back into her jewlery box. 

“It wasn’t malicious.” You state, and Rio shakes her head. 

“Doesn’t matter, we don’t do that.” Rio reminds you of one of the rules and you know it well. 

Agatha walks into the bathroom with her hair up on her head to wash her face. She’s already in her floral robe, as she sleeps naked, and you love this fact. Agatha demanded that when you moved in for you to sleep naked next to her, and it turned out Rio and Agatha liked access to you all the time. 

“You didn’t tell the truth.” Agatha picks up the conversation, and you know she’s got crazy good hearing. You know, because Rio had gotten you in trouble two months into your kink relationship. You’d been sitting watching the animated Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. And Rio had asked you if you found Doc Ock sexy. You didn’t know Rio had been setting you up for a punishment. So you smiled and said she was super sexy, her voice did things to your pussy. 

Agatha’s super sonic hearing meant she heard you, and Aggie was a very jealous dom. So she spent the next four hours making you plead, beg, and whimper sorry to her. As she repeated back ‘Does your animated girlfriend do this to your pussy?’ While she fucked you with abandon, and Rio smirked and watched. 

Agatha knew when you were sad because she could hear the lyrics in your AirPods. 

So, yeah, Agatha could hear everything, this didn’t freak you out anymore. 

“I didn’t not tell the truth!” You tried as Agatha bent over and splashed water on her face. Rio just wiped the toothpaste off her bottom lip with a washcloth and scoffed. You heard how petulant it sounded now. “I was going to tell you.”

“Close only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes baby girl.” Rio tells you and walks out naked and you stare at her ass as it sways away from you. 

“God that is such a fucking Dad thing to say.” You mumble and walk to your sink. Yes magic was wonderful, you had three sinks. Taking out your night time anti anxiety meds. Agatha always looked a little nervous when you took them but she wasn’t watching you as she scrubbed her face now. 

“It’s Daddy to you!” Rio corrected. 

Fuck the two of them heard everything. 

When you three were done you crawled into bed as Agatha lifted the blanket for you to take your spot in the middle of the bed. You tried to ignore your need to be a brat. 

When Agatha laid down and opened her arms for you to come over and nurse. You hesitated and she looked ready to say something. 

Backstory was important for this.

See this; was something you two had stumbled on. 

You’d made the first move, two weeks into date nights. You asked when Agatha and Rio wanted to fuck. Rio choked on her dinner, and Agatha’s face seemed to need a minute to catch up, like a loading screen. 

Rio was the first to move, she put her hand up for the waiter and she mouthed ‘check?’ You three got home at lightning speed and fucked for about two hours, two hours of incredible orgasms, when the words slipped out. 

“Fuck me Mommy.” You whimpered just as Agatha thrust her magic strap on inside you, and she stopped. You bit your lip, and Rio stopped biting your chest and raised her face to see you. 

Everything stopped.

You panicked. 

“I mean..I’m sorry! I’m so so sorry! I ruined it.” You said and you scrambled off the bed. Their minds short-circuited a second time. 

But your panic didn’t do the same, you grabbed your clothes and fucking RAN out of their house. 

You didn’t go home though; you went to Alice’s. 

You pounded on her apartment door and you must have looked like a mess because when she opened the door, you were sobbing and your dress wasn’t even all the way zipped. 

“Oh honey!” Alice exclaimed, and she grabbed you by the shoulders as you cried and fell onto her bed. Alice made you hot cocoa, and you both sat cross-legged on her bed. 

“You know, you can tell me anything right?” 

“Not this.” You mumbled and blew on the mug. Alice had offered you clothes and a hug, but you told her nothing could touch you right now. You were humiliated and overstimulated. So she didn’t touch, she just wanted you to talk. 

“Did Agatha and Rio do this? Did they hurt you, because I swear on the divine mother if they-” Alice went into protective sister action so fast, and you loved her for it. But you shook your head and cried. 

“No, they…they didn’t do anything wrong.” You say dejectedly. 

“You know, I can’t be a good protection witch, if you don’t let me protect.” Alice teased hoping you’d open up. 

“You can’t protect me from myself.” You say offhandedly. 

“Oh, sweetheart, you obviously don’t understand what a protection witch is.” She smiles and your heart melts and she reaches over to the bedside table to hand you a box of tissues and you take it. 

