#the first half of the season was so good!!! all about expectations and working force and family burdens | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

azzibuckets · 21 days

Text

Paper Rings [Part 8/10 | Paige Bueckers]

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: paige gets a little jealous and things get a little heated

a/n: thank you all for your patience! part 9 will be up today too

word count: 2.3k

masterlist w/ all parts

1 MONTH LATER

“The only room left is with Paige.”

As soon as those words left KK’s mouth, your heart started to pulse erratically. “What? There’s no other room?”

KK shook her head apologetically. “There’s an odd number of us, and she called first dibs on getting her own room.”

The thought of having to share a room with Paige sent you into a panic. The sheer proximity would force you two to have to confront your past, and that was something you didn’t feel ready for yet. You inwardly cursed Nika at dragging you alongside this trip. The team had planned a trip celebrating the end of season, and had invited some of their close friends. At first you’d turned down the invite because of prior arrangements, but they ended up getting canceled, and when the girls found out they dragged you along as a last minute addition. You needed to work on keeping your mouth shut, you decided.

“Is she okay with it? I mean, she wanted to room alone,” you protested.

KK raised an eyebrow. “Girl, are you really asking that?”

Blushing, you looked down. “I don’t know, KK. It might be awkward.”

“Good.” KK stuck the key card in your pocket. “You guys better work things out. I’m tired of seeing you guys play games.” She patted you on the back and left you alone in the lobby.

Sighing, you double checked the room number before making your way to the elevator. Anxiety pounded in your head up until the moment you knocked on the door, half hoping Paige wouldn’t be in there and that you could deal with this issue later.

Unfortunately, the door swung open right away. Paige was in her dark basketball shorts and a tight fitting UConn tee. Her eyes brightened when she saw you, and she leaned against the door. “Hey.”

You marveled at her ability to make you all flustered with just a single raspy word. But you didn’t want to see the effect she had on you, so you straightened yourself and spoke with as much confidence as you could muster. “Apparently I’m supposed to room with you.”

Paige’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she looked over her shoulder to scan the room. “Right, right. Um, give me one sec.” Without bothering to close the door, she hurried back to the room and started piling clothes into her suitcase and throwing away food wrappers.

“Paige,” you laughed, stepping into the room. “Relax. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

The blonde blushed, sending you a sheepish look. “Sorry. I wasn’t really expecting you.”

“Me neither,” you said under your breath. Ignoring her questioning look, you stepped further into the room to look around. Only then did you realize that there was one bed.

The fates definitely had it out for you. You eyed the rest of the room, hoping another bed would magically appear. Paige made eye contact with you, seeming to sense your anxiety. “Don’t worry about it,” she mumbled. “I can sleep on the floor with some blankets. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Years ago, you’d slept in Paige’s bed almost every night, with a drawer in her room. It didn’t matter if it was a weekend or if you had school the next day. You always slept over. You guys were both touchy, so practically every day you’d wake up with your legs tangled, Paige’s face in the crook of your elbow or your forehead pressed against her shoulder. It has been so natural. And now? Now she was offering to sleep on the floor, like you guys were strangers.

“Don’t be silly,” you forced yourself to sound nonchalant. “We can both sleep on here. There’s tons of room.” You knew you wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, with Paige next to you. The tension would be unbearable.

You could sense the blonde hesitate before she nodded. “If you’re sure.” She looked at her phone as it lit up with a text. She stood up, grabbing a jacket. “They’re all downstairs getting lunch. You ready?”

When you reached the resteraunt, the only two seats left were one in the middle and one at the end, next to Ice’s friend that you didn’t know. You didn’t feel much like talking, so you took the seat next to Ice’s friend. She seemed nice enough.

“You’re Y/N?” Ice’s friend was a ginger, with vibrant hair and a smattering of freckles across her pink cheeks. She was definitely pretty in a charismatic way, with a chip on her front tooth and curious eyes.

“That’s me.”

She scanned you up and down before slowly smiling. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Marissa.”

Your cheeks heated up at how she’d unashamedly checked you out. But you brushed it off. Based on the clothes she was wearing, she seemed pretty straight. She probably just liked your shirt or your jeans or something.

You opened the menu, musing over what you should get. Marissa popped up behind your shoulder. “I’m not super hungry. You wanna share?”

Relieved that you wouldn’t have to make a decision, you nodded in agreement. “Whatever you’re getting is fine.”

“Alright.” She scooted her chair closer to yours, drawing the attention of the entire table as the legs screeched against the tiles. “So we can share,” she explained as everyone stared.

You could feel the heat of Paige’s stare as she observed how close you and Marissa now were, your elbows colliding with each movement, but you chose to ignore it. You didn’t need to deal with any drama right now, especially since you guys were now in the same room.

“So.” Marissa propped her chin up on her hand. “What’s your connection?”

You played with the napkin in front of you. A swan origami would look good, you thought. “Sorry?”

Marissa laughed as if you’d just told the funniest joke ever. “I mean, with the team. How’d you become friends with them?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you debated what to say. You didn’t wanna say Paige’s name and give off the impression that you guys were still best friends, but you didn’t want to lie either. You settled on telling Marissa that you were friends with all of them but Paige had introduced you guys.

“Nice,” Marissa nodded. You guys fell into small talk. She was pretty nice, but a little inquisitive, and your social battery was starting to drain.

“What do you like to do?”

“Read. I like reading. I like hiking and being outdoors. And watching sports too. Volleyball, soccer, basketball,” you nodded your head at the team at the latter.

“Oh, awesome.” Marissa touched your wrist. You looked down. Okay, now she was definitely flirting. “Do you play a sport?”

“She plays water polo,” Paige quickly interjected from across the table. The whole table quieted down, but she didn’t look away, staring at us with a kind of ferocity you knew all too well.

Marissa looked between us with surprise. “Oh, nice.” She pondered thoughtfully, then broke into a smile. “Oh shit, I heard the swim suits get really tight in that sport. Are they that bad?”

You laughed, trying to diffuse the tension at the table. “Yeah, they’re pretty tight, but I’ve gotten used to it. The only thing is that they’re kinda revealing.”

Marissa bit her lip, her fingers tapping your wrist. “Then I’ll have to watch you sometime.”

At this, Paige started coughing. KK whacked her on the back. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. You knew Paige was laughing at Marissa’s poor attempts at flirting, and a small part of you found it funny too, but another part of you was furious at Paige. Why did she think it was her place to act like this?

So you decided to bite back, and you leaned towards Marissa with a suggestive smile on your face. “Maybe you will.”

Paige immediately stopped hacking away, and her face turned rigid. Thankfully, the waiter arrived with the food, so all the girls got distracted. The atmosphere returned to normal as all the girls complimented the food and went back to their conversations.

The rest of lunch went fairly smoothly, albeit the fact that Marissa had upped her flirting since, and Paige would not stop glaring at the two of you. But you were grateful for the fact that she’d stopped intervening and kept to herself.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. Mostly of the girls had already finished their meals and left. It was just Paige and KK continuing their dumb argument over the best Tru Fu flavor, Nika and Caroline chatting intently about the recent Mystics game, and you and Marissa. You’d wanted to leave and go lie down in the hotel bed eons ago, but the ginger couldn’t seem to get the hint.

The waiter set down a refill of Marissa’s Shirley Temple in front of her. She plucked the cherry from it, rolling the stem between her fingers before bringing it up to my mouth. “You like cherries?” she smirked.

All of a sudden, a long arm stretched between the two of us and grabbed it from Marissa’s hand. “She doesn’t like cherries,” Paige uttered, leaning from across the table. “But I do. Thanks!” She popped the cherry in her mouth and calmly returned to her food.

Nika and Caroline were too absorbed in their conversation to realize what had happened. But of course KK had seen the whole thing, and her mouth dropped open as she tried not to laugh.

Marissa didn’t seem too offput by what Paige had just done, continuing the conversation like normal. But you couldn’t hear her, her voice muffled and drowned out by the noise ringing in your ears. Heat crept up from the base of your neck. What the fuck did Paige think she was doing?

Finally, you interrupted Marissa’s spiel with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” you said. “But I gotta go. I told my mom I’d call her at 2.”

“Oh, okay,” Marissa said. “I’ll see you!”

You got up quickly before she could hug you or anything and called Paige’s name. “I don’t have a room key,” you lied, relentlessly staring her down. “Can you come up with me?”

Paige looked back at KK, who mouthed to her, “You’re in deep shit.” The blonde slowly and begrudgingly turned back around, getting up and following you out of the resteraunt.

We were silent in the elevator. Paige kept shooting you nervous looks while you stood against the wall with your arms crossed. Your anger was building, spilling over. You felt as if you were expanding, ballooning with rage. If you didn’t control yourself, fast, you’d explode.

As soon as the door clicked behind you two, you turned around and jabbed a finger in Paige’s chest. “What the hell was that?”

Paige clenched her jaw, her face set and stony. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, fuck you. You know what I mean. Stop acting oblivious,” you hissed.

Paige was backed up against the wall now, your faces inches apart. “You hate cherries. You used to give me the cherries in all your Shirley Temples,” she shrugged. “I’m sorry Miss Marissa didn’t know that,” she added, her tone bloodcurdlingly condescending, riling you up even more.

“What if I’d wanted that cherry? We’ve barely talked in the past year. Stop acting like you know me.” You ignored the way Paige’s face fell at your words, focusing instead on your anger. You needed to stay mad. Paige always found a way to appease your anger, but not this time. You needed to get your point across.

“If you want a cherry so damn bad, I’ll go down and get one for you.”

Your nostrils flared at Paige’s attitude. “You and I both know that’s not what this is about. So why don’t you stop behaving like a kid and tell me why you’re acting like this?”

Paige’s chest was heaving. She was looking at you with so much anger and frustration and something else in her eyes. “Huh?” you prodded, pushing her chest.

Paige looked up at the ceiling. When she looked back down, her eyes were wet. “What do you want me to admit, Y/N?” Her voice was low and cold, nothing like the high-pitched intensity of my yelling. “The fact that I’m jealous? That it sickens my stomach to see you guys loudly flirting for the entire meal? Do you know how humiliating it is for me to just sit there and not say anything as my entire team watches my ex play around with some girl? I had a fucking migraine the entire time thinking about how many times this must’ce happened in the past year. So many times I wasn’t there that people were talking to you like that and touching you, and it made me want to fucking die.”

You reared your head. “Don’t say that.” Stumbling back, you shrilled out, “Don’t you fucking say that when you’re the reason we’re like this now.”

Paige’s eyes flashed. “You never let me apologize. I have so many things to say and you won’t even hear me out.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Your laugh was rattled and hollow, a reflection of the uneasy feelings in your chest. “Begging for my attention? That’s funny. I thought I was the fan girl. Desperate to have just. one. fuck. with. you.”

It looked like a car had hit Paige in the stomach, taking the air from her lungs. She crumpled up. “Y/N. Please. I never, ever, meant that.” She reached for you, but you stepped away from her grasp.

“I need some air.” You shoved your way past her, letting the door slam away behind you.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x you #uconnwbb #wcbb #wbb #enemiestolovers #friends to lovers

223 notes · View notes

eff4freddie · 18 days

Text

Touch | Epilogue

Joel makes good on his promise to date you, at least once.

Words: 4k

Warnings: Just a slutty lil farewell to our resident Jackson masseuse and her grumpy-arse maybe sorta boyfriend, smut, vaginal fingering, sexy times, stockings that are far too thin for early Spring. Minors DNI

A/N: Another thank you for your support of this little story that ended up being a bit bigger and more complex than I expected. I went there because of your encouragement. Thank you, always.

Part Eight | Series Masterlist

The season was turning, but there was still a chill of a nighttime. It had been six weeks since Joel returned to Jackson, the medical supplies he and the second expedition managing to find and defend ensuring a healthy and safe Jackson for at least another two winters. The whole energy of the place, the optimism, was back in the community, and you had thrived in it, started to bloom alongside the wildflowers dotting the pathways into town.

You’d spent the time working, teaching Ellie, occasionally hanging around Joel’s place while he convalesced, first in his bed, then on the new-ish couch Tommy had found and dragged in through the back door. It wasn’t leather like his old one, and the springs stuck out in the centre so that you had to be very careful where you sat, but it was better than the rocking chair, and it was enough for him to sit still in for at least a few weeks.

He kept promising that he was going to date you, at least once if you’d let him, and each time you’d fobbed him off, telling him he had to get better first, that he was no good to you limping, that you wanted him marginally less grumpy if he could manage it. You weren’t sure why you were stalling, other than that you felt you were toes to the edge of a precipice.

When you were little your little family of four had driven out to the Grand Canyon, and you’d stood on the edge of the red dirt and been totally overwhelmed by the size of it, of all the negative space, the absence. You’d found yourself, aged eight and a half, ready to cry and even now, thirty years later, you remembered the howling wind, the echo of it.

You thought about the beauty of it, now. Now that you had seen so much worse, so much more, you reminded yourself that people used to travel entire countries to see the Grand Canyon. In your mind’s eye you entered your memories and stood beside yourself, your child self, and took her hand. You pointed to the sky, drew her eyes up and away from the ground beneath. Felt her pulse race under your touch as you showed her that the magnitude of it was the beauty in it, was the point of it all.

You accepted Joel’s invitation for the next Friday night. Then you ran to Maria’s to find something to wear.

You were supposed to meet at 8, a respectable time after dinner so as not to feel like you needed to have a meal; a more casual time, a more intimate time, when you could drink and chat and only stay an hour if you found it wasn’t working. It was both an in and an out.

Except that you were late, your last client having not only stored muscle tension in his fascia but emotional tension as well, and as soon as you had pushed into the glute he had unleashed years of mourning, of loss, of fears. You had stopped, wrapped him in a towel and pulled him upright, stood back and let him shake with the force of it. It wasn’t new, that people would come with muscle aches and discover trauma aches instead, but you lost track of time trying to put him back together again, trying to assure him of his safety. Tommy was right; sometimes it doesn’t come out until you feel safe enough to let it.

But it meant by the time you were pulling your door open you were about forty minutes late. Your cheeks burned with the shame of it, your timekeeping one of your strengths in the before-times, in the times when you had no other responsibilities other than the hell of being 15.

Joel was coming up your path and you stopped, nearly dropping the jacket you were still trying to pull over your shoulders. You couldn’t read his expression in the dark but his eyes were on you, and he was coming up, fast.

‘Joel, I’m so sorry,’ you started, as he strode towards you and up your porch. ‘I got caught up with a client, I couldn’t leave until they were…’ his hands were on you then, gripping you to him, your jaw resting in his warm palm.

‘You OK?’ he asked you, his eyes searching yours.

‘I’m fine, of course I am,’ you said, flustered, under the intensity of his inspection. ‘I just couldn’t…he was so sad, Joel. I had to stay.’

He nods at this, his jaw ticking. You resisted the urge to reach up and sink your fingertips into the masseter. ‘Were you worried about me, Joel?’ you asked, and he narrowed his eyes at you, then, suddenly freezing up.

‘Thought you weren’t coming, or that you were…thought maybe something had happened,’ he said, and you felt yourself soften.

‘I’m fine. And I would never stand you up,’ you said, moving to hold him around his waist, to circle him in your arms, only able to reach halfway around him, broad as he was. He avoided your eyes, the worry etched deep into his brow.

You still hadn’t kissed him. All of the things he had done to you, the way he had pulled you apart under his hands, his mouth, spread around his cock, nothing so intimate as a kiss.

‘I’m sorry,’ you said again, low and velvet in your throat. ‘I really like you, Joel,’ you went on, and he finally met your gaze, again. The naked vulnerability in it making you pause. You wondered how many people had ever seen this side of him. You suspected he could count them on one paw.

‘It’s late,’ he said, and started to pull away from you. ‘Maybe we should try again some other time.’ To your dismay he had nearly turned his back to you, and without thinking you grabbed him around the middle and tried to turn him back.

‘Wait,’ you said, and he hissed then, his muscles seizing. You let go of him, horrified.

‘M’ok,’ he muttered, raising his hand to stop you from rushing toward him. ‘Just…still gettin’ there, is all.’

‘Come in, please,’ you said, not touching him, not moving towards him, hoping your voice would be enough to get him to stay. ‘It’s cold, I have a bottle of whiskey Tommy slipped me when you were in the hospital, I can…’

‘You needed whiskey, baby?’ he said, and he had that lopsided grin on his face again, and you wanted to lick it off him. ‘Were you worried about little ole me?’

Never mind, you wanted to slap it off.

‘Oh for fucks sake,’ you said, rolling your eyes and turning back to your door. ‘Don’t get all cute just because I got scared when you nearly died,’ you said, and you heard him chuckle. You entered your house and turned to him, one hand on the door. ‘In or out?’ you asked, and you knew that you were talking to the both of you, knew that he wasn’t the only one facing the indecision, knew that you palming the responsibility off onto him, that you would accept his decision even if it meant never talking to him again. He hesitated, but only for a moment.

He was back in your kitchen, on the same chair from a more recent before-time, from before he’d found a place for himself somewhere under your skin. You were both sipping your whiskey, listening to the crackling fire in the other room, letting the silence seep out and blanket you. He was still enormous, still took up nearly half the space, and you ceded all of it to him.

‘Ellie speaks the world of you,’ he said, after a while, and you knew that this was important to him, that first and foremost he was her dad, her keeper and her protector.

‘She’s a lovely kid,’ you said, and then corrected yourself. ‘Not a kid. She’d fucking kill me if she knew I said that.’

He chucked into his glass. ‘Won’t tell her,’ he promised.

‘How’s that healing?’ you asked, gesturing to his wrist. It wasn’t in a splint anymore but it was still tightly bandaged.

