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gloomwitchwrites · 1 day ago

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Dog with No Teeth // Chapter Eleven

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (MDNI): post-apocalypse au, swearing, suggestive themes, brief alcohol use

Word Count: 7k

Task Force 141 preps for the coming mission. Kyle and Johnny have a serious talk with Simon. Simon takes you out on a date. A proposition is made.

Chapter Ten // Chapter Twelve

ao3 // main masterlist // dog with no teeth masterlist

“It’s a bloody coup.”

Captain Price’s cigar smoke lingers in the air, stilted and stuffy and picking at Simon’s oral fixation. The pack of cigarettes and lighter are in Simon’s hand a second later. Balaclava off, the filtered end resting between his lips, a click as he pops the lighter, orange flame sparking to life.

Simon inhales, cherishes the burn.

“Attempted coup,” exhales Simon, a cloud of smoke circling his head. “A fucking mess of one.”

Pictures and paper litter the dark wood tabletop. A detailed map of the northern border of Washington and the southern border of Canada sits in the middle. Nearby, a small lamp provides a bit of warm light, and it’s all they’ll have at this hour. Late in the evenings, when most of the population is in bed, power is conserved and redirected. Only necessary infrastructure is allowed nightly clearance. Task Force 141 might be sitting in a small meeting room in the military district, but a building mainly used for clerical work isn’t high priority.

The fact that a singular lamp is even working is a bloody miracle.

Captain Price smooths his facial hair with his fingers, his expression pensive. “The masterminds went to ground. We’re being sent to sniff them out.”

Kyle gives a small shake of his head. “Fucking animals. Mowing unarmed civilians down like that.”

Simon takes a long drag on his cigarette, allowing the burn to take the place of his anger. Rage won’t help. There are no enemies to fight in this cramped room with smoke-stale air and fetid tempers. What he wants is to seek comfort with you, to have your warmth cradled in his arms before he’s forced to leave it behind.

“All that fighting and no one learned anything,” growls Johnny.

“Humans are fickle, sergeant,” replies Simon slowly, his thumb smoothing over the metal casing of the lighter. “Can’t always trust them.”

Johnny’s side-eye is sharp enough to slice steel. No one is in a good mood. This is their work and yet it’s different—too personal. In the beginning, Task Force 141 was bounced around from Safe Zone to Safe Zone, but it wasn’t unusual. Military personnel were on the move and hardly anyone stayed in one place for long. But that’s when humanity stopped fighting and organized. The old disagreements were put to rest and the new fractures had yet to crawl forth to sink their teeth in. The team was sent outward, to push back against external threats. Internal threats were unthinkable because the mandates were working and people wanted to live.

“When are we leaving?” asks Simon, pointedly ignoring Johnny’s cutting glare.

Price clears his throat. “In three days.”

“Why the delay?” probes Kyle. “Why not tonight? Or tomorrow?”

Leaning forward, Price shifts the map of Washington and Canada to reveal a detailed map of Safe Zone Thirty. It’s one of the smaller zones, mainly used for logging and growing certain crops like potatoes. Fringe and insignificant compared to the larger zones, which makes it the perfect target. A place like that flips with the right control and no ones the wiser until its absence leaves a dent.

Price’s mouth twitches with irritation. “One group wants us there. Another…not so much.”

“Fuck what those bastards think,” mutters Kyle with a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Not my call,” replies Price, tapping his cigar against the glass ashtray. “But we are going. Despite the pushback.”

“We’ll root them out,” says Kyle confidently, settling back in his chair. “Always do.”

It’s all schematics after that, a draining process of the who and the why and the basic disregard of humanity. The end of the war was supposed to put all this to rest, to unify the remains, and forge a future out of bloodied scraps.

But humans love their violence—they adore consumption.

Why be at peace? Why be stagnant? Why not rip into the meat?

The walk to the pub downstairs is utterly silent except for Johnny’s off-key whistling. Of all the advantages of the military district, the free-flowing alcohol is a perk Simon will miss while they’re away. Pubs are always open. From sun up to sun down, soldiers of every rank frequent their stoop, spilling out into the street with bottles still in hand.

Simon sinks into a chair in the back of the pub while Johnny orders for them at the bar. There is no cost. No open tabs. Not for anyone willing to hold a gun in the name of global security. But money doesn’t exist anymore. It’s all been dissolved for the sake of harmony.

“Fucker gave me the whole bottle,” laughs Johnny as he cradles three rocks glasses and a half-full bottle of bourbon.

Kyle stands, reaching for the glasses before they topple to the ground. They’re distributed, and the whiskey is poured with a heavy hand.

“Another bloody trip,” mutters Kyle. “We just got home from the last one.” He sighs heavily, running his hand over his face is exhaustion. “How long will this one be.”

The wall sconces glow dimly, not from electricity, but half-melted candles. It’s the go-to when the power is yanked and distributed elsewhere. Everything in the pub is in shadow, which is fucking perfect for Simon. The balaclava can come off, and he can enjoy his bourbon without some wanker having a good stare about it.

Even in the shadows, Johnny’s smile is a sunbeam. “At least that bonny blonde from the social will be here when you come back.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “She spit or swallow?” Simon snorts into his glass as Kyle swipes at Soap’s head. Johnny cackles. “Oh, aye. You always liked the spitters.”

“Piss off, you wanker,” laughs Kyle, the earlier exhaustion dissipating. Moving his rocks glass around, Kyle shifts his attention to Simon, a knowing glint in his eye. “What about your woman? Have her hooked yet?”

Simon’s thumb rubs a bead of condensation off his glass. “Working on it.” The water melts into his skin. “She’s a stubborn thing.”

“I remember,” chuckles Kyle, bringing his own glass up for a sip. “She calm down any?”

“You mean does she knee me in the dick and flee?”

Johnny wheezes, covering his eyes with his hand as he falls into a fit of laughter. “Hells, Lt. That was fucking golden.” He lightly hits Kyle’s arm with the back of his hand. “Remember how hard he went down? Fucking beautiful it was.”

“True strike,” says Kyle with admiration.

Simon rubs at his eye, a small smile teasing the surface. “Goddamn pricks.” Kyle and Johnny both make jerking off gestures before they devolve into hysterical wheezing that leaves Johnny bent over and gasping for air. “Now you’re just taking the piss.”

“Go on then,” smiles Kyle. “Tell us how you’re wooing her?”

“Putting on that charm, aren’t ya, Lt?”

Gaz elbows Soap. “Buying her flowers.”

Soap winks. “Cracking jokes.”

“Romantic walks in the park.”

“Infinite orgasms.”

Simon remains silent, his good mood wavering slightly with the coming interrogation. There is no clear path of avoidance, no path he can take to steer the conversation away from you and how utterly shit he is at coaxing you into his arms. Kyle and Johnny won’t let this matter drop. Simon has asked too much of them already. They know the pursuit is active, and with him bringing them into it just to flame his own ego, they believe they have the right to know the details.

Maybe it’s Simon’s neutral expression that gives him away—the sudden shift from good mood to quiet hesitation—that triggers Kyle’s next question.

“Are you pursuing her?”

Simon runs his tongue over his teeth as he considers the bourbon in his glass. “I am.”

“You don’t sound happy about it,” states Gaz, resting his forearm on the tabletop.

Johnny stares at Simon with an odd expression. “You were up my ass at the social about her.”

“You weren’t keeping others away from her,” mutters Simon.

Johnny rolls his eyes. Kyle leans back in his chair; one hand raised slightly as the gears in his head process the situation.

“What are you doing, mate?” asks Gaz.

Simon runs his finger along the lip of the glass. “I’m being honest with her,” he replies.

“About what?” counters Kyle.

“About her situation.” Simon taps the rim of the glass. Once. Twice. Thrice. “That they’re going to make her choose. And she should choose me.”

Kyle and Johnny both let out exasperated groans, their movements exaggerated as they throw their hands in air.

“You’re got be bloody joking, Simon,” mutters Kyle.

Defensiveness rises. “It’s true,” retorts Simon. “I told her the truth. Showed her what I have to offer.”

Johnny has both elbows on the table, hands covering his face as he chortles.

Kyle drapes an arm across the back of the empty chair next to him. “And what do you have to offer?”

Simon purses his lips, tipping his head back to finish the last of the bourbon in his glass. “Protection. Safety. Security,” he lists, reaching for the bottle in the middle of the table. Simon refills his glass. “That I’d provide for her.”

“Jesus Christ,” guffaws Kyle. “How the fuck are you pulling women, mate?”

“What’s wrong with what I told her?”

“That’s what you said to entice her? Are you fucking serious?”

Simon stares, unamused and over this. “It’s what all the other women wanted from me.”

Kyle shakes his head, snagging the bottle of bourbon when Simon sets it down. “And you think she’s the same? That it’s enough?”

“I didn’t say that,” replies Simon, a threat of a growl rising in his voice.

“But you implied it,” says Kyle, pointing at him as Johhny sits up, sharing in Kyle’s skepticism. Kyle fills his glass and hands it over to Johnny. “What makes you think what you promised her is special? That you’re the only one who can do that?”

“Security isn’t guaranteed.”

“Just because the women that pursued you wanted those things, doesn’t mean she does. There are plenty of single women across this Safe Zone who don’t want those things. Most of them are perfectly fucking happy. And,” Kyle continues, shifting in his chair, “they’re picking men who couldn’t even shoot the side of a building if you handed them a gun.”

“And when things go south, as they always do, they’ll wish they did,” says Simon, unwilling to budge.

He’s not wrong. Simon knows this in his heart. The world might have been shattered, the pieces glued together to resemble what it is now, but Captain Price’s briefing tonight proved exactly why society is still fragile.

Kyle’s body language shifts. It’s subtle, but Simon sees it. He’s changing tactics.

“You promised her security and safety. Great,” shrugs Kyle. “You know who can also provide that?” His head tilts slightly. “Me.” He nods toward Johnny. “Soap.” He gestures toward the rest of the men in the pub. “All of them. Your offer isn’t special. And that’s where you’re missing the damn point.”

Gaz is stubbornly persistent, and as much as Simon is annoyed by it, the man isn’t wrong. Simon isn’t winning you over like he thought he would. You’re still resisting—pushing back. His actions were fucking selfish in taking you but it was also to protect you. You were not a citizen of the Safe Zones in that moment. The mandate requires that any human found outside the walls of a Safe Zone must be brought back if they are not an active threat. Simon had the highest rank. He was leading that team. He had the first right to declare intent on bringing you back with them. If he hadn’t, you’d have been a doe during hunting season.

It's barbaric. And it’s also a secret.

As much as the people in power reassure the general population that all outsiders are given proper due process and rights, that’s simply not the case. They change their tune depending on the situation, and for you, they would. You were a lone woman, a potential contributor to the gene pool, and they would have turned the other cheek if Simon had brought you back and insisted that you were to be his and his alone.

They would have granted it. Easily. Without a fucking question.

But Simon didn’t. He brought you back, claimed you at reintegration and processing, but only in that he was bringing you back into the fold, that in your file, it would simply have his name and rank for submitting personnel—not that he intended more. Shit like that stays under the table. It’s one of the easiest ways for military members to snag a wife and start a family.

Which is why Kyle isn’t even suggesting that Simon do it, or questioning why he didn’t.

“Have you even asked her what she wants?” asks Gaz. “Talked to her about what she wants in a partner?”

“I know what she needs,” replies Simon.

“And what’s that?”

“Me.”

Kyle smirks. “You ask her that?”

No.

Johnny settles back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, hands tucked underneath his armpits. “Ya know, I’ve got a question for you, Lt.”

“Do you, Johnny?”

“Does she even know your name?”

Kyle’s laugh is clipped and short. “Seriously?”

Johnny nods, addressing Gaz. “Remember at the social? When she referred to Simon, she only said—”

“Lieutenant Riley,” finished Kyle. “Never Simon.”

“Nope.”

Gaz and Soap slowly turn their heads in his direction.

Goddamnit.

“I like it when she calls me by my rank.”

Johnny’s grin is feral. “What do you think, Kyle? Think you’d blow your load if your blonde bomb moaned your rank while you fucked her?”

Kyle shrugs. “Probably. Novelty might wear off though.”

“Oh, aye.” Johnny pretends to hump the air. “Sergeant,” he moans loudly and dramatically.

A few heads swivel in their direction and Simon punches Johnny’s arm. “Shut up, Soap.”

“In all seriousness,” says Kyle. “Does she really not know your name? Is it just…lieutenant?”

“No,” Simon admits. “Sometimes she says ‘Ghost.’”

“Thought you were trying to make her a wife,” heckles Johnny. “Wear your mask around her too?”

“Only when others are around,” states Simon flatly. “She’s seen my face.”

“And she hasn’t bolted?”

“Piss off.”

“You need to talk to her, mate,” advises Kyle. “Ask her about herself. Make an effort to know her.” Simon opens his mouth, a retort forming on his tongue, but Kyle holds up his hand. “And don’t fucking say you did because you didn’t.”

“Don’t make me pull rank, Garrick.”

“I already know what you’re thinking. The only shit you know about her comes from her fucking files. Reading a dossier doesn’t cut it. She’s a human being. Not a target.”

Kyle is right. He is right and it’s fucking infuriating. Simon’s lack of success is a sore spot, sure, but he doesn’t need to be smacked over the head with it.

“Thought you’d give me more credit than that.”

“And I don’t think you’re giving her enough,” counters Gaz. “Take her out on a proper date. Have a deep, meaningful conversation with her. Think it’s clear by the skull face,” and Kyle gestures with an open hand in front of his own, “that you’re a scary fucker who can and will protect those he cares about. No one is questioning that.”

Kyle reaches for the bottle, topping off Simon’s bourbon. Simon considers the dark liquid—and his next move. He has three—no—less than. Maybe a day. Perhaps two. Not nearly long enough to convince you, to bring you over to his side completely.

Johnny nods. “And if you can’t win her over with your stunning personality—”

“Here we fucking go,” mutters Simon.

“Could win her over with your huge—”

The last word is silenced as Kyle slaps his hand over Johnny’s mouth. Soap cocks an eyebrow and grasps Gaz’s wrist, playfully shoving him away. “Was going to say heart.”

“Right,” chuckles Kyle. “What about you, Soap? Manage to scrounge up some tail without his help.” He gestures with a thumb at Simon.

The two men start to jokingly bicker, giving one another shit over who is getting their dick wet more often. Simon only cuts in to goad, to poke at them, but mostly to fire Johnny up until he’s mouthing off in an accent so thick, not even his kin would be able to understand him.

This is the normal he knows. It’s what he clings to. There are no more walks along the streets of Manchester. No commutes into London. No trips north to the Scottish Highlands. The homeland is gone, the major cities all craters or shattered from constant bombardment. Habitable, thankfully, but it’ll take generations to return it to a fraction of what it used to be.

Home is now wherever one can make it. Home, for the moment, is this Safe Zone. His current posting. This mission might be temporarily moving him elsewhere, but it’s possible that different orders can come in after their time is up in Safe Zone Thirty. That might tear him away from you forever, unless he includes transfer referrals with your name on them. They’ll accept it, as long as you agree.

Long after the bourbon is gone, and Simon finishes his last cigarette, the three of them call it a night. A trio, meandering down the street, laughing as Johnny poorly sings every obscure drinking ballad he knows. Kyle joins in, on tune but spouting complete gibberish. The cheerful mood wanes as they approach your building. It’s a stark reminder of tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that.

Simon pauses at the entry door, knowing that the alcohol is telling him to go to you, rather than his fucking brain. If Johnny and Kyle weren’t here, he’d listen to that buzz, climb those stairs, knock on your door regardless of the fact that it’s the middle of the fucking night. Good decisions are never made while pissed on shitty, old bourbon.

Every step is agony, every forward movement like a barrage of daggers. Time is limited. Not only is Simon fucking leaving in three days, but your probationary period is up tomorrow. You’ll start your move out of military housing and into civilian life. You won’t be near Simon anymore, at least, not on a regular basis. His job requires him to be close to his work, but he’s a civilian, too, and he has his own designated space out amongst the plain clothes.

Not that you know that. Or that he tells people about it.

And at the ass-crack of dawn, Simon is standing at your front door, still a little buzzed and bleary-eyed from the bourbon, itching for a cigarette that isn’t there.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead.

There’s no way you’re up and about, but he’s already here. He can at least try.

A deep breath in. Raised fist. Skin meeting treated wood.

“Come in!”

Simon steps back, surprised that you even answer, and so quickly. Hesitantly, he places his hand on the doorknob. Giving it a gentle testing twist, the brass surrenders to him.

“Fucking unbelievable,” he murmurs, astounded by your lack of self-preservation. Anyone could walk in if they wanted to. Did you leave it unlocked all night?

As the door swings shut behind him, Simons makes sure the deadbolt is in place.

“Lieutenant!” you exclaim, glancing up from the spread of papers in front of you. Kneeling next to the coffee table by the worn sofa, your startled expression clearly leans into flustered frustration. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“It’s your last day,” states Simon. “On probation. Thought I’d come by. Offer my help.” The relief is palpable, sliding off of you as the tension in your shoulders dissipates. “And it’s Simon. You don’t need to use my rank to address me. That’s for Captain Price when he’s about to chew my ass out.”

“Oh,” you say, clipped. “Um. Yes. Thank you. Simon. I—” You glance down at the chaotic spread before you. “It’s just…a lot. And I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Want me to go?”

“No,” you say quickly. “Sorry. That wasn’t meant to be dismissive. Or that I don’t want you here. I’m…”

“Overwhelmed?” finishes Simon.

You incline your head, sheepish.

Simon approaches the sofa, sinking down on the edge of the nearest cushion. “How can I help?” he gently murmurs, extending his hand to receive some of the paperwork. You pick something out from the pile and hand it to him.

“I don’t understand the money system that isn’t a money system but looks like a money system that is also a bartering system but also—"

“Slow down, dove,” he soothes, resting his hand on the back of your neck, thumb rubbing the space between where the tension is returning. “Set that aside. Start with something else.” As he smooths slow circles into your muscles, you lean into his touch, breathing deeply. “You have the address for your new place?”

A silly question. A diversion. Because Simon already knows. He made sure to pick it out, and Price made it happen.

“Yes,” you breathe, tone lighter. “It’s near the library, thankfully. Overlooks the park. Hannah came with me yesterday. To take a look.”

“You like it?” asks Simon, still rubbing your shoulder muscle.

The smile you give him is lovely and honey-drenched. “Much better than this. Lots of natural light. It’s a bit small, but it’s also just me. I can make it work.” You tilt your head back to look up at him. “And waking up to a park every day will be a nice change.”

That’s on purpose, love.

Simon might be a selfish asshole, but he listens. Screaming in his face also did the trick. He took you from your home, and while he can’t deliver you back to your porch hammock or garden outside your bedroom window, he can certainly give you something similar.