“We were…having sex…” You said not looking at Alice. 

“I’m not a prude, and your stories at coven meetings and our lunch dates tell me you aren’t either. So come on, don’t be shy.” Alice nudges your knee and you put your cocoa down onto her side table. 

“I called Agatha something dirty. And it’s a nickname I don’t..I didn’t mean to call her. And it was our first time having sex..and I didn’t ask…and…I don’t want her to think I’m gross for thinking it and saying it. And I’m sure the name might have some trauma for her…..” You trail off, and Alice doesn’t need you to say it, she gets it now. 

“There’s nothing wrong with consenting adults doing and saying things, you know?” Alice tries to detangle your shame. 

“I didn’t want them to know.” You look to her quilt like it has answers. 

“Right, but you like them and they fucking love you already. So what if it isn’t wrong or bad? What did they say?” 

Your fingers are wet with clammy sweat. 

“Nothing.”

“Babe, please tell me you didn’t duck tail and fucking run out of their house.”

You cringe and Alice looks genuinely worried now. 

“I couldn’t listen to them reject me!”

“Oh you are such a Sagittarius, always running, always ugh! Okay listen to me, if this was a fucking mortal sexy kink scene. And a mortal friend told you that they ran out in the middle of sex, without talking to their sex partners, the fucking… I’m guessing.. first time they had sex together? What would you say?”

Your face turned colors and Alice nodded seeing your brain click. 

“Oh shit.” You gulp. 

“Now, if all of that isn't enough. It wasn’t mortals. You ran away from Agatha Harkness and Death herself. And neither of them have been fucking open with anyone in I don’t know how many centuries. And they opened up to you, and were fucking asking Jennifer what kind of flowers you liked for dates…..And you ran tonight, as soon as the clothes came off. You didn’t even let them tell you if they liked the name or not!” Alice exclaims and you are standing up and looking around for your keys. 

“Oh yeah, and also they’re murderous and unhinged cosmic beings who are probably setting fire to a town right now. I should check the news actually. There may not be a town!” Alice turns to find her phone but you are already opening the door to Jen in her pajamas. 

“FOUND HER!” Jen yells and Rio’s big bicker boots make pounding noises as she takes the stairs three at a time to find you. 

She doesn’t wait, doesn’t ask questions she just throws her arms around you. Like she was terrified you weren’t ok. 

“Hi.” You whisper into her neck and she squeezes you tight. 

You blink and you are portaled by Death back to the bedroom. Agatha is in her signature floral robe and she’s pacing. 

When Rio let’s go of you you feel super dizzy. She catches you around the hips. 

“Easy little witch, first time portal is always a little much. Stare at the lamp.” Rio pulls your hair back and you try not to throw up. 

“You just left! You didn’t even, you didn’t even give us a chance! You just left!” Agatha shouts and you wince. 

“My love, let’s give her a minute.” Rio says seeing you turn her signature color of green. 

“You can’t just run like that! I mean, you didn’t even give me a minute! What if you had gotten hurt? We didn’t even know where you went! You just ran!”

“Aggie, sweetheart I’m going to move her to the bathroom. I think she’s gonna throw up.” Rio lifts you quickly and brings you to the bathroom and holds your hair back as you throw up. “Fuck, my littlesunflower, I’m sorry. I should have made Jen drive us back. Aggie was ready to kill the whole neighborhood. I just figured the faster I got you home the better.” Rio tells you as she rubs your back and you loose the expensive dinner they’d bought you earlier this evening. 

“Baby, breathe through your nose,” Agatha says snapping out of her upset as soon as she saw you in distress over the toilet bowl. She sat to your left on the floor, and Rio had you in her lap. The two held your hair and rubbed your back. 

Later, they made you tea and force fed you saltines as you wouldn’t look either of them in the eye. 

“I think I should go.” You whisper, realizing Alice might be right, you have a tendency to run. 

“No.” Both Rio and Agatha say at the same time. 

Rio looks at Aggie and then runs down the stairs, coming back with a paper and pen. 

“You’ve done this before?” You asked looking at the paper, knowing she wants a contract. 

“No, Agatha and I have never...we’ve never done this with anyone,” Rio says and Agatha looks down at the paper like it’s a dragon but she takes it and the pen Rio has tucked in clenched fist. 