‘S’just weak, aches in the cold,’ he said, and you nodded. You reached out and pulled it towards you, lay it on the kitchen table between you. You slipped the bandage away, watched the blood rush back in and pink up the flesh underneath it.

‘You need to stretch it, keep it strong,’ you said. ‘Bones probably healed but now the muscles’ll be lazy.’

‘Yes, doctor,’ he said, and you glanced up at him, at the crinkles in his skin and the warmth in his eyes as he teased you.

‘I mean it,’ you said, pretending to be offended, using it as an excuse to slip your hands around his wrist, his forearm. You felt the chords of the muscles there, the sinew and the veins. You rubbed your thumbs in firm circles, like you had shown him to do on your knee, all those weeks ago. You blushed at the thought of it, at the echo of the pleasure he had wrung from you not ten paces away.

He grunted a little, shifted in his seat, and you pulled his arm up at a right angle, so that his elbow was resting on the table. ‘Here, do this,’ you said, and you slipped your fingers between his, rested your forearm against his, leant in a little to ease your combined weight onto the joint.

‘I’m going to try and push your hand backwards, you push back,’ you said.

‘We arm wrestlin’?’ he asked, smiling again.

‘We will if you don’t behave yourself,’ you shot back, and he grinned.

‘Tell me when,’ he said, and you nodded your head. He grimaced at the strain through the joint, but you felt it stretch, felt it working under the force you were applying to it.

‘That’s good,’ you said, without thinking, ‘doing real well.’ He sucked a shy little breath in through his teeth. You stopped pushing, looking up into his pink cheeks. You continued to hold his hand, your eyes fixed to his.

‘Say it again,’ he said, and your mouth went dry.

‘Doing real well, Joel,’ you said, and watched as he blinked slowly, drinking it in. ‘Doing so good.’

He pulled you then, by the arm, out of your chair and into his lap, his mouth finding your neck and suckling, hard, as you struggled for purchase on his thighs. You could feel how hard he was through his jeans, the pulse of it pushing into your cunt as you settled yourself down on him, your thin little stockings under Maria’s borrowed dress doing absolutely nothing to provide a barrier against his throbbing for you.

He gasped, looked up at you as you perched above him. His pupils, blown wide with want, mirroring the ache you felt between your legs and in your heart for him. He tasted like peppermint toothpaste and you wondered idly if he’d brushed his teeth before heading to the Bison, if he’d hoped this would be the end result of the night or if it was just habit. You smelt the leather of his worn jacket. You reached up and let his salt and pepper beard scratch at the skin on your fingertips.

‘So good to us, Joel,’ you said, and you heard the gentlest whimper catch in his throat. ‘Looking after the town. Keeping us safe.’

‘Want to keep you, baby,’ he whispered, his eyes dropping to examine your lips. ‘Keep you tucked up all warm and safe, keep you under my roof where I know you’re protected.’ You shivered, at the heat of it, at the sincerity in it. ‘Be the one to shield you. All sweet and soft in your little kitchen. Wanting me, waiting f’me.’ He finished, biting his bottom lip.

‘I want you,’ you said, simply, feeling his cock jump underneath you.

‘Yeah?’ he asked, and you nodded.

‘Been waiting,’ you bit out, realising for the first time that it was true.

‘M’sorry baby,’ he said, playfully goading you. ‘Where did ya want me?’ he whispered, tucking his head under your chin and licking a stripe up your neck, chewing idly on your earlobe. You shivered again, a shuddering little thing that also came with a whimper. You took his hand from your waist and dropped it to your pussy, pushed his fingers to cup you there, gasping when he ran a fingertip along your seam.

‘Everywhere,’ you whispered, and he grunted, shifting his weight. With one warm hand splayed across your shoulder blades he leant you back, his eyes running up and down your body, devouring you. He kept his hand on your cunt, idly running a finger up and down where you ached the most for him, and you worried for a moment that he would feel how wet he’d made you just with his gaze.

His breath was warm across your cheeks when he exhaled. He took the hand from between your legs and cupped your breast, rolled the nipple through your dress, made you whimper.

‘Joel,’ you whispered, and you watched as his eyes lit up, as the sparks caught on kindling and turned into a forest fire, as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing from the strain. You wanted to run your tongue over his bottom lip, nip at it.

‘Sssh, baby, I know,’ he said, pulling you up off his lap to stand in front of him, your knees shaking. His arms bracketed your hips, gripping the table behind you, so you were surrounded by him. He remained seated, watching you from under heavy eyelids.

‘Take it off,’ he said, and you felt your pulse in your neck, thunderous.

‘Which?’ you asked.

‘Maria’s dress you don’t think I recognise, those silly little stockings that ain’t doing nothin’ to keep out the cold.’

He leant back on the chair again, kicked his legs out so that you were standing between his ankles now, leant his arm on the back of the chair and scratched at his beard. ‘Well, go on,’ he said, and you felt so exposed to him then, vulnerable in the heat of his stare.

‘Help me,’ you said, feigning not being able to get to the zipper, just for the excuse of turning away from him, from his eyes that were taking you apart atom by atom, from his hands resting on his thigh, from his thick fingers you wanted to slip into your mouth, let him push down on your tongue and suckle at him.

You felt his hands on your back, the zip coming down, the way he slipped the dress from you like he was unwrapping a present on Christmas morning. You leant over a little, trying to slip your stockings off and you heard him moan, felt his hands on you again, his warm paw on your lower back pushing you into a deeper bend, the other pulling on your hips to bring you closer to him, his hands gripping you, positioning you. You heard his sharp inhale when you slipped the stockings over your bottom, felt your cheeks blaze when he reached up and slipped your panties off along with them, bent over and completely exposed to him, wet and glistening in the light of the kitchen, the sound of your gasped little whimpers mixing with the ever-present whir of your forty-year-old fridge.

‘Oh, my girl,’ he said, and you wanted to launch yourself at him, seat yourself back on his lap and bury your head in his neck but he was running his hands up and down the back of your thighs, edging himself closer on the chair, pushing you forward so that your breasts rested on the kitchen table, your cheek flush to the cold wood.

He bent his head and placed a single kiss at the base of your spine and you worried your knees would buckle, worried you would collapse onto the kitchen tile. As you gasped he brought his hands up to cup your bottom, spreading your cheeks enough to slip a thumb into your cunt, probe the warmth and feel the wet collecting on his fingertip. You startled, trying to buck away, trying to buck towards him, circling your hips to capture him inside you, and you heard him chuckle, felt his lips dip lower to your tailbone as he twisted his hands, his thumb still inside as his fingers came around to cup and rub at your slit, your poor little aching clit caught between his fingertips.

‘Jesus,’ you cried, finding religion despite never having set foot in a church.

‘Want to keep you full of me,’ he muttered, sitting back down on the chair again and pulling you with him, spreading your legs over his so you were open wide, obscene and dripping in his lap, pulling your legs apart with his and whispering filth in your ear, cupping your breast with one hand and the other sliding into your heat.

‘Want to keep you here, my pretty girl all safe and warm in my arms, full of my cock and my fingers, crying out for me when I’m not there.’ You were gasping, your vision narrowing, barely able to concentrate on anything except for his words, for his fingers stretching you, his legs pulling you impossibly wide. ‘Won’t let nothin’ hurt ya, baby girl,’ he grit out, and you felt a sob rip through your throat, the pleasure he was drawing out of you mixing with the comfort, with the intoxicating allure of him protecting you, of him standing between you and so many terrors.

In your right mind you wouldn’t have believed him. Would have known there were things out there even the great Joel Miller couldn’t topple, that there were threats known and unknown, seen and unseen, things out there wanting to spill your blood, the blood of the people you cared the most for. But Joel was inside you, in your cunt and in your ear, and his words were chipping away at your resistance, sliding under the door long ago locked tight. You were far from your right mind. You surrendered to the seduction of it, of the intoxication of it, of the myth this man was peddling that you would buy again and again and again.

‘There she is,’ he said, as you came on his fingers, your cunt gripping him and your hips rolling, his face pressed hard into your neck as you twisted into the agony of it, your mouth open and gasping, your face turned to the Gods.

You felt his fingers underneath you, one hand wrapped tight around your torso to hold you steady as he released himself from his jeans, and you felt him then, pressed against the back of your thigh, the velvet heat of his length, the thundering throb of it. You had barely caught your breath, had yet to fully come back to yourself, before he was pushing himself into you, pulling you onto him, your neck caught in his teeth as he bit down on the nape, tried to stifle the groan blooming in his chest.

He felt bigger this way, the stretch even sharper despite his best attempts to prepare you, and your walls fluttered, fought to accept him. You shuddered, the sudden sting slamming you back into your body, and you gripped his hands to stop him, to pause. He stilled immediately, his breath hot and gasping.

‘Give me a minute,’ you gritted out, leaning back onto his shoulder and burying your nose in his jaw, panting, placing a placid little kiss to the salt and pepper patches there.

You felt him reach around you, his finger finding your clit and gently circling it, collecting your slick and pushing it over the nub to rid you of any friction. You groaned, arching your back against him, your hands digging into the meat of his thighs underneath you.

‘So beautiful like this,’ he whispered into your ear as you felt the pleasure overtake you, the throb in your cunt synchronised to your thundering pulse. ‘Can feel you gripping me,’ he went on. ‘Stuffed fulla me, baby.’

‘Stop,’ you gasped, the moment suddenly too intense, a fear gripping you then that if he kept talking you would give him anything; the shirt off your back, the blood in your veins. He chuckled, watching you struggle to take the pleasure he was pushing into you, through you.

It was wrong but you couldn’t figure out why, because it still felt so fucking good, and you wanted more but couldn’t figure out how it was possible, not sated by him seated fully inside you, not close enough to him as you pressed your body entirely against yours. You huffed, frustrated, standing before he could stop you and pivoting to face him, straddling him again in the chair and sinking yourself down on him in one swift motion, so that he gasped and then groaned when the heat of you enveloped him, joined you in a harsh cry when your clit met his hipbone and you settled there, shifted your hips to press into the nub.

‘S’better,’ you said, and you watched his lopsided grin emerge.

‘My girl miss seeing me?’ he asked, and you rolled your hips to shut him up, watched any semblance of cogent thought leave him when you gripped him there.

‘Say it again, Joel,’ you said, sliding your hips forward and back in a way that you knew wasn’t enough for him, but was making your clit throb when it grazed over his skin. He grunted, suddenly finding it hard to think clearly, and his brows saddled.

‘Keep you safe?’ he said, uncertain but meaning it anyway, and you shook your head.

‘Keep who safe?’ he asked.

‘You,’ he answered, still not following, and you planted your feet on the floor, raised yourself up just to bounce back down again.

‘Who am I, Joel?’ you asked, nearly breathless, and finally, finally he understood, his little huffed out laugh sending a thrill through you as he reached down between your bodies, felt where you were joined.

‘My girl,’ he said, finding your clit and edging his fingertips across it, sending fireworks up your spine. ‘My beautiful girl, so tight and wet, so needy for me, cryin’ out for me in her kitchen.’

You groaned, feeling him grip you around the middle with one arm, lifting you up and down on his cock, rocking into you and always, always, always watching your face, nibbling at your chin when you leant back to gasp for air.

You were going to come. It was too fast. You still had so many other things you wanted to say to him, wanted him with every atom of you, with every fibre, the neurons in your brain lighting up just for him. Wanting to live in the torrent of pleasure he brought out in you, wanted to twist and writhe in it. You felt, again, on the edge of tears, but not for wanting, this time. Not for the losses.

For the having. Of Jackson, of the wildflowers on the paths pushing past the cold. Of the little family you had eked out at the end of the world, of Ellie, of Tommy and Maria and Robin. Of this man under your body and on your kitchen chair, calling you his and promising to keep you safe. Of this man, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion and clinging to him, willingly readying yourself to cascade over it.

‘Want you right here, always,’ he grunted, and you keened, felt it then, that you were wanted, that you belonged.

You didn’t have the words for it, vowed in that moment that you would spend the rest of your life trying to find them. For right now you did the only thing you could think of, leaning over and gripping his jaw, angling his face to you as you landed your lips on him, kissed him as you felt a tear streak across your cheek and onto his skin, as you shuddered and felt your cunt milking him, as he spilled into you and you joined him, the ecstasy and the pleasure and the warmth of it. In your little house in Jackson, behind enormous walls, to hold you.

Taglist:

@orcasoul

@archofimagine

@hiroikegawa

@ilovejoel-andjavi

@giggly-otter

@harrysrosetatto

@Hjzghi-blog

@daddy-dins-girl

@kathaaaaaaa

@anoverwhelmingdin

@pedropascalsbbg

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #pedro pascal fic

158 notes · View notes

callsign-rogueone · 2 months

Text

study season

fourth wing characters (Aaric, Bodhi, Brennan, Dain, Garrick, Imogen, Liam, Mira, Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Sloane, Violet, and Xaden) x reader the ways our faves help you study for exams. words: ~900 🏷: no book spoilers, no triggers. gender neutral. and I included the girls this time!! some of these can be read as platonic and others mention kisses / cuddles, implying you’re a couple. idk, I just work here. I’m really liking this format lately, and it’s (fairly) quick and easy so you can expect more of these in the future while I procrastinate all the girlfriendverse chapters and smut I have to write lol

First, the more studious of the bunch:

Brennan is all-in, no hesitation, pulling up a chair next to you and learning this with you for moral support, but also for fun (can you believe this guy?) though you suppose it’s easier to enjoy this if it doesn’t count for a grade. Either way, he’s a very nice study partner, and he encourages you to take breaks every hour / chapter / etc. Brings snacks, too.

Violet somehow already knows all of the material, and explains it better than the textbook or the professor. Walks things back if you don’t get it and gets into the why and how, which so many teachers skip over, even though it helps explain the what (pet peeve of mine showing here lol).

Aaric’s study skills are unmatched -- years of the best private tutors money can buy really paid off. Teaches you new strategies that you’ve never heard of in your life, and when you ask, he admits a bit shyly that he came up with it himself, but it works, and you get it done in half the time you would have before. (work smarter, not harder, baby)

Rhiannon gives you the pep talk of your life (we all need a Rhiannon in our lives) and convinces you that you’ve got this. Packs you a little snack for the day of your exam with a little note reminding you that you know this, just breathe and think.

Xaden sees you struggling and forces you to take a break. During said break, he’s reading the book himself and figuring out what exactly has you so stressed and exhausted. Breaks down the tasks into smaller, more manageable steps and guides you through it -- “find three reasons why XYZ happened.” done with that? “Now make them into paragraphs.” etc etc, and an hour later, you have a passable essay.

Dain is taking this more seriously than you are, and his discipline is like no other; you’re not stopping until the work is done, or until midnight, whichever comes first (because sleep is important for the brain, or whatever. Definitely not just because he misses you and wants to cuddle).

Garrick may have no idea what you’re talking about, but he suffers through it with you, offering to let you explain things to him, because teaching is a good way to test if you understand something. Though you get what you pay for -- he’s a total smartass about it, asking questions about the littlest details even if they’re common knowledge -- he’s gotta be thorough, right?

Ridoc may be the class clown type, but he’s smarter than a lot of people think. He comes up with a bunch of jokes that actually help you remember things. Somehow manages to relate the most complex topic in your book to a sandwich, and it actually works. He’s incredibly smug about this for the rest of the week, especially when you get the highest score in the class (he’ll take payment in kisses, thank you.)

Bodhi makes flashcards with you, quizzing you and giving you a kiss if you get it right (this definitely is not a distraction, and things definitely don’t escalate from here, nope.) He’s also really good at proofreading essays, and gives excellent feedback regarding the structure and the order of the information.

Liam sits there with you all the while, completely silent, working on one of his wood carvings at the other end of the table, but you know he’s there and he’s watching -- and that provides a healthy amount of peer pressure and keeps you on task. He’s an incredibly observant person, and he can see the stress building; he knows when to intervene and suggest that you take a break.

Sloane is the best person to commiserate with. She doesn’t want to be doing this either, but she’s also incredibly stubborn, and she doesn’t give up; after a healthy amount of complaining, she’s forcing you both to keep trying until it works / until it’s done, and then you’re treating yourselves to something for getting it over with, because you deserve it.

Sawyer is gentle and supportive, having a heart-to-heart conversation with you and reminding you that yes, this is important, but the world will not stop turning if you fail one exam. He knows how it feels to be compared to his peers, especially in how long it takes you to accomplish something (poor bb) and doesn’t want you stressing yourself out about that, either.

Imogen is the opposite, all tough love, giving you gentle but firm reminders: “you didn’t make it this far just to give up,”, “I know you can do this, so do it,” but she balances it out with tender affirmation when you’re done. She’ll even let you skip out on training for the day since you’ve been studying so hard (and she takes training seriously, so this is more of a reward than it seems).

Mira’s default approach is similar to Imogen’s, but she can see that you’re reaching your limit and dials it back, being more gentle with you and doing whatever you need -- encouragement? someone to just sit there? help / explanation / etc? she’s got you covered. herds you into bed at a reasonable hour so you’ll be well rested for the classes and exams.