“You like the area?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes. It’s lovely.”

“Good.” Simon switches to your other shoulder. You sigh with contentment, and Simon ignores the fact that all the blood in his body is rushing toward his dick. “Did they give you all your proper identification?”

Under his touch, the muscles tighten.

“I honestly have no idea.” You lean forward and out of Simon’s grip. Shuffling through some of the papers, you present Simon with a small, thin, and rectangular shaped card. “This?”

“Yes,” confirms Simon. “Always keep that with you. It’s what identifies you, and it’s also how you can buy things.”

“But there isn’t any money. No currency.” You turn back to look at him. “Charles sent over,” you gesture at the mess, “packets of information and none of it makes any sense.”

“You’re right. There isn’t any paper money. No electronic bank accounts. That’s all been dissolved.”

“So how do I buy things?”

Explaining things in a condensed context but with enough clarity to communicate comprehension isn’t Simon’s strongest trait. He likes few words. Directness. Bluntness. Quickness. He has plenty of patience but sometimes it’s selective.

Simon taps the bronze circle on your identification card. “Everyone has a circle. Different colors mean different things.”

You frown. “This is already sounding a lot like something else.”

“It’s an allowance…of sorts,” reassures Simon. “Everyone receives the same baseline resources. Depending on what you do, you’re given a certain amount of…points. In your free hours, you can use them how you like.”

“So, it’s a caste system.”

Simon frowns. “No.”

“See,” you state matter-of-factly. “This is why I’m not getting it.”

He reaches into his pocket for his wallet. “If it were a caste system, everyone would be stagnant. No social mobility.” Finding his identification card, Simon presents the gold circle on his. “The circles are like a salary.”

Your gaze narrows slightly. “Instead of physical currency it’s a point system? You do this job and you get paid a certain number of points.”

“Exactly, dove.”

You stare at him a moment before you speak. “That’s stupid.”

Simon shrugs. “Didn’t make the decision.”

You playfully stick your tongue out at him, and Simon smiles, imitating the gesture right back at you. Your mouth forms into pure sunshine. Simon wants to bottle it. Save it for a rainy day.

“They give you a pickup schedule for your provisions?” asks Simon.

“For my what?”

“Food. Hygiene products. Basic necessities.” You blink, saying nothing. Simon leans forward and gently picks up the different papers and stapled packets they gave you. “Everyone receives them. Standard shit to keep you alive.”

Your lips slightly part, confusion setting in. A bolt of anger rises, not with you, but with Charles and his clear lack of preparation. The advisor they assign to people coming in from the outside is supposed to go over all of this in detail. They should be guiding you, teaching you, and if they’re too busy, there are entire fucking classes he could put you in. Either Charles doesn’t give a shit, or he’s terrible at his fucking job.

Simon rubs the back of his head. “You’re single. Living alone. Healthy. They’ll give you the standard. Nothing extra.”

“Like rations?”

He shrugs. “No. Equitable distribution. You don’t need calcium supplements like granny does. But she won’t need menstrual products like you will.”

“Oh,” you say quickly, glancing away to fidget with the edge of the table. “Then,” you say tentatively, “what are the points for if I’m provided the basics?”

“The extra,” answers Simon. “For you to go see a movie. Grab a coffee on your way to work. Go for drinks with Hannah and Eloise.”

“That—I can do that?”

Simon nods. “The Safe Zones weren’t built from nothing. They’re former cities. Converted to fit the needs of the present.”

You laugh like you can’t quite believe it. “But how? I—I thought…I thought the world was so much worse than all this. Pockets of nuclear wasteland. Scorched earth. Acid rain. Just…devastation.”

Simon shifts closer, the side of his thigh brushing against your shoulder. The contact is electric—a slice of sharpened metal that cuts cleanly. While your closeness sends a ripple of heat through his body, there are more pressing matters. Like the fact that don’t know anything, that you are truly in the dark. Simon is angry for you, that such things were kept secret. He’s not aware of what life was like for you before he took you, but did your community lie? Did they omit?

And then Charles. Your advisor clearly ignored every single one of his job requirements in order to be a lazy sack of shit. While Simon would love to sit here and walk through every little detail, there wouldn’t be enough time, and it would overwhelm you. Already, the tension is setting in again. Panic is there, too, hiding beneath but threatening to emerge.

What you need is a distraction. An escape.

You fidget with your sleeve, gaze averted. “I’m not sure if Charles sent anything about a provisions schedule.”

Leaning forward, Simon grabs a small stack of papers and flips through it.

There’s information about emergency services. The nearest hospital and walk-in clinics. A map of the bus and streetcar systems.

“Here,” he says, finding the correct one. “Looks like you have a form to fill out.”

“Fuck,” you groan, elongating the vowel. Your head tips back, resting against the sofa cushion next to his knee, hands over your face. With a heavy sigh, your hands fall away, gaze pointed upward at the ceiling. “I still need to pack.”

“I’ll handle it,” states Simon simply, returning the papers to the table.

“You don’t need to do that,” you insist.

Placing your hand on his thigh, you squeeze, and that one touch nearly sends him over the edge, diving into dark harbors where there is no anchor.

“S’all right, dove. Want to.” Simon reaches out and gently grasps your chin, tilting your face upward. Your lips part. An inhale. A shiver. Simon nearly moans. Nearly closes the distance. “Remember that outdoor market you saw on your first day?”

Your eyes widen, becoming eager. “Yes!”

“Want to go? Grab breakfast? Look around?”

With a delighted squeal, you throw your arms around his neck. The added weight startles him. Instinct ensnares him. Seizing your hips, Simon guides you into his lap, keeping you close to prevent you from taking him down to the floor with your happiness.

“That a ‘yes,’ dove?” he asks with a tease, tapping the tip of your nose.

You’re all flustered softness, a stark departure from your stubborn tongue and fiery gaze. Both suit you. Both are attractive.

“Can we go now?”

You’re asking permission, seeking his direction, and Simon nearly groans over this revelation. There is no power struggle here, no back-and-forth, no sharpened daggers to draw first blood. You’re waiting for him to lead, and to him, this is but a small fracture in the wall you’ve built around yourself.

“Right now,” he affirms.

Your eagerness carries in every step. From the flat to the open market, you’re bouncing on your toes, nearly coming off the ground. As the two of you approach the entrance, the amount of people thickens. You inch close to him, brushing up against the side of his arm. Simon reaches out to tuck you against him, and there is no resistance. You sink into him, placing your hand on his back, fingers lightly curled to anchor yourself. Sweet victory sings within him—a golden shine of pleasure. Not a single person here will question whether or not you belong to him. There is too much closeness, too much familiarity to believe otherwise.

Simon savors it as he guides you into the throng, relishing the way your eyes widen. Every booth and vendor have something different to offer. It’s…normal, and whenever Simon comes, he’s temporality transported back to Manchester during a market day or festival. Humanity isn’t gone. Not completely. There is still community—a sense of peace.

“Am I allowed to buy things?” you ask tentatively as you come to a stop at a booth selling canvas paintings.

“You bring your identification card?” You nod. “Then yes.”

“But how does it work?”

Simon’s gaze roams over the various paintings. “Which one caught your eye?”

You take a moment. “That one,” you murmur, pointing at a particular piece with various strokes of blue in different shades, speckled with white and gold. It reminds Simon of the ocean.

Reaching into his pocket, Simon withdraws his wallet. “I’ll take this one,” he says to the grey-haired woman puttering about inside the tent.

Her head lifts, a soft smile forming on her face. “Absolutely.” She retrieves the painting and sets sit down on a small folding table.

Simon turns his head to address you. “See that ledger there? She’ll write my name down and how much I spent at her stall.” He holds out his card and she takes it, pencil poised to write.

“And where does it go, exactly?” you ask, leaning forward slightly to watch the woman write.

“I have to send the ledger off at the end of the week,” the woman answers for him. “People at desks handle the rest.”

“The government tracks every purchase?” you question with disdain. “Sounds like overreach.”

“They’re not tracking what it is. Just how much.”

The woman glances up. “Are you new?” she asks, addressing you.

“Yes,” you answer slowly. “I came from…outside the wall.”

Her smile widens. “Welcome!” Picking up the painting, she holds it out to you. “You can have this one on the house.”

“Oh, no,” you laugh. “We can’t.”

“Nonsense. You’re new. I know you don’t have much. Take it.” She turns to Simon. “I’ll erase your name. Enjoy.”

Simon inclines his head, and ushers you away.

“I still don’t entirely understand,” you murmur, clutching the painting to your chest. “What prevents people from buying up everything?”

“Nothing,” shrugs Simon. “But expect some visitors.”

“Police?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s not very helpful, Lieutenant.”

“Told you to call me Simon.”

You come to a stop, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he reassures. “And going over your limit here and there won’t penalize you. It’s for people overconsuming. Being greedy. Wasting resources for a hit of dopamine.”

This time you nod. “That makes sense.”

“Hungry?” asks Simon, shifting the conversation elsewhere.

With another nod of agreement, Simon steers you toward the food. After stopping at each stall just so you can read the menus, the two of you finally circle back to a small bakery stand for warm blueberry coffee cake and a sausage roll.

The greasy meat melts on Simon’s tongue, chasing away the lingering aftereffects of last night’s excursion, but the real pleasure is watching you enjoy your food. Every bite is followed by a moan or a pleased sigh. Under the shade of a tree, your shoulders wiggle each time you go in for another fork-full.

When you’re done, the two of you head off again, meandering through the crowd, lingering to look at everything, stopping to listen to the live music. You’re perfectly content, swaying in the sunshine, and Simon has never been happier.

This could be us. This could be our normal.

But he’s not going to push. He’ll simply enjoy, admiring you as you find joy in the moment.

Your happiness is his happiness. Your pleasure is his pleasure.

This is what Kyle meant. To exist and be present. To offer you something other than protection and security.

But will you make me happy, is what you said to him in response to that offer. Is this what you meant? Even if it’s only a fraction of what you’re imagining. Is it enough to open the door? To allow him in?

“Oh my God!” you exclaim, releasing Simon’s hand to rush over to a booth overflowing with flowers and plants.

For a moment, you disappear amongst the greenery and color. Simon approaches slowly, frowning as he seeks you.

But then your head pops up with a massive smile on your face. “I can’t believe they have them!” You disappear again, only for Simon to find you on your knees before a spread of daisy-like flowers with a dark, cone-shaped disk in the middle. The stems are fuzzy, and while most of them are yellow, there are a few clusters in pale purple and pink.

“These were everywhere back home,” you sigh as Simon comes to a stop beside you. “Zac and his group went out on a supply run. Came back with a bunch of flower seeds and dug up wildflowers. No one knew if any would make it. But these,” you gesture toward the flowers, “survived. They were in everyone’s garden. Had a whole bunch right outside my bedroom window.”

They remind you of home. And that is enough of a reason.

Simon turns, seeking the owner of the stall. “I’ll take these.”

The man Simon addresses perks up at the sound of his voice. “They come in—”

“All of them,” interrupts Simon.

The man gawks, almost frozen to the spot. “All—all of them?”

He doubts, and that’s expected. Simon is hoarding a singular item for himself, but he could give a shit. This is for you, and he has the authority to do so.

Without speaking, Simon shows the stall’s owner the gold circle on his identification card. Like ice melting under the sun, the man moves to action. “Absolutely, sir.”

“Can you have someone deliver them?”

“Certainly.”

You’re still on your knees, mouth open in disbelief. There is a rebuttal forming. Simon can see it in your body language. But the man is already taking Simon’s information, addressing a younger man, likely his son, about moving the flowers.

As they move away to grab gloves, you stand abruptly, rushing up to Simon. “That’s too much,” you insist with a whisper. “You said—”

“I can. And I did.”

You swallow. Lick your lips. The surprise turns to elation. “Thank you,” you murmur, your eyes becoming watery. “I love them.”

“Grab a few for the walk,” urges Simon.

With flowers in hand—called coneflowers as you so happily inform him—the two of continue walking around the market, exploring every corner and stall. Morning becomes afternoon, and when you yawn, Simon takes you home.

“Oh—shit,” you laugh, placing your hand over your mouth as the you enter your flat.

The flowers were delivered while the two of you were still out, and Simon inwardly preens over it. The things are fucking everywhere, even in the bedroom.

“Thank you. Again,” you murmur, reaching for him.

Simon expects a small touch, but you go for his hand, squeezing gently. And you don’t let go. You step closer. Closer. There is silence, and yet Simon’s heart hammers, nearly buzzing in his ears as you cozy up to him. He is unable to reply—unable to gloat. This intimacy is different, and he’d hate to break the illusion.

Your voice is a ghost, hardly audible over his thudding heart. “Can I ask you something, Simon?”

His reply is automatic. “Course, dove.”

“When—” You pause. Lick your lips. Gather your courage. “Before. When we—” Another pause. You place your free hand between your breasts, rubbing slightly in nervousness. “Would you have pulled out? If I had asked?”

Before. Before.

When Simon had you spread wide and under him, your tongue lashing his heart with venom all while you still begged for him. Would he have pulled out? Would he have honored that if you asked?

“No.”

“And now?” you continue, moving your hand to his chest, palm flattening.

Simon inhales deeply, pressing into your touch. Fingers find skin and then he’s cradling the side of your face, thumb resting just below the curve of your bottom lip. The truth is best, and like he’s told you time and time again, he doesn’t lie.

“Answers the same,” and it ends on a possessive growl. “I want all of you.” Simon tightens his grip, pulls you in close. “That includes the right to come inside you.”

“You think that’s romantic?” you ask, but there’s no snark in it—no bite.

“No,” replies Simon. “But it’s the truth. It’s how I feel.”

Such a confession should be a sin.

But you have one of your own.

“I don’t think I would have cared.” Your voice is still so soft. So…gentle. “In the moment.”

“And now?” echoes Simon, needing you to answer, to give him any confirmation of a possible future.

Your gaze shifts upward, meeting his. “Maybe.”

There. A subtle shift. Simon notices the desire, and the hesitation. You do want him, but there is a barrier. A separation. There is more that you need. Perhaps reassurance, or a promise.

“I’m leaving for a while,” is all he says.

There is no point in hiding what’s coming, and he’d rather tell you now than right before he goes.

“You’re leaving?” you exhale. “You—but you just came home. You can’t—” But you catch yourself, shutting off that final word as if you’ve suddenly realized what you were about to say.

“I have to go,” he says for you. “It’s my job.”

Your hand on his chest lowers. Shifts to his waist. Fingers gripping his shirt. “How long?”

This is the part he hates the most.

“Could be a week or two. Could be a few months.”

“A few months?”

“We don’t know what we’re heading into.”

You shake your head. “Do you know where?”

“There’s unrest happening. A Safe Zone is under siege.”

“You’re heading into a warzone,” you state solemnly.

Simon releases your hand, only to wrap his arms around your waist. “Afraid so, dove.”

He hates this nervousness—this worry that clings to you. The attention and concern for him is confirmation that you care, but the downturned mouth needs to go.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you whisper, and Simon holds you tighter.

Asking might be dangerous. You may reject him. If you do, that’s Simon’s final chance slipping away. But you might say ‘yes.’ You might let him in.

“I never finished,” he murmurs.

You arch an eyebrow. Laugh. “That’s not a question.”

Oh, dove. It is.

“Soap cut it short. Been long enough that I’ve forgotten what you taste like.”

Simon’s head dips, closing the distance until the tip of his nose brushes against your cheek. Yet you do not flee. There is no snapping reply, no sharpened spite to lash his veins. Every flutter of your eyelashes and subtle shift of your body indicates that you’re not opposed to it. And when you press into him, your lips parting slightly, hope surges within him, seizing bone and blood until he’s buzzing.

“That’s what you want.”

“It is,” he confirms.

Risk can have its reward, and Simon does just that. He moves in, lips hovering just shy of your own, your breath warm and panting against his skin. Your lids grow heavy, and with a groan, Simon grasps the nape of your neck, arching it to tilt your head back.

No asking. No seeking consent. Just his lips finding yours, wanting to be accepted but knowing rejection is the likely outcome.

But you, the sweet thing that you are, do not push him away.

The little moan you make as you grasp him in desperation is all the answer he needs.

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azureoctahedron · 1 day ago

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I'm beginning to think the problem is partially AI marketing by people who want us to keep using their tools, but more fundamentally people's willingness to hand their ability to think things through off to anything. Influencers. This article that said the Right Words. A gust of air at a key moment. Celebrities. The list goes on.

You don't want to think about it, you don't want to put the legwork into thinking about it, critical thinking clearly got made out to be this Big Difficult Thing, and now you'd rather listen to Whoever has a nice suitable opinion on the subject that matches your five humors and six elemental breezes at any fucking minute.

And you absolutely have a brain. You are absolutely not stupid. This has nothing to do with whether you've got intellectual capacities. It's just people have been doing this for hundreds if not thousands of years, and we just have a new culprit we don't know much about because...gasp...it's new.

Sure - it makes sense to listen to experts and people who've proven to be thoughtful and reasonable about subjects. It makes sense to listen to scientists. But for the love of whatever the hell anybody considers holy anymore...you have to think things through and form your own perspective.

No wonder Americans in large numbers voted for Mango Mussolini. The ability to think critically was already atrophied in our fucking brains. Not because of loose values, or TV, or videogames, or atheism.

Because we are only too happy to hand off the work of thinking to someone who isn't us.

That was the lesson Frank Herbert tried to teach people in Dune.

He used the Machines, which are certainly a very good thing to avoid handing off your organic thought processes off to, but he also had vast imperialistic reigns ruled by Divine Prophet-Kings, feudal lords, Emperors, and shadowy orders running eugenics programs.

Same thing here.

But here's the real question: what happened to make the workload, the burden, the act of thinking critically so difficult to us that we take this shortcut? What's going on that we need someone to help parse the information for us so then we have a smaller set to process our opinions from? What's happening that we are this willing to pass that job on?

Is it too much information? Is it societal pressure? Is it the increasing busyness of life, even on the Internet? Is it all the above?

If there's a problem going on, it's clearly a symptom of something else.

Maybe instead of calling people dumb for using AI tools, we should be asking the much smarter questions of what is really going on and why?

This entire debate is a symptom I think, of something much bigger.

Seeing a thousand "fork found in kitchen" and "believe scientists" and "we all knew about AI" tags on a post with an AI incorrectly summarizing a preprint study advising thoughtful use of AI as "AI is making your brain weak and ineffective" was making me crazy i'm sorry i tried not reblogging it like four times and every time i didn't reblog it it had like an order of magnitude more notes

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sabxynsweet · 2 days ago

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sweetheart!reader giving mattheo a handmade gift (like one of those cute d.i.y. ones) and shes all nervous to give it to him but its like the nicest thing anyone has ever gotten him :3

sweetheart!reader gives mattheo a gift

you're all so super telepathic because i have "mattheo gives sweetheart!reader a gift" in my drafts, thank you for the request angel <3

You knock on his door, shifting your weight between both your feet as you hold your hands behind your back.