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea then?” You tell them, and Agatha’s face turns to disbelief. 

“How could you say that?” 

“You two have worked for a long time, why me? I’m nobody.” You say and set the tea cup down and Rio and Agatha stared at you like you had three heads now. The paper had nothing on you. 

“You are so wrong, how terrible that you actually believe that,” Rio says first, and Agatha opens and closes her mouth before choosing her words. 

“You are everything.” 

You blink up at her, confused, no one had ever said those words to you. And your not sure what to do about it. 

You three made the contract that night, and Rio kissed you both and then stabbed the paper into the wall. 

And a few days later you were having an intimate, sleepy moment with Agatha after morning sex. She noticed how you loved to suck on her nipples, half asleep, half awake. It felt intensely intimate, so she tried a little magic. 

And you yelped when you tasted her milk the first time. 

“Oh my fuck! What did I do!” You tried to leap off of Agatha, but she grabbed you around the shoulders. 

“Easy! Damn you hop off me faster than Senior Scratchy, we should call you Bunny. Relax, baby, I was just curious if you would like it.” Agatha said, though her voice waivered, and you realized….Agatha was nervous. 

“You…you did it for me?” You tried but Agatha grabbed both of your hands and pulled you back to lay naked against her chest. 

“Let’s just try it, ok?” Agatha said, and you were suspicious to say the least, but you moved your mouth to her nipple slowly, waiting for Agatha to yell and push you away. Tell you you were disgusting and this was wrong. 

But Agatha sighed at the contact, and you saw her relax more than you’d ever seen before into the mattress. Her fingers played with your hair and she watched you with a dreamy look. 

It became a staple in your house. 

Rio fucking loved it. 

You ached for it. 

And Agatha couldn’t get enough. 

She was constantly taking you into private spaces to have you nurse just for twenty minutes. It didn’t matter if you were at Alice’s, a coven meeting, at work, or watching a movie. Agatha found it therapeutic, and she told you why eventually.

“I can do it for you, it relaxes me, it relaxes you. You….you need me in that moment.” Agatha didn’t meet your eyes, but you kissed her hard to tell her you did. 

You felt more connected than ever before. Rio whispered to Agatha one night as you nursed, and Death held your naked body from behind. 

“It’s like we were always missing her, this piece….it’s like she brings light and peace….and…I can’t let her go Aggie.” Rio admitted, and your eyes were closed and you were just about to drift off. 

“We won’t, not ever,” Agatha promised. 

So here we were, on Monday. 

Agatha opened her arms to you and you scrunched your nose. Which took her for a spin. 

“Not tonight, I’m sleepy.” Now that was a lie, and both Rio and Agatha’s ears pricked up at that. But you rolled onto your tummy and hid in the pillow. 

Agatha didn’t move for two whole minutes. And you felt horrible. 

But Rio pushed your body into Agatha’s. Rio didn’t like this one bit, she knew you were being a brat. But she also knew this was your and Aggie’s thing. 

So as you fell against Agatha’s naked body, you felt the two of them curl around you, and you knew they were communicating with their minds. But you just tried to sleep. 

Tuesday:

You snuck out of the house; you didn’t need to work until 2pm. So you left a note for Agatha, and grabbed your keys walking out. 

Rio was in the front yard planting something new and you reached out and grabbed her ass and she turned, never one to be snuck up on. Taking out one of her airpods, the ones she stole from you. 

“What are you listening to?”

“Death Metal.” She fibbed and you glared at her, you learned from Agatha what it looked like when Death lied. It was an endlessly interesting thing to notice. Rio didn’t lie big; she liked to lie to you to see if you could catch it. But she always fessed up. Like a long game of Poker your lady. 

“NPR?” you guessed, and Rio’s mouth twitched in entertainment. You reached into her butt pocked for your old ipod to see what she was listening to. 

“Holy shit! Lady Death! Are you listening to Disco? ABBA!” You laugh and Rio grabs your ipod back and puts it in her back pocket. 

“You keep Daddy’s secret or I’ll spank you raw.”

“Ha! Who am I gonna tell Aggie? She already knows your secrets.” You say, and Rio looks towards the house and then at you, and you think she’s about to drop some deep thing, as she tends to do. 

“You done being a brat?” She says, instead and you reach in your pocket for your keys. 