And all of them are incredibly proud of you for working so hard and getting good grades ��

147 notes · View notes

norrisleclercf1 · 11 months

Note

Charles’ reaction to something happening to you during a race 🥹

Warnings: Angst, fainting, hospitals, crashing

It's a hot day being in Singapore

and you were warned about the weather

Driving in this weather was something you're used to

so it wasn't odd for you to overheated after practice

you've trained for this race for a while, but the heat

was still starting to get to you

keeping it to yourself though not wanting to cause issues

for your team or even your boyfriend Charles Leclerc

Charles could tell something was off

he normally would be the first to bring it up

but he wasn't sure you wanted to talk about it

you've been having some hard times during this half of the season

not getting the results you wanted, but you still did great

the pressure of the crowd and your own expectations was crushing

Charles was always there to calm you down, so seeing you this

worked up and unable to help was hurting him more than you

knew, but that was normal you weren't one to voice your emotions

it was qualifying so barely seeing each other wasn't odd

there was a small break, and Charles noticed something

the camera panned to you out of the car

your team was desperately trying to cool you down

cold water was being shoved down your throat

with wet towels placed on your shoulders

normally they'd force you to sit out

but you were so close to pole position you refused

they tried to tell you it wasn't important but you still

said no that you were fighting for pole

when you say you're good they suit you back up and

put you in the car

charles is shocked

you should be sitting out if they're openly doing it in the

garage then something was seriously wrong with you

as he climbs out of the car, his team stops him

telling him that if something was wrong they'd let him know

nodding he climbs back it, but the worry is still there

all driving out you start to feel the effects again

your vision starts to get blurry as you start your flying lap

shaking your head you push through

but it becomes to much when you approach turn 8

with your vision blurry you can't react

sending your car straight into the barriers everything becomes

dark the sound of people yelling around you muffled

then everything settles into darkness

Charles gets the message of a crash

hearing that radio his stomach drops

he didn't need to see anything to know it was you

heading back to the pits he sees the medics have

your car surrounded with the white sheets

and the ambulance right there

with the uncertainty of your condition they call

the rest of qualifying

hearing that Charles rushes straight to the hospital

arriving he finds your room and you sleeping

a nurse tells him that you had passed out while racing

having been dehydrated and overheated

Charles takes his place next to you holding your hand

whispers how worried he was and scared

that you shouldn't have put the pole before your health

holding your hand wasn't enough for him

still in his race suit he climbs onto the small hospital bed

and lays down next to you holding your hand and resting

his head on your shoulder he falls asleep the sound

of your heartbeat still thumping keeping him calm

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 scenario #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x reader #charles imagine #charles x reader #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc headcanon

529 notes · View notes

jaegeraether · 6 months

Text

Sunsets and footballers (Part 25)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (24)

Masterlist (other parts here)

YFN had the worst sleep she’d had since she arrived in England. She woke feeling fatigued and found herself patting around for Lucy which woke her from her half-asleep daze. Of course, she wouldn’t find her. She was 1200km away.

She forced herself to get up, dragging her feet to the bathroom to start her day. She showered miserably, thinking about the airport, the feel of Lucy’s lips, the sudden jolt of her heart when she’d said those three words. She’d frozen, unable to say them back, and Lucy had looked a little disappointed. She had no idea why, but her fight or flight had been triggered by that, and it completely took her by surprise. She looked out through the glass shower pane at Lucy’s little blue toothbrush. She caught herself and shook her head.

You need to grow up, she told herself. YFN had been alone for most of her life, this was pathetic. She was better than this.

Out in the kitchen she found a note from Jordan.

Good morning, roomie!

Breakfast in fridge.

Smash your first meeting today!

Love you! x

Jordan saying that was vastly different to Lucy saying it, perhaps because she was so obsessed with Lucy. She smiled at the note and replied to her as she ate the oats and yoghurt she’d made her.

You’re amazing. Thank you for breakfast, Dory! *big eyes emoji*

Still on to pick up Blu tonight?

She knew she wouldn’t reply at training and went on with her day, packing and preparing for their first meeting. She made sure she looked sharp and was extra early, arriving at the generously sized conference room Joe had booked in a luxurious hotel in town. Her mouth dropped as she’d entered the hotel, and the booked room was beyond anything expected. She set herself up for a long day, making sure to talk to the hotel staff about the food options. Joe had already booked canapes for them, and the hotel had a service to regularly offer them any food or drink they needed throughout the day.

She was pleasantly surprised when all of them arrived early, seemingly keen for their first meeting. There were 9 in total, 4 videographers: Samantha, Ethan, Bridget, Matt, 4 photgraphers: Daniel, Ruby, Olivia, and Emily who was in a relationship with Bridget, and then there was Noel, their IT guy who dabbled with a bit of everything. YFN realised quickly that Noel was incredibly technologically gifted, he just happened to lack a bit of social skill. The sight of his overgrown, wild hair, and his worn down converse shoes added to the stereotype he so perfectly filled.

It was perfectly clear from the start that Joe had hired some gifted people, she’d obviously put the work in to understand who they were. YFN had been worried at first about clashing personalities but it wasn’t an issue at all; they all were very much happy to bring proper media attention to women’s football.

Everything was spoken about from the company credit cards given to the by Joe for the fuel and equipment, to the creation of a schedule for the rest of a season so all games would have at least 1 photographer and 1 videographer there. They each knew their role, and so with most of the logistics covered, they moved onto creating the brand. YFN was keen to hear their ideas as they were all female football fans themselves, so they knew what they wanted to see as fans. They messed around for a bit using the presentation screen they had set up, picking at their canapes and discussing what would be the most appealing shots and photos to get.

“Oh… my god.. is that Lucy Bronze?” Noel commented as YFN had been flicking through images of players on her MacBook for inspiration.

A few chuckles went around the room. The other eight people had already been following YFN on social media for a while, so she had assumed they all knew they were dating.

“They’re dating, Noel. Are you not on Instagram?” Ruby chuckled.

“D…dating Lucy? You?”

YFN knew Noel didn’t mean offense by it, he was just awkward. “I know, right? Lucky me.” She laughed. “Well, hey, if that excites you then have a look at these.”

YFN found a few of the more recent photos she’d taken of the footballer get-together they’d all had the night before. Somehow, Lucy had managed to take a photo on her phone of all of the one hundred and sixty-two players, though she was standing on chair to do it, her grinning face taking up a corner of the photo.

If they weren’t already excited, that certainly did it.

“Holy shit, is that Leah Williamson? Katie McCabe? Jill Roord?!” Matt was gawking.

“So, I’m sure most of you have already seen a few photos from last night on the players accounts, but this is the only photo of the whole group.. we had over a hundred players show interest in us as a company, and the results from last night are the player notes I’ve uploaded to our shared drive.”

They each had an iPad, and their shared drive was going to be used for all of them to have access to all of their work. She told them how interested the players were, how much work Joe had done behind the scenes, and showed them through that part of their shared drive, encouraging them to also collect similar information on the players she hadn’t met, by asking questions she had created.

“So.. all of these players have agreed to work with us?” Sam asked. She was more shy than the rest, but wickedly talented. YFN had seen her previous work.

She nodded. “Yes, so they’ve all agreed to give us priority for photos, videos and interviews. They do understand we’ll be starting slow and rolling into it.”

“And we’ll all be doing interviews?” Ruby asked. She was the more outspoken one of the group. She reminded YFN of Beth Mead a little.

“That’s the aim.” She saw Sam and Noel look a little nervous. “I understand it can be a little intimidating, and we do have our own beliefs we need to adhere to regarding the types of questions we ask, et cetera. Because of this, I’ll start the interviews myself, and one by one, I’ll make sure to give you all some training and do some dual interviews and supervising until you’re all comfortable. The last thing we want is to accidentally ask an offensive question, or ruin a players trust in us. This is what all of the information on each of the players is about. We need to be reading them before every interview so we know what they do and don’t want to talk about, et cetera, okay? Also, it’s vital as a company just starting up that we build their trust and keep it. We’re going to be different than the others, that’s our whole brand image.”

They nodded, a bit more at ease and understanding. They each acknowledged the homework they’d need to do on players, and understood their limitations at the start. Great suggestions were made, for example, Ethan had suggested they wear something that stood out so the players would know they were Lumos. A great suggestion that Joe had already thought of, being the businesswoman, she was. She’d had merchandise made and sent over for them to wear to games that would stand out. Their brand colours were purple and yellow, and their logo was well visible. They had a few items, all modern and comfy, and primarily for the colder temperatures. Shirts, hoodies, beanies and scarves. They could wear whatever they wanted, as long as it stood out for the players to see. They all loved the beanies which were a sexy royal purple with their logo in yellow, offset, and they agreed that while players got used to their colours, they’d prioritise wearing the beanies.

Their schedule set out for the upcoming week were as such:

Aston Villa vs Chelsea (Bescot Stadium, Birmingham): 4th Nov 1230 - All to attend.

Arsenal vs Man City (Meadow Park, London): 5th Nov 1230 – Bridget, Emily and YFN to attend.

Spurs vs Everton (Brisbane Road, London): 5th Nov 1400 – Matt and Ruby to attend. YFN to stop by at the end.

Liverpool vs Leicester (Prenton Park, Liverpool): 5th Nov 1400 – Ethan, Daniel and Noel to attend.

West Ham vs Bristol (Chigwell Stadium, London): 5th Nov 1500 – Sam and Olivia to attend.

Brighton vs Man United (Broadfield Stadium, Crawley): 5th Nov 1845 – Bridget and Emily (relocate from Ars vs Man City), YFN to come later after stopping by the end of the Spurs and Everton game at Brisbane Road.

They were working right up until YFN realised it was late, and they needed time to get home. Only Matt and Ruby lived in Birmingham, Ethan lived in Liverpool, Daniel in Manchester, and the rest were from London. Limiting driving had been her main concern when she’d created their schedules, and also the reason they didn’t need an office just yet.

They all parted ways, agreeing to meet again in that same conference room for rest of the week to go over more prep work for the interviews, editing and games.

“I’m sorry, I was so distracted with everything going on!” YFN admitted as she walked through the front door. Jordan was home from training and making dinner.

“That’s alright, chicken, I thought you had.” Jordan laughed. “Figured you’d want an early dinner. Plus we have three hours of driving to do, so I figured we’d eat early so we can leave early!”

“Good idea! And that smells amazing, pasta?”

“Chicken pesto pasta. Go get dressed, dinner’s almost done. I want us to try and leave by six.”

Two hours later they were in the car and approaching Sheffield. Jordan’s parents were visiting family there for the night, and had brought Blu down for her to pick up. Jordan’s parents were Keith and Kerry, and they were lovely. Although it was a brief introduction, they’d gotten along well. YFN loved meeting parents, it put into perspective for her just what made Jordan the bubbly little affectionate person she was. They said their goodbyes and YFN drove home so Jordan wouldn’t be too tired for training the next day. Blu was sat cuddled on her lap in a blanket, as affectionate as his mum.

“All of these guys are like this.” Jordan said, referring to the breed, Dachshund. “I just love him so much.”

“He’s adorable. I especially love how he looks like he’s walking fast when he’s walking slow.”

“Argh, isn’t he the cutest? Our new little roomie.”

“I’m going to buy him a little hoodie.”

Jordan loved the idea. “How did your goodbye with Lucy go?”

They hadn’t spoken about that on the trip up, they’d spoke about their days, Jordan talking about her training and YFN talking about her plans with the company. Jordan had been so interested in what she had planned, also excited to hear that the first official match to cover was going to be Aston Villa vs Chelsea in Birmingham on Saturday.

She gave out a sigh and explained to Jordan about how emotional the day had been. “I’ve never had to rely so much on one person, or want to shift my whole life around someone before. It’s terrifying to be honest.”

“How was Lucy..?”

“She was okay during the day… a little quiet. She got a bit emotional at the airport. There were quite a few tears.” She admitted.

“Lucy cried?” Jordan seemed surprised. YFN was a little surprised by Jordan’s reaction, until she thought about it. Lucy wasn’t overly emotional with anyone. She didn’t like to be comforted or cry. But with YFN it was different, and she regularly saw that different side of her so often that it was easy to forget. Her vulnerable Lucy. It was a good reminder as to how open she was being with YFN.

“She’s okay.. also there’s something else I need to get off my chest. I’m really ashamed about it.”

Jordan looked at her with kind eyes, encouraging her to go ahead.

“I…. Lucy told me she loved me at the airport.”

“What?! That’s amazing! Oh my god, she’s not usually so open-” She cut herself off as she realised. “You didn’t say it back?”

“I kind of froze? My fight or flight triggered. I didn’t tell her that, I just sort of… cried because I was so happy and sad and overwhelmed and upset that I’d disappointed her by not being able to say it.”

“Do you love her?”

“Yes! Of course. For as long as I’ve known her. She’s it for me, I want her in every way, I just… I have no idea why I reacted like that.”

Jordan thought for a little bit, stroking Blu as she went into that little zone she fell into often. “Do you think… it’s because you’re scared that you’ll lose her?” She asked softly. YFN could tell it was triggering her feelings about Leah and their breakup.

She thought about it. Was she just scared that she’d let herself open up and that Lucy would leave? Like her mum did? Her dad? Tears sprung to her eyes and she had her answer. “Yeah… I think you’re spot on there. I’m so used to being left behind. The thought of letting Lucy in too deep is terrifying because if I lose her… I don’t know what I’d do. She’s just… fucking… wormed her way into my heart and I can’t bear to lose her.”

Jordan nodded, fully understanding and still in her little zone.

“How are you feeling, Dory?” She asked gently.

“I miss her.” Jordan’s voice was quiet and full of emotion. Admitting that was huge.

“I know she was going to ask you to this charity event.. would you like to go in my place?”

She shook her head quickly. “Training has been really good for me lately, it’s clearing my mind a bit. I think I’ll give it a few more days and then if I’m ready, you can tell me how she’s doing at the event. I’m not going to open myself back up if she’s given up.”

“Oh, I think she’s far from given up. The way she talks about you..”

Jordan thought for a bit and then chuckled. “Jeez, what a pair we make, huh?”

It didn’t take long until YFN found herself on day three of thirteen. YFN was tired, with an inability to sleep. She’d managed to get herself into a little space half-way between asleep and awake when her mind was overwhelmed. Lucy. Lucy. Everywhere she looked. Lucy. Social media? Lucy. People talking? Lucy fucking Bronze. She groaned and forced her eyes open, looking at the ceiling. What was happening to her? Why couldn’t she stop her brain? This obsession?

She sighed and let herself fall victim to it instead. She loved her. Lucy had quickly become the most important person in her life, and there was nothing wrong with that, she just wasn’t used to that much emotion. She felt like she’d lost a lot of her control with her mind always on her, and her body physically wanting her at every second. She feared for her work productivity when she would eventually arrive in Spain.

“Just go with it,” she whispered to herself. She took out her phone and looked at the photos Lucy had posted earlier to social media. Oh, she knew what she was doing with those. YFN bit her lip as her mind went on a happy little journey of the times Lucy had touched her. She looked at the photo, one in particular. Those lips had been on her, those muscly thighs had been driving that strap into her, that gorgeous face with her goddamned jaw had been under her when she demanded she sat on her face. And that she had. Gratefully.

“Fuck.” She groaned. How did she have this much hold over her from such a distance? She put the phone on the bed next to her and had a ‘fuck it’ moment. She took hold of one of her nipples, teasing it with flicking and pinching as she slid her other hand underneath the waistband of her underwear. She felt how moist she was there, only getting worse the more she thought about her Lucy. She felt through her own folds, two fingers landing on her clit. Her breathing became ragged as her two fingers worked her clit, dragging more wetness up from her core when she needed it. She’d never particularly been good at masturbating, she always got into her head too much, but it seemed to be a lot easier when Lucy was on her mind. Still, she didn’t know if she could get there. She rubbed and squirmed as her other hand found her other nipple. She went at it for a while, her body slightly sweaty as she chased the feeling Lucy made her feel. Her clit became sensitive, so she moved her fingers down and thrust two inside of herself wondering what she felt like to Lucy. The wet sounds were audible even under the blanket as she fucked herself like that a little, her back arching and breathing getting louder. Lucy. Lucy. Lucy.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to come without her tonight, her mind too frustrated. She groaned and grabbed her phone, slowing her hand to a slow circle over her clit. She was about to embarrass herself out of sexual need.

“Little one?” Lucy answered, obviously just being woken up.

YFN pulled her phone back to look at the time. It was midnight, which meant it was 1am there.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” she cried softly. “Go back to sleep, Luce.”

“No! No.. stay.. I miss your voice.” YFN loved Lucy’s sleepy voice. Less cocky and more… big kid Lucy.

“I miss your voice too,” she admitted.

“Why were you calling, love? Did you need to hear my voice too?”

“Y….yes…” She said but Lucy caught on.

“That was a lie.” She switched to Facetime and YFN squinted at the now brighter screen. Lucy stared at the screen in front of her, half-asleep and so adorable it broke her heart. She reached over and took her glasses off her nightstand and put them on, smiling and settling back down onto the pillow when she could see her better. “God, you’re pretty.”

The sight and sound of Lucy was getting her wetter than she ever thought possible, and her clit pulsed under her slowly moving hand. Her lips trembled and she gave a little gasp, her face reddening slightly.

Lucy’s face dropped and her mouth opened slightly as she moved closer to the camera with darkening eyes. “Little one, are you… touching yourself?”

She pressed her lips together and stopped her hand, trying to tell her face to stop getting redder. Oh, she was embarrassed now.

“Don’t stop.” Lucy pleaded.

“I’m sorry..” she whispered, ignoring Lucy’s plea.

“Don’t stop.” She said harder. YFN’s fingers began moving again. “Good girl. That’s it, keep doing as I tell you.” Lucy was awake now and clearly happy telling her what to do.

“Luce..” she whispered.

“Shhh love. Do as I say. Put the camera down there, I want to hear how wet you are for me.”

YFN trembled but did as she was told, holding the phone down near her pussy. It was too dark for Lucy to see anything, but she could hear her groaning. She left it there for a minute or so before bringing it back up.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy. Fingers inside. Now.”

YFN reacted automatically doing as she was told. She thrust two fingers inside and jerked, gasping.

“That’s right, fuck yourself. Be a good girl. Yes… yes right there, I can see you like that. Fuck yourself there.”