Mattheo opens the door, already expecting you.

“Sweetheart.” He smirks, like it's a greeting.

“Hi.” You smile, tilting your head up to look at his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything beyond that - he doesn’t have to. He simply opens the door wider to let you in.

“How was your day?" He mumbles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you in.

"That's what I usually ask." You laugh, feeling floaty already from his presence.

"Sue me for copying you." He says, "You are a very inspiring conversationalist."

"It is one of my many qualities." You play along before you squeal when you remember why your hands are still behind your back.

“I made you something.” You say with a smile, he looks at you with a tilt of his head.

“Yeah?” He grins.

You hum, rolling your sleeves up to reveal four bracelets - a pearl bracelet you always wore, a silver bangle, a pink beaded bracelet with red hearts and a black one, which you slip off your wrist.

You hold it out to him and he furrows his eyebrows in confusion, not moving to take it.

“I made this for you.” You say cheerfully, he slowly moves to take it from you, eyeing it suspiciously.

“Have you never received a gift before?” You joke before your smile falls when he simply looks down at you with eyes that say 'more or less.'

It wasn't that he had never received a gift before, Theo - who was the only one who knew his birthday - always gave him a little something, whether it was book or a vintage lighter or a cologne. Technically his wand was a gift from his parents.

But this is different, he examines the bracelet, there’s an array of beads - silver, green and black - his favourite colours (though you’ve argued with him that black is not a colour) and a few pearls mixed it that match your own pearl bracelet.

It’s very unlike you but it is so him.

He can't remember the last time he's truly cried but as he thinks about you threading the beads together - carefully curating them to match him - he applauds himself internally for being so brave holding it together.

He doesn’t say anything, he can’t say anything, you take his silence for distaste.

“You don’t have to wear it!” You rush to say, “I was just in Hogsmeade the other day and I saw these in the bead store and I thought they were perfect, I know it’s not really your thing-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that you melt into very quickly.

“I really like it.” He says earnestly when he pulls away, he thinks about how much he really likes you.

Mattheo slips on the bracelet without another word.

You smile, your cheeks hurting with how wide your smile was.

“I never thought I’d see the day Mattheo Riddle wears a friendship bracelet.” You tease.

“Friendship bracelet,” He raises his eyebrows, “Is that what we are?”

He pulls your body flush against his, gazing down at you with his full focus.

You look up at him with wide eyes, your head spinning a little, he smirks at your reaction.

"I'm messing with you," he murmurs, his mouth inches away from yours before he leans in to kiss you.

You never expected him to like your present enough to wear it and you can't help but feel proud of yourself.

"I'm happy you like it." You mumble along his lips.

"I really do." He promises when he pulls away fully.

There's a pause of silence.

"How was your day?" You murmur, he laughs before kissing you again.

He wore his bracelet for the rest of the night and the day after that, then the entire week and if he never took it off after that, well, everyone was too scared to comment on it, anyway.

taglist: @fallingwallsh @espressqe @theodoresvalentine @fanfictiononly4 @genuinelyfloatingsouls @fayezasstuff @glittervame @wxnterwidow333 @thalibaby @cminoko @blainea98 @randomfanpage

#mattheo riddle x sweetheart!reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle soft #mattheo riddle x fem!reader

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mayhaps-a-blog · 2 days ago

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Folks I just finished this week's episode and I loved it so much I have to talk about it

Unfortunately most of my friends aren't caught up so y'all are getting the unhinged rant instead XD Sorry not sorry

So interesting to see Gurathin's backstory, which we never get in the books - for any of them, really - which says so much about why he's been like that for the show!

And SecUnit being SO BAD at deescalation, like my dude, my gender-lacking guy, you are so awkward XD

And we got the monologue from the books about why SecUnit doesn't just walk off, which really does help say why it's sticking around (even if it's at least partially a lie, you could never abandon a client SecUnit and you know it XD ), like it has actually thought about this, you know?

And that final shot - that was SUCH a good shot, showing us the enemy SecUnit's face. That little reminder that we've mostly seen them as faceless constructs - that the PresAux team has only seen faceless constructs, look at the contrast in how they've dealt with LeeBeeBee's death vs. enemy SecUnit 1 at DeltFall and now - but SecUnit itself can never forget.

Everything Mensah, Arada, and Ratthi is arguing for, everything they're slowly convincing themselves is true about SecUnit, is ALSO true of the other SecUnits. They can see it as a person now, because it's talked to them, shown them its face, dealt with them in a human manner. But they still haven't reckoned with the fact that every other SecUnit - including the ones trying to kill them - are exactly the same.

Trapped in the same position. Forced to guard their stupid clients, follow their every stupid order. Forced into killing those clients, attacking PresAux, other SecUnits - things they never asked for.

They want to know if SecUnit feels regret? For killing LeeBeeBee? I don't know, do they feel any regret for killing the first SecUnit?

How could SecUnit feel regret? It was doing its job. It was being a good SecUnit. It's never been allowed to feel regret before.

Mensah's starting to get it - that mining drill comment was such a good line, and she's finally starting to think. And that realization, that start, is why we can see SecUnit starting to trust her - starting to listen to her, where it still can't deal with the others.

This show is SO FUCKING GOOD and I can't believe I need to wait a whole week for the next episode :'(

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itzpookiepooh · 2 days ago

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HIIIIIIII hope you’re having a great day!!! I was watching a bunch of couples TikTok’s where the girlfriend pretends to use her menstrual cycle fluids as a face mask on her boyfriend, and I thought I’d be hilarious with the lads men 😭

I’ve seen those too! 😭

Obscure Skincare

Caleb watched you with a face of intrigue and slight disgust he couldn’t lie. Periods were natural and normal so that wasn’t why he was disgusted. He was more disgusted that you told him you squeezed out a sanitary product for it.

“It helps stimulate the face.” You explain as you rub it in. He just stares at you not saying a word.

“Want to try?” You hold your hands out as he just stares at your hands. Are you crazy.

“I want to be closer to you, trust me I do but not this close.” He tells you genuinely but you smirk mischievously and leap on him and wipe it on his face to which he scrunched his face up.

“Caleb it’s not real. It’s just red skincare. Look.” You show him the bottle to which he sighs in relief. He lets you do his skincare after that.

Xavier really couldn’t believe you were doing this. You told him all the benefits but he still couldn’t believe it. Why was this so necessary. It upset his stomach. He supported you and watched from the door as you recorded.

“Want some?” You hold your hands out and he quickly shakes his head. “No thank you.” He says firmly making you howl in laughter.

“Xavier it’s fake.” You hold your hands out to which he smells it. Strawberry jam.

“Jam is lighter what did you mix it with?” He asks eyeing you suspiciously. “Food coloring.” You tell him as he nods slowly.

You wipe it on him to which he licked it and nodded. He swiped his finger down your cheek tasting more of the jam before he grabbed your face.

“Don’t lick me Xavier!” You scream trying to fight him off.

Sylus watched as you put it on. You told him everything he needed to know. He didn’t believe you in the slightest but let you do it anyway. You rubbed it in as he leaned on the wall and watched.

“So this does what to your skin?” He asks eyeing your routine. You shrug before turning to him.

“The guru said it’s healthier than skincare products and it gets rid of wrinkles.” You say in a nonchalant manner. His eyes shift away before looking back at you.

“Whatever you say.” He mumbled before you asked if he wanted to try. He shook his head politely. This was your thing and he didn’t want to be part of it.

“As much as I love doing skincare with you. This seems dangerous to share blood. As much as I like to look at it? No.” He turns it down before walking away.

“Don’t leave it’s just power and lotion.” You laugh making him shake his head.

“We should trick Luke and Kieran.” You were quick to agree. You chased the boys around the house with the concoction as they yelled for help from Mephisto.

“Isn’t this a health hazard?” He more so tells you than questions you.

“No because it’s mine.” You say rubbing it in. He just tilts his head. “Do you want to try some?” You reach for him as he moves his head away.

“What did you say the benefits were?” He holds your wrists. “Rejuvenation, spirituality, and it fights acne.” You had rehearsed that all day knowing your doctor boyfriend would question you.

“Right…well sharing blood isn’t wise. It’s a biohazard so how about we don’t.” He tells you while eyeing it. You chuckle.

“It’s jello and pudding.” You tell him as he nods. “I didn’t want to question the consistency.” He tells you.

“Want to try.” You hold it to his lips. “No thank you. I don’t like how it looks.” He tells you as he leaves making you laugh.

Rafayel was on the verge of tears watching you rub the “menstrual blood” on your face. He couldn’t believe you were doing this. Who cares what the benefits are? Blood alone is a biohazard!

“Rafayel come on. It’s good for the skin.” You pout holding your hands out to which he popped them away.

“Good for your skin? Debatable. My skin? Absolutely not.” He argues glaring at you. “Do you know this is a biohazard?” He whispers as if someone were watching you.

“It’s my blood.” You shrug trying to hold in your laughter.

“Where did you read the benefits from again?” He swallows harshly trying to calm his upset stomach.

“A mommy blog.” You stared plainly. His eyes bulged when you said it.

“A mommy blog? No credible source? Please wash that off your face.” He slumps over nearly about to disintegrate.

“Here have some.” You quickly swipe it across his face to where he screams at the top of his lungs. How dare you sneak attack him. He swiftly leaves the bathroom.

“Raf it’s just glue! It’s dyed glue!” You cackle as he continues to scream from another bathroom. You fall over laughing at him nearly popping a blood vessel.

These video be killin me 😭 I just wrote them how the dudes usually react to this

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drachenkinder · 1 day ago

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"Martin?" you ask in horror, recognizing the voice. "Yeah. Long story." It shuffles past and reaches in the cupboard for that ridiculously over sized coffee cup you thought was a gag gift. It takes most of the pot of you just brewed to fill it. It, no Martin, stops, looks at you with your empty cup dangling in your hand, and pours part of the coffee back. Martin pushes aside a too small chair and crouches on the floor. A long feathered tail, the same iridescent purple as the feathered wings sprouting from his back, coils around the clawed bird like feet. He looks no less imposing at eye level then he did when you were looking up at him. He sets his cup on the table, gathers his waist length violet hair and ties it behind his neck with a belt, revealing his naked chest. You stare. Your hand raises and points, and you say without thinking. "You're a girl?" Martin sighs, rolls golden eyes and shakes a head too reminiscent of of those mislabeled Raptors from that popular Dinosaur Park movie. He gestures, "All of this and it's my tits you notice? " Martin lowers his head and laps up the coffee, then wrinkles his lips back in distaste baring a mouthful of fangs. "You bought that bargain coffee again. I told you I'd make up the difference in price to get the good stuff." "Yes." you think. "This has to be Martin. "No one else would become a giant sex changed monster and then bitch about the coffee." "I didn't have enough cash in hand. Uh coffee aside, how did you become... uh.." "Harpy. I'm a Harpy. Or at least I am about five days every couple of months. You know those retreats I go on? This is why. Only the change came a week early this time. Probably work related stress. My cycles are normally pretty regular. Good thing we finished that engineering job for ComNar before the weekend. I'll have to take a week off. I can't go into work like this. I'd be too tempted to bite our boss' head off." You take a moment to imagine Mr. Hawthorn shrieking in terror as Martin's fanged jaws close around his self satisfied face. It brings a smile to your lips. "That's not a bad idea. He's a real asshole." "Beware the Jabberwock, Mr. Hawthorn." Martin says. Despite the sharp teeth, his conspiratorial smile is the same, as is his laugh. All your fear evaporates. That touch of sarcasm did it. Besides Martin is the best roommate you've ever had. Polite, patient, picks up after himself, pays his half of the rent on time and is always willing to listen to your enthusiasms and provide a shoulder to cry on. Given the choice between someone who eats your food, leaves their dirty dishes in the sink, or brings their drunken date home to have a screaming match with at three am, and a nice guy who turns into an eight foot tall, purple, part woman, part bird, and part dinosaur every couple of months, Martin the Harpy wins. Now that you're no longer freaking out, you notice how beautifully Martin's glossy wings and hair and scales reflect the morning light in shades of green and gold over the dark purple base. Even his lighter lavender skin has an opalescent sheen to it. Which sets off those golden nipples on his, more than a handful breasts, very nicely. "My eyes are up here." Martin says with a low chuckle, which sends a shiver down your spine. You meet his eyes and notice his face is more dragon then raptor, and much more expressive. No raptor could leer like that. Nor run a long, slender, scarlet tongue over its slightly parted lips. "You know," You say, "I think we both deserve a week's holiday after this past month. Would you like me to call in for you too? A week's vacation would give you plenty of time to relate all of your long uh, story." "Every inch of it." Martin says, and covers your hand with his. "I was wrong, this is going to be my best morning ever." You can't help but agree. by drachenkinder

You scream, seeing a monster in place of your roommate. "Yeah," it says, staring back, "not my best morning."

#writing prompts #my story #monster lover

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belowablue · 3 days ago

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Definitely Not Boyfriend Material - James Potter x Reader

Part 2/3. Everyone say thank you to lilians17 and taypop21 without which this never would have happened. I also split this up so it wasn't ridiculously long, so expect part 3 sometime!

part 1 part 3 <3

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

It had been a week since your strange hookup with James Potter, but in that short amount of time your life had seriously deteriorated.

When you told Lily that you’d slept with James she was firstly shocked that you’d actually gone thought with it and secondly somewhat superficial about the whole experience, which threw you off immensely. She didn’t ask half as many questions as you thought she would and mostly shut the topic down when you tried to bring it up.

Majorly confused and slightly hurt that your best friend didn’t want to talk to you, you backed off completely. You two still spent a lot of time together, but you stuck to safe conversation topics like Flitwick’s latest essay or the Quidditch scores. You weren’t sure how you were going to talk about the gaping hole in your friendship but thankfully, she addressed it first.

Cornering you in the library one afternoon she said your name softly, “Look I know I haven’t been the best friend lately.”

Your brow furrowed, perplexed, but she carried on, “About James.”

You audibly gulped, preparing for a barrage of anger, but Lily quickly clarified, “I’m sorry I’ve let your, err, experience with him come between us I just-“ She sighed, ‘I just can’t understand why you did it.”

“I- what?”

“Why! I mean, I thought we both hated him, I know after all he’s badgered me I do, so I thought that meant that you would too, but I guess not.”

She said all of that so quickly you had to think about it for a moment.

“Lily,” You said slowly, “I told you that, if given the chance, I would shag him.” You stared at each other. “And you made no complaints then.”

“I know,” She dragged a frustrated hand through her hair, “I just never thought you’d actually do it.”

You prickled. “So what, you don’t take anything I say seriously?”

“No, no, no,” She said quickly, “Fuck no, of course I always take you seriously I just,” She paused again, clearly trying to articulate herself, “It was always something we'd joke about it. I didn’t think it would actually become real.”

You stared at her, suddenly seeing everything from her point of view. One of her best friends spontaneously sleeps with the guy they’ve been making fun of for tormenting her for years. Yikes. When you put it like that…

“I don’t accept your apology Lily,” You said firmly.

She gasped and her eyes filled with tears. She began to turn away but you grasped her arm to hold her firmly facing you.

“I don’t accept it,” You continued, “Because I’m the one who should be apologising. You have done absolutely nothing wrong Lils, fuck I just went and shagged your own personal hell.”

The last line sounded slightly hysterical and Lily opened her mouth but you quickly continued, “I don’t know why I expected you to be okay with it all, fuck I'm so sorry Lily, Merlin please-.“

The look on her face made you pause. Though the tears were still in her eyes, she was smiling.

You closed your mouth, afraid to shatter what you hoped you’d just fixed.

“It’s okay,” She said softly, “it’s alright.”

You shook your head vehemently. “It’s not alright Lily, I-”

Her expression made you stop again. “It is alright.” She gave a half-laugh, “Maybe it’ll get him off me.”

You cringed at that.

“It’s not real,” You said firmly. “Sure James has proven he can be nice, but he’s still not demonstrated excellent boyfriend behaviour. He doesn’t help me with my homework or buy me flowers,” You said the next line quietly, somewhat ashamed to admit it to Lily but it was clearly something she needed to hear, “I think I’ve just become another notch in his belt. Another name added to the roster of girls he can call when he can’t be bothered to wank himself.”

Because it did hurt a little to say. After that morning you’d somewhat expected hand-written notes at breakfast or roses on your bedside table, but James had gone straight back to shouting his adoration for Lily from the Astronomy Tower.

You had to shake yourself quite hard to get over that dream.

Lily sighed. “Well, he’s made us work on our communication anyhow.”

You giggled and the tension between you two dissolved smoothly.

She gathered up her things and you did too, feeling a thousand times lighter now you and Lily had talked this out.

“Not even chocolates after he left those vicious bruises on your hips?”

You let out a strangled laugh. “Not even then.”

She hummed, “Definitely not boyfriend material then.”

You nodded in agreement, wearily heading towards the exit.

As you walked side by side, you thought 'fuck James Potter’ and then, even more angrily ‘fuck James Potter and his ability to cause arguments when he wasn’t even there. Fuck James Potter and his inability to grow up.’

Unbeknownst to you, James had caught the tail end of your conversation, having been loitering behind a bookcase once he realised Lily was there.

Her words were bouncing around his head as he watched you go, ‘definitely not boyfriend material.’

Well then, he’d just have to work harder.

——————————————————————————————————

After you and Lily made up you expected your life to go back to normal, minus the occasional Potter hookup. Merlin you could not have been anymore delusional if you’d actually tried.

It started slowly.

Your scarf, that had been missing for weeks, was placed on your bed one evening when you got back from dinner. Your books were organised in alphabetical order. All your hairpins that had become scattered across Gryffindor tower were studiously found and collected in a pretty flowery dish. Your ink pots were always full. Your makeup brushes were cleaned on a weekly basis. Your broomstick was polished after particularly muddy practices.

It didn’t register for a while that someone was doing these things for you. You had been putting it down to house elves or sheer luck. It wasn’t until Marlene was talking about how her latest boy toy always made sure her water bottle had a slice of lemon in it that something slotted into place in your brain.

Someone had been doing this for you.

Someone had bothered to watch you so carefully that they knew what inconveniences you faced in life and magically fixed them all for you in a matter of weeks.

But the annoying thing was you didn’t have a clue who could be doing this. Was it a crush trying to quietly make themselves known? Was it one of your friends who had suddenly gotten the idea to start doing anonymous good deeds? Or was it actually just overly devoted house elves?