“I gotta go! I’ll pick up burritos if I get back in time!” You start walking backwards towards your car and Rio’s face morphs into a million things. 

“You don’t have to work until later, where are you going?” Rio looks like she’s ready to drop her stuff to come with you. 

“I’m going to Lilia’s to start planning the coven meeting.”

“Strawberry girl, you know you can’t hide forever!” Rio shouts, and you run back to her and she looks less anxious. You lean up to kiss her on her gorgeous lips and she hums into the kiss, liking where this is going. Her dirty hands grab your ass to pull you closer but you break the kiss and run. 

“BYE!”

“HEY! DADDY’S NOT LIKING THIS BEHAVIOR! Wh- and she’s gone.” Rio says, just as you shut your car door and blast your phone Bluetooth to the speakers. You turn the music up obnoxiously loud as she rounds the car to watch you pull out. 

You waive, and she does the sam,e though the look on her face isn’t pleased. 

You leave to go to Lilias. 

The two of you get a lot of the stuff planned, and Lilia is happy to help you. She even has lemon cake ready for you and you munch on it as she shuffles the Tarot deck. 

You’d been there for an hour, and you two had meal planned, and circle planned and now she was ready for you to ask. 

“I don’t have a question.”

“Don’t lie to Mama Calderu now, Strawberry girl.”

“Why is everyone calling me that now?” You say annoyed. 

“Because, you are a Sagittarius and the moon is a Strawberry Moon. Besides, you are so sweet it fits. You fell in love with the deity that makes things grow. You are juicy, you laugh loudly, and are always barefoot and running through the grass. You are the embodiment of joy.” Lilia beams at you, and you feel like an impostor. Like she see’s something in you, a lie. 

“I’m not that.” You say pushing the lemon cake away now. 

Lilia reaches across the table and grabs your hand in hers. 

“You are that and so much more.”

“I’m….broken.” You say, and she gives you a reassuring but sad smile. 

“No, but your way of thinking about yourself is. If you let those two love you… the way they want to. If you let this coven in, and you stop running from us. You’d find a whole new sense of belonging, kiddo.”

She tells you, and you don’t mean to cry.

“Old habits.” You try as an apology.

“We all know, but you are the future of this coven. You already saved Agatha Harkness.”

You shake your head ‘no’ but Lilia nods her head and her curls bounce with her head. 

“You are going to argue with the divination witch about the future? That’s rich, you been hanging out with Agatha too much!” She cackles, and you laugh too. Knowing Lilia adores Agatha now, and that they even enjoy each others company. 

“I don’t know if..I don’t know how to let them in.” You admit, and Lilia tilts her head towards the cards.

“You got Death and Agatha Harkness to bend to your every whim. They love you more than anything. If you can do that, you can do anything. Now, are you ready to ask?”

You nod and Lilia releases your hands and picks up the deck.

You leave and go to the nearest metaphysical shop. 

You scratch the back of your neck as you stare at the candle section. 

An older witch walks over to you, you read her quickly and know she’s a tough witch. Her blonde hair and meek stance means jack-shit. 

“Can I help you find something?”

“Um…” you say a little skittish and you look over your shoulder.

“Relax, I know who you belong to.” The blonde smiles and you wonder if she means coven or….girlfriends? 

“Oh?” Now you wonder if you are in grave danger.

“My wife and I mean you no harm. You are welcome here anytime. The witch community is talking a lot about you.”

“I think you have me confused.” You put back a candle and the witch doesn’t stop you but she doesn’t drop it either.

“I don’t, you are Harkness’s Strawberry.” She smiles affectionately and you pale.

“Is that what I am?” You feel the need to run. 

“Are you getting ready for the full moon? Alice called me and let me know you’d be coming by.” 

Your shoulders relax when she says Alice and she smiles more now at your obvious ease.

“You scared me.” You grab your stomach and look around to see if anyone else saw you.

“I’m sorry Strawberry girl. I didn’t mean to. I’m Cordelia, my wife Misty over there is dying to meet you.” Cordelia points to the corner where a woman who looks like Stevie Nicks is staring at you and almost vibrating with excitement. 

“Me?”

“You are something of a legend now.”

“Really? What do they say?”