YFN’s eyes were closed as she did what she was told, listening to her girlfriend.

“Put the phone down. Use my pillow so I can see you.”

YFN did just that, leaning it against Lucy’s pillow so she had a decent view of her.

“Ugh, I wish I could taste you right now. You have no idea.”

But she did, because she would have done anything for the opportunity to be in Lucy’s mouth right now.

“That’s my girl, keep going. You were just going to call and let me go back to sleep, huh? You know better than that.” She growled.

“I… I really miss you, Luce,” she whimpered.

“Nothing feels as good as me inside of you, does it?”

She shook her head.

“Out loud.”

“No,” she whispered.

“Keep fucking yourself in and out. Your fingers are mine, that’s me fucking you right now. Keep going, my girl. That’s it, you’re getting closer now.” YFN’s back was starting to arch.

“I want your free hand to pinch your nipples. That’s my girl, you’re so good at doing what you’re told. Fuck, your tits are amazing. I want to be sucking them right now.”

She knew Lucy had a good view from where she’d put the phone, able to see most of her body from the side and especially her back arching off of the bed. She was so frustrated at getting barely anywhere, now just teetering on her edge and unable to make that final push.

“Patience, little one, we’re almost there. Push those blankets off, let me see you.”

YFN pushed the blankets off that were covering the lower half of her body. She pulled her feet up the bed further, widening her knees apart. She was brutally aware that Lucy couldn’t only hear her whimpers and moans now, but the wet sound from her fingers fucking in and out of her also.

“Argh fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you’re so… fuck.”

YFN turned her head to look at Lucy who seemed incredibly frustrated. Her eyes were dark, her lips parted and breathing heavily.

“L…Luce. You can touch yourself too.” She gasped, knowing she must look a state at the moment. Lucy’s attention moved from her fingers to her face as they locked onto each other’s eyes across the screen. Lucy didn’t say anything, but she saw her shift and her eyes flicker into the back of her head for a second as she found herself.

“I’ll slow down and wait for you..” YFN offered and calmed down a little, her fingers coming out of her and moving up to circle her clit slowly. One more push and she could get there.

They fucked themselves across the screen, gasping and saying dirty, sexy things to work each other up. The sound of Lucy’s whimpers had an effect on her that nothing else had, because she was letting herself be so vulnerable.

“Lucy I’m coming… I’m coming..”

“Good girl, you can come.”

She could come? She had permission? Lucy was controlling her orgasms? She certainly was.. that last sentence sent her body shuddering into a wet mess, her back arching and muscles locking as she rode that excitement, listening to Lucy’s voice. She worked herself down quickly, knowing Lucy was also close. She knew she was watching and so she took her dripping fingers out of her body and dragged them up to her nipple closest to the camera, rubbing it between her fingers and biting her lip as she wound herself down.

Lucy groaned at the sight and YFN turned to her with a little dimply smile as she put those two wet fingers in her mouth and sucked on them like she was giving head.

“Argh don’t stop. Please… don’t stop…” Lucy pleaded and YFN started to moan as she sucked and licked the taste of her from her own fingers. “Oh fuuuck. Argh. Ye…yes!” Lucy came suddenly, and it was always something she was obsessed with seeing. YFN watched her eyes squeeze shut and her body lock up in her orgasm. The side view was spectacular, her well earned muscles tight against her skin, and the artery throbbing in her neck. She watched as her girlfriend rode that wave all the way down into a slightly sweaty, but very relaxed mess.

Lucy eventually turned to the camera with a lazy smile. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and adjusted her glasses before she propped her head up on her pillow.

“You’re incredible.”

YFN blushed. “That was… successful.”

“Do you feel better?”

She blew out a heavy breath. “I really needed that, I think. I feel a lot better.”

“Good..” She got a little closer to the camera as she studied her. “Have you been sleeping..?”

She was caught. YFN shook her head. “I can’t seem to sleep without you..”

“Oh, love. I sleep horrible without you too. I can’t wait until you’re here. Ten days.”

“Ten days. We can do that.” She sounded unsure. “I’m sorry for waking you, I genuinely didn’t realise how late it was.”

Lucy scoffed. “You know you can wake me any time, for any reason. I have you on bypass. And that… was a pretty good reason.”

YFN grinned, proud of herself. “Good luck at your game on Sunday...”

“Will you be watching?”

“I’ll be travelling between games, Luce.. but I’ll keep up with the score. Promise.”

#lucy bronze #jordan nobbs #lucy bronze x reader #womens football #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #engwnt #lionesses #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader #leah williamson

155 notes · View notes

avocado-writing · 8 months

Text

Kinktober 4

4. Overstimulation, Oviposition/Egglaying, Human Urinal

notes: this was inspired by this incredible fic from @naromoreau, thank you so much for putting naga!crowley into my mind! also this is super monster-fucky. i do not apologise.

afab!reader

biologically this is not at all how snakes work but uhhhhhhh Crowley is a demon so I’m allowed creative license 🤷‍♂️

Crowley’s been irritable.

Snapping, brooding, being generally difficult to be around. You can tell Aziraphale doesn’t love it either, but he’s at least had the commodity of knowing Crowley for longer. In fifty years of happy romance between the three of you this is the first time that your demon has ever gotten on your nerves, and you won’t stand for it.

“Look,” you say through gritted teeth after he’s barked at you for some unrealised slight, “you’re in a mood. But it isn’t my fault, and it isn’t Aziraphale’s, so stop taking it out on us.”

Aziraphale freezes and looks between the two of you. Crowley raises himself up to his full height… and then deflates.

“Sorry,” he mutters, running a hand over his face. “You’re right, it isn’t your fault. I’m just…”

He trails off, and you can tell he’s trying to work out if he should admit something. You close the gap and take his hand.

“Crowley, love. If there's something the matter you need to tell me. Tell us. We can help!”

Is he blushing? It’s hard to tell, as he turns his face away.

“Look, I’m just a bit… worked up.”

“Oh! …Oh. Well, there’s no reason we can’t assist with that?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Crowley sighs. You look over to Aziraphale. He clearly has more of an idea of what’s going on, but knows it’s Crowley’s truth to tell. “It’s demon breeding season.”

Your cheeks get hot all of a sudden.

“Oh, I see. I didn’t even realise they had one of those.”

“Well, of course. Otherwise where would new demons come from?” he asks, baffled at your confusion. You suppose you don’t have an answer for that.

“So what do you need to do?”

“Well, usually I’d just slither downstairs and find someone receptive and we’d –”

“No!” you say, suddenly, with such force it makes both of your partners jump. In the future you’ll experiment more with other bodies, engage in orgies so you can watch Aziraphale and Crowley be fucked (and become smug in the way it’s never quite as good as when you do it) but for now the idea of your demon being in bed with anyone but the people in this room shreds your heart. “I mean, look. You don’t need to do that. I’ll help.”

“We’ll help,” Aziraphale says softly. You know this must be quite a gap for him to bridge, having known Crowley when he’s been going through these heats before, but now knowing him as a lover. Crowley looks between the two of you, strangely touched.

“Are you certain? I don’t look… I’m a bit more demonic when I need to mate.”

The idea sends a chill down your spine to straight between your legs.

“That’s fine,” you say, a little too quickly. Despite it all, Crowley grins.

“Alright. Get to the bedroom. I’ll be right with you.”

🐍

You strip down, quickly, excitedly. Secretly you’ve wondered about what Crowley looks like when he’s a proper demon for a while. Hellfire caressing your skin? Horns to grab onto? Your mind is going a mile a minute.

You turn to Aziraphale. He’s removed his cravat and overcoat, and is currently turning up his sleeves to the elbow. You look at him, confused.

“Are you not going to…?” you gesture to your bare body. Aziraphale smiles.

“I think this might be something you want to experience by yourself first, love.”

You open your mouth to ask him what that means, but you’re distracted by the sound of a door creaking.

Crowley slithers in.

No, literally.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t this. The top half of him is the Crowley you know. Bronzed skin, copper hair down his back, yellow eyes with blown-wide snake pupils.

But that isn’t the only part of him that’s serpentine.

From his hips onwards, he is entirely tail. Black scales rippling as he moves towards you, osteoderms moving with his breath. He looks both entirely like and unlike himself, a strange creation of familiar and not.

He is beautiful.

“Oh,” is all you can manage from where the rest of your body has frozen. You know it was the wrong move, because Crowley looks deflated.

“You don’t like it,” he says with a sigh, and you immediately feel terrible. What he means is ‘you don’t like me.’ You can hear the sadness tinging his voice. So you step forward, hand out, careful.

“No, love, it’s not that at all. Just give me a moment to… adjust.”

You move forward, unsure how to touch him. Aziraphale’s voice whispers from behind you:

“Go on, nightingale. He won’t hurt you.” And then, after a beat, when the angel realises what you’re really worried about, “you won’t hurt him.”

You run your palm along the soft heat of his scales and Crowley sighs, both in relief and in excitement. You take your time, exploring the pattern of him, the curve of his tail. You don’t realise but soon he’s begun to curl around you, wrapping you up gorgeously tight in his coils. Soon your legs are totally engulfed by him.

“Isss thisss alright, nightingale?” he asks, voice low. You try to move and find that you can’t, really, but at the same time you’re fine with it - you know the one holding you is someone you trust with your life.

“Very,” you laugh. You feel someone embrace you from behind and realise Aziraphale has crossed over to you, his chest against your back, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You give yourself over to the strange new feeling of being held like this.

“So now what?” you ask, looking at Crowley’s tail, trying to work out how he mates. It doesn’t take you long to find it: a slit towards where his groin would be, beginning to leak slick down his scales. You run your fingers over it and Crowley gasps, shuddering. “Do you need me to touch you here?”

Crowley shakes his head, breathless with delighted chuckles.

“No. Well, I want you to, but that doesssn’t have to be part of it.”

You decide that you want to as well. You press into him there, his cloaca, and giggle when he leans forward to rest his forehead on your free shoulder.

“Fuck…” he groans.

“If you’re offering,” you say, cheekily. Both your partners huff a laugh, and as you explore deeper into him, you feel something beginning to emerge. You remove your hand to make way, expecting some sort of appendage… and to be fair, it is, but not one you’ve ever seen before.

“What’s that?” you ask, breathless and both bewildered and gleeful.

“That’sss… what I use to lay my eggs.”

A beat passes.

“Hmm.”

“Sssstill game?”

“Crowley, am I going to get pregnant from this?” you ask with very real concern. A hand comes up to caress your face, a thumb swipes across the plush of your lips.

“No, love. I’d need to fertilissse them too, and I won’t do that. I jusssst need sssomewhere to, erm. Push them.”

Well, you’ve come this far. Over the last fifty years the three of you have introduced many things into the bedroom: lace, leather, toys. But as your demonic lover says he wants to lay eggs inside you while your angelic one helps you brace for it, it’s nice to know that there’s still some surprises you can give each other.

You nod, and lay back. Crowley’s eyes go wide.

“You’re sssure?”

“Yes, love. Of course.”

What leaves his cloaca is a tube, for want of a better term. It’s just over a foot long and dripping with slickness. It seems to give him pleasure as it releases, you know what he looks like when he’s about to orgasm, and when it twists its way towards you all you can do is relax into his tail, into Aziraphale’s arms.

The angel threads his fingers through yours and holds you tightly.

“You’ll be fine, darling.”

“You don’t seem very surprised about any of this,” you say, breathlessly. A thought occurs to you. “Hang on, have you done this before?”

Aziraphale goes bright pink.

“Erm…”

“Once,” Crowley hisses, grinning - have his teeth gotten sharper? No, he’s just grown fangs - “yearsssss ago. Before either of ussss met you.”

“I was a friend helping another friend,” Aziraphale says quickly, a line he’s clearly been using to justify his lust for years. You can’t help but laugh at your utterly daft and obtuse lovers, and that’s good – it loosens you up and allows Crowley to slip inside your cunt.

You’re already quite wet from the new, explorative play that’s come so far, but the tube is slick and searching. It surges up inside you, far inside you, further than either of their cocks have ever hit, but it doesn’t hurt. Something about what it’s secreting is relaxing your inner muscles and allowing it access into your core. You gasp as you feel Crowley root himself there, and the demon moans.

“Fuck. You’re…”

You’re too overstimulated to reply, so just nod. Yes. He is, too. Across the width of your shoulders you see Aziraphale kiss Crowley, soft and long.

“You are so lovely like this, Crowley.”

“Gorgeous,” you manage, honestly, and Crowley looks like the praise might make him burst. Settling back into the moment he locks his eyes on yours, serious, sincere.

“”I’m going to ssstart now. It might feel a bit sssstrange, but I promisssse it will be good.”

“It is,” Aziraphale agrees, shyly. You smile, and nod. You trust them.

Crowley closes his eyes and you see him squeeze. Something travels through his tube, passing through him and up inside you. The strange spherical nature of the object has you gasping, firstly in surprise and then in pleasure. The press of it is strange and illicit and when it pops inside of you, you try to roil; you can’t though. Crowley has you too tightly.

“That’sss the firsssst one.”

“Oh my god,” you moan.

“Are you alright?”

“Keep going,” you command, your voice no-nonsense. And Crowley does. Another egg passes from inside him to inside you, pressing through your cervix with no issue to deposit safely. After four of them you’re beginning to feel a bit full. By seven, you can feel the eggs jostling around inside of you, an unusual and filthy intimate slide. Your silky insides are making them the perfect home.

“How… how many are there?” you breathe. Crowley’s face is drenched with sweat, his eyes rolling back in his head. From his cloaca a fresh stream of cum drips onto the tops of your thighs.

“Usually ten or twelve.”

“Twelve?!” you gasp, not sure how you’ll fit those, but willing to try. On cue, another egg presses your vulva apart and nestles in deep.

You’re showing them now, stomach starting to stretch. It doesn’t hurt though. It feels wonderful. You’ve never been so full before, your body warm and deliciously thrumming. You look over your shoulder to where Aziraphale is holding you, in some strange approximation of a husband helping a wife give birth. His eyes are firmly fixed on your abdomen, lips slightly apart, cheeks bright red.

“Aziraphale?”

“Sorry, darling. You just look…” he trails off, instead choosing to rest his hand on your stomach. You moan as he bumps the eggs inside you, and for a moment you’re swept up in it, and think it wouldn’t be so bad to have Crowley make them viable, maybe you’d quite like carrying his clutch, so long as the two of them looked after you like this.

The last two eggs come at once, one right after the other, filling you to the brim. You can feel them taking up the tunnel to your core, hardly fitting in properly. You whine and try to find a way to feel comfortable, but you’re so full, so needy, and they’re pushing against that sweet spot inside you, and –

You come unexpectedly, an orgasm wracking your body wildly. It takes over your every sense with a crashing wave, your cunt tightening and spasming as Crowley finally withdraws. You’ve never been so stuffed in your life and it’s wonderful.

“How long… How long do they stay?” you manage when your heart is finally at a normal pace again.

“A couple of hoursss, until they realissse they’re not going to grow. Then they’ll disssssolve.”

“Dissolve?!”

“It won’t hurt, my love,” Aziraphale assures you, hand still protectively on your bump. “In fact it’s somewhat of an aphrodisiac.”

You moan and collapse into them. You’re not sure how you’re going to survive this.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler @darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale #Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #avo's kt 23

207 notes · View notes

jasonsknight3 · 2 months

Text

Part two! @eva-sparda20

Warning: intermediation? There isn’t much in this one.

Passing by

(AK Jason d Sweet waitress reader)

Today was a cloudy Saturday, not raining though which was an unusual thing. There was always rain with clouds but not today. Not on your day off. Not that it mattered sense you weren’t going out anyway. Your day off was spent watching movies, napping, snacking, and a few hobbies you finally had time for. The man you met hasn’t come back to your dissatisfaction. As intimidating as he was, you felt a force of attraction to him. Not just his pretty eyes and face, not just the way he made your heart leap in all kinds of nervousness but, the mysterious air about him. The alluring mystery to his personality. You still hadn’t figured him out. Not that you really had time to when you first met him. He was on your mind near constantly for the past three days and two nights. There was so much you wanted to know, to explore. He had your attention so much, it honestly bothered you how quickly you felt…attached. It wasn’t love but it was something. A connection somehow.

Around 6:00 pm the sky grew a little darker and you put on the second movie of the day, a personal favorite. The 1950’s movie “Scaramouche” with Stewart Grange in it. A dramatic movie with romance, sword fighting, comedy, and so much more. It wasn’t everyone’s favorite but you enjoyed it. Watching. As the movie plays you feel your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. The last thing you remember was when Andre Moreau jumped in the wagon proclaiming his love to Aline De Galvrillac.

The sound of wood dragging against wood against wood woke you up. Opening your eyes you rub them trying. To rub away the sleep from them. Peering behind the back part of the couch, you look into the kitchen. You gasped as you saw a figure standing there next to the open window you swear you locked. The figure slid off his green baseball hat revealing a familiar face. Your body relaxed a little. It was him, he wasn’t wearing his armor though, instead, he wore a red hoodie, gray pants, and some hiking boots. “You’re back.” You said softly trying to hide your excitement for the much welcomed surprise visit. Getting up stretching you walk to the kitchen. “What did you come here for?” You ask stopping to rest against the counter. “I was actually hoping you wouldn’t be here.” He said flatly. That drug a little but you half expected it. You tried to keep it light, ignoring the comment. “Yea, I have Sundays off. Um…” you look around your eyes settling on the microwave. 8:00. Before you could speak he said “you should really lock your window.” You nod “yea, it’s actually broken. It doesn’t actually lock.” You explained sheepishly. “You should fix it.” There was a long pause before you said anything else. “Would…would you like some dinner?” You question. He looked at the floor for a moment and looked back at you silently longer than comfortable. “Fine.” A part of you felt relief at his acceptance but you also felt he had ulterior motives for staying. You didn’t mind though, you felt as though it wasn’t anything bad. “Does spaghetti sound good?” You ask him. “Sounds fine.” He replied unenthusiastically. Grabbing pots, noodle, ground beef, mushrooms and all the seasoning you set all the items out to start.