You didn’t know. After many consultations Lily decided she didn’t know either. You’d both agreed to keep an eye out for anyone displaying suspicious behaviour, but either they were really sneaky or you were really unobservant because you got nothing.

Still, in someways it was nice to think that someone was looking out for you. Someone cared about you enough to help you out, with such mundane tasks too. And to top it all off, they helped you anonymously. They weren’t looking for praise. They didn’t want your open gratitude. They just wanted to make sure you were okay. That thought gave you a fuzzy feeling somewhere near your stomach and you had to suppress a smile when you were in public.

However, your fretting over a potential stalker was soon overshadowed by one overwhelming fact.

——————————————————————————————————

“Shut the fuck up.”

Lily sat opposite you on your bed, eyes shining bright.

“No fucking way.”

She only nodded again, smiling too wide to utter a response.

“You have a girlfriend. An actual whole real-life living breathing girlfriend.”

She nodded again. You threw your arms around her.

“Ohmygod this is so exciting! Have you gone on a date yet?” You gasped loudly, “Have you kissed yet? Oh my days when can I meet her?”

Lily laughed, pushing you back by your shoulders to face her, “Her name in Daisy. She’s the Hufflepuff I mentioned a while back.”

You both had to pause then because you were squealing too loudly.

She continued, “Yes, we went to Hogsmeade the other weekend, no we haven’t kissed.” She paused before adding “Yet.”

You laughed, so overjoyed for her. “This has to be the best thing that’s happened all year!”

‘Well’ you thought, ‘Not for James.’

——————————————————————————————————

It was late one evening when you came through the portrait hole to see James hunched on the sofa by the fire, a box wrapped in pink paper in front of him.

You paused. He looked upset. Should you go talk to him? But what would you even say. It’s not like you had any decent conversation starters for you ex friends with benefits.

James turned slightly at the sound of someone coming in.

“Oh it’s you.” He said. Your heart skipped a beat. Had he been… expecting you?

‘Duh’ you told yourself, ‘it’s your common room too, you’d have to come through at some point.’

You didn’t know what to say so you stayed still. He got up, picked up the box and made his way over to you. Your heartbeat grew louder with each step he took, until he was in front of you and all you could hear was blood rushing in your ears.

Wordlessly, he handed you the box.

You gently pulled the pink tissue paper off to reveal a box of expensive chocolates.

You stopped breathing. No way. No fucking way. There was absolutely no way that James had been behind this. That he was the reason your life had been going so smoothly lately. Had he really been creeping into your dorm to sort things out?

You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks. Oh my god he’s been in your dorm.

You quickly considered it. Had the thought you hadn’t dared to think actually come true? Did James Potter like you back? Oh he did. He must. That’s why he’s been helping you out, like a little helper elf or some shit. Your brain short-circuited, dizzy with excitement. James Potter liked you back! You hadn’t let yourself admit that you liked him in the first place, not when he so clearly felt nothing for you but now, now. Now you knew it was him who’d been acting like your boyfriend, making sure you had everything you wanted-

You looked at him, smiling. “James,” You said softly, reverently, “I-“

He looked up at you and your eyes met. Your smile faltered. He didn’t look anywhere near as excited as you.

“Give those to Lily would you?” He said tiredly. Your heart dropped. “Or have them yourself I don’t really care.”

He turned away, carding a hand through his hair.

You were left standing there, mouth slightly open. “What?”

James laughed humourlessly. “Was gonna try ask her out again with those since she mentioned them, but I haven’t got a chance now that she bats for the other team.”

The words fell onto your ears and pierced your heart like bullets. Sure the news had gone round the castle but, ‘you thought that meant he would finally take an interest in you’ the voice in your head verbalised.

Something about your reaction must have registered with James because confusion appeared on his face. You stared back, thinking.

“You heard us?” You asked, “In the library?”

James nodded.

“Has it been you polishing my broomstick? Filling my ink pots?” You had to know.

“Yeah,” he said, still confused. “I thought you knew.”

You blanched.

“I thought that if Lily heard from a source she trusted about how great of a boyfriend I can be she might warm up to me.”

Shakily, you clarified, “You did all those deeds, tasks, chores whatever for me, in order to show Lily how doting you are?”

He shrugged, “Was pointless anyway wasn’t it.”

You couldn’t believe it.

Used. That was the only word to describe how you were feeling. James Potter had used you as a way to get at Lily. He had played with you like a chess piece, toying with your heart unknowingly as he made an effort to reach the girl he wanted.

Something in his eyes cleared. "Wait,” he said slowly, “You didn’t think, you didn’t actually think I was going for you, did you?”

You could’ve died on the spot. Your heart was shattered into a thousand shards on the floor and James had just done a jig on the pieces.

Your silence was answer enough. He sighed irritably, “Listen,” he said your name, “You’re a real cute girl and all but-“

He had to duck quickly or risked receiving a black eye from the box of chocolates you launched at his head.

“Fuck you James Potter,” you snarled at him, “Don’t you ever speak to me again.”

You marched past him up to your dorm, willing the tears not to fall in front of him. He would not hurt you more than he already had. Fuck Lily was right, how could you have thought James would ever love anyone but her?

Behind you, James was staring at the staircase you where you had vanished.

He’d never had that kind of reaction before. He’d expected more of a whining tantrum like the other girls gave when he ended things with them. Because it was always him doing the ending. He would’ve gladly still fucked you, and he was just about to tell you too when you forbade him from contacting you. But now, it sounded awfully like James Potter had been ended, which wasn’t the way things went at all.

The longer James stared, the more he realised he had a chase on his hands. And if there was one thing James Potter knew how to do, it was chase.

AN: guys just know every time I see someone has interacted with my posts this is literally me on my phone, thank you all so much xxxx

#james potter #james potter angst #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x reader #james potter x you #lesbian lily evans #marauders #James Potter is a douche

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shortandsosweet · 2 days ago

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YOU AND ME FOREVERMORE

Summary: New Years means new beginnings, so does that include you and the older brother of your best friend you've been pining after forever?

Pairings: Jack Hughes x Brother's Best Friend!Reader + Luke Hughes x Best Friend!Reader (Platonic)

TW: Age Gap (Reader is implied to be Luke's age so roughly a 2 year age gap), mentions of sex, light cursing, underage drinking, probably more but let me know what I missed.

A/N: Soooooooooo.... I know I haven't released anything I should have but I'm blessing you with something I do have which I really hope you like instead of being sad about no Back To The 80s or Weird Science (I still have no clue how chapter one managed to get posted but fuck me whatever I guess!!!!) I also know I said this was gonna be posted 15 minutes after but I just finished editing this on my lunch break. Anyways, I hope you love it. Love, Amelié

THERE'S GLITTER ON THE FLOOR AFTER THE PARTY, GIRLS CARRYING THEIR SHOES DOWN IN THE LOBBY,

POLAROIDS AND CANDLE WAX ON THE HARDWOOD FLOOR, YOU AND ME FROM THE NIGHT BEFORE,

NEW YEARS DAY 2025 - PRESENT DAY

You're sweeping glitter, picking up pictures, cups and champagne flutes from the party the night before. Jack is off picking up pictures on the opposite side of the apartment. He picks up one taken of you by Luke. When you're not looking he slides it away in his pocket.

"You don't have to clean up. I got it." He says picking the last of the polaroids off the floor and heads over to you. "I know. I wanted to. Besides, there's a mess and Lukey's off with a girl and not here to help. That's not fair to leave it all on you." I say not looking up from my picking at the wax on the floor. One bigger piece giving me an issue. He bends down and our hands brush and our gazes meet and we giggle at the other.

And all I could think about is how I could do this for the rest of my life if the world would let me.

I STAY WHEN YOU'RE LOST

MAY 7TH 2024

"I don't get it Y/N/N. I can pick a girl up easy enough but keeping her is another story. Not just any girl, a good one. One Mom and Dad would treat like their daughter, someone Lukey would love and Quinn would crack a smile at." Jack says, head in your lap as you rake your fingers through his curls. You give the thought time to breathe. You fit the whole bill. Why couldn't he see?

One breath, two, three, four, then five.

"I guess she's just....not the one." You brush the hair from his eyes, "You'll know when you find her, J. You won't have to think about it because it'll be so obvious that anyone else would seem incomparable."

Breaths pass between you two in perfect synchronicity, and Jack will never admit it, but that's when he knew how bad he had fallen.

AND I'M SCARED

APRIL 14TH 2022

"JACK PLEASE COME OVER RIGHT NOW!" You screech over the phone as you sit on your dorm counter holding a frying pan as a weapon. In no less than ten minutes, Jack arrives and hurriedly opens the door. "What's wrong?" he asks as you point and screech at the massive spider crawling around your kitchenette.

"KILL IT JACK!!!!" You yell, crying and clutching the frying pan. Jack calmly walks over, puts the poor spider out of its misery, takes the frying pan out of your hands, picks you up and sets you down on your bed and pulls out your laptop. "What movie are we watching?" He turns and smiles. You instinctively lay your head on his shoulder.

Does he know you'd wrangle the moon and stars for him? Does he know how badly you wish this moment would last your entire lifetime?

AND YOU'RE TURNING AWAY

OCTOBER 15TH 2017

You were fifteen. Hormones were high and boys were no longer just friend or foe. Boys became bro or boyfriend and you wanted so badly to have Jack Hughes be more than another bro.

Sure, he was two years your senior and your best friend's older brother. As you went through puberty, Jack got distant. Focused more on school and hockey. You, his baby brother's friend, were put on the back burner. Even Luke got funky, though it probably had something to do with a crush of his own on a girl in your grade.

Luke was out at practice a little later than usual, so you strolled over expecting to hang out with Luke but decided to hang out with Jack while you waited. "Hey, Jackie. Whatcha up to?" Jack was on his phone aimlessly scrolling, clearly up to nothing.

"What are you doing here?" he says semi-coldly. I flinch slightly but answer. "Lukey was supposed to be home to hang out but I guess practice ran late." he nods in response, walking over to where you were standing outside his door and closing it in your face. You, on the brink of tears, were found by Quinn, who hung out with you until Luke got home.

You never wanted to love a boy ever again.

I WANT YOUR MIDNIGHTS

NEW YEAR'S EVE 2022

You moved to New Jersey when you got accepted to Rutgers, it wasn't a conscious decision to be closer to Jack. It just happened and when you moved in with him after his insistence and his three bedroom apartment being too empty for himself, a year after you had your fill of the college dorm experience.

You moved in and for the past year in Jersey, you watched Jack not be your new years kiss. You told yourself, new year, new chances. The whole night you threw glances at him and he threw some back. You two were 100% eye fucking the other and neither of you cared. You drank like you were Irish and at midnight, you found your way to Jack.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

You chanted with everyone around you as the ball slowly dropped.

Five.

You turned to Jack,

Four.

You took his face in your hands,

Three.

You steadied your breath,

Two.

"I'm sorry,"

One.

You kiss Jack and don't hold back, fingers tangle, tongues make an entrance into the other's mouth. What should have been an elongated peck has turned into a fireworks show in the middle of the room. Far too soon for you, but far past the midnight kiss grace period, you break away. For the rest of the night, neither of you glance the other's way.

BUT I'LL BE CLEANING UP BOTTLES WITH YOU ON NEW YEARS DAY

NEW YEARS DAY 2025 - PRESENT DAY

You and Jack got the wax off and decided to tackle the large amount of beer bottles scattered across the apartment. After getting your little portion you head to help Jack with his massive pile. You drop a bottle, "Oops, I got it." and in a lame attempt to pick up the pieces, you cut your hand. "Ah!"

Drip. Drip.

Jack hurries over, "Where? Show me." You open your palm,

Drip. Drip.

Jack lifts you and carries you to the bathroom and sets you down on the counter. "Y/N/N, you need to be careful." He says sharply but still gentle, you nod in acknowledgement. He pulls out peroxide, "I have to clean it." he holds your hand steady over the sink and once it hits your wound, you start to cry. Jack puts gauze over your wound. Jack wipes your tears away and you place a kiss on his cheek. Your favorite way to say thank you that you've used forever.

"Not on the lips?"

I'LL BE THERE IF YOU'RE THE TOAST OF THE TOWN, BABE

JUNE 21ST, 2019

Jack's draft day. He was nervous but he knew he'd get picked. What really made him sweat was the girl who sat next to him. He'd seen you in a dress for homecoming and winter formal, but this one was short and you no longer were Luke's brace face barely hit puberty friend. You got hot and everyone could tell. Quinn and Jack's heads rolled any time you walked in. You were put between Luke and Jack at the draft. Jack started bouncing his knee furiously. You merely put my hand on his knee.

"Jack, any one of these teams would be blessed to have you on their roster. You'll get picked. It wouldn't even surprise me if you were the first to go." You whispered just loud enough for him to hear. He moves to hold your hand instead of having it on his knee. And you were right. Jack went first overall to the Devils. He turned and squeezed you. You kissed his cheek. "Go get 'em champ!"

Despite being friends with more hockey players than you can count, you knew little to nothing about it. Jack hugged Quinn, then Luke, and his parents last, before heading up to the stage. There was a sea of potential prospects and family but his eyes were on you. A mouthed "Thank you," was all he said but you couldn't do anything but smile.

Maybe you could love a boy again... or maybe you never stopped loving him.

OR IF YOU STRIKE OUT AND YOU'RE CRAWLING HOME

SEPTEMBER 30TH 2022

The Devils had just lost miserably in a score Jack would rather not think about or repeat.

This being the last year you and Jack had the apartment to yourselves before Luke joined you two in Jersey. You sat on the couch with a wine glass. Jack came in and looked defeated, slumping on the couch, his head in your lap.

He did a double take at it. "Is that-" he said before quickly cutting it off. "I had a bad date and yes, I'm under age by like less than a year but it's not my fault the liquor stores in Jersey like my fake ID." You say sipping your wine again. Jack promptly takes it from your hands and finishes it off. "Remind me to find that and take it from you." You don't mention you saw the game. It'd only serve to make him feel worse. He walks over to the mini table by the front door, decides goes through your purse and finds the fake ID before snapping it in half, then tosses it in the garbage.

"Hey! I paid good money for that wine and that ID!" Jack scoffs and shoves 300 bucks in your wallet.

"That should about cover it." As you attempt to steal back your wine, Jack decides that he would much prefer to lay his head on your lap and pass out instead of wallowing in self pity and anger. Instinctively, you run your fingers through the strands. Jack groans in response, burrowing his face into your stomach. "Feels good. Soooo fucking good." To which, you grin eagerly in response, somewhat relieved he can't see your face. You'd think that with the way you're acting, you just got told you won the lottery and not the Shirley Jackson kind.

About an hour or so later, you and Jack had finished the bottle of wine. "Y/N, you're so pretty. Like that you don't even need to think about it kind of pretty."

That night gave you new found hope for what could be right in front of your eyes and not your dreams.

HOLD ON TO THE MEMORIES THEY WILL HOLD ON TO YOU

NEW YEARS DAY 2025 - PRESENT DAY

The apartment is quiet after the question,

"Not on the lips?"

Did he feel it too? The pull? Your feelings? Did he have some of his own? Or was it to pity you? Either way, you took too long to speak. Like always. You silently walked to your room laid down and let quiet tears spill. You hold on to the thought of how even though you'd screwed it up, you'd hold on to your New Years kiss, it was a moment, a memory, you'd cherish forever. And now that's all it'll ever be.

'Be Bold Y/N, silence never got you anywhere.' you thought, far too intently and it wasn't till an hour later that Jack came into your room.

"Do you always overthink about what you want?" he asked. Shocking you to your core, making you fumble for words. "What do you mean?" You say nervously fidgeting, replaying his earlier words over.

"Not on the lips?"

No matter how you say it or emphasize it he's flirting. Right? Do you even want that? Of course you do, you've only dreamed about it forever. But like this? Here and now? The truth is you don't know what to do. You've only ever wanted, a never been wanted.

"I meant what I said earlier and I meant it now. Do you always overthink what you want?" I freeze. "I guess that's my answer." he responds.

I sit in a self deprecating and confused loop stuck in my head. What ifs and he wouldn'ts spiral. Jack's voice snaps you out of your spiral as he turns back from presumably his exit.

"Y/N, I think about that night all the time."

PLEASE DON'T EVER BECOME A STRANGER WHO'S LAUGH I COULD RECOGNIZE ANYWHERE

SEPTEMBER 19TH 2023

For the first time ever, you and Jack weren't the only ones living in the apartment. Nights where your head used to lay on his shoulder and watch movies were filled with Luke quite literally between you two. Never a moment alone. Cooking, carpool, movie nights, dinner, you name it he was probably there.

You two weren't a couple but it felt like you both craved alone time with the other. The first person either of you to nominate to leave the apartment for a grocery store run or to get the take out.

One night, you were fed up. So fed up with your best friend you were determined to say or do anything for him to leave the apartment for even an hour or two.

"Luke, you should go out tonight."

"Luke, don't you always say you don't know anyone in Jersey? You're never gonna meet anyone stuck in the apartment."

"Have you seen the shore this late at night? It's beautiful. You should go see it."

"Luke, I hear the deli 7 blocks away has fantastic sandwiches. You should go see if they're still open."

"What about that girl from Hinge? What is she doing tonight? You should go see her."

He brushed off every attempt for you to try and get him to leave.

"Luke! Okay, I tried being subtle and you know I love you to bits and pieces, but you are always here! Sometimes it's a little suffocating with you around all the time." It silently clicks in Luke's head and he leaves with a wink and awkward finger guns. "Gotcha, I expect to hear about what a douche bag whatever hookup you're referring to is!" And he's gone before I can say anything.

Jack walks in and says, "Since when do you have a hookup over?" A flicker of hurt shines in his eyes before it's quickly masked. It was so quick it could've just been a figment of imagination. You weren't so sure.

"I'm not and I don't. I told Luke plain and simple he's around the apartment far too much and he took it a different way." He seems relieved but ghosts an indifferent tone over it.

"Cool."

YOU AND ME FOREVERMORE

JULY 4TH 2012

The first time you realized you loved Jack Hughes, was a way you could only ever do the first time around.

"Lulu?" You asked, your feet softly padding against the floor of your best friend's room at the lake house. You found your best friend fast asleep and if there was one thing to learn about Luke Hughes, trying to get him up was like waking the dead. No matter how scared you were of the fireworks that already started at 2 am, Luke couldn't quell your worries now. Defeated, you skipped past Quinn's room hearing him talk quietly with another female voice. You didn't need to know whoever was in there, so you scurried to Jack's room.

"Jack?" You step quietly over to the bed as another firework goes off. A quiet tear rolls down your face. You softly jostle Jack, "Jacky? Please wake up."

"Y/N?" He glances around to outside, still dark, then to his alarm clock 2:12 am. "What are you doing awake? Is something wrong?" He sits up, noticing the tears on your face and quiet sniffles. "Oh Y/N, what's the matter?"