“Mostly that you are Harkness's Wife. But also that you are the bringer of sunshine. I guess you have a sort of warmth an aura that makes witches happy. I see it now.” Cordelia shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

“Sorry can you back up, did you say wife?”

“Some who know of her, say you tame and stop Death herself. That you have her eating out of the palm of your hand.” Cordelia leans forward, and you lean back in horror. 

“Don’t worry! You are safe here, no judgment at all. Alice was right, you are a skiddish thing. I have your order in the back. But Misty can help if you are looking for something else. Let me go grab it, don’t run, ok?” Cordelia says and you are in shock.

You’d later tell Alice she was an asshole for waiting to introduce you to Misty and Cordelia. You’d later ask them to be there at your wedding, but not today. Today Misty’s energy and Cordelia’s knowing looks freaked you out.

After the longest five hour shift you’d ever had your boss looked glad that you were going home. You usually brought an ease to the book store, but today you were anxious and snapping at others. 

So when you clocked out you didn’t linger and bring home a new novel. You got the fuck out of there. 

You got home and slammed the car door. You used your key to get in, and as you walked in, you were greeted by Agatha shouting at Jen and Billy.

Jen was standing in front of the teenager who was looking embarrassed; you didn’t need to ask to figure it out. 

“THAT IS NOT RIGHT!” Agatha pointed to a frog on your coffee table and Jen had her hands out. Ready to defend the poor teenager.  

But they stopped to look at you.

“Tell your girlfriend she owes me big time!” You yell at Jen, and her mouth drops.

“You have a girlfriend?” Billy’s attention span is that of a small rodent, and he forgets Agatha yelling at him.

“Why are you yelling at me now? Your fucking wife is yelling at me and now you!” Jen snaps back louder than before. 

“Why is everyone saying that!” You yell at Jen and don’t look at Agatha’s face. But you throw Billy the keys to your car. “Shit is in the trunk!” You stomp up the steps.

But Jen calls out to you.

“WE ARENT EVEN DATING! Whatever-One Harkness screaming is enough!” 

But you slam the bedroom door and go into the bathroom to shower. You crank the radio up super loud and try to calm down. 

When you dress and emerge back downstairs, Alice has come and she’s setting up the backyard.

“Do we need to talk?” Alice asks, and you are fuming.

“No, go talk to your shop friends about my stupid strawberry girl rumors. Leave me alone.” You seethe and Alice has never experienced you mad at her before. And she’s not sure what to do.

Rio walks in with a popsicle.

“Give her a minute.” She instructs, and Alice walks away with her head hung low.

“You two are really on a roll.” Rio muses and you open the fridge and start pulling out ingredients for prepping tomorrows meals.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.” Rio challenges and you slam the fridge door and start to cook.

Rio sits on the far edge of the kitchen counter, she’s out of your way, but she’s near.

As people walk into the house to talk to you, she tells them you are busy. And you try to be calm, but you are losing it.

It sounds like Agatha is as well, as she and Jen continue to snap. Agatha has a very short fuse, and she’s not listening to anyone.

“Full moon agitation?” Jen whispers in question to Lilia who doesn’t help, but plays dumb. 

You make all the yeast dough, prepping it for tomorrow. You create the citrus sweet tea, you bake the cute muffins, and then you get to tonight’s dinner. 

You haven’t spoken in three hours.

Rio eventually hops of the kitchen counter and she helps you make the big dinner, knowing you won’t attack her now. 

You two cook in silence, and when you finish, you go outside to the coven who has started the fire pit.

Agatha is not here. 

Alice walks to you first with a bottle of tequila in hand.

“I come in peace, I bring booze. I love you more than words, please don’t shut me out. Don’t run from me. I swear the whole state knows about you, I don’t spill your secrets. Don’t be mad?” She begs, and you eye her and take the bottle and chug and Jen and Lilia clap in happiness. 

You smile mournfully at Alice and she doesn’t need more form you. She takes the jug back and you sit next to Billy in the grass by the fire.

Dinner is a tense affair though.

Agatha is fuming and not speaking. She’s not drinking, she’s not really eating or speaking, she’s just angry. Rio looks between you two like she’s unsure of how to handle this. 

You finish dinner and the talk of a movie rings out.

“No.” Agatha says and it cuts the chatter.

“My love?” Rio asks, though something is clear she knows this won’t go well.