As you filled up the big pot with water he leaned against the counter next to the stove. “So, what’s your name hm?” Him asking questions was a surprise but you answered happily. “Um, (F/N).” He hummed in response before continuing. “I could tell you worked at a diner the first time I saw you but I just want to know if my assumption is correct.” You smile, “yea, I work at a diner.” You say heaving up the pot of water and setting it on the stove. Turning the knob and pausing til you hear the three clicks to finally turn it up to nine. The fire caught and started to heat up the water. “Which one?” He questioned you. You looked at him for a moment before answering “why are you asking? What’s with starting all these questions?” You ask curiously. He frowns as if his reasons were obvious. “To make sure that you keep your word.” The water began to boil. Putting in the noodles and storing for a minute you respond. “How would asking me these questions keep me in check? Besides, I'll keep you a secret.” You say as you start to brown the meat. He seemed frustrated. “Your word isn’t enough. Secondly,” he stepped close to the way he presented himself was intimidating, making you shiver a little. “I’ve done my research, you know. I know you to a level others don’t. Your name is (F/N) (M/N) (L/N), I know you are (age), dropped out of college, work at Paul’s diner on Maigani island, on grande Avenue, the one that was rebuilt a year ago, I know your medical history, I know you’re originally from (redacted). Escaped your family, now you're here. I. Know. Everything.” Your heart hammered in your chest, your face no doubt reflecting panic and terror. You didn’t really realize the gravity of who this man was. Possibilities swam in your head. Has he been stalking you? Was the night you helped him planned? Stepping back he relaxed. “Calm down, it’s not that hard to find all of that information, not for me. Let’s just say I used to work for the supposed “best detective” there ever was. I’m a vigilante. I hunt criminals down regularly. Hunting down your information was easy. As for your question about how it helps me “keep you in check” by asking questions. Think of it as a test. I ask what I already know and based on your answer I learn how honest you really are.” It was a lot to take in but it all made at least a little sense. Why he was hurt, why he wore the gear, why he knew so much about you. It all made more sense but still freaked you out a little. You quietly start to add the red sauce. You didn’t know what to say, you felt so exposed, you didn’t have a criminal record but it felt as if he knew every sin you committed.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him looking out the window when his body suddenly jolted , his body going stiff, his head slightly snapping to the side before returning to looking out the window. He closed his eyes for a moment before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, putting it to rest between his lips. Taking a deep inhale he then blew out the smoke. You look at him nervously before saying “could you please open the window?” His iceberg eyes shifted to you. Wordlessly he opened the window letting the cool air of the night carry the smoke out. Within fifteen minutes the spaghetti was ready. The final touches were adding rosemary, mushrooms, pepper, garlic, and some basil. Making a plate for him he takes a seat at the table and begins to eat. Even if he tried to hide it you could tell he was really enjoying the home made meal. After making your own plate you lean in against the opposite counter and begin to eat as well. Once you chewed a few bites you managed the courage to ask him “what’s your name?” Pausing just before taking another bite he eyed you down before replying “No need for you to know.” Not really happy with his answer, you add a little pressure. “Well you know so much about me already. Seems fair I should know at least something about you.” He chewed his bite slowly considering. “I don’t play fair (F/N).” I don’t owe you an explanation but…my name is Jason. That’s all you get.” You smile “Jason, seems fitting.” You say, his facial expression changed, he seemed a little weirded out or at least didn’t know what to say to that. It was honestly kind of funny…cute even. “Yea, well, don’t get too excited. It’s just a name.” After eating he thanked you for the meal.

Before leaving he said “don’t forget to, I am keeping tabs on you.” He paused one more time halfway through the window “and fixed that window lock. You're just asking for trouble.” With that Jason left. This meeting felt different. There was so much that happened in one setting, being left with many emotions, fear, attraction and the biggest of all. Curiosity.

71 notes · View notes

laurenairay · 9 months

Text

I need your hands on me, sweet relief - Q. Hughes

Summary: After another disappointing season, Quinn Hughes needs a change of scenery. Renée Moreau is just trying to figure her life out.

Also known as, the Summer in Provence.

Words: 12k

Warnings: angst, fluff, self-doubt, some bad language, hinted intimacy

A/N: Quinn has really sunk his hooks into me this off-season so I knew I had to write something for him! Provence is on my list of places to visit, so this research was really fun to do.

Title from Pretty Please, by Dua Lipa

~~~

Quinn was tired. No, he was exhausted. Every year it had been the same thing – play so hard all season, push his body to the limits, his team forcing themselves to breaking point, only to never make it into the playoffs. With the Canucks not reaching the playoffs for eight years in a row now, despite him only being on the team for half of that, the pressure was starting to take its toll.

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Something needed to change, anything, before the repeated devastation broke him entirely. It felt stupid being only 23 years old and feeling so weary, but he had to do something. He had to do something to break himself out of this cycle, mentally if nothing else. If nothing changed within him, how could he expect anything to change for the team?

By the time locker clean-out day came around, Quinn was at the end of his tether. It wasn’t uncharacteristic of him to stay quiet, he knew that, so he escaped from half-hearted conversation with a promise to attend one last team event, a goodbye barbecue, before everyone went their own ways for the summer. By the time he’d driven himself home to shower off the stink of failure, Quinn had formed a vague plan for what he wanted to do.

He was going to go on vacation. By himself. For at least two weeks.

It was completely out of his comfort zone, completely different to his usual summer routine, but the more he thought about it as he scrubbed the shampoo out of his hair, the more he was convinced. He needed a break. He needed a holiday. Now, he just needed to figure out where.

Somewhere in Canada? No, that was the last thing he needed after the crash of the season. Again. Somewhere in the US? Even more of a no, with the playoffs in full swing. So somewhere abroad? Maybe…somewhere in Europe? The continent was big enough for him to hide in for a couple of weeks right?

The only thing he could think of to do was to pull up a map of Europe on his laptop the moment he got out the shower, close his eyes and have a pointed finger land on a country. Surely he could narrow it down from there, even as dumb as he felt picking a destination this way in the first place. At this point he couldn’t back out though, the desperation fuelling him, so Quinn followed his ridiculous plan – he pulled up the map, closed his eyes, took a deep breath…and placed his finger on the screen.

France.

Okay, France was good. It was a good option, plenty of different cities all across the country. One of them would work for him to unwind in, right? Somehow, he already felt lighter, just from knowing he had a vague destination. Was it really this easy? Why had he not done this before?

Before he knew it, he was spiralling down a rabbit hole of articles - ‘places to visit in France’, ‘3 months backpacking across Europe – must-see sights’, ‘gap year in France’ to name a few – and his eyes kept catching on a name. Provence. And the more he looked into the region, the more he fell in love with its beauty; it had everything from wine tasting to lavender fields to historical towns, and he could almost guarantee that no-one would know who he was. Perfect. Narrowing things down from Europe to France to Provence...and he eventually settled on an ancient medieval town right on the river Rhône, called Avignon. It looked so idyllic, and full of things to do (as well as close distance to plenty of other things to do). Something in his bones was telling him this was the place. This was it, the place where he could disappear to for two weeks to reset and refresh from the season.

And it wasn’t hard to get to either – it almost felt a little too easy. Quinn wasn’t used to things just falling into his lap like this, like it was too good to be true. A 13-hour flight from Detroit to Lyon, and then an hour by train from Lyon to Avignon? And a pretty little apartment in the centre of Avignon for far less than he’d been expecting? It was all there in front of him, timings and pricings included – could he really just book it and disappear for a couple of weeks?

What was holding him back?

Before he could chicken out, Quinn filled in his payment details for the flights, clicking through all the submission pages until a booking confirmation was in front of him, and he let out a shaky breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. There was no going back now. He quickly booked the apartment too, making sure the dates and timings lined up, and once he had that confirmation page in front of him, he found himself laughing a little incredulously.

He'd done it. He’d really done it. He was going to Avignon in Provence, France, for the first two weeks of May and there was nothing that was going to stop him.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Quinn felt free.

~~~

It took Quinn all of his willpower not to spill his plans to his family while he waited out the month before his trip arrived, not telling any of the Canucks either at the end of season barbecue. It helped that Jack (and his team) were in the first round of the playoffs and thriving, easy to pour his focus into supporting his brother there, his family’s full attention on his little brother just as he deserved.

There was just something in his gut telling him to keep quiet. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to distract from Jack’s playoffs, but he knew deep down that he just didn’t want anyone to worry. Because they would. Taking a trip so far away just to change things up? No-one would understand. They’d just fuss and stress and make Quinn feel worse than he already did – so he just didn’t say anything. Maybe it was a little selfish, but he didn’t care.

After a hockey season like he’d had, he just didn’t care.

It was easy enough to pack a suitcase without anyone noticing either, easy enough to have it waiting by his bedroom door with his passport tucked into a rucksack along with a couple of books he’d been meaning to read for a while, easy enough to call a taxi to take him to Detroit airport early in the morning before anyone in the house was awake.

It wasn’t until that he’d checked in and dropped off his suitcase, until he’d walked through security and gotten himself a much-needed coffee, that he pulled out his phone and opened up his family group chat.

From: Quinn Just wanted to let you all know that I’m heading off to France for a vacation. I’ll be gone for two weeks. Best of luck in the second round of the playoffs Jacky!

From: Luke Wait, what? Tell me you’re joking. Mom did you know?

With that, he put his phone on airplane mode, not daring to wait for any more messages to come through. The fact that Luke was awake this early was bad enough. It was the coward’s way out, he knew that, but at least he told them all, right?

With a sigh, Quinn tucked his phone into his rucksack, alongside the travel adapter for his charging cable he’d had to buy moments ago, and pulled out one of his books, sinking deeper into his chair. Only 30 minutes until his flight would be called – the sooner the better.

The rest of Quinn’s journey faded into a blur. Going to the gate. Boarding the plane. Taking off. Eating. Watching a movie. Eating again. Reading his book. Taking a nap. One final snack before landing. Waiting for his suitcase. The train journey to Avignon. The taxi to his apartment, not being awake enough to do anything other than show the driver the address he’d saved on his phone.

By the time Quinn collected the key from the dropbox and stumbled into the apartment, it was all he could do to dump his suitcase in the living room and kick off his clothes ahead of faceplanting into the bed, jet lag dragging him down into a deep sleep with a smile on his face.

He’d made it to France. Provence. Avignon. He could finally rest.

~~~

Renée Moreau felt like she was at a standstill. She’d followed all the steps in the playbook – worked hard in high school, gone to college, graduated with a degree in Communications from the University of Ottawa – but now she was at a loss. There was no rulebook for what to do when you reach adulthood, other than the societal expectations to get a job, settle down, get married, have a family. But she was only 23 years old and single as hell – there would be no marriage and babies happening any time soon, of that she was certain, and as for getting a job? She just didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t know what would make her happy.

She was at a standstill. She was lost.

Sure, Renée had worked a couple of odd temp jobs after coming home to Montreal but nothing that resonated with her, much to her parents’ dismay. She loved them – truly she did – but their expectations for her future didn’t line up with her own in her current stage in life, and she knew that seeing her get more and more run down with each job that didn’t feel right only made things harder. It got to the point, after 9 months, where her parents suggested that they could pay for her to take a three-month travel break to Europe on the condition that she would work for her father’s company when she returned. It felt like an easy way out, something she’d desperately tried to avoid…but after the past 9 months, she knew she needed to do something.

So she’d agreed, much to her parents’ elation.

Renée decided on France, in the end. It was her first language after all, having grown up in Ville-Marie in Montreal, and after a bit of serious research with her parents she’d made a rough plan, starting with Paris.

Her parents paid for her 90-day Schengen visa, bought her plane tickets and paid for all her accommodation as belated graduation presents and her birthday present combined, but she would pay for all food and excursions & activities out of her savings from the various jobs she’d worked since graduating. She knew she was privileged, more so than a lot of her friends, let alone the strangers she’d met on her travels, so she knew she couldn’t take her time away for granted.

Like most things, it turned out her parents were right. The trip away, travelling around France, was exactly what she needed.

For her first month, March, she travelled around exclusively by trains. Her first full week was spent in Paris, the perfect start to her trip to soak in all the culture and history, and then after that she went to Rennes for five days, then Poitiers for five days, then Saint-Jean for five days, and finally Bordeaux for a full week.

In the last few days of March, Renée hired a car to drive to Lyon, staying there for a full week to take her into April, and then on to Toulouse for five days. Next, she drove down to the southern coast, visiting Narbonne for three days, Beziers for three days, Montpellier for five days, Marseille for five days, and Nice for five days, before finally heading to Avignon. Within her first two days there, she’d quickly fallen in love with the medieval town, so had decided to stay for her entire last month. Her parents found her an apartment that would let her stay for the full 30 days, so while she was based in Avignon, she kept that hire car and planned to travel around to different places within Provence, to get the full experience.

It was hard to believe she only had one month left before she had to head home to Montreal.

Still, she knew there was something different about Avignon, something that drew her in, something that was telling her to spend her time there – so she was following her gut, just waiting for the universe to give her a sign.

And on the first of May, everything changed.

Renée was on her way back up to her apartment after picking up a few breakfast items from the local bakery, the old lady Vivienne who ran the place having given her a couple extra croissants with a sweet smile, only to see a stranger walking down the corridor towards her. He was tall, maybe 5ft 10, with fairly broad shoulders and toned arms. His dark hair was fluffy and unkempt, his pale skin a little unnatural with its purple bags under his eyes, and he barely looked conscious. Out of instinct, she held her bag a little tighter to her chest, even though he looked a little lost rather than intimidating. But still…she simply smiled politely, hoping that this wouldn’t end badly.

“Good morning. Are you new to the building?”

The man blinked sleepily at her, silent for a moment, before he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t speak much French. Do you speak English?”

She huffed out a laugh, her nerves fading a little. American. She could recognise the accent easily, different from her own French-Canadian, even if he was slightly slurred with sleep. “I do speak English. Are you…lost?”

He looked confused for a moment. “No?”

“I originally asked if you are new to the building,” she added.

“Oh, yes, I rented out that apartment for two weeks. Only arrived last night and I am super jetlagged, so I’m sorry if I’m a little loopy?” he said, smiling sheepishly.

Bless his heart. That explained a lot.

“I’m Renée, I’m staying in the apartment next door,” she said, holding her hand out.

He smiled warmly at her as he shook her offered hand, a sweetness that sent unexpected butterflies roaring through her stomach.

“Quinn. Sorry if I startled you. I promise I’m not this weird when I’m fully functioning,” he said, still smiling.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his self-deprecation, shaking her head.

“Don’t worry about it. I just want to check though…are you heading out to get breakfast?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning on it – why?” he asked, confused.

“Not a lot of stores in Avignon speak a lot of English, at least not near us right now, so you might want to wait to venture out until you’re properly awake,” she teased.

Quinn blushed slightly, even as he groaned.

“Ah shit, I didn’t think of that,” he admitted, his smile shifting to a wry one.

She hesitated for a moment, before steeling herself. If her trip across France in the past two months had told her anything, it was to follow her gut instincts.

“Do you want to come into my apartment for breakfast? I have extra croissants, a bunch of different jams, and plenty of orange juice?” she offered.

His lips parted in surprise before his cheeks coloured again. Interesting. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” she mused, nodding, “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t, and we’re going to be neighbours for a little while at least, right?”

“Right.”

Renée opened her front door, Quinn following her in, closing the door behind himself gently. She smiled to herself as he curiously took in the apartment, probably no different than his other than the positioning of furniture, so she left him to look around while she unloaded four croissants from the bag and pulled out a few options of jam as well as the fresh butter in the butter dish she’d bought (that was definitely coming home with her). She gestured wordlessly for Quinn to sit at the breakfast island as she started loading the counter space in front of him, pulling out two plates, a butter knife as well as a few jam knives, and then finally the orange juice and a couple of glasses. It wasn’t much, nor had she entertained anyone other than herself in the couple days she’d been in Avignon, but it was perfect for her.

“Please dig in. It’s humble but it’s tasty, I promise,” Renée said, smiling.

Quinn just nodded shyly, reaching for a croissant. She tried not to watch him as she prepared her own breakfast, but it was hard not to enjoy the pure joy on his face at his face bite of buttery croissant, her smile catching his attention.

“Sorry, it’s just so good,” he mumbled.

“Definitely don’t apologise,” she laughed, shaking her head, “I’m sure I made the same face when I had my first croissant here. And if you think this is good – wait until you try the fresh bread. You’ll never eat processed cut loaves back home again.”

Quinn just groaned, taking another bite, making her laugh softly. She could appreciate a guy who appreciated good food.

“I think I’m going to really enjoy staying here for two weeks,” he finally said, after he’d eaten one half of his croissant.

“Two weeks huh? That’s a pretty decent amount of time to spend. What’s brought you out here then?” she asked.

Sue her, but she was curious. The exhaustion wasn’t just showing in his body – it was in his eyes too. Was he running from something?

“It’s just been a really hard year. With work, mostly. I haven’t had a proper break and I really needed one, so I pointed to a map, chose France, and spiralled down an internet rabbit hole until I settled on Avignon. It seemed like a good place to unwind and rest, at least for a couple of weeks. One of my best friends is getting married in July, so I wanted to be in a better place, mentally at least, before then,” he explained.

That definitely wasn’t the whole story, she could tell, but it was more than enough to explain the basics at least. She could understand wanting to get away from everything to reset at least.

“I’m sorry that everything’s been really difficult, but I promise you that Avignon is a great place for a vacation break. I haven’t been here long but I’m already feeling great,” she said firmly.

“Well if it’s any different than Vancouver, then I’ll be happy,” he mused.

Vancouver?

She could’ve sworn his accent was American.

Oh wait.

Oh.

Quinn.

Vancouver.

The year had been really hard for him.

You can take a girl out of Canada but you can’t take Canada out of the girl. She knew exactly who he was – Quinn Hughes, star defenceman of the Vancouver Canucks. How could she not have realised who he was?

But clearly, he was in Avignon to escape everything, to take a break from his real life and rest. She couldn’t tell him that she knew who he was, at least not right now. He deserved a little time at least to recover from the Canucks terrible season, and she could absolutely give that to him.

“Do you want me to show you around Avignon today and tomorrow? Show you the basics of our little neighbourhood like groceries and coffee shops and restaurants, as well as the tourist sites?”

“Oh I couldn’t impose,” he said quickly.

“Quinn, I’m offering because I’m happy to, I promise. Besides, you said you don’t speak much French and you might need the help, at least for the local parts,” she said, teasing a little at the end.

He blushed lightly before huffing out a laugh. “Alright, if you’re sure. I would love the guide help.”

“Great, it’s a plan! Now, please have another croissant and try another jam flavour. You won’t regret it.”