Another firework sounds and I flinch, Jack in response immediately tugs you into the bed with him. Tears well in your eyes and he holds you close. Your head lays on his chest. "It's okay, Y/N. It can't hurt you. I've got you." He lulls you asleep and follows soon after, fireworks still booming outside.

Luke wandered around in the morning, wondering where you'd gone. Not in your room, not in his, not in Quinn's or the living room. He found you saddled up next to Jack who laid asleep next to you, his position protective. Luke kept quiet, left the room, and never said a word about it. You were half awake wondering if every boy was this caring and understanding. After that, you never were alone for fireworks anymore. Jack made sure of that.

I WILL HOLD ON TO YOU

NEW YEARS DAY 2025 - PRESENT DAY

Sheets rustle and tangle beneath, above, and between your bodies. Sweat thick in the air covering your stripped bodies. The heat between you a palpable contrast to the cool air blowing in and the sting of scratches from the other. The two of you intertwined in sheets in ways you never would've thought of when you first shared a bed so many years ago. You hear the door of the apartment open and you give a slightly panicked glance to Jack who only holds you closer. You can hear Luke set his keys down in the bowl and him kick off his shoes which will 100% be all over the walk in area. You hear his feet move against the floor, hitting the creakier floorboards.

"Hellooooooooooo? Guys, I'm home! Where are you at? I know you're at least home Jack, you don't have shi- OH MY GOD I KNEW IT WAS GONNA HAPPEN EVENTUALLY BUT OH MY GOD MY EYES!" Luke says walking out but you two couldn't help but smile.

©shortandsosweet do not redistribute, recreate, repost my content on any other platforms.

#jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x you

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paxaz535 · 3 days ago

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SLOW SIMMER - THREE

dallas!paige x privatechef!azzi

note: i love tlou2 sm like i can’t stop playing lol

anyways here you go!

———

paige was still getting used to azzi living in her home. it wasn’t the worst thing ever—obviously, because paige had been tearing up every meal since azzi got there—but it still felt… different having someone else in her space. not a bad different. just… different.

azzi wasn’t loud. something paige would forever be grateful for. the chef mostly kept to herself unless she wanted to socialize, and paige respected that.

which is exactly why, when dijonai, maddy, lyss, and arike said they wanted to meet “the chef,” paige hesitated. her teammates weren’t exactly… subtle. she didn’t want to overwhelm azzi or scare her off before she really got comfortable.

so yeah, she was definitely gonna talk to azzi about it first.

azzi was currently getting ready to go to the store, wanting to restock before anything got too empty. she had on something simple—black baggy jeans with a white top. the weather was nice today.

her goddess braids were pulled back into a low ponytail, a few soft curls framing her face. she looked cute.

she slipped on her crocs, grabbed her keys, and made her way to the door. when she stepped out, she saw paige on the couch, eyes glued to the tv—probably watching the white lotus again.

paige turned her head at the sound of azzi’s footsteps and smiled softly when she saw her. “heading to the store?”

azzi gave a nod. “yeah, gonna restock early. you doing anything later?”

paige shook her head. they had an early practice this morning, so the rest of her day was wide open. “nah, i’m free.”

“i don’t know how long i’ll be, but i’ll text you when i’m on my way back,” azzi said, letting out a small laugh as she scratched at her neck. “might need help though.”

paige sat up a little straighter. “no, yeah—of course. just let me know when.”

azzi nodded once more, hand on the doorknob. “see you later.”

“bye, fudd,” paige said, her voice soft.

the door clicked shut behind her.

paige leaned her head back against the couch, letting out a soft breath through her nose. the apartment was quiet again, but not in a bad way. she actually liked the new routine—waking up to the smell of something good in the kitchen, running into azzi in passing, sharing random little conversations between meals and naps.

it was weird. but it was also kinda… nice.

meanwhile, azzi made her way through the store with practiced ease. she was focused, going aisle by aisle, checking her notes app and glancing at prices. she wasn’t just cooking for herself anymore—this was paige bueckers, and azzi wasn’t about to mess anything up.

as she turned into the produce section, reaching for a bunch of cilantro, she heard a small gasp behind her.

“oh my god. allie.”

“no way. is that—?”

azzi turned slightly, already catching the familiar glimmer of recognition in both of their eyes.

“you’re azzi fudd, right?” one of the girls asked, her voice a little too loud for how quiet the store was. azzi smiled softly, nodding.

“yeah, that’s me.”

“we love your cooking account. like, seriously. that chicken parmesan you posted a while back? we tried to make it and failed miserably,” the other girl—caroline—gushed. allie just nodded beside her, clearly starstruck.

azzi laughed, “thank you, that’s sweet. and hey, cooking’s like hooping. takes practice.”

the two fans exchanged glances. “can we get a picture?”azzi didn’t like saying no to people who showed her support so she immediately nodded her head. “Of course, come on,”

they took the pictures and looked at the girl. “i’m guessing we’re gonna be seeing you a lot more?” the brunette asked. azzi chuckled before nodding her head. “yeah, maybe.”

they offered to bag her groceries when she checked out, which made her chuckle. “you don’t have to do that,” she said, but they insisted.

“it was a pleasure to meet you, azzi. we’ll see you soon?” they asked hopefully. azzi laughed softly before turning to her car. “see you ladies soon!” she called over her shoulder.

she could hear them giggling when she reached her car, making her heart warm.

by the time she made it, her phone buzzed.

paige

you good?

azzi smiled, brushing a curl from her forehead.

azzi

yeah, almost done

headed back now

paige

cool

i’m up if you need help

azzi stared at the screen for a second longer, heart doing a little flip. she didn’t expect her to check in like that, but it felt… sweet.

azzi

i’ll be home in 10

have those arms ready

paige

lol bet

azzi slid into the driver’s seat, still feeling the leftover warmth from the fan interaction. she pulled out of the parking lot and glanced up at the sky, soft blue and cloudless.

she still couldn’t believe it sometimes.

living in paige bueckers’ house.

cooking for her.

getting texted by her.

yeah… she really was starting to like it here.

azzi pulled into the driveway with the music low, humming along to the track playing through the speakers. the bags in her trunk weren’t too heavy, but she still appreciated the idea of help—especially when it came from someone who actually offered, not out of obligation.

as she opened the front door with her hip, balancing one bag on her forearm and another in her hand, she was met with the familiar smell of a candle paige must’ve lit. sandalwood and something warm.

“i’m back,” she called out, her voice carrying through the quiet apartment.

paige emerged from around the corner, hair pulled up in a bun now, wearing a black compression shirt and shorts. her feet were bare with slides and her energy was relaxed.

“perfect timing.” she walked over and immediately took the heavier bags from azzi’s arm, brushing past her gently. “you didn’t even text me,” she added, glancing over her shoulder.

“i was about to,” azzi smirked. “but then i figured i’d just surprise you.”

“you really out here trusting me to not be napping.”

“yeah well… if you were, i would’ve woke you up,” she said with a playful shrug.

they moved together in quiet rhythm, unloading bags and putting things away. azzi pointed out a couple new ingredients she picked up to experiment with, paige nodded along, eyes half-focused but still listening.

azzi sighed, the two of them finished stocking up the kitchen. “okay, go do something while i figure out what we’re gonna eat.” she told the woman.

paige just smiled before heading towards her room. “what would i do without you, fudd?”

“you’d probably still be eating take out.”

paige laughed.

after a couple hours, she found azzi in the kitchen, barefoot, hair pulled back, quietly focused on chopping up something that smelled incredible. garlic, maybe butter, a little spice—paige wasn’t sure, but it was working. her mouth watered on instinct.

“hey,” paige said casually as she leaned against the counter.

azzi looked up, giving her a soft smile. “hey.”

paige rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly realizing this was the first time she was actually nervous to talk to someone in her own house. “so… my teammates kind of want to meet you.”

azzi paused her chopping. “oh?”

“yeah,” paige exhaled, watching her reaction. “they’ve been bugging me since the first day i mentioned you were a chef. they’re curious.”

azzi tilted her head, lips twitching with a barely-there grin. “and by curious you mean hungry.”

“basically.” paige laughed. “but also nosy. they’ll want to ask a million questions. get all up in your space. it’s not… quiet.”

azzi leaned back on her heels, wiping her hands on a towel. “you worried i’ll run?”

paige shrugged, smirking a little. “i’m not saying i wouldn’t be sad if you did.”

azzi chuckled. “i’m not going anywhere, bueckers.”

paige tried not to look too pleased at that. “so… is it cool if they come over tomorrow night?”

“sure,” azzi said with a nod, turning back to the cutting board. “but if they’re gonna be that loud, they better eat every last bite.”

paige grinned. “deal.”

paige made her way to her room. she immediately texted the group chat back.

fly 🪽 fly

dijonai

so… what’d she say?

paige

she said she’d love to meet y’all.

i’m begging—please don’t scare her away.

maddy

tell that to nai and lyss.

you know they be doing too much sometimes.

lyss

oh please.

i’m a really chill person.

paige

try again.

lyss

whatever.

arike

i know what and what not to do when i’m first meeting someone.

trust me.

paige

whatever y’all say.

just be here

and please dress nice

arike

damn p.

safe to say you want us to impress your girl.

paige

she’s not my girl.

dijonai

not yet, that is.

it’s okay, you’ll realize it soon.

paige

bro.

i promise i’ll tell her y’all bailed.

maddy

ALRIGHT chill 💀

paige was chuckling at her phone, fingers still scrolling through the chaos in the groupchat. she sometimes hated her teammates—but mostly, she loved them. they were ridiculous, sure, but they were hers.

she reread arike’s message about “impressing her girl” and rolled her eyes, even though her lips tugged into a smile. azzi wasn’t her girl. not in the way they were all hinting at. and yet… there was something there, something warm and quiet that settled in her chest when she thought about her.

the way azzi hummed while she cooked. how she always asked if paige had eaten before thinking of herself. how she smelled like she belonged—like vanilla and coconut and the soft comfort of home.

paige set her phone down, leaning back into the couch with a soft sigh. her team was relentless. but maybe, just maybe, they weren’t that far off.

“paige! food’s ready!”

the call pulled her from her thoughts like a tether. she sat up quickly, glancing once at her phone before tossing it onto the cushion beside her. as much as her team liked to tease, they weren’t wrong about one thing—azzi’s food was something to look forward to. every time.

she stood, stretching briefly before heading toward the kitchen. the closer she got, the stronger the scent hit her—something savory, warm, and laced with herbs she couldn’t name but already craved.

“what’d you make this time?” she asked as she rounded the corner.

azzi was standing by the stove, apron tied around her waist, a soft smile on her face. “you’ll see. just sit down.”

paige raised a brow. “you hiding it?”

“i’m presenting it.” azzi corrected with a playful roll of her eyes. “you ever let a chef have their moment?”

paige held up her hands in surrender, grinning. “alright, alright. i’ll wait.”

but not without staring just a second too long. not at the plate—at her.

azzi felt it too—paige’s stare lingered a beat longer than usual, and while she didn’t look up right away, she definitely noticed. her fingers were careful as she plated the food, placing everything just how she liked it. she worked in silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. it felt full. warm.

“okay,” she finally said, sliding the plate in front of paige. “chicken shawarma with lemon rice, garlic roasted carrots, and a little cucumber-yogurt salad on the side. fresh naan too, because… why not?”

paige blinked down at the plate. “azzi. what the hell.”

“what?” azzi bit her bottom lip, holding back a smile. “too much?”

“no,” paige muttered, picking up her fork. “you’re trying to ruin takeout for me forever, huh?”

azzi finally let the smile come through. “that’s kind of the job.”

they both laughed softly, and paige took her first bite. her eyes closed dramatically.

“i’m serious,” she said after a pause. “you’re dangerous.”

azzi shrugged, wiping her hands on her apron. “you already knew that.”

paige opened one eye, smirking. “no, i didn’t. but i’m learning.”

paige set her fork down for a second, resting her elbow on the counter and letting her chin fall into her hand. “and i’m guessing there’s a lot more i don’t know yet.”

azzi leaned back slightly, arms folding as she smiled—this slow, subtle thing that made paige’s chest feel warm. “probably,” she said. “but i’m not that complicated.”

“you sure about that?”

azzi tilted her head, “are you?”

paige let out a soft laugh, a short exhale through her nose. “no,” she admitted. “not even a little.”

“then i guess we’re even,” azzi murmured, voice quiet but steady. she turned to grab her own plate and joined paige at the counter.

it was quiet again—but this time it felt intentional, like they were both letting the moment settle.

comfortable. warm. just enough to make azzi wonder what else paige might want to learn.

then—

azzi remembered.

jon’s text.

“hey, my brothers are like huge fans. they wanted a picture… if that’s okay?”

paige nodded her head quickly, “of course.”

paige straightened up in her seat a little, wiping her mouth with the napkin even though there was barely anything there. “how do you wanna do it? you want me to come over there?”

azzi shook her head, already pulling her phone out and walking around the counter to stand behind paige. “no, you stay. this’ll be quick.”

she opened her camera app and flipped to the front-facing lens, angling it just enough to catch them both. paige leaned in slightly, a relaxed smile tugging at her lips. azzi snapped the picture, then two more just in case, paige’s smile growing wider with each one.

“got it,” azzi grinned, scrolling through them quickly before sending one to the group chat with her brothers.

azzi

boom

y’all better not make this weird

jon

😭😭😭 YO

jose

that’s crazy. actual legends only.

tim

tell her we said thank you!

and also ask her if she hoop too 👀

azzi rolled her eyes but smiled anyway.

“they’re happy,” she muttered, locking her phone.

“i gathered,” paige chuckled. “do you hoop too?”

azzi looked at her with a smirk. “no. i just feed the ones who do.”

paige raised a brow, clearly amused. “lucky us.”

the next morning started slower than the last. sunlight spilled through the apartment windows, painting warm stripes across the hardwood floor.

paige was still in her room, probably just waking up, and azzi was already in the kitchen. this time, she moved a little slower, humming something under her breath as she sliced strawberries and placed them into a bowl.

she wasn’t rushing to cook — today felt lighter. easier. she made some toast, scrambled eggs, and those crispy-edged pancakes again because… why not?

she’d just finished plating everything when soft footsteps echoed down the hall. azzi didn’t turn — she already knew who it was.

“god, i don’t think i’ll ever get used to the kitchen smelling like this,” paige said as she sat down.

azzi chuckled, plating the food and handing it to her. “get used to it, bueckers. it’s not changing anytime soon.”

paige grinned, popping a piece of egg into her mouth. azzi was already tidying up, starting on the dishes right away.

“should i wear something fancy for tonight or…?” azzi asked curiously, glancing over her shoulder. she took first impressions seriously, but she didn’t want to go overboard either.

paige sipped her orange juice before answering. “you can wear whatever you feel comfortable in. i told them to wear something nice, though.”

azzi nodded, making a mental note. she probably wasn’t going for a dress, but a clean, put-together outfit should do the trick.

“did they want anything specific, or what?”

paige finished up her breakfast, her tongue gliding over her lips. “surprise us. they’ll like whatever.”

azzi smiled, a little spark of excitement in her eyes. “okay, challenge accepted.” she started clearing the counter, already running ideas through her mind.

paige watched her for a moment, feeling a warmth she couldn’t quite explain. maybe it was the way azzi took pride in even the smallest things. or maybe it was just the quiet comfort of having someone like her around.

“you know,” paige said, her voice softening, “i’m glad you’re here.”

azzi paused, looking up with a small smile. “me too.”

paige just looked a bit longer before standing. “thank you for breakfast. i’m gonna go shower.”

azzi nodded as she washed her hands. “i’m gonna go shower too. you’re welcome, by the way.”

paige smiled, making her way toward her room. “you’re a blessing, fudd!” she called over her shoulder.

azzi chuckled softly, shaking her head to herself. the quiet moments like these made everything feel a little more like home.

“i’m excited to meet her!” maddy beamed as she sat in the passenger seat, her legs criss-crossed while dijonai drove and lyss lounged in the backseat, scrolling through her phone.

“don’t scare her off,” dijonai warned, glancing over with a smirk. “paige actually likes this one.”

“likes her?” lyss repeated, eyes flicking up. “i thought she was just her chef.”

“exactly,” dijonai said with a pointed look through the rearview mirror. “and paige don’t just like anyone being in her house.”

maddy laughed, kicking her feet a little. “well now i’m even more excited.”

“you just want free food,” lyss muttered.

maddy turned and grinned. “yeah… and to meet the girl who somehow got paige to act like a softie.”

paige was currently setting up her playstation in the front room, knowing arike and lyss would definitely want to play with her the moment they walked in. she had already cleared off the coffee table, made sure the controllers were charged, and even tossed a few extra pillows on the couch just in case they stayed longer than expected.

she glanced at the time—still a little early—but she liked being ready. and if she was being honest, having everything in place also kept her from overthinking.

she tried not to admit it out loud, but she really wanted the night to go well. for azzi’s sake. and… maybe for hers, too.

azzi came out her room with an outfit she thought was good. tongue tied tinted flared jeans with a black tube top that shaped her body perfectly. she put her braids in a half up half down style while still keeping it out of her face.

she did a bit a make up before stepping out of the room. “paige, is this okay?”

paige turned around and froze, the hdmi cord in her hand completely forgotten. her eyes dragged slowly from azzi’s jeans to the way the tube top hugged her figure, then up to the soft, confident look on her face.

“uh…” paige blinked, almost forgetting how to speak. “yeah. yeah, that’s definitely… okay.”

azzi raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “you sure?”

paige coughed and nodded, setting the cord down. “positive. they’re gonna lose their minds.”

azzi smiled, walking further into the room. “not too much, though. i don’t wanna give your friends a heart attack before dinner.”

paige smirked. “well, no promises when dijonai sees you. she has no filter.”

“great,” azzi said, tugging lightly at her top and glancing at the setup. “you almost done?”

“almost.” paige cleared her throat and turned back around, cheeks still a little pink. “but now i gotta keep them from embarrassing me.”

azzi grinned, settling on the couch. “that’s not my job. i just cook.”

“you say that now,” paige muttered, plugging in the last wire, “but i got a feeling they’re gonna like you even more than your food.”

azzi smiled quietly to herself, not denying it.

their conversation was cut short when loud knocking echoed through the apartment, followed by overlapping voices and laughter right outside the door.

“that’s them,” paige muttered, already making her way over.

azzi stood, brushing her hands over her jeans and taking a quiet breath to center herself.

as soon as paige opened the door, chaos poured in—dijonai was the first one through, talking mid-sentence with a grin on her face, followed by maddy, arike, and lyss, all talking over each other.

“damn, paige, you didn’t tell us your place looked like this,” arike said, stepping in and looking around.