“You don’t wanna watch a queer movie or that movie?” Alice corrected as they walk into the living room to sit.

“No, tomorrow is circle. Tonight, get out.” Agatha says and you can’t believe she said that. But you also really can?

“What?” Jennifer is confused but Lilia grabs her keys.

“Let’s go! Come on a good night sleep will help us all for the parties tomorrow!” Lilia pushes the coven out the door and nods to Rio in condolences. 

Agatha is staring at you like she’s about to take a bite out of her strawberry girl.

🍓

But I know that it's worth it because

When I tasted strawberry Mentos, I knew you were the one

I knew you were the one

Poor Rio...She too must wait for part 2.....

Happy 🍓Strawberry Moon 🌕 , Everyone!

AO3

MasterList

[himasgod]

hey so how do you think Liloa vanrouge would deal with drinking tea with his s/o and the topic of flying comes up and he flirty offers to fly them both up high and s/o actually looks like they’re considering it. “I’ve never done that before, but I’d like too if you’re offering”? Just have a nice, time up in the sky and s/o really shows their trust that they have in Lilia?

LILIA X READER

Where you take a fly through the sky with him

Writing this on a short break in the library while preparing for my exams💔

You were sitting with Lilia beneath a cherry tree in full bloom, your shared tea set balanced between you on a stone bench.

Lilia was mid-story—some outrageous tale involving a rampaging dragon, Malleus in his youth, and a very unfortunate tailor—when he glanced skyward and sighed dramatically.

“You know what we should do?” he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Let me guess,” you said, raising your cup to your lips. “Adopt a dragon.”

“Tempting,” he laughed, “but no. I meant fly. You and me. Up there.”

He gestured lazily toward the sky, where a few clouds drifted by like slow travelers. “Tea’s always better after a little elevation.”

You blinked. “Wait—you mean literally fly?”

He turned to you with a mock gasp. “Why, of course! You say that like you’ve never flown with someone before.”

“Because I haven’t?” you said, laughing a little.

His smile turned sly. “Ah… then what an honor it would be to be your first.”

You paused, watching him. The glint in his eyes was playful, but not careless.

“I’ve never done that before,” you murmured, fingers tracing the rim of your teacup. Then you looked up and met his gaze. “But I’d like to. If you’re offering.”

He blinked once, surprised. And then his grin softened.

“Always,” he said.

With a little flourish, he stood and dusted imaginary crumbs from his sleeves. Then he turned to face you, extending one hand, his ring glinting in the light.

“My magic’s stable,” he assured, teasing just a little. “You won’t plummet. Much.”

You shot him a look, but your heart fluttered anyway as you placed your hand in his. He curled his fingers around yours, then pulled you gently to your feet.

“Hold on tight,” he said with a wink, “and maybe close your eyes for the first few seconds if you’re squeamish about floating.”

You didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant.

With a flick of his wrist and a quiet chant under his breath, magic surged gently beneath your feet like a warm breeze—and suddenly, the ground was no longer where it was supposed to be.

Your breath caught. You clutched at his sleeve instinctively as the two of you lifted off, slowly at first, then rising higher in smooth spirals. The garden below shrank, the tops of the trees drawing level, then falling away.

Lilia floated effortlessly beside you, one hand holding yours, the other lazily tucked behind his back. “Not so bad, hm?”

You stared out at the sky, the treetops far below, the sun curling golden around the clouds. “It’s… beautiful.”

“Wait until the moon’s out,” he murmured. “The view gets even better when the stars show off a little.”

You turned to him, a small laugh escaping. “You’re really doing this just to impress me, aren’t you?”

He gave you a mock gasp. “Is it working?”

You rolled your eyes. “Unfortunately… yes.”

The wind stirred your hair, cool and clean and full of the scent of distant flowers. You let out a slow breath, heart beating fast—but not from fear. From wonder. From the magic of it all. From the fact that you were floating, hand-in-hand with Lilia Vanrouge, high above the ground.

And you realized—you weren’t scared. Not even a little.

You looked at him again. “I trust you, you know.”

That caught him off guard. His smile twitched, then softened into something almost unreadable. “Do you, now?”

“I do.”

“Thank you,” he said softly.