~~~

For the rest of his first day in Avignon, Quinn blearily followed Renée around, letting her help him pick up basic groceries to get him started as well as heading to a coffee shop to clear some of the fuzziness out of his head. They sat and talked for hours at the coffee shop, sitting outside on the edge of a square, just letting the sights and sounds flow over him, listening to Renée’s interesting stories about the neighbourhood.

He didn’t know if it was still the jetlag or not, but the fact that a girl as beautiful as her was paying attention to him was exactly what he needed in that moment. Her blonde curls were bouncy and shined like liquid gold in the midday sun. Her big brown eyes were almost doll-like, captivating and full of emotion. Her smile was entrancing, her laugh was like music to his ears, and she had curves for days that were simply mouthwatering. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had captured his attention like this, especially not this quickly, but after all this season had been, to have this girl willing to spend time with him? It was everything.

Quinn was still suffering with jetlag pretty badly though, which Renée noticed and clearly took pity on him for, because she kept the rest of their day pretty light, mostly just walking him around the neighbourhood, showing him roughly where the main sights were ahead of a bigger day tomorrow. Which…she still wanted to spend time with him after a day of him being pretty useless other than happily basking in her conversation? Mind blowing.

The little local restaurant that she’d taken him to that night was just the cherry on top of an incredible first day.

Just like she’d promised, Renée had ramped up activities for his second day in Avignon. He’d put up a token protest at first, not wanting her to waste time with him when she had her own vacation to enjoy, but she’d insisted that she wanted to do the touristy things too. That, and he could ‘pay her back’ for translating everything by taking some cute photos of her rather than her having to rely on selfies to send to her family.

He'd blushed, obviously, but agreed quickly. It was hardly a hardship to take a few photos of her, especially when they would all be cute.

Renée ended up taking the two of them on a basic tour of some of the main sights on Avignon. The first being the Palais des Papes fortress, which he’d read about before his trip and was actually excited to explore, even more so when Renée told him that on summer evenings there was an impressive light show there that explained the history of Avignon (which the two of them ended up attending that very evening after dinner in the little local restaurant again, with a flask of spiked hot chocolate). She’d also taken him to the Pont d’Avignon, a beautiful medieval bridge where only four arches survived. After stopping for lunch in a little café, the two of them had wandered around the flower market and farmer’s market at Place des Carmes – not buying anything but just taking in the sights and people watching, soaking in the atmosphere.

In the afternoon, she’d driven the two of them 30 minutes away to visit the Roman Pont du Gard – a UNESCO World Heritage site for a beautiful ancient Roman aqueduct bridge, where he’d taken way too many photos…and Renée had even taken a couple of him in various poses.

For the memories, she’d insisted.

How could he refuse?

Day three found them a little more chilled out. Renée liked to keep a balance, apparently, of chilled days and packing in touristy activities, which Quinn was more than happy to indulge in if it meant spending more time with her. It felt a little silly to be focusing his time around someone he’d only just met, but there was just something about her. Something that made him want to spend time with her rather than isolating himself. And it wasn’t like he’d set out with much of a plan other than getting away from everything back home.

The main thing they did on his third day was walking around the flea market in Place des Carmes, the same place that the flower and farmer’s markets were in the day before, before sitting in the square afterwards in coffee shop to watch the world go by. It was exactly what he needed after the intense day that yesterday had been, and it just gave him more of an excuse to get to know her a little better, even volunteering a little information about himself as well. Not much, but still a little, enough to make her smile at least.

On their way back to their apartments, Renée had insisted on picking up groceries for dinner, promising to cook for him (which he was never going to say no to), as well as taking him in a couple of little trinket stores she’d found on her own first day, some of which he knew he’d be returning to for gifts to take back home. But that wasn’t something he was letting himself think about right now – home. Right now, all he wanted to do was focus on the beautiful girl next to him, so full of joy and wonder and excitement, soaking in her energy.

She’d cooked him a grilled fish dish, paired with sautéed vegetables and potatoes, inspired by one of the restaurants she’d eaten at in Marseille. It was incredible, the best fish he’d ever eaten and he wasn’t even exaggerating – she blushed all the same when he complimented her cooking though, brushing herself off as amateur. If he could pick up even a little of her sense of adventure, he knew he’d be all the better for it.

When they were sitting on her sofa, dishes rinsed and in the sink, both sipping on a glass of wine, Quinn felt like he’d been transported to another world. Finding peace and comfort this quickly on a trip that he’d booked on a whim? It was the last thing he’d been expecting.

“You know, you already look a little lighter,” Renée said, breaking their comfortable silence.

“I feel it. My…job really can be so stressful. I hadn’t realised it was this bad though,” he admitted.

Renée seemed to hesitate slightly before smiling. “I can imagine the hockey season is draining.”

The hockey season. She knew. Oh fuck, she knew who he was? He found himself freezing, no idea what his face was doing but it was enough for Renée to wince.

“I’m not French. At least, I’m not from France. I’m from Montreal, born and raised,” she admitted, nerves all over her face now, “I swear I’m not going to post on social media about you or even tell anyone about you. Your reasons for taking a break are yours and yours alone.”

Quinn let out a shaky breath, trying to smile but he clearly failed because Renée pulled out her phone with a determined look.

“Here, my Instagram. And I can show you facebook too. I don’t have whatever the hell twitter is now and I never have done. I haven’t posted about you and I won’t, I promise. I’m not lying,” she said firmly.

Quinn took the offered phone, scrolling a little through her Instagram posts, noting that there hadn’t been anything posted since they’d met three days ago. He still felt a little shaky but the fact that she went out of her way to prove to him, to reassure him…it helped, a little.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he murmured.

“I didn’t realise straight away. Not until you mentioned Vancouver,” she added.

Well that was something at least.

“I was so sure that no-one would recognise me this far away from home,” he said softly.

She winced again, before smiling sadly.

“If you want, we can go our separate ways and you don’t have to see me again for the whole two weeks you’re here. I don’t want to ruin your time away. That’s literally the last thing I want.”

The full two weeks without seeing her? Something about that sat badly in his stomach, sinking like a stone, and he found himself shaking his head.

“No. No I don’t want that. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, not judging me for being a hot mess, and I believe you when you say that you won’t tell anyone I’m here. My parents and brothers know I’m in France but that’s literally it. Anyone else that wants to know where I am can ask them,” Quinn explained, “I’m enjoying spending time with you, if you don’t mind spending it with me.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. Because I’m definitely enjoying spending time with you,” she said, her smile a little shy now.

For some reason, her shyness made his breath hitch in his chest, enough for him to need to cough it away.

“I’m sure. I’m pretty sure my French isn’t up to the task anyway,” he said, trying to shift the tone of conversation a little, to ease the tension he felt creeping up his neck.

Renée just laughed, making him blush slightly. That was better, even if it was at his expense.

“Your bakery order this morning wasn’t half bad! You’ll get there,” she teased, “Was there anything in particular that you wanted to see or do while you’re here?”

“The only thing I’d really read about that we haven’t seen is the lavender fields?” he suggested.

Renée grinned and nodded, making him smile. “There’s beautiful lavender fields in Sault that I was hoping to go to. Maybe we could go together?”

Quinn nodded in response, his body sinking into the sofa, releasing tension he hadn’t realised he was holding. She knew who he was...and the world hadn’t ended. She still wanted to spend time with him. He still got to spend time with her. Was this a dream? It felt like a dream.

“I definitely want to do a wine tour of some kind. There’s so many vineyards around here it would be silly not to. And I kind of wanted to do a day trip to Arles, maybe another to Aix-en-Provence, but there’s also the Musée de Petit Palais here in Avignon that I haven’t been to yet which is meant to be beautiful? It’s another UNESCO World Heritage Site, and I’m pretty sure you’d enjoy it too?”

Quinn just took another sip of his wine, allowing her enthusiastic words to wash over him. Whatever she wanted to do, he was here for it. And he couldn’t wait.

~~~

Renée felt like she was floating through a dream. She’d honestly expected Quinn to want nothing to do with her after she admitted knowing who he was, but the fact that he was still willing to spend time with her? To indulge her in all the things she wanted to visit just because he didn’t really have much of a plan himself? Well she was absolutely going to take advantage of that, if it meant spending a little more time with the cutest boy she’d ever met.

For day four of Quinn’s trip, she took him on a Rhône Valley wine tour, just as she’d promised, the two of the tasting all different wines including Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Rasteau, Gigondas, Vacqueyras, Cairanne, Tavel, Lirac, Visan, Sablet and Séguret, across four leading wine estates. It was a long day, long and so much fun, with only two couples joining them on the tour, so they’d had plenty of private time together to enjoy the day as well as pick up a couple of bottles to bring back to the apartment as well as a couple of bottles for home. The two of them had stumbled back to his apartment, barely remembering to pick up some bread and cheese to soak up some of the alcohol, which they’d decimated before passing out on his sofa.

Waking up on day five snuggled into Quinn’s side had been worth the hangover.

The two of them had agreed to keep the day as a quiet one, Renée having volunteered to go out to pick them up fresh bread and fruit and coffee after they’d both showered, spending most the morning reading in a comfortable silence before they ventured out for coffee in the same square as their first day, getting to know each other even more now that he could be more open with her. The two of them traed stories of ridiculous friends and hangovers of time past, before heading back to the little local restaurant they’d been to a couple of times already for dinner again, not wanting to break the happy chilled vibe they’d managed to curate over the day.

On day six, Quinn had surprised her with a trip out to the village of Gordes (with her driving, of course), to a spa day in the Airelles Spa. He’d apparently already booked all their treatments, paying the moment they arrived, and considering how fancy the place was, Renée couldn’t even imagine how much money he’d spent on her. But he’d stayed firm in his decision, a streak of confidence that sent her heartbeat fluttering just that little bit faster. It was a side of him she hadn’t seen before, but if he wanted to treat her to a day of relaxation, she wasn’t going to complain.

Alongside the typical swimming pool and steam room, both of them had a neck, shoulders and scalp massage, followed by a thermal mud mineral wrap, and finishing off with a ‘golden glow’ facial. It was honestly the most relaxed Renée had ever felt, but the fact that she did all of this alongside Quinn? With him looking like years of stress had been lifted off of him? She barely had the words to describe it. It didn’t help that he spent the day in bathing shorts and her in a one-piece swimming costume – his toned torso was distracting enough. The spa itself wasn’t that busy at all, so the two of them had essentially the whole place to themselves most the time, and Renée felt like she’d grown closer to him throughout the day more than she ever had to any friend, let alone any guy. It was a personal intimacy, to spend such time in platonic closeness, leaving her a bit overwhelmed with the whole situation, if she was being honest.

Quinn’s pleased smile while they had an early dinner in the village of Gordes kept her quiet though. If he was happy, she was happy.

It was on day seven that everything changed.

The two of them had strolled along the Rhône river in the morning with a cup of coffee each, taking in the scenery and taking their time, heading to the jardin du Rocher des Doms for a picnic. Quinn had brought along one of their bottles of wine from their wine tour, and they’d picked up a second bottle alongside some water, fresh bread, sharp cheese, grapes and strawberries, as well as a couple of chocolate studded pastries from the bakery, all carefully placed into Quinn’s rucksack with a blanket from Renée’s sofa. The two of them settled on a vacant patch of grass away from most other groups, giving them the illusion of privacy, Quinn pouring them a glass of their wine before raising his glass in a toast.

“To the most amazing holiday of my life. To meeting an amazing new friend. To another week of this bliss.”

Renée blushed lightly but clinked her glass against his, taking a sip of the wine that instantly sent her back to the day of their tour with its smooth taste. She cleared her throat, shaking her head to bring her back to the present, smiling at Quinn’s confused look.

“It’s nothing. Shall we eat?”

And the two of them did, a bite at a time, soft bread with sharp cheese with refreshing grapes, saving the strawberries and pastries for dessert, talking for the several hours it took them to finish all the food while they basked in the sunshine and light breeze, long enough to finish both bottles of wine as well. Long enough that Renée felt a little light-headed from the alcohol and the company, Quinn’s soft sweet eyes making her head swirl.

She must’ve stayed silent, caught in his gaze, for long enough that Quinn stopped talking too, staring at her eyes in confusion before his gaze flicked down to her mouth. Her breath hitched in her throat, Quinn’s lips parting in a shaky breath…before he leaned over and kissed her, a gentle hand cupping her face.

And then he quickly pulled away, eyes wide in a panic.

“Fuck, Renée, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…well, I did, but-”

Renée pressed a finger to his lips to stop his rambling, let out a shaky breath of her own. Quinn just froze, eyes still wide in panic, not daring to move.

“You kissed me. Why?” she managed to say, before removing her finger, feeling the phantom presence of his lips on her skin.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips before he huffed out a laugh.

“Because I wanted to? Because you’re beautiful and hilarious and so cool and it seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Oh wow. That…wasn’t what she was expecting. He thought she was beautiful?

“You think I’m beautiful?” she murmured.

“Yeah, I do.”

It was all Renée could do to lean forward and kiss him again. Quinn made a soft noise of surprise but didn’t hesitate to kiss her back, his hand sliding across her cheek to cup her cheek again. The kisses stayed soft and slow and sweet, only a hint of tongue, but they sent electricity thrumming through Renée’s veins all the same. Never had such an innocent embrace set her heart racing like this. Never. Never had such a sweet boy kissed her so sweetly.

She didn’t know how long they spent kissing, time losing all meaning as she lost herself in his lips, both of them breathless by the time she pulled away.

“Wow,” was all she could murmur, Quinn’s lips looking as swollen as hers felt.

Quinn just laughed, breathless and carefree, making her dart forward to press one last lingering kiss to his lips, earning a soft moan of protest from him when she sat backwards.

“We could, um…”

She trailed off, rubbing the back of her neck, feeling uncharacteristically awkward. He just smiled softly at her.

“We could what?” he prompted.

Her cheeks flushed with a light blush, feeling bold with her thoughts.

“I really liked kissing you. And I know we’ve only known each other a week…but we could fool around no strings for your last week here? There’s no harm in it, right? A little summer vacation fling?”

The moment the words left her lips, she felt mortified. She’d never even thought about doing something like this before, let alone suggesting it, and the fact that Quinn looked stunned didn’t help her feel any better about acting like a floozy.

“Yes.”

His breathy confirmation brought her out of her thoughts, and a smile spread across her face before she could stop herself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Quinn nodded, smiling back at her. “You’re right, there’s no harm in it. I really liked kissing you too.”

Well that was all she needed to hear. Renée leaned forward again, sliding her hand into his hair this time, letting the feeling of his curls between her fingers ground her as she kissed him slowly, unable to stop herself smiling as Quinn kissed her back with a happy sigh.

And that was how they spent the rest of their afternoon, shifting between slow kisses and sweet conversation, sipping the water they’d brought along too, before they eventually headed back to their apartments, changing quickly before heading out to dinner in the little local restaurant they’d been to most nights now, holding hands the entire walk. It felt a little surreal, if she was being honest, that a guy as cute as Quinn was happy to fool around with her when he could have anyone else he wanted. But there was no way she was taking back her crazy proposition now, not if she could have just a little bit of him before he left in seven days.

Spending a couple of hours making out on his sofa before she went back to her own apartment to sleep was the perfect way to end a perfect day.

~~~

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Not when she left his apartment last night after they made out for hours on his sofa, soft and sweet shifting to heated and intense. Not when he tried to sleep but couldn’t get the thought of the way her body felt straddling his waist, his hands desperate to move from where he’d planted them on her waist. Not when he woke up hard as a rock, needing no more than a few moments and a gasp of her name before he was dizzy all over again.

The moment that Renée’s surprising suggestion had reached his ears, he’d felt like he was in an alternative dimension. Things like this didn’t happen to him. Not in real life. Not to him.

And yet here he was, sitting beside her while she drove them out to Arles for a day trip, lips still buzzing where she’d kissed him good morning and passed him a cup of fresh coffee.

But it wasn’t just the physical aspects of it all that was consuming him, as incredible as it all was. He was falling for her, fast. He wasn’t stupid, as much as the hockey player stereotype usually proved. He knew enough about himself to know that Renée was exactly his type – beautiful, funny, smart, and so full of a genuine happy energy. Loved trying new things. Found the little stories of everything fascinating. Had excellent taste in wine. Was an amazing cook. Had a laugh that made his heartbeat race. It was insane how much he already liked her, and it felt stupid the more he thought about because he’d only known her a week. Just one week, seven days, and she had him caught hook, line, and sinker. He still wasn’t sure how he was lucky enough that she was even interested in fooling around with him but he wasn’t going to waste this opportunity, as much as it was probably going to break his heart when he went back home.