“arike, you’re hella late.” dijonai spoke.

“where’s the chef? we came for the food!” lyss teased, scanning the room dramatically.

azzi offered a small wave, standing by the couch. “hi. that would be me.”

they all turned at once, and for a second, no one said anything.

then—

“ohhh, okayyy, paige,” dijonai said, smirking.

“this who’s been feeding you?” maddy asked, already grinning. “yeah, we see the vision.”

paige groaned. “y’all—please.”

azzi just laughed, the nerves slowly fading under the sound of their teasing. they were loud, sure—but it felt more like energy than chaos. and she could work with that.

“we’re just saying, girl, you are beautiful,” maddy said, plopping down at the island with a wide smile. dijonai slid into the seat beside her, nodding in full agreement while the others lingered nearby, still checking out the space.

azzi blushed, ducking her head for a second before meeting their eyes again. “thank you. you’re all very beautiful too!”

“don’t gas us,” arike grinned, crossing her arms. “we came here for food, not compliments—though we’ll take both.”

“speak for yourself,” lyss said, eyeing the kitchen like it was a five-star restaurant. “i’ve heard too much about your cooking, i’m ready to be converted.”

paige leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the exchange with a soft smile. they weren’t scaring azzi off—if anything, she was handling them with ease.

azzi looked around at the girls, her nerves gone. “well, y’all are in luck. i made a few things already. appetizers first?”

“you’re a queen,” dijonai nodded, already sitting up straighter.

paige raised an eyebrow, nudging her with a smirk. “what happened to manners?”

dijonai grinned. “please, chef fudd. feed the people.”

azzi laughed, already turning to grab the plates. the room buzzed around her, light and full of warmth. she could get used to this.

azzi set a few plates on the island—mini crab cakes with a spicy aioli, baked mac and cheese bites, and fresh caprese skewers. everything looked golden, colorful, and just the right amount of fancy without trying too hard.

“oh, she’s not playing,” lyss muttered under her breath, already reaching for a skewer.

“hold on, hold on,” maddy said, pulling out her phone. “this is too pretty not to post.”

“not you trying to soft launch azzi’s food before even tasting it,” paige teased from the other side of the island.

“girl, this food soft launching itself,” dijonai said with a mouthful of mac and cheese bite. “azzi, you tryna marry someone, or…?”

azzi turned, feigning confusion. “what?”

“you cooking like you tryna wife somebody up,” arike added. “this ain’t normal behavior.”

azzi laughed, cheeks warm again. “well, it’s just what i do.”

“nah,” lyss said, shaking her head after biting into a crab cake. “this is talent. dangerous talent.”

paige caught azzi’s eyes from across the island, a smile tugging at her lips. azzi didn’t say anything—she just offered a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. but the way everyone was looking at her said otherwise.

and as the group kept eating, talking, and laughing, paige felt herself relax even more. they liked her—just like she knew they would. but something about seeing azzi fit like this?

that made her stomach flutter. and not from the food.

“the main dish should be ready in a few, sorry for the delay,” azzi said softly, watching everyone enjoy the appetizers with a small smile.

dijonai waved her off. “oh, girl, you’re fine. i wanna get to know you more anyways.”

maddy nodded in agreement, already nibbling on another bite. “yeah, no complaints here. you could take all night if you want.”

“it gives me time to beat paige and arike’s ass in 2k,” lyss chimed in, already making her way toward the living room with a confident bounce in her step.

paige and arike locked eyes from across the island, mirroring each other’s unimpressed expression.

“she delusional as hell,” they said in sync before cracking up, both of them following lyss with zero urgency but all the intent to humble her.

azzi just laughed under her breath, feeling the ease in the room. dijonai stayed at the island, watching her with genuine curiosity.

“so what made you start cooking like this?” she asked, leaning her elbow on the counter.

azzi wiped her hands on a dish towel before answering, “honestly? it started with my mom. she used to make me help with every meal growing up. by the time i was sixteen, i was cooking for my whole family.”

“see, that’s what i’m talking about,” dijonai said with a grin. “you got a gift.”

azzi smiled, just a little shy but still proud. “thank you. i just… really love it.”

“well, keep loving it,” maddy added, popping the last mac bite in her mouth. “’cause we’re not letting you go anytime soon.”

azzi laughed, her eyes flicking between maddy and dijonai. “you say that now, wait till y’all get tired of me being all in the kitchen every five seconds.”

“never,” dijonai said quickly. “you feed people. you could walk around here narrating your whole life and i’d still be like, ‘what’s for dinner?’”

“facts,” maddy added. “you don’t understand what you’ve done to us already.”

azzi shook her head, her grin widening. “y’all are dramatic.”

“nah, paige been acting different since you moved in,” dijonai said, sitting up straighter. “girl be smiling at her phone and everything. smiling. you know how rare that is?”

azzi’s eyes widened slightly, her voice quiet but playful. “oh yeah?”

maddy nodded, sipping her water. “mhmm. we’ve been clocked it. we were like ‘who got miss bueckers giggling?’ turns out it was you.”

azzi glanced toward the living room where paige and the others were now yelling at the tv screen. her face warmed, but she played it off, going back to the stove. “well… if it’s the food making her smile, then i’ll take that as a win.”

“sure,” dijonai said with a smirk. “let’s pretend it’s just the food.”

azzi didn’t say anything else, but the slight shake of her head and the way her smile lingered said everything. the kitchen smelled like garlic and spice, laughter echoed from the living room, and for once… it didn’t feel like work.

it felt like belonging.

“what’s cookin’ anyway?” maddy asked, resting her chin in her hand as she leaned over the island.

azzi stirred something in the pan before glancing back at them. “garlic butter salmon, lemon roasted potatoes, asparagus… and a honey glaze for the salmon on the side in case y’all like a little extra sweetness.”

dijonai blinked. “girl. girl. you tryna make us propose or what?”

azzi laughed, shaking her head as she plated the roasted potatoes onto a serving tray. “nah, i just want y’all to leave full and happy.”

“you already checked one of those off,” maddy said. “if this salmon hits like those crab cakes did, i’mma cry.”

“don’t be dramatic,” azzi teased, placing the tray in the warming drawer.

“i’m dead serious,” maddy said. “i got no shame. tears will be shed.”

from the living room, they suddenly heard lyss yell, “yo! what kind of cheat code did paige just use?!”

paige’s laugh followed immediately. “get better, lyss!”

“don’t let her talk to you like that!” arike shouted, though she was clearly laughing too.

azzi glanced toward the sound, and dijonai caught the way her smile softened. “they really like you, you know.”

“they’re cool,” azzi said, her tone low and fond. “i didn’t expect to feel this… comfortable. it’s only been a few days.”

“sometimes it don’t take long,” dijonai shrugged. “you fit in easy.”

azzi looked back down at the salmon, flipping it gently in the pan. “thanks… really.”

“we mean it,” maddy added. “this group? we don’t click with everybody. but with you—it’s natural.”

azzi stayed quiet, her chest warm. natural. she liked the sound of that. she glanced down at the salmon, then over her shoulder where the girls laughed like they’d known each other for years.

maybe it really didn’t take that long. maybe sometimes, it just clicked.

azzi plated the salmon carefully, brushing a thin layer of the honey glaze across the top of each fillet. the warmth in the kitchen wasn’t just from the stove—it was from the feeling settling in her chest, soft and steady.

behind her, dijonai and maddy were still chatting, but the energy had mellowed, like even they could feel it. something about the way azzi moved, so sure of herself in someone else’s home, but still gentle with it.

“alright,” azzi said after a beat, wiping her hands on a clean towel. “main course is done.”

dijonai and maddy both sat up straighter like kids in a classroom.

“you want help carrying it over?” maddy asked.

“nah, i got it. y’all relax.”

azzi moved with ease, bringing over the trays one by one and setting them on the island—salmon glistening under the kitchen lights, potatoes golden and crisp, asparagus sprinkled with sea salt and lemon zest. the whole apartment smelled unreal.

“what’s that smell?” paige’s voice came from the living room, footsteps following fast.

“heaven,” lyss answered before azzi even said anything.

the rest of the girls trailed in, their eyes immediately locking onto the food.

“oh hell yeah,” arike grinned, already heading for a plate. “this look like a celebration.”

paige didn’t say much at first—just stood there quietly, taking it all in. the way her teammates were hyped, the way azzi stood confidently beside the island, apron still tied around her waist, a little flour on her forearm.

“you’re insane,” paige finally said, almost under her breath. “this looks… perfect.”

azzi met her eyes, shrugging lightly. “just doing my job.”

paige held her gaze a second longer, then grabbed a plate. “you’re doing it too well.”

“then i’m doing it right,” azzi said with a small smirk, finally stepping back to let everyone dive in.

the kitchen filled with compliments, laughter, the scraping of chairs, and the clinking of silverware. azzi stood off to the side for a moment, watching it all, letting herself breathe it in.

this wasn’t just work anymore.

this was hers.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #pazzi #paige bueckers fic #azzi fudd fic

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drsheperd-bartley18 · 3 days ago

Note

Can you do like one where Azzi is at an event and Paige is at home with their daughter ?It's kinda late, and the daughter misses Azzi (crying over Azzi), so paige has to comfort her till Azzi comes home ,and when Azzi is finally at home they just a big happy family .

It's kinda long

This is definitely something. I lowkey don’t really like it. So I’m sorry if it’s really bad.

————————————————————————

Mommy’s Baby

It was almost bedtime which meant I It was almost bedtime which meant I was time to shut the house down for the night. Paige was walking around the house making sure all the windows and doors were locked, the lights were off, and tidying up Aaliyah’s toys. The last stop was for her to put her daughter to sleep.

As soon as Paige walked into Aaliyah room she knew something was wrong. Instead of running up to her like her usually happy princess normally did, Aaliyah was hiding hiding under her blanket. As Paige approached the bed she heard soft whimpers, her heart instantly broke.

“Hey, Princess. What’s wrong?” Paige said leaning on the edge of the tiny bed.

All she got in return was sobs.

Hysterical crying.

“Baby, let me help you.” Paige softly pulled the covers off her daughter’s head. What she sees makes everything click into place. Her curly-haired princess in one of her wife’s hoodies clutching an Olaf Azzi got her like a lifeline.

“Oh, Liyah, Mommy coming back.” She says pulling her daughter into her lap brushing her curls out of her face.

“No, she hates me”, Aaliyah said throwing Olaf across the bed.

“Why would you think that, your Mommy loves, Baby”, Paige says wiping the tears from Aaliyah's face kissing her forehead.

“Cuz she no give me bedtime kiss. She always give me kiss”, 6 year old says flailing her arms around.

“She will, Sweetheart I promise she on her way home. I’ll even text her to make sure, would you like that” Paige says pulling out her phone.

Nodding her head, Aaliyah crying finally softened at the thought of her Mom coming home.

P💗

Babe are u close

Aaliyah wants her mommy

MY PRINCESS💗

Aww

Tell my baby I’m ten minutes away

Traffic

“Look, baby, Mommy’s almost here,” Paige said showing the little girl her phone. “How bout we go wait for her in Mama’s bed,huh?” When Aaliyah nodded Paige picked her up and carried her to the Master bedroom. Jokingly throwing her on the bed hoping to get a laugh out of her. Before grabbing the remote and putting on both her girls comfort movie.

Ten minutes later the bedroom door opened.

Her beautiful wife stood in the doorway, adorned in a gorgeous deep purple dress. But before Paige could gay panic for the third time today, the first time when Azzi came out of the bathroom and asked her to zip up the back, and the second time when Azzi turned around to walk out the front door, Aaliyah shoved the covers off herself and ran into her mother’s arms.

“Did my baby miss me?” Azzi said, pulling her daughter up into her arms. “I did, I did!” Aaliyah says rapidly, nodding her head.

Placing soft kisses all over her face Azzi says “ Aww, Mommy missed you too, babygirl”

“Goodnight kiss time!” Aaliyah said, placing a wet kiss on her Mom’s cheek.

“Muah, goodnight baby,” Azzi says, exaggerating her kiss on Aaliyah's cheek as she walks closer to the bed and drops her daughter on the bed.

Turning towards her mama Aaliyah pouts “Your turn, Mama”. “Ahh, how could I forget,” she says, placing two kisses on her daughter’s cheek before receiving a wet kiss in return

#paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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b3ach-bunn7 · 1 day ago

Text

BENEATH THE MASK

Jason Todd is your cute coworker at the shelter you work at. Red Hood is the hot vigilante who saves you from being mugged

—————————————————————————

Your job right now is to wash the incredibly dirty dog in front of you. Not to ogle Jason from across the shop.

Your hands are pruning from being in the water too long, the suds crawling up your arms. The dog in question is Poppy, a brown retriever that keeps biting at the water, which only makes it spray all over your top, which is now thoroughly soaked. You huff, wiping your face on your shoulder.

“Poppy, please stop doing that, you’re making me all wet.” You scold.

She just barks up at you, shaking to rid herself of the water all over her. You sigh. It's sort of hard to be annoyed at her when she’s so cute. You suddenly feel a presence behind you, and a heavy arm leans on your shoulder.

“Don’t think you should be talking about that at work.

You roll your eyes almost immediately at the low drawl too close to your ear, but a smile dances at the corner of your lips. “Shut up.”

You’re not sure when Jason appeared behind you, but you’re not complaining. You don’t know what you’d call what's going on between you guys. You saw a TikTok a few weeks ago that said workplace crushes are only a thing because of the close proximity, but you don’t think that's the case.

Jason was a hard person to figure out. For starters, he is completely too attractive to be volunteering at a lousy shelter like this. Judging by the defined muscles on his arms you get a delicious view of when the air conditioning is on the fritz, you think he’d be more suited to be a superhero or a bodybuilder. He’s also very attractive. A sharp jaw, doey brown eyes and curly hair that falls over them softly. The little strand of white that peeks through the brown, and all six feet of him is too much for you to handle.

Jason was quiet at first. Not much of a talker, but luckily you could talk for the whole of Gotham, and he’d warmed up over time. He didn’t have much of a choice. Most of the other workers are either sixty and bored or sixteen and trying to fill out their Cvs with some work experience. You were the only person similar in age and had almost all the same shifts as him, too.

You’d ask him for help with extra rowdy animals, go on smoke breaks together. It was fun. You’re friends now, maybe something more. Nothing makes you laugh as much as his dry humour does, that little smirk he always gives you after making something flutter in your stomach.

Poppy barks loudly. Jason reaches down and scratches her behind her ears. She immediately goes limp, and you scowl.

“This dog. Why does she listen to you and not me?” You mope.

He wiggles sudsy fingers at you. “I have the magic touch.”

“Freak."

You turn on the water again and start hosing her down. Jason takes a pointed step backwards to avoid the spray. He’s leaning on the wall behind you, and he’s being absolutely no help as you slug your way through her last wash.

Once she’s washed and dried, you hand Jason the leash to put her back in her cage. You dry off your hands, the smell of the berry soap you guys use seeped into your skin.

“So,” Jason hums. “You wanna go on break?”

“I think the boss will kill us if we both leave at the same time again.”

Jason groans. “He’s not even here. It's just me, you and that old lady in today.”

You splutter a laugh. “Her name is Doris. And don’t call her that.”

“I’m not lying, she is old.”

Jason digs in his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. He shakes it in front of you and you bat him away. It’s a filthy habit you both have, and you’d have thought someone as athletic as him would be against it. He’s not though, evident by the expectant way he’s looking at you.

“Come on. I know you need it. I could see you seething from all the way over there.”

“What I need is new clothes.” Your wet shirt sticks to your skin, the breeze in the room cooling it quickly. You shiver a little.

You pout. “I can’t believe I have to be in this all day.”

You should have learnt by now, really. This isn’t the first time you’ve showered along with the animals.

In one swift motion, Jason pulls his hoodie off and over his head. You watch a little too intently as his shirt rides up, revealing the sharp outline of his stomach and his abs and his v line, before it unfortunately falls back down. He holds out the hoodie to you, running a hand through his hair to fix it.

“You don’t have to-”

“Just take it.”

You don’t need much convincing, so you do, a little smile creeping on your face. “Fine, fine. Turn around so I can change.”

Jason pouts. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, you perv.”

He complies, and you quickly chuck your shirt off and pull on his hoodie. It’s warm and worn and it smells like him, and you sigh contentedly. Jason watches you with an amused sort of look on his face.

He shakes the cigarette in your face. “Now can we go?”

You bite your lip, looking back at the shop, contemplating his offer. It’s empty, to be fair. It’s twelve in the afternoon on a Tuesday, so slow is an understatement for the state of the shop right now. And Doris probably has it covered.

You snatch the cigarette out his hand and he flashes pearly white teeth at you. You both squeeze in the little alley behind the shop, passing the cigarette between the two of you. You make a horrible joke about the fact you guys are technically kissing, and Jason just rolls his eyes.

You look around aimlessly, until your eyes fall on a newspaper strewn on the floor. You tilt your head to read the title, and gasp a little.

“Hey, look.” You pick it up, ignoring Jason’s noise of disgust. “It’s about that Red hood guy.”

Jason stands a little straighter from where he had been leaning against the wall. He peers over you shoulder to see what you’re reading, but loses interest quickly.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Come on, it’s kinda cool. He’s out there saving the night while we wash dogs!”

Jason snorts. He lets the cigarette fall to the floor, crushing it with the back of his shoe.

The article is actually not painting Red Hood in a very positive light. They call him a vigilante, an anti-hero, condemning him for thinking he’s got a right to dish out justice how he sees fit. You read this all to Jason, who’s looking at you with a careful look on his face.

“They have a point.” He says. “What do you think?”

“I think I need that.”

His brows furrow in confusion, a laugh leaving his lips. “What?”

“I said I need that. Have you seen those abs?”

You hold up the newspaper to him. Even through the blurry image, clearly taken in haste, the built figure of this masked man is very visible. You jab your finger at it.

“They are literally protruding out of that suit. Hence, I need that.”

“You’re so-“

“Really. I could show Red Hood a very good time.”

“Okay.” The tips of Jason’s ears are a bright red, and you’re a little confused why all this talk has got him so flustered.

He must sense the fact you’re about to tease him for it, because he stands to his full height. “Come on, you perv. Stop creaming over Red hood and get back to work.”

“You brought me out here!”

————

Talking about showing Red hood a good time is all well and done until he’s standing right in front of you.

It’s your own fault, really. The sun sets too early, just as you finish work, and despite Jason’s insistence that he could drop you home, you assured him you’d be fine walking. You’d lived in Gotham your whole life. You knew how to walk home without getting mugged, even if it was too dark out.

Apparently not, judging by the knife being held towards your throat.

It’s later than you intended to stay out. You’d stopped by the grocery store to grab a few things for dinner, and the plastic bag slips from your hand and crashes against the floor. You’re regretting it now, seeing as you just wasted fifteen dollars on food you’re not even going to get to eat.