[nerdygirlramblings]

Sis! First of all, hope you are healthy, happy and doing just fine

And sorry for my selfishnes but could you write something for comfort please? Yesterday someone poisoned another one of my dogs, a farm dog, she was the sweetest, clingiest fluffiest thing, and they poisoned two times, she recuperated for the first but not the second TToTT what would the team do if reader did try all to save one of the local dogs in a military camp and this happened? Would they comfort them? Would they search and stop the one doing the poisoning? After all dogs even local dogs end up alerting for strangers.

And just to see how really sensitive pets are, one of my dobermans is staying clingy to me and making a half hug all day since the other one died.

Sorry for the ramble and feel free to ignore

Thank you so much

Oh @boogeysmoth ! I am so sorry 😭 that is terrible 💔

I did my best for this request. Your sweet farm dog deserved better 💔💔

tw: animal death

Price found you, sobbing, next to what he first thought was a pile of sandy rags. You'd been stuck at the desert base for a month now and the damn sand got everywhere, and he couldn't tell what was so heartbreaking about the tags until he got closer and saw what it really was you were crying over.

The dog.

The local mutt you'd been feeding for four weeks. The animal he was sure you'd be begging him to find transport for when you were finally shipped back home.

You'd called him Vaheh. Said it meant 'oasis' in the local language. Told the dog he was your little spot of paradise in all this sand.

And now it was dead.

Price sat next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You leaned your head against his and, with hiccuping sobs said, "I think someone poisoned him."

Price grunted, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. You both knew how dangerous a non-military dog could be, especially when it was local. Just like you both knew how most bases took care of those kinds of security issues. Hell, before you'd joined them, it's likely he would have sent Ghost to do this very thing on day one.

But you had joined them. You and your big heart. Heart big enough to hold them all close. Heart big enough to worry about the world. Heart so big you showed them there was a different way. Couldn't use it on your targets, but on this, on an animal that would have otherwise been collateral damage? Your big heart showed them how far love could get you.

And Vaheh was proof. He'd stopped barking that first day when you'd left the chicken from your MRE out for him. By day three he didn't growl at you and your offering of slightly overdone roast beef. By the end of the week, he'd come trotting over when he heard the rip of the packaging. You happily gave him your food. And despite their protests, over the last two weeks, you'd periodically convinced Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz to donate their protein to Vaheh too.

Yeah, Price knew you were planning to bring the dog back home before you could even ask. He couldn't fathom who would have done this or why. "C'mon," he said, pulling you closer, "Vaheh deserves more 'an this." He stood and pulled you up after him. "You wait here and think 'a all the things ya liked about 'im."

Price went to find the others and a shovel to bury the dog. He knew a grave would have to be deep, and a bit further from the base, so he snagged a set of humvee keys from base transportation. Shovel and keys in hand, he found Gaz first. It took him a moment to explain why he had a shovel, but the younger man needed no convincing to take it from him and go find you. Soap was coming out of the mess when Price spotted him. A brief word about where you were and why and the Scot was off at a trot to grab an old blanket before heading your way. Price found Ghost in the armory. The lieutenant audibly growled when he heard someone poisoned your dog. Price only just kept him from tearing through the base to find the person responsible. It wouldn't be what you wanted, and it wouldn't bring Vaheh back either.

By the time the Ghost was with you, you'd stopped crying. Soap had lain the blanket over Vaheh's body, and Gaz was about to start digging when an engine rumbled louder and louder. Price commandeered a vehicle which you all poured into, Ghost riding shotgun, the sergeants in the middle, and you with Vaheh's body in the very back. Price didn't drive far, just away enough from the base to keep your activity private.

He helped you lower Vaheh out of the truck then set Gaz and Soap to digging a deep hole. While they dug, Price had you talk to him and Ghost about the dog. It was painful, especially since he'd only been in your life for such a short time, but it felt good too. You knew what happened would have happened sooner if not for you, and it gave you comfort to know you'd made Vaheh's last few weeks better.

Two weeks after you got home, Price knocked on your barracks door and dropped a large envelope unceremoniously into your hands when you opened it. "Fer the dog," he said gruffly before walking away. You hadn't forgotten Vaheh or the sadness of his death, so you opened the envelope with shaking hands. In it was paperwork work for a star. A star with your name. The sticky note on it said it's coordinates put it directly over Vaheh's gravesite, "So you can watch over him all the time."

The tears you shed were bittersweet but made your heart feel lighter.