But if this morning’s kiss was anything to go by, with the way that he was still floating on air right now, maybe it was exactly what he needed after all.

It only took 45 minutes for them to drive to Arles, Renée finding parking easily with the mid-week calm.

They headed straight to the Arènes d'Arles, the Roman amphitheatre, taking a tour of the incredible two tier structure as well as taking a bunch of photo of each other – as well as a couple of selfies for their own personal stashes. Unfortunately there wasn’t a concert that night – which, if he’d known there were concerts here, he would’ve planned better – and the bullfighting wasn’t on either, but it was still incredible to wander about the 2,500 year history.

The two of them also headed on the Van Gogh walk, Quinn having no idea that the artist had actually lived in Arles for 16 months in the late 19th century. What was incredibly endearing was Renée’s enthusiasm for spotting the locations referenced in his art work, including the Quai du Rhône for the starry night, and Lamartine Square for the yellow house. The walk took them several hours but by the time they’d reached the end of it, Renée was practically giddy, and that alone was worth it for Quinn.

After a lunch stop, the two of them headed to the Cloître Saint-Trophime, another incredible UNESCO World Heritage Site, exploring the cathedral and grounds at their usual easy pace, snapping a few photos – until an older lady approached them with a smile.

“Vous êtes un beau couple. Tu veux que je prenne une photo?”

Renée immediately blushed but nodded, handing her phone over. Quinn just looked at her, curiously.

“She says we’re a beautiful couple and asked if we would like a photo.”

Oh wow. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, sliding his arm over Renée’s shoulders as she wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into his body as the lady snapped a couple of photos of them. She returned Renée’s phone with an indulgent smile, Renée murmuring a soft merci beaucoup in thanks, and Quinn wasted no time in throwing an arm over her shoulder again to see her phone screen.

The first photo took his breath away, with how easy they looked together. The old lady was right – they did look like a beautiful couple.

“You look so happy,” Renée said softly, smiling up at him.

“I am happy,” he said honestly.

Her cheeks flushed and she quickly looked back down at her phone, but he knew that she was smiling.

“I promise not to post it anywhere,” she said quickly.

Because there was no denying that this wasn’t just friendship in that photo.

“Okay, sure. Can you still send it to me though?” he asked hopefully.

She giggled but nodded, sending the photo by airdrop before leaning up to give him a quick kiss. As she pulled away, Quinn felt just as breathless as he did the first time he kissed her. It was getting harder and harder to deny his feelings, that was for sure.

The two of them spent a little more time in Arles before driving back to Avignon, going to their separate apartments to freshen up before heading out for dinner. Typically, they headed out to their little local restaurant – hell, they were practically regulars at this point – and their usual waitress showed them to a table in the corner.

The waitress murmured something to Renée after she handed them their menus, making Renée blush deeply and laugh as she walked away, to which Quinn just looked at her curiously.

“Maude was teasing us. Said it’s about that that we admitted our romance,” Renée admitted.

Well damn. First the old lady in Arles and now their waitress? Did they really look that natural together?

“Alors.”

Quinn startled slightly at Maude’s voice, but let out a huff of laughter as she presented a bottle of ruby red wine. The waitress rattled off a stream of fast French, to which Renée laughed again, shaking her head.

“She said the wine is free for new lovers.”

Now it was Quinn’s turn to blush, earning laughter from both women.

“Merci pour le vin,” he stumbled out, his translation hesitant.

But Maude just beamed, patting his shoulder.

“Bien!”

He slumped back in his chair, letting Renée order for them both, knowing that she could see he was a little overwhelmed and also knowing the food he liked by now. It was easy. Too easy. Why was he getting himself so worked up about this?

“Cheers, Quinn.”

Renée’s soft words brought him out of his thoughts, seeing her raising a glass of the wine to him and that she’d already poured him a glass too, so he quickly lifted his glass with a smile and clinked it gently against hers.

It was very good wine.

True to form, the two of them spent a couple of hours eating, talking, and drinking, just basking in each other’s company, and Quinn tried not to let himself overthink things. No strings, easy fun. He could roll with this.

It was late when the two of them ended up back in his apartment, kissing the moment that Quinn shut the door behind them, and they stumbled over to the sofa without breaking apart. It was consuming, heated, passionate like never before, and Quinn found himself sliding his hands under her clothes, helping her undress as she helped him undress too. It wasn’t until they were down to their underwear that Quinn pulled away to take a ragged breath, eyes roving over her tanned skin bathed in the moonlight that streamed in through the windows.

“Bed?” he asked, more than a little breathless as his hands clutched at her bare waist.

“Yes, take me to bed Quinn,” she murmured.

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

~~~

The next few days felt like they flew by. Renée tried to hold onto each moment, to savour each memory, but when each moment was just as happy as the last, it was hard to distinguish them. Throughout days nine, ten, eleven, and twelve of Quinn’s trip, Renée tried hard to make sure that he experienced as many local things as well as a couple of more exciting trips, to keep his vacation as full as possible.

In Avignon, the two of them visited the Musée de Petit Palais, another UNESCO World Heritage Site, home to an incredible collection of paintings from the 13th to the 15th century. They also went to the Cathédrale Notre-Dame-des-Doms. It was right next to the Palais des Papes, where they’d visited earlier in their trip, and well worth the visit – the frescoes, marble statues and golden statue of the Virgin Mary in the interior were incredible, and another moment for a few photos of the two of them.

Those were mostly for Renée’s memories at this point. She wasn’t going to lie to herself.

As a fun activity, Renée booked them on a lunchtime cruise along The Rhône, listening to the tour guide give them a fascinating description from the water’s edge, murmuring the translation into Quinn’s ear as they went – a perfect excuse to sit practically in his lap, although she didn’t think he minded with the way he had his arm wrapped tight around her waist.

They also took a day trip to Aix-en-Provence, just as she’d asked for. It took them just over an hour to drive, easy in the morning traffic, and she felt lost in the incredible art history, grateful to Quinn for indulging her yet again. They visited the art studio of Cezanne, as well as his works displayed in the Granet Museum. The museum also displayed works by Picasso, Rembrandt, and Ingres, all of which Quinn listened to her ramble about with avid attention. They had an extended coffee break in Cours Mirabeau, visited the beautiful Vendôme Pavilion, before eating a romantic candlelit dinner looking over a busy square, all light up with twinkling lights.

Her favourite day though? A trip to the local farmer’s market again, when they’d eaten fresh peaches and kissed the slick juice off each other’s lips.

All of this mixed with intense incredible sex every single day only led Renée to one conclusion. She was falling in love with him, slowly but surely, and she felt so damn stupid when she realised it, lying naked in his arms while Quinn snored quietly next to her. How could she not feel stupid? He was leaving soon – he only had two days left in Avignon – and there was nothing she could do about it. She was the one that suggested no strings fun after all, although she should’ve known that would’ve come back around to bite her in the ass.

Nothing good could come from this realisation. Nothing at all.

But she would be damned if she wasn’t going to live these final two days with him to the fullest.

~~~

Quinn woke up on his penultimate day with a heavy heart. Not because of the beautiful woman lying naked in his arms, no. Well…no, not really. It wasn’t her fault, after all, that he was falling in love with her. She’d never asked for that, nothing more than fooling around, but here he was thinking like a fool anyway.

That didn’t stop him from kissing the sleepy smile off her face when she woke up, happily making her cry out his name with his face between her thighs too.

After the two of them had showered separately in their own apartments, because he knew damn well that he couldn’t keep his hands off her at this point, they headed out to central Avignon for their final day trip. Today, they were heading to Sault, to the lavender fields, as part of a half day trip with a private guide. Apparently the trips were for a maximum of eight people in a minibus, but there was only one other couple booked in for their trip today, so Quinn was buzzing about having more private time with Renée.

The ride from Avignon only took one hour, but before they got to the fields, they made a stop at the lavender distillery Arôma Plantes. Alongside a little museum, where they learnt about lavender oil production, there was a little store, where Quinn happily bought a ton of gifts for his family to take home with him, and Renée bought her own fair share too. When they finally arrived at the fields though, Quinn had to admit he was a little breathtaken with the vast beauty. The bright colours alone were stunning, and he made sure to take a ton of candid photos of Renée as well as a couple of posed shots, letting her do the same for him before the tour guide took a few photos of them together, getting all the angles in to make them laugh.

The laughing photos ended up being his favourite of the whole selection, if he was being honest.

They visited three fields in total for about 15-20 minutes each, before heading to the village of Sault for a lunch stop, sharing a bottle of wine between them (with the other couple doing the same). By the time they headed back to Avignon, Quinn had a steady buzz from the wine as well as the rush of the day, and it was easy to fall back into his bed with Renée for the afternoon, only leaving to shower separately when his stomach rumbled with hunger.

They changed apartments for dinner, Renée having a better kitchen set-up than he did. He watched her cook for them in a comfortable silence, sipping water to clear his head as much as was possible, smiling at her every time she caught him watching her.

“I’m really going to miss you.”

There it was. He’d blurted it out without meaning to, cringing at the raw honesty in his voice. Renée looked more than a little stunned, turning the stop top burner to low before looking at him properly.

“You’re going to miss me?” she said hesitantly, “Or you’re going to miss this time in Provence?”

“You. Both. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense when I say it out loud, but I can’t believe how quickly these past two weeks have flown by? If I could live in a bubble with you here in Avignon, time standing still and nothing changing, then I would,” he said, laughing a little incredulously.

Renée smiled sadly. “The time has flown by. Avignon with you will always hold a place in my heart. I’m going to miss it too.”

“You’re leaving Avignon?” he asked, confused.

She seemed to hesitate slightly, maybe a little confused, before she nodded.

“I’m leaving France entirely soon – I’m due to head home myself. My Schengen 90 day visa runs out at the end of May.”

Her whole trip was ending?

She was heading home too?

She was heading back to Canada, back to Montreal?

Why hadn’t she said anything these past few days? Why had they only focused on him, only spoken about his trip ending?

While he got lost in his thoughts, Renée finished off cooking, and the two of them sat down to eat in silence. As always, the food was incredible, and he made sure to let her know that, earning the usual modest blush, and they finished off a bottle of wine on the sofa, ending the evening with the slow, sweet kisses that had gotten him lost in her nearly a week ago.

But rather than falling into bed together like they had done all week, Quinn had left for his own apartment with a goodnight kiss, admitting he hadn’t yet packed his suitcase at all, and he didn’t want to rush that tomorrow.

Renée had laughed at him, teasing smile making him blush, but she waved him off with another kiss that left him conflicted. Because while it was true he had yet to pack his suitcase, he also wanted to think.

She lied about leaving Avignon. Why?

No, not lied. Just omitted. He knew she was over on a visa, but it hadn’t occurred to him the timings of her trip and she hadn’t stated it. Why?

Maybe she just was protecting herself. But why?

The more he thought about it, the more overwhelmed he felt, until he was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. Why did he care so much? Why had he let her get into his head like this? Why had he allowed her to consume his heart like this?

Because that what it was, wasn’t it? He was falling in love with her, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, and now there was a slightest fraction of a chance that this didn’t have to end because they would be in the same country for most of the year.

It was the tiniest sliver of a chance but as soon as he thought of it, his greedy heart clutched onto the hope with all of its strength.

This season had been one of the hardest, both physically and mentally, and he’d taken this trip to make a change in his life. A change he had so desperately needed. Was Renée this change? Had she changed him? Meeting her was the first thing that made him feel good in a long time. He was damn sure that he wouldn’t have had nearly as good a time in Avignon if it hadn’t been for her. He knew that, down to his bones.

He had to tell her how he felt. It would be stupid not to, with him leaving tomorrow. At least that way he would know for certain. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take, right? He needed to take this shot, for his own heart’s sake.

Tomorrow morning. Tomorrow morning he would tell her, and he could only hope for the best.

~~~

Renée woke up to the sound of a series of rapid knocks on her front door, jolting her from her sleep and her empty bed. Going to bed had been strange last night, without Quinn by her side as she’d had all week, but she knew that was stupid to hold onto. He was leaving today, after all, so she needed to let go of him. She wouldn’t survive otherwise.

Still the knocking continued, so she got up with a yawn, shuffling to open the door, only to reveal Quinn standing there far earlier than normal. He was fully dressed, holding two coffees in a holder with a bag of pastries under one arm…and a bouquet of flowers?

The most beautiful colourful fresh flowers that she’d ever seen too.

“Are these for me?”

Damn her lack of caffeine.

Quinn huffed out a laugh, smiling fondly down at her, making traitorous butterflies swirl in her stomach.

“Yes, they are. Can I come in?” he asked.

She just nodded, still a little stunned at the beautiful bouquet, Quinn heading straight for the kitchen to put them in a vase, leaving the coffees and pastries on the kitchen island as he did so.

“Quinn…” she murmured, prompting as he put the flowers on the island next to them.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly, before he moved to stand next to her and cleared his throat.

“I’m leaving today. I’m leaving and I can’t change it, so I need to tell you before I regret not saying anything,” he said softly.

“Tell me what?” she asked, dangerous hope starting to seep into her heart.

“That I’m falling in love with you.”

Her lips parted in surprise as her heart felt like it skipped beat. He was falling in love with her?

“Renée Moreau…you’ve made me feel alive for the first time in a long time. Every time I look at you my heart wants to sing and I don’t want that to end. These two weeks have been the most amazing weeks of my life, especially this past week, and I had to tell you how I feel before I burst. Is there even the slightest chance that you feel the same for me too?”

His words washed over her in an emotional wave that she had not been expecting. It was the last thing she’d been expecting, if she was being honest, never daring to hope that he was falling for her like she was falling for him. She felt stunned, shocked into silence as pure giddiness rushed through her. He felt the same? He didn’t want this to end either?

Just as Quinn’s face started to shutter in her silence, Renée lurched forward and kissed him, cupping his face with both hands. Quinn moaned softly, kissing her back with an intensity that left her breathless, but she didn’t dare pull away from him until she started to feel dizzy, resting her forehead against his shoulder with shaky breaths. This was real. He was falling in love with her too. She wasn’t dreaming.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Renée. I admire your free spirit, and your courage, so much. Just going out into the world to figure out what it is that you want rather than coasting along in repetitive nothingness? You’re inspiring, and you make me want to live life to its fullest, every day.”

She choked out a sob against his shirt, lifting her head to look up at him with tears in her eyes.

“I don’t feel brave. In fact sometimes I feel like I’m free falling because I have no destination, and it's terrifying. But you…you’re dedicated to your career, to your family, to everything you love. You commit, wholeheartedly, and you inspire me, Quinn Hughes. You make me want to set roots and figure out what settling down means. You’re special, in every single way, and I really hope I can make you see exactly how special you are.”

It was Quinn’s turn to have tears spring to his eyes, and he shook his head a little incredulously, like he couldn’t believe his good fortune, before he just leant down to kiss her again, the kiss staying slow and warm, toe-curling in its sweetness before he pulled away once more.

“I don’t know what the future will hold. I don’t know how we’ll make it work between Vancouver and Montreal. But I want to figure it out, if you want to too?”

“I do, I really do,” she said, smiling through happy tears.

After spending the rest of Quinn’s last day in bed together, Renée drove him to the train station that evening. He was going to take a taxi, same as his way into Avignon, but Renée insisted, needing that last kiss goodbye. As she watched him wheel his suitcase into the station, ready to head to Lyon and then back to Detroit, her heart was aching dreadfully.

But she would see him again, she knew it.

~~~

The beginning of August felt like the beginning of a new chapter for Quinn. Not just because his off-season training had left him feeling strong, ready for the new upcoming season, but because Renée was arriving today to spend two weeks with him at his family’s house in Michigan. She was coming to meet his family, to finally see them in person, and he was so excited and nervous that he felt like he was going to burst.

The two of them had video called every single day since he arrived home, when she was still in Avignon as well as when she arrived home in Montreal, him meeting her parents over video call and her talking to his parents and Jack and Luke on the calls too – but now they would actually be meeting her in person. It was different. It was real. He wanted to scream and shout and throw up and pass out, all at once, all in the best possible way.

From the moment he woke up, despite his mom encouraging him to keep on track with his morning work-out at the rink with Jack and Luke, he felt like he’d been waiting hours for her to arrive. And sure, his brothers had been ruthlessly teasing him for essentially sitting in the front bay window, but his mom ushered them away as best as she could. He didn’t care though, they could tease him all they wanted – he had the most amazing girl who actually liked him coming to visit. Soon enough, a car pulled up outside the house. Renée had insisted on getting a taxi from the airport, insisting she needed the time to pull herself together – but that didn’t mean Quinn couldn’t rush out of the house to greet her away from his family.

“Hey, you’re here,” he murmured, clutching her hands.

“I’m here,” she grinned.

Quinn wasted no time in kissing her, just a few short soft kisses that he needed, before pulling her tightly into a hug, Renée burying her face in his neck, the two of them keeping that embrace for a few seconds before pulling back with shaky smiles.

“Ready to meet my family?” he asked, picking up her suitcase.

“I think so?” she said.

Her tone of voice made him pause slightly, before he caught her gaze over his shoulder, and there pressed against the window were his brothers, gawking at them like lions at a zoo. Quinn just rolled his eyes, tangling his fingers with hers as they walked towards the house. He couldn’t apologise for Jack and Luke enough, he knew that much.