In all honesty, you’re scared. As much as you trying to not show that to the person in front of you, your hands are shaking and your chest feels tight. If you die in some dingy alley literally five minutes away from your house you’re going to be really fucking pissed.

He growls in a low tone for you to give him your wallet. Just as you’re about to comply to his demands, hands slowly reaching for your purse, he’s hit by something, or someone, as he goes careening into the dumpster beside you. Your mouth drops open a little, and your head turns so fast you think your neck might snap.

And there he is, in all his glory.

That shitty newspaper picture definitely did not do him justice. He’s tall, towering over you. He’s not looking at you, gaze trained on the man now slowly rising from the floor. His abs really do protrude out of his suit, and you’re glad you’re not the one on the receiving end of whatever the hell is about to happen. His hands, covered in leather black gloves, grip a gun with practised ease, and though you can’t see his face under that mask, you can feel how pissed he is.

The mugger seems to be smarter than he looks, because the second he looks at Red Hood and the barrel of his gun, he cowers, hands shaking as he holds them up.

“I’m- I’m sorry, man, Jesus!” He cries.

You scowl. Your confidence seeps back quickly with the vigilante standing beside you. “Why are you apologising to him? I’m the one you tried to mug!”

Red Hood makes a noise beside you that sounds suspiciously like a laugh.

The flimsy covering on the mugger face has slipped off, and he looks young. Too young to be out holding people at knife point. You feel bad almost instantly, despite that fact he was the one about to stab you. You sigh irritably, digging in your purse. You pull out a twenty dollar bill. The kid looks confused and you tut, shaking it at him.

“Take it. Come on. And stop mugging people. Get a job.” You snap.

He still looks confused, but nobody is stupid enough to say no to free money. He takes it out of your hands carefully.

“Thanks.” He says it more like a question and you just usher him away.

He skitters off, giving you one last look. You mumble some choice words under your breath, digging in your purse for your phone. And that’s when you remember you’re not standing alone.

Your eyes flicker toward him. And he’s looking right at you. Of course, you think he is. His eyes aren’t visible, none of his face is. Your gaze also flickers to his exposed arms, the curl of his bicep and the material that is stretching over it.

“You can take a picture if you’d like.”

His voice is full of static, low and gravelly. It makes sense, you figure, to keep his identity a secret, which is why he sounds so robotic. He does sound sort of familiar, but you don’t dwell on that too much.

You laugh nervously, a furious blush spreading across your face. “No, that- That’s fine.”

“What are you doing out this late?”

You narrow your eyes at him a little. “Sorry, dad.”

He tilts his head. “Don’t get bratty with me. You’re the one who almost got mugged.”

“I-“ You ignore the heat that pools in your gut at his teasing tone, and try to look annoyed. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s is. Wouldn’t be if you’d gotten home earlier. Not a lot of people get mugged when it’s light out.”

You snort a laugh. “Yes they do. We’re in Gotham, in case you forgot.”

You kneel down to grab your fallen groceries, and he immediately does the same. You work in tandem and silence, quickly putting everything back. You get up with a heavy sigh.

“I should’ve taken that ride home.”

Red hood looks at you quizzically. Again, you think. You wish you could see his face. You wonder if he’s just as attractive without it on.

“My friend from work offered to drop me home,” you explain. “And I said no. Like an idiot.”

He nods slowly. He slips the bag out of your hand easily.

“Sounds like a good friend. Why’d you say no?”

He’s nosy, this anti-hero.

Truthfully, you were nervous. You won’t deny your crush on Jason, and you’re not sure how well you would have faired on the back of his motorcycle, hands wrapped around his waist and body pressed against his.

You struggle with what to say. You wonder how willing Red hood will be to give you relationship advice. “He’s..”

“You don’t like him?”

“No, I- I think I like him too much.” You mumble. “That, and his motorcycle is too scary.”

“Motorcycles are cool.” You think he’s pouting a little.

You giggle. “Sure, sure.”

Red Hood tells you he’s walking you home. He doesn’t offer, but instead waits until you start heading towards your flat so he can follow.

Gotham is never quiet. It’s one thing you love about the city. It’s always active, cars bustling down the streets or apartment lights on all hours into the night. Most people hate the noise, but you think it reminds you you’re alive.

It’s busy now. Nobody questions the man in red besides you because you don’t think any of them are brave enough to.

“Is it smart for me to show you where I live?” You wonder aloud.

Red hood makes an offended noise. “Hey. I’m not some supervillain.”

You laugh a little. “How am I supposed to know? You could be lying.”

“I don’t lie, princess.”

Princess. You smile a little weakly. “I hope not.”

He looks a little funny. This big strong man, guns hung on his waist, red suit glimmering under the street lamps, a Target bag swinging in his hands. You adjust your purse on your shoulder.

“The press isn’t a big fan of you, you know.” You say.

He hums. “Are you?”

“Am I the press?”

He shakes his head. “No. Are you not a big fan?”

Oh, you’re definitely a fan. But you don’t say that. You just give a shrug.

“I’m not sure. Think I’ll need to do some more digging.”

He makes a noise. “Digging? I saved you from a mugger and I’m walking you home.”

You hum thoughtfully. You’re getting closer to your place, and you’re a little disappointed. He’s nice company. And he smells good, too. Like something you know, but you can’t quite place.

“I suppose. You’re like a real life Robin Hood.”

The bag rustles as his hold on it tightens a little. He only nods once, curt, and you feel an urge to change the subject. Luckily, you don’t need to, because you’ve reached your block of flats. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s cheap enough that you can’t complain.

You turn to him. He holds out your groceries, and you take them with a soft thank you.

“So.” You say.

“So.” He replies.

“Thanks for saving me, Mr Hood.”

“No problem. Next time take that ride home.”

You nod. “I will.”

If you spend the rest of your night reading every article and Reddit forum about Red hood, nobody needs to know.

——

Jason has to try very, very hard not to laugh as you recount your encounter with Red Hood.

He wasn’t being a stalker, or being weird, he’d like to start with. He had business in town, and he’d gone home, changed into his uncomfortably tight uniform and instantly gone back out. It was just pure luck that Jason had stumbled across the poor woman with a knife held to her throat. He would’ve helped no matter who it was. But the second Jason saw you, eyes wide and fear plastered on your face, his body moved before he could even think.

If he’d have looked for a second, he would’ve been able to tell that the person mugging you was just some overzealous teenager. But he hadn’t, which is why he pushed him away from you hard enough to knock him into the dumpster behind him.

But you’d been kind. Given him money and ushered him along his way. And if Jason didn’t already love you, that would’ve been enough.

You’re sitting in front of him, legs crossed. You fiddle with the laces of your worn out docs as you watch him feed the litter of kittens they’d recently gotten into the shop. You’re trying to mask your jealousy as they all clamber in his lap, but you’re not doing it very well.

You sigh dreamily. “You should’ve seen him, Jason. So tall, and his voice was all deep and gravelly. And I was right!” You exclaim.

“About what?” He asks. One of the kitten mewls loudly and he scratches the back of his ear.

“His abs do protrude out of his suit.”

Jason laughs, and you grin. “You should be more careful. And I’m dropping you home today. Whether you like it or not.”

You shake your head quickly. “I’m not getting on that death machine of yours.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “First of all, shut up. Second of all, I have my car today.”

You dangle your fingers in front of the kittens. They paw at you, tiny claws catching on your skin. Jason thinks you look the prettiest like this, all worn out and soft after a long shift. The tiredness that gets to you both, and the final few hours of the day you get to just sit and talk.

He wonders how you’d react if he told you that he’s Red Hood. It had taken strength he didn’t know he had to not rip off his mask and take you in that alley right then and there, especially with how horribly you were hiding the fact you were blatantly checking him out.

You frown. “Shame. I was hoping to get mugged again so he could save me.”

“You need help.”

“From him, yeah.”

Jason rolls his eyes as you laugh loudly.

Jason likes you. He thinks he likes you too much, in a way that makes his heart ache like he’s never felt before. He doesn’t think he’s all that deserving of love, but when he’s with you, Jason likes to pretend that he is.

You both get up, placing the kittens back in their respective cages. You leave slowly, talking too much as you stuff your things in your locker and head out. You’ve still got his hoodie on. You haven’t offered to give it back yet and he doesn’t ask.

It’s only six as you both leave, and Jason wants to ask you to hang out. Not on a date, but. As friends. Or coworkers, whatever makes this not weird for you. Maybe to grab some food, or-

“Do you wanna get a bite to eat?” You suddenly speak up.

Jason isn’t exactly shy, but he is when it comes to romancing. He doesn’t want you to think he’s being too forward, but you never seem to share the same notion.

“I’m starving. And I’m really craving something greasy.” You hum, and he nods.

“Yeah, sure.”

“You’re paying, by the way.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Says who?”

“Says me. As your apology for hogging all the kittens today.”

You’re walking close to him. Close enough that your fingers ghost against each other as you swing your arms beside him. He wonders if you’d pull away if he held on.

“Not my fault they all love me, princess.”

Jason curses internally. He instantly sees the cogs turn in your head as you give him this look of something. He looks away too quickly, praying there’s no recognition in your gaze.

“You know, that’s what he called me!”

Jason nods, hoping the relief isn’t too obvious on his face. “Really?”

“God, he was flirting.” You almost whine, “Definitely. I’m going to tell the six o'clock news that Red Hood has a crush on me.”

Jason knows you’re joking, so it really is quite funny how accurate you really are. Instead, he just scoffs.

“Like he’d ever like you.”

“Don’t act jealous, Mr Todd. It’s unbefitting of you.”

—————————————————————————

guys.. Ik im always posting anime guys but dc.. Jason Todd he is my roots and I wanna take a bite of his big biceps

#b3ach bunn7 #oneshot #fluff #jason todd x y/n #jason todd oneshot #jason todd reader #jason todd red hood #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #redhood #dc comics #dc universe #dc red hood #dc jason todd

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orellazalonia · 1 day ago

Text

When Trust Falters

Summary: The interrogation continues with little progress. Some of the other Avengers return from a lengthy mission and are roped in to what has happened. However, alarms sound throughout the compound before they can come to a definitive decision.

Word Count: 3k+

Main Masterlist | The One You Don’t See Masterlist

They didn’t speak and you didn’t either.

Steve looked like he wanted to. His mouth opened slightly then closed again. You wondered what it must feel like to be righteous, to lead, and then realize you’d been walking around a blind spot for months.

You sat in that cold, overly clean room and tried not to feel. Because if you started, you weren’t sure you’d stop. Your hands rested flat on the table; still, but not calm. You’d learned the art of stillness from months of being unseen. You let them look and stew in whatever guilt had finally crawled up their backs. It wouldn’t change anything anyways.

Then Steve leaned forward, his voice just above a whisper. Too soft. Too kind.

“You’re not the first person to be hurt by us.”

Don’t. You almost said it aloud.

“But you’re one of the first,” He continued, “who didn’t… really lash out. You just disappeared.”

You looked past him at the mirror. You wondered which cameras were live. If Bucky was watching.

That thought burned like ice in your chest.

“We want to help now,” He said.

Now.

You gave a thin, breathless laugh that felt like old wounds. “You want to help,” You repeated, dragging each word out like it physically hurt. “Now.”

“Yes.”

You smiled. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t even bitter. It was hollow, like something that used to be a smile but forgot how.

“It’s too late for that.”

Natasha didn’t flinch. She never did. She spoke like she always had; quiet, sure, and clipped.

“Maybe. But we still have to try.”

You looked at her. She had always been efficient. So precise and practically unshakeable. But she had never looked at you like this. Not when you passed her reports. Not when you stood quietly outside meetings, waiting to be dismissed. Not when you sat alone in the cafeteria with the coffee you made too sweet because you never acquired the taste for bitterness the rest of them drank like water.

And now she was looking like you mattered.

Now.

You tried not to hate it.

“Why?” You asked. “Because I’m useful again?”

Steve looked down for a second. You could see that flicker of shame. That single confirmation that somewhere, deep inside, He knew you were right.

“We can’t fix the past,” He said.

“No,” You whispered, voice starting to shake, “But it’s the only thing I remember.”

The words cracked in your throat as it came out. They didn’t say anything and you didn’t cry. You wouldn’t. But your jaw ached from clenching.

Steve took a breath, trying to move forward and guide the conversation into safer territory. “Do you remember what they had you working on?”

You blinked slowly. And something inside you curled tighter.

“I remember everything,” You responded. But it wasn’t a boast. It was a curse. A confession.

“Then tell us,” Natasha said.

You tilted your head slowly toward her.

“Why would I?”

Her voice didn’t change. “Because it’ll help people.”

You stared at her. And then let your eyes drift to Steve, then back to the mirror.

“You mean like I tried to?”

Neither answered.

“I tried helping people,” You murmured. “It didn’t make anyone care.”

“That’s not true,” Steve said.

“Isn’t it?” Your voice sharpened. “Name one time someone asked how I was doing. Not my reports, not the things I fixed. Me.”

Your heart was pounding, loud and deep. Like something had just shifted inside of you and wouldn’t fall back into place.

Steve’s silence was confirmation enough. And something inside you broke a little more.

You stood up, the chair legs scraping hard across the floor. Too loud. The sound grated through the silence like a scream in disguise.

“I was always easy to ignore,” You whispered. “You didn’t even see me go.”

Steve stood too as a reflex. He still looked at you like there was a version of this where you came back willingly. Like there was still something left to preserve.

“I see you now,” He tried.

That made you laugh again. Shaky, choked.

“That’s the problem.”

Natasha rose more slowly. She was eerily calm as she looked at you like she was reading the map of everything you never said. Every sharp edge you’d grown to survive.

“Then tell us what they’re planning,” She said. “Not for us, for the ones like you. The ones still in it.”

Her voice wasn’t cold. It was still that same steady tone. But the words hit harder than if she’d shouted.

It made your chest ache. Because you knew the ones she meant.

The girl in the security room who brought you tea without asking questions. The technician who fixed your tablet with trembling hands and called you “ma’am” like you were someone important. The kid who made sarcastic comments in code and flinched whenever a voice got too loud.

The ones still in it. Still useful. Still hoping someone might come.

But yet, tell them. That should’ve been easy, right? But these people had left you behind. Forgotten you. The Earth’s mightiest heroes treated you like a support beam they never looked at twice.

But that organization? Your new group?

They were the ones who brought you coffee. Who asked what music you liked. Who looked you in the eye and saw you. Who made room at the table like you’d been meant to sit there all along. Who said you were brilliant like it was a given.

And they’d done it too well. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d needed that until you had it.

Your jaw tensed as you glanced at Natasha, then at Steve, and then away again. The air felt too tight, like the room was closing in, pressing you between two truths you didn’t know how to hold at the same time.

“I…” You swallowed. “I can’t.”

Steve’s expression didn’t change. Not visibly, but something in his shoulders shifted.

“You don’t trust us,” He said.

“I don’t trust anyone,” You answered, but it came out quiet. Weak.

A beat passed.

“You still believe in them?” Natasha asked.

You looked down at your hands.

“I don’t know,” You said honestly. “I think some might bad people. I think some may be dangerous. But they… they saw me. I wasn’t invisible there.”

“And that’s enough?” Steve asked. Not accusing. Just… tired.

“No,” You said. “But it’s more than I had here.”

The silence that followed was thick and brittle. No one knew how to break it without shattering something.

Finally, Natasha sighed.

“We’ll give you time,” She said. “Think about what you want. Not just from us, but from yourself.”

She left.

Steve stayed a second longer.

And you hated the look in his eyes, full of regret. The kind that comes too late, when the apology doesn’t fix the damage, just decorates it.

“If you ever want to talk,” He said, “I’ll listen.”

You didn’t reply. And a few moments later, you were alone again.

The door closed behind Natasha with a soft hiss.

Steve followed, slower. Neither of them spoke as the lock slid back into place and the reinforced door sealed shut, leaving you behind that cold pane of glass.

You sat where they left you, elbows on the table, staring down at your hands like they were someone else’s. You hadn’t moved. You hadn’t cried. But you looked wrecked all the same.

“She’s not going to talk,” Natasha said quietly.

Steve exhaled, folding his arms across his chest. “Not yet.”

“She’s too far in.”

“Or too far gone.”

Natasha’s jaw twitched. She didn’t like that word, gone. Like you’d vanished and they were only now realizing they hadn’t checked if you were still breathing before assuming you’d just… slipped away.

“She’s conflicted,” Natasha said. “It’s not loyalty to them. It’s grief. Attachment. It’s what happens when you give someone who’s been starving for scraps and give them a feast.”

Steve looked through the glass again and you still hadn’t moved. His chest tightened.

“We gave her nothing,” He said.

Natasha didn’t argue. Because they both knew it was true.

You weren’t a spy. You weren’t enhanced. You weren’t charming or flashy or forceful. You didn’t make your presence known. So they’d let you fade into the background like it was easier that way.

“She thinks we only care now because she’s a problem,” Natasha murmured.

“Is she wrong though?”

That silence was longer.

“She used to leave sticky notes on mission folders reminding me to eat,” Steve said suddenly. His voice was rougher now. “I never really… said thank you.”

Natasha’s expression didn’t change. But she looked a little further away, like she was sifting through memory, rearranging the past.

“She covered for me once,” She said after a moment. “When I missed a deadline, didn’t make a show of it. Just rewrote the timestamps and said it was her fault.”

Neither of them had noticed then what that meant. They did now.

Steve leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. “If we’d shown her half the loyalty she gave us, maybe she wouldn’t be sitting in that room.”

Natasha didn’t say maybe. She didn’t need to. The truth already hung between them like smoke. You weren’t some enemy agent. You were the girl they forgot to notice until she was on the other side of the war.

The room had been silent for a full ten minutes before the jet touched down.

Tony was the first one through the doors, coffee in one hand, tablet in the other, and already rattling off something.

“—so if we patch the vibranium relay through the lower array, we might actually get the satellites to stop hiccuping like it’s 2003. You’re welcome in advance.”

Clint followed, dragging a duffel bag behind him and muttering something about overcooked rations and who even funds these missions. Wanda walked quietly between them, hair pulled back, eyes tired but sharp.

They weren’t expecting the others to be waiting.

Natasha was standing by the window, arms crossed. Sam sat perched on the edge of the long table, brows drawn, and eyes locked on the floor. Steve stood near the central display, shoulders stiff, like he hadn’t moved since they’d returned. Bruce lingered by the back wall, tablet forgotten in his hand.

Bucky was the only one not pretending to be still. He was pacing, measured and slow. Like he wanted to punch a hole through the wall but hadn’t chosen which one yet.

Tony blinked once. Twice.

“What happened?” He asked, all levity gone. “You look like someone died.”

Wanda stopped walking.

Clint raised a brow. “Okay, who broke the coffee machine?”

No one answered. It was Steve who finally spoke.

“We found her.”

Tony frowned. “Found who?”

Steve didn’t clarify, didn’t need to.

Wanda’s eyes widened first. “Wait. Her?”

Bruce gave a slow nod. “She was with that group we’ve been tracking.”

Wanda’s brows knit together. “So she was taken.”

Natasha shook her head, and the answer was heavier than any twist of magic.

“No.”

Tony set the coffee down surprisingly gently.

“You’re saying she joined them?”

“She was… welcomed,” Sam said carefully. “Not recruited. Not brainwashed.”

“She didn’t want to come back,” Bucky added, voice flat but not angry.

Clint blew out a breath. “You’re kidding.”

“She’s not a villain,” Bruce said. “But she’s not sure who she is anymore.”

Wanda stepped closer to the table, almost like she needed to anchor herself. “What happened to her?”

“She was alone,” Steve said. “Too long, too quietly.”

Clint ran a hand through his hair. “We all were, at some point.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, staring at the far wall. “But most of us got pulled out.”

There was a pause.

Tony folded his arms. “Okay, but what–what does this mean? Are we calling her a threat now? Is she under house arrest? Are we pretending we didn’t just spend years walking past her in hallways like she was a vending machine?”

That stung more than anyone admitted.

Steve stayed still. “She hasn’t given up any intel. Won’t confirm what she knows.”

“Would you?” Sam said. “If the people you worked under for years are now treating you like a liability?”

“She didn’t ask to be pitied,” Bucky said, cutting in sharply. “She asked to be seen.”

Wanda looked down. “She was always… so quiet. But kind.”

“She used to bring Clint snacks during recon briefings,” Bruce added absently.

Clint blinked. “Wait, that was her?”

Bruce nodded. “She made sure the lights in the lower hallway stopped flickering, too.”

Tony muttered, “…I thought that was FRIDAY.”

Another period of silence fell, not because there was nothing left to say. But because everything left to say was too late.

Steve finally looked around the room. “We have a choice to make. We can treat her like a defector. Or we can treat her like someone we failed.”

“She’s not a weapon though,” Wanda murmured. “You can’t just… activate her when it’s convenient.”

Tony exhaled and rubbed his temples. “You all act like we didn’t find her practically embedded in a hostile network and are treating this like some moral drama show. She might’ve turned.”

“Or maybe,” Bruce countered, tapping on his tablet, “We pushed her far enough that the only place left to go felt like the enemy.”

Silence again.

Clint leaned back in his seat. “I just don’t get how someone could be here that long and none of us saw it. That kind of loneliness doesn’t just happen.”

“She didn’t make herself visible,” Tony muttered, almost like that made it better.

“She didn’t have to,” Bucky said sharply.

The room turned slightly toward him. He paused, his pacing stopped and something shifted in his posture now. A stillness. His brow furrowed.

“Where is she?” He asked.

Clint blinked. “Who?”

Bucky didn’t look at him. He looked toward the hallway.

“The one who always finds a way into these conversations,” He spoke quietly. “The one who keeps suggesting we let this go. That she’s not worth the effort.”

Natasha’s head tilted slightly. Her eyes narrowed. “She didn’t check in after the last mission.”

Wanda glanced around. “You’re right. I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

“She was supposed to be here,” Sam added. “She’s on this clearance level.”

Tony blinked. “Wait, are we talking about your girlfriend or the girl who’s got half the intel we need?”

Bucky ignored him. He was already moving toward the door.

Steve straightened. “FRIDAY, locate–“

But he didn’t finish the sentence. Because just then, the alarms screamed through the compound. Red lights strobed against the windows. Bruce’s tablet flashed.

“Security breach,” He whispered. “Lower levels.”

The room exploded into motion. And Bucky was already moving.

The sirens screamed as Bucky sprinted down the stairs, the flashing red lights strobing across his face in intervals of dread. Each step deeper into the compound felt wrong. Off. The holding corridor wasn’t in chaos when he reached it. It was silent. Too silent.

Bucky entered with his weapon drawn but lowered. His boots echoed on the floor, every step slow and careful.

The first cell: occupied. He peered through the reinforced glass and met eyes with one of the lower-level tech runners. She sat rigid on her cot, hands folded neatly, eyes wide. Startled, but still here.

The second cell: occupied. Another agent. Mid-level. Cautious, but unmoved. His knuckles were white where he gripped the edge of the bench. There was sweat on his brow.

The third: empty.

Bucky stopped. The cell door was ajar. The panel light blinked green, access granted. No signs of a struggle. No chaos. No noise.

He moved on, only to find a pattern of some cells empty and some still secured. His fingers curled around his sidearm. Each open door seemed colder than the last. Calculated and spaced, certainly not random.

By the last cell, he was already expecting it but he approached anyway. The key figure, one of the highest-ranking field operatives they’d managed to capture, was gone.

Gone, like he’d never been there at all. The cell was spotless. Bucky stared at the empty cot, jaw tight.

In the distance, Clint finally caught up behind him. “What’ve you got?”

Bucky motioned with his head. “Most still in custody. The rest… not.”

Clint frowned, stepping beside him. “All the big players?”

“Gone.”

Clint muttered a curse under his breath.

“They knew exactly who to take,” Bucky said quietly.

“And exactly how much time they had to do it,” Clint added. “This wasn’t panic. This was a checklist.”

Steve’s voice buzzed through the comm. “Bucky, talk to me.”

“They’re not here,” Bucky answered, low and sharp. “Cells are open but they weren’t breached. They were opened.”

Above, in the lab, Bruce’s voice overlapped with static. “I’m pulling logs right now. No firewall trip. But access was granted at 16:42. Whoever did this had a working clearance badge.”

Natasha’s voice snapped through next. “Someone internal. Has to be.”

Sam was already checking feed from the lower cameras. “No one’s on footage near the vault. Looks like the hallway cams dropped offline for just under ninety seconds.”

“That’s surgical,” Clint muttered, eyes scanning the corridor. “Too precise to be a coincidence.”

“So, no fight,” Natasha said over comms. “No rush, which means they knew no one was coming.”

Steve’s voice was clipped. “We were all upstairs.”

“Together,” Wanda added, her voice distant, like she was putting the timeline together aloud. “All of us.”

“Except one,” Bucky muttered, backing out of the row of cells.

There was a beat of silence on the line.

Then Sam said it, flat and grim: “She wasn’t at the briefing.”

Bruce spoke cautiously. “She’s still on compound security, though. Logged in at the east wing. Camera shows her… still there.”

“Still?” Natasha echoed. “As in hasn’t moved since this started?”

Bruce hesitated. Tony cut in.

“Making something in the kitchen. No signs of distress, looks calm.”

“That’s too calm,” Bruce said.

“She’s always calm,” Wanda murmured. “But this feels…”

Steve cut in. “We don’t know it was her.”

“No,” Bucky agreed. “But it happened while we were all looking in the other direction. And she made sure to be the only one not looking with us.”

The red lights continued to flash overhead.

And the cells that remained open, the air was cold in the way where something warm had been. They hadn’t just lost captives. They’d lost control.

Taglist: @herejustforbuckybarnes @iyskgd @torntaltos @julesandgems @maesmayhem @w-h0re @pookalicious-hq @parkerslivia @whisperingwillowxox @stell404 @wingstoyourdreams @seventeen-x @mahimagi @viktor-enjoyer @vicmc624 @msbyjackal @winchestert101 @greatenthusiasttidalwave @avivarougestan @saoirses-things @itsmejen @saucysasha2035 @smokescreen1000

#The One You Don’t See #chapter 9 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel fic #marvel x reader #bucky barnes fic #angst

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e1e4n0r5 · 2 days ago

Text

Their Little Plaything: Bonus Scene 3

Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue, Bonus Scene 1, Bonus Scene 2

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Powder x Loner Nerd Reader. Previous Bullies Cait & Vi x Loner Nerd Reader

Words: 2097

Synopsis: Powder AU. Powder has a great idea for some revenge on Cait and Vi for how they treated you on Halloween

Warnings: Cait and Vi being bullies again ☹️, consensual recording of sex (with intent to send to others), breast play (r! receiving), fingering (r! giving), analingus (r! receiving), oral sex (r! receiving)

“We should send them photos,” Powder declared as she lay on your bed, absently staring at the ceiling.

You frowned in confusion, your back against the wall as you highlighted in a textbook. “What?”

“We should send those bitches some photos of us together.”

“What do you mean? Vi and Caitlyn? Why would we send them photos of us hanging out? They know we’re friends.”

Powder shook her head, rolling over onto her front. “Not hanging out. Nudes,” she waggled her eyebrows playfully.

You balked at her. “Why would we do that!”

“To piss them off. They need to be punished for how they treated you.”

It had been a month since Halloween. A month since you'd gone to your first ever party, when Powder had convinced you to dress as a sexy vampire...When Vi Lanes and Caitlyn Kiramman had cornered you upstairs, seduced you into having sex (your first time!), and then left you the next morning. They'd fucked your brains out, left you unable to remember your own name, and then swaggered out of your room without saying goodbye or checking you were okay. They didn’t even offer you a washcloth or glass of water.

The next time you saw them around campus, they mocked you relentlessly. ‘You actually wore bike shorts under your dress! White underwear, like the virgin you were! Had any luck finding those panties, by the way?’ The facade was over; they'd gotten what they wanted. You were left humiliated, crying in your room as Powder held you tightly, telling you in vivid detail all the ways she'd tear the two of them limb from limb for you.

The weeks passed, and the humiliation eased, with Powder’s help. You were getting over it, slowly. You were starting to feel more like yourself.

Then one day, when you and Powder had been hanging out in your room, she made the absolute mad suggestion: send Caitlyn and Vi nudes from Powder’s phone.

You twisted your mouth. “This feels cruel.”

“Hey, they’re my sister and my sister’s girlfriend; if anyone’s allowed to be cruel to them, it’s me.”

“But you’d really do that?” you asked sceptically, an eyebrow raised.

She nodded emphatically. “Hell yeah, I would!”

You just looked at her, shaking your head a little. “I don't mean be cruel to them. You’re willing to kiss me, be naked with me, put your fingers inside me, your mouth right next to or directly on my vulva just to fake some pics to piss off your sister and her girlfriend because they had sex with me a few weeks ago?”

She chuckled. “Sugar, if it makes you happy and pisses off those two, I’ll eat your ass like ice cream,” she said proudly.

You blushed bright red. “Whoa, Powder…Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“Plus, don’t you think it’d be fun? It’d drive them crazy. I know Vi: she gets super jealous and possessive, and Cait's so fucking proud! If they know you're moving on from them – with me! - they'll go nuts.”

You hesitated. It would drive them crazy, which did sound appealing. And, if nothing else, it would be a funny afternoon with Powder, a memory to look back on and laugh. It’s not like she hadn’t seen you naked before.

“Alright,” you nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Her face lit up and she jumped off your bed, pulling you up. “Excellent! Let’s take a shower!”

“Okay, Powder, I need to say this now,” you started, your towel still wrapped around you for your modesty. Even knowing you were about to throw that concept out the window. She looked at you expectantly. “You are a beautiful woman-”

“Thank you, sugar,” she smiled, lounging back on your bed, her towel riding dangerously high up her smooth thighs.

“-And I’m definitely a lesbian. So I want to apologise now if I…Get excited,” you blushed.

Her smile turned into a cocky grin. “You mean if your pussy gets wet?”

“Yes!” you snapped defensively, blushing harder.

“Don't worry, sugar, I'm totally cool if your pussy leaks all over me,” she winked.

You flushed. “I just don’t want to make it weird. If-if you’re not comfortable with any of this-”

She leant forward, taking hold of your hand, and pulling you a little closer. “Tuts,” she said softly, holding eye contact with you, “Nothing about this will make me uncomfortable. But if you get uncomfortable at any point, you need to tell me. Okay?”

You nodded. “I will, I promise.”

“Good girl,” she smiled, not knowing the effect it instantly had on you. “So, how should we start?”

You’d set up your phone on your desk, propped up against some books, set to take a photo every ten seconds. You had Powder’s phone on hand for any close-ups and videos. That way you had twice as many photos, to give the impression you’d had sex several times! Powder’s idea. Genius, in your opinion.

You’d started by lying down together, still in your towels, just getting comfortable with each other. You started gently kissing, only just pressing your lips together, before pulling away and giggling nervously. Powder let you kiss her that way until you were more comfortable, then rolled on top of you.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked, gently tugging on your towel.

You nodded, helping her open your towel, laying under her naked. You waited nervously whilst she looked you up and down.

“Holy shit, tuts…” She breathed out. “You’re gorgeous.”

You blushed. “My phone’s not recording audio.”

“You think I don’t mean that?” she challenged, laying down on top of you again, kissing you deeply.

She slid one hand up your side slowly, teasing you with her fingertips, before cupping your breast.

You moaned gently, then gasped. “Sorry! I’m sorry, that just came out.”

She shook her head with a smile. “Moan all you want, sugar. I don’t mind.”

She kissed down your neck, slowly moving down to your chest. Placing tender kisses to the tops of your breasts, she cupped one in her hand, feeling its weight. Kissing her way over to it, she took your nipple into her mouth.

You moaned again, then bit your lip. Stop making this awkward!, you scolded yourself.

But she just chuckled against your skin. She switched over to the other breast, repeating her treatment of your pebbling flesh.

You felt your pussy growing wetter by the second. You blushed, pulling back a little. “Pow, I’m…”

She lifted her head. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you breathed out, “I’m just…Getting excited,” your cheeks flushed red.

She smiled. “Do you wanna take a break?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m okay to keep going. I just…Wanted to let you know. In case you…”

“Feel your wet pussy?” she winked.

You dropped your head back onto the pillow, laughing in embarrassment. “Yes, okay? In case you felt it.”

She laughed with you. “No worries here, sugar. You wanna go on top for a bit?”

“Are you okay with me inserting my fingers?” you asked as you lay between Powder’s thighs. Both of you had become aroused over the hour, so you made no mind to her leaking pussy.

Lying on her back, breath coming a little faster, Powder nodded. “Go for it, sugar.”

“Okay, I’ll use two, if that’s okay?”

She nodded again, eyes a little heated.

“Okay, here we go.” You gently inserted your first two fingers into her pussy, earning a quiet moan. You’d both been moaning a lot, so you didn’t judge her. You moved your fingers slowly, so you could be sure your phone got a clear photo. You kept going for about a minute, wanting multiple photos. You picked up your phone, recording some clips from different angles, at different speeds.

Powder didn’t hide the soft moans coming from her, as you hadn’t hidden your own moans at various points. “Fuck, that feels good.”

You smiled understandingly at her. “You want me to stop?”

“You either gotta stop or finish the job,” she joked.

You blushed. “Um…Okay, let’s see what else we can do,” you suggested a little awkwardly, pulling your fingers out of her.

You missed her small pout, before she smiled back at you and sat up.

A few hours later, the sun now down, curtains closed, beside lamp on, you browsed some porn sites together with a glass of water, looking for inspiration.

“Oh, wait, I still need to eat your ass,” Powder declared.

Your eyes widened. “Were you serious about that?” you recoiled.

“Yeah, why not?” she grinned.

“Well, it’s…” you grimaced. “I mean, I’ve showered but still…”

“It’s hot, sugar. Come on, let’s see some idea pics.”

You’d put yourself on your front, angling her phone over your shoulder as she knelt between your legs, holding your cheeks open as she moved her tongue over your back hole. You’d tried not to squirm as she did; it felt so wrong, but it was amazing. You groaned softly, making sure to zoom in on her face, getting some clips and photos of Powder’s eyes both closed and open, looking straight into the camera. You’d put her phone down, hiding it under your pillow and making a fucked-out expression for your own phone to take pics.

When she was happy you had enough footage of her eating your ass, she tapped your hip to roll you over. Settling onto your back with her between your legs, she put her mouth on your clit.

You moaned loudly, unable to hold it in. She smirked at you, giving you a playful wink. You let yourself hold her head gently – for the photos, you told yourself – not allowing yourself to enjoy it too much. You didn’t want Powder to think you were taking advantage of her.

“Don’t forget my phone, sugar,” she reminded you gently, sucking your clit into her mouth.

With a dry mouth and soaking pussy, you picked up her phone from under the pillow. Angling it between your legs, you pressed the button. As you recorded, you made sure to moan Powder’s name, gasping and moaning a little louder than normal, but still trying to be convincing. If you went overboard, they would know you were faking it. Powder kept looking at the camera, making sure her tongue was visible touching your pussy as she moved her tongue from side to side.

You nodded your head to her to signal you’d stopped recording. But she continued, her eyes closed as she licked up and down your slit, her hands coming under your hips and holding your thighs open.

You snapped a few more pics. “Okay,” you panted, “Powder, you can stop now.”

She just looked up at you, not moving from where she was. “Do you want me to stop?”

You trembled. “Do you…Do you not want to stop?”

“Do you want me to stop?” she repeated with a daring smile, gently squeezing your thighs as she placed kisses on your inner thigh.

“I…I want you to be comfortable,” you said carefully. But hoping.

She chuckled against you, sending vibrations through your skin. “Then I think,” she pressed her tongue flat to your clit, rubbing it side to side, her eyes locked on you, “that I want to eat this delicious pussy,” she sucked your clit, “until you’re screaming my name for real.”

You whimpered. “God…Yes. Yes, please,” you begged.

She smiled, kissing your clit. “Then lie back, sugar. Let me eat,” she pushed you down onto the bed, doubling her efforts on you pussy.

You flopped back against the bed, your eyes closed as you moaned – for real – your hands settling in her hair. You cursed under your breath and groaned, moving your hips against her mouth. She hummed softly against you, feasting upon you, devouring you.

“God, where’d you learn to do this?” you asked breathlessly.

She chuckled. “Thank you, sugar.” She slid her tongue inside you, earning a jolt of your hips.

Your hips rolled, your back arched, your moans constant until you came with a cry. “Fuck,” you breathed, looking down at her, her eyes smug over your pelvis.

She licked you gently until you stopped shaking, climbing over you. Her mouth and chin were covered in your juices, and you reached up and kissed her passionately, until neither of you could breathe.

Pulling back, she stroked your cheek. “You okay?”

You nodded. “That was fantastic,” you said in awe, kissing her deeply again.

When you broke apart again, she smiled down at you. “I’m gonna take good care of you, tuts.”

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @spicedcherrylolli, @colettespace, @flowersareup, @beggingonmykneesforher

#their little plaything #arcane #vi arcane #arcane vi x reader #arcane violet #vi x reader #arcane au #caitlyn kiramman #caitvi #caitlyn arcane #powder arcane #powder x reader

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