Meeting his parents went smoothly, his mom immediately pulling her into a firm hug while his dad just looked proud. Jack and Luke were a little more chaotic, but his mom (and thank god for her) broke up the intensity by letting them head upstairs to get Renée settled while she finished off putting lunch together, dragging his brothers out with her to set the table.

He’d cleared a little space for her in his drawers and wardrobe, allowing her to unpack fully with a shy pleased smile, and Renée didn’t take long putting everything away, Quinn watching her from his bed with a soft smile.

She was really here.

She was in his room, she’d met his family, she was staying for two weeks.

Renée was really here.

“So…”

She straddled his lap as she spoke, Quinn instinctively wrapping his arms around her waist as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“So…” he repeated, teasing.

Renée laughed, kissing him slowly, sweetly, just enough tongue to send his head swirling as she pulled away.

“Remember how one of the conditions of my parents paying for me to go to France for three months was that I would work for my dad’s company when I got back?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah, I remember. What about it?” he asked, still a little stunned from the kiss.

“This is where I tell you that my dad has approved for me to run the social media accounts and minor marketing from a remote location,” she said, a little hesitant.

From a remote location.

Quinn inhaled sharply, lips parting slightly. “Does that mean…” he trailed off, eyes wide.

They’d talked about it, what the long distance between Vancouver and Montreal would mean, how difficult it would be. What possibilities they had. What the future could be.

Renée bit her bottom lip before nodding. “It means I can move to Vancouver with you. It means that my dad really likes you, and trusts that I can build a life with you while still doing my job. You know, if you still want me around.”

She would be coming to Vancouver with him. This was more than he could have hoped for after he’d met her, let alone after how last season ended. Was he dreaming? He didn’t think he was dreaming.

“Of course I do, are you kidding me? This is amazing!” Quinn grinned.

Renée laughed in delight as he pressed kisses all over her face, still giggling as he kissed her full on the lips, easily melting into the kiss as he slid a hand deep into her blonde curls, holding her tight to him. But then she broke away, resting her forehead against his for a breath or two before lifting her head to look into his eyes.

“You don’t think it’s too soon? We’ve only known each other twelve weeks! And we’ve only had two of those in each other’s company!” she said, hesitant.

No, he couldn’t have her hesitant. That was the last thing he wanted.

“My mom always says when you know, you know. And I know with you, Renée. Yeah, maybe it’s a little crazy, but it’s a good crazy? I don’t want to waste my life regretting something that has the potential to be amazing, just because it's not conventional,” he said seriously, smiling softly before that smile shifted to a frown, “You’re not having second thoughts, right?”

A lump rose in his throat at the passion in his own words, tears springing to his eyes as she shook her head.

“No second thoughts here at all. I just wanted to make sure – I had to say it. Because I know other people will be thinking it, even if they don’t say it too,” Renée said simply, smiling sadly at him.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks. You make me want to be brave, Renée, and I can’t wait to see where the future takes us,” Quinn said firmly, “Bring on the crazy and bring on these next two weeks.”

She just laughed, nodding again as a couple of tears escaped her eyes. Quinn’s smile softened as he wiped his thumb across a stray tear, before he leaned in to kiss her again. This was everything, right here. The girl of his dreams and the future he’d always hoped for.

“Hey lovebirds, sorry to break up the reunion, but mom wants to feed your girlfriend, Q.”

Quinn groaned as he pulled away, thunking his head on her collarbone.

“Thank you Luke, we’ll be down in just a moment,” Renée called out, laughing.

“Don’t let Quinn keep you locked away – Jack’s up next and he has a water pistol ready to go.”

Renée just laughed harder as Quinn’s face shifted in a light scowl.

“Bye Luke!” he said firmly, listening to his little brother laugh with annoyance, waiting until he heard footsteps to look back at Renée. “Little brothers are the worst.”

“I don’t know, seems like they love you a lot,” she grinned.

His heart melted a little at her sweet words. Not a lot of people understood the dynamics between him and his brothers, how intense they were, how close they were, but just the fact that Renée accepted their crazy without question?

Well, it said a lot about how well she was going to fit into his family, maybe even forever. But that was something for the future. Baby steps first.

“Ready to head down for lunch?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

“I’m ready.”

~~~

Tagging a few people who might be interested in reading: @wyattjohnston @matthewtkachuk @senditcolton @fallinallincurls @cellythefloshie @sorryjustafangirl @jostyriggslover96 @typical-simplelove @ghostyjosty

#my writing #quinn hughes fic #summer in provence #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fanfic #quinn hughes imagine #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine

204 notes · View notes

enteringdullsville · 5 months

Text

‘24 was alright, but it’s definitely the Action to ‘23’s Island; stuck having to continue a tough act to follow.

I know I’m skipping Pahkitew Island (and to a lesser extent World Tour) to get to this, but I have a lot of ideas for what I want (but don’t at all expect) for a third season.

First the elephants in the room, the newbies. Assuming season three is full length, 18 contestants is seems like a good cast size. Nick, labeled “The Know-It-All”, is like an unholy cross between Sierra and Dave: He’s seen every episode of this show fifteen times…and he’s already regretting attending. He’s actually an online critic who made the vital mistake of pissing off Chris in front of millions of his (Nick’s) viewers, prompting Chris to personally reach out to invite him onto the show. The fact Nick’s an in-universe character means he’s a lot more fair to the contestants than most fans and critics would be, but he’s still incredibly caustic to everyone with a pulse (and also Scary Girl). Felicity, labeled “The Gamer Junky” combines Sam’s interests and Lindsay’s demeanor…which I guess is just Kitty. More or less the pain magnet for the first half of the season (Damien takes over partway through), Felicity’s a moderately famous streamer with a rapier wit and is almost as athletic and coordinated as Tyler. She’s more straightforwardly a fan of the show, that’s why Chris picked her, but given that her team is a ticking time bomb, she’s gonna hafta work fast.

The teams consist of the Hiding Snakes (Nick, Damien, Julia, MK, Wayne, Raj, Priya, Millie, and Caleb) and the Feral Kittens (Felicity, Nichelle, Bowie, Emma, Zee, Chase, Ripper, Axel, and Lauren).

Episode 1. The cast is dragged kicking and screaming back to wherever the season takes place. Wawanakwa again? The abandoned movie lot? Boney Island? Who knows, but they don’t have to worry about it, since the challenge is solely for the new duo to pick their teams by collecting golden statuettes of the cast. Maybe it is an Action Sequel.

Episode 2. Nick and Felicity both have their work cut out for them. In one corner is Nick, who has to put up with Julia/MK vs Priya and also everyone on his team not named Wayne. On the other corner is Felicity, who has the misfortune of being caught up in a popularity contest: now that Ripper and Axel are dating, Chase feels he and Zee have been left in the dust (Zee has no clue what’s happening), leaving Chase and Axel to bicker endlessly throughout the challenge. Meanwhile, Emma’s finally taking her opportunity to patch things up with Bowie, who himself is more preoccupied with Scary Girl, who’s taking her loss last season about as well as Courtney did in Island. The absurdity of Ripper being forced to play the voice of reason is not lost on him, but it doesn’t save him from elimination by Felicity, Nichelle, Emma, and Bowie to make the arguing stop. I didn’t want to eliminate him so soon, but he made it halfway through two seasons, so it had to be done.

Episode 3. So it turns out sending the one guy keeping Axel in check and Chase from accidentally killing everything packing was not Felicity’s best idea. Feli and Niche bond over poor game decisions (and the fact the latter’s career is starting to pick back up helps too), while Emma and Bowie are now on speaking terms again. Speaking of which, Emma tries to sic Lauren on Chase (he’s voted her off twice now), giving a recap of all the reckless and insane stuff he’s done. Gotta get rid of your distractions while you can. Unfortunately for Ms. People Person, Lauren was nicknamed “Reckless and Insane Girl” before signing up and the two surprisingly hit it off. MEANWHILE BACK AT THE LAB Nick picks up where Bowie left off and commandeers Julia and MK’s cheating skills for the team, much to Priya’s chagrin. Caleb grows worried about Priya’s mental state, but Millie, determined not to screw herself over again, goes with everything she says without question. In the end, Zee goes home, still hopelessly confused about why everyone’s fighting, but at least avoiding any major social gaffes. It’s a good thing he and Ripper merged twice, otherwise I’d really feel like scum.

Episode 4. This one’s a breather, but we don’t have to tell them that. Nick for the first time is divided over his role as a contestant and as a critic. As a contestant, he knows it’s best to keep Julia, Priya, Wayne, and Caleb as close to him as possible (and pats himself on the back for acing the team picking challenge), but as a critic he doesn’t particularly want to keep them around, especially Julia and Priya who pulled a Gweathuncanoey and have stuck around for two seasons in their entirety. He also kinda wants MK and Julia to become an item. On the flip side, since Emma introduced Chase to his demented new bestie, he’s gotten even more crazy himself and spends the entire challenge locked in a dare contest with Nichelle. Emma and Bowie watch on in amusement to take the latter’s mind off of being separated from Raj, while Axel reminisces about simpler times when she was an early boot. Caleb and Millie continue their power quartet with Damien (who has taken it upon himself to start lugging a first aid kit every he goes) and Priya, whose fuse grows shorter than Eva’s.

Episode 5. Caleb should probably know better than to make deals behind Priya’s back by this point, but it’s her own fault for sharing the Bow’s taste in men. Since the final four of the previous season (and also Damien) are all on the same team, Lauren makes her first strategistical move now that she knows the group’s biggest fears. MK proves to be a tougher nut to crack, however, building on the two’s interactions in the 24 finale. Axel and Chase have entered “Cold War” territory and are both trying to gather allies. Emma and Bowie are a given (although the latter can’t promise anything), and Chase has Scary, but Felicity and Nichelle are anyone’s game. Not that it really matters though, since that deal I mentioned was for The Boys (TM) to vote Caleb out, since he doesn’t want to hold Priya back anymore. Priya is crushed, Julia is laughing hysterically, and Damien’s salty that nobody voted him off when he was literally asking for it. I didn’t want to give him the Gwen/Ezekiel treatment where he’s the lowest member of two teams, especially since it means he’s 16th again, but here we are. Curse my impartiality!

Episode 6. Knowing Priya’s going to stick around as long as she has allies, Julia and MK start gunning for Millie, hoping she slips up eventually. Nick, however, secretly chooses to plot against the duo, even though MK is his favorite character from this season, because honestly, who would you pick as an ally? Meanwhile, the Kitty Kold War’s come to a boiling point with Nichelle and Felicity’s votes up for grabs. Bowie’s been on Team Axel, but after suffering a migraine all day decides to join the two wildcards. In the end however, Wayne genuinely asks Axel and Chase why they’re even arguing to begin with. Realizing that Ripper’s already gone by this point, they decide to cooperate this one time…a decision that sends poor Wayne right to the losers’ circle. I wanted to see how long I could keep the Hockey Bros around before I had to eliminate the one who lasted longer last season. At least he still has his sick awesome two buses.

Episode 7. Did somebody say “reward challenge”? With the teams even for the first time since the second episode, the two have to wrangle up old contestants scattered across the lot (I decided this will be the Action reboot), and appropriately it’s the three most frustrating contestants to track down: Shawn for the Kittens (much to zombie slayer Axel’s delight), Dawn for the Snakes (much to tiny Tsundere MK’s horror), and for a bonus, Ezekiel (who Chris has “procrastinated a bit” on retrieving). This one’s more or less an excuse for character growth, so that’s why I’m describing the challenge in a little more detail. Anywho, Dawn, Shawn, and the one whose name doesn’t rhyme are all caught, the Kittens winning. And MK’s secrets are totally safe and not revealed to the public at all. In other news, Dawn and Shawn both want off the lot immediately after finding out Scary Girl’s still on it.

Episode 8. (Sotto Voce) I’m gonna have to eliminate a girl sooner or later. Anywho, the Cold War arc has finally cooled down since even Axel can’t stay mad forever and Chase is too narcissistic to hold a grudge. With the merge coming up, Felicity requests Nichelle train her since her leadership skills can only get her so far at this point. Priya and Millie are taking the opportunity to relax since Julia and MK are still awkward about the secret crush I totally lied about earlier. Maybe they’ll get together, maybe they won’t…but Nick ensures they totally do, if only because he refuses to let his OTP sink…at least not before he takes the opportunity to eliminate MK, who’s both a bigger social threat and less of a physical aid at the moment. I think she’s made it far enough for me not to have to explain her elimination in detail.

Episode 9. With Julia out of allies, she’s gotta either guarantee her team wins, bribe Chris into throwing in another immunity idol, or make one of her teammates look less desirable than her. In unrelated news, Raj is still missing Wayne after I cruelly tore the two apart. Axel’s now in on Nichelle and Felicity’s alliance, meaning Emma and Bowie have to get in their good books before Scary Girl (she’s still plenty mad at him) does what Fang does best. Try as the noble Priyanka and Millicent may, Julia manages to play up Raj’s misery to get Nick and Damien (in a moment of weakness) to vote him off. For whom Raj himself voted, I didn’t think too hard about, but the Snakes are sucking for a team with four different finalists on it. Oh, and Bowie is pissed. TOTAL DRAMA BOMB!

Episode 10. In the final pre merge episode, not much occurs. That dang moon from All-Stars is making Lauren act strange, even by her own standards, and not in a productive way. Bowie throws caution into the wind and goes all out in trying to make sure Julia goes home (don’t have to tell them twice), making Emma realize how tiring it is to have to play damage control to someone else’s revenge schemes. Nichelle takes charge, refusing to get eliminated before the merge again, while Chase gets everything on film. By this point, Millie’s competent enough to single-handedly win this for her team, and also by this point, Scary’s freaked enough people to get voted out. Of course, this isn’t the last we’ll see of her…because she ran off before Chef could apprehend her.

We now interrupt this program to bring you this picture of Team Victory I drew for a follow up to my iconic TDWT/Jellystone animatic. I wasn’t feeling like making a whole video, but I kept the boarded first shot anyway.

Episode 11. Chris has dissolved the teams for one purpose: catch Scary Girl before she tries to reenact the events of Scarlett Fever. To make a long freaking story short, they apprehend her…and Chris decides to go the Dakota route and give her a promotion…to tertiary third host…meaning she has the means to cause even more mayhem. And no, Chase, that doesn’t mean you get to submit challenge ideas.

Episode 12. It’s Scary’s first day on the new job, but Chris insists she “sTaRt SmAlL”. The girls’ alliance approaches Nick, partially to build their numbers but also because Felicity feels it’s only fair she at least tries to build a friendship with the other rookie player. He agrees, but only if he can bring Damien (his best friend on the island and his second favorite character). Bowie and Emma take their chance to get rid of two birds with one stone, since Priya and Julia now have nothing stopping them from maiming each other. And maim, maim, maim they do, since (as you could probably guess by how I highlighted their names), they both get sent packing! Did I deliberately hold off on voting them out solely so they’d reach the merge a third time? Yes. Did I do this because having them be proper enemies instead of rivals like in 23 was entertaining? Yes. Did I also do this to piss off the people complaining they (read: mostly Priya) had too much screen time? YES! Do I love making this fan base cry? You tell me.

Episode 13. Against his alliance’s better judgment, Nick tries to edge Bowie back into active villainy, realizing too late he’s prioritized competent gameplay over plot by getting rid of the main conflict. Unbeknownst to him, Millie has her sights on him, correctly viewing his alleged alliance as suspicious, not to mention him turning against MK a few episodes back. Damien suffers from a terrible disease called “having Scary Girl in your general vicinity”, and to add figurative insult to literal injury has to deal with Chase trying to befriend him at her request. Luckily for everyone, it’s a reward challenge for the final eight.

Episode 14. Nick may have awakened a monster. Trying to stir up drama again, he decides it’s a great idea to set Lauren on Emma, claiming A: that it’s the best way to get his attention, and B: that only she gets to cause him harm. Feeling genuine emotions of protection for the first time in her life, she does all she can to make Emma suffer (even though the latter genuinely doesn’t care what Chase does at this point and is willing to be polite if he doesn’t pull anything). Millie and Bowie put aside their differences to stake out Nick, but of course Bowie has other plans. The girls’ alliance continues to serve and oh would you look at that, Emma’s gone because she’s canonically rich anyway and Scary’s not gonna let up while she’s still on the island. I could’ve made her elimination not Chase related. But I didn’t. Emma deserves better, but this is Total Drama, where we don’t even remotely give a crap.

Episode 15. Bowie’s out of allies and Scary’s still after him, so now he really needs to keep Millie close, and what better way is there than to break up an alliance? Nick’s more than a little suspicious about Millie’s sudden investment about everything he does, prompting Bowie to claim she’s in love with him and can’t communicate it. Nick is doubtful, but the idea behind planted in his mind causes him to catch feelings. Damien, being Nick’s confidant and feeling guilty about how he indirectly screwed Priya and Caleb (and also Zee) last season concerning their romance arc, tries to steer him away from her. Axel and Scary bond a little when they trick out the Sling of Shame, and by that I of course mean they accidentally break it in half. Chris already sold the Drone of Despair, so let’s call this one a draw.

Episode 16. Bowie, now fully back in the groove of things, tries to drive a wedge between Nick and the rest of his alliance, while Nick has some delicious angst over what he should do about his budding feelings, knowing full well that Bowie’s lying to him but failing to realize Millie wants him gone. Felicity pops up for the first time in a while, which in Island would mean she’s going home next (let’s imagine she won immunity last episode) but here means the girls’ alliance goes through its first rough patch when Axel, who’s long since taken over as leader, tests Felicity’s resolve. Unfortunately for Axel, Millie, Bowie, Damien, and Nick view her signature brand of tough love out of context and drop her like Ripper’s parents dropped him.

Episode 17. Ten episodes left and a lucky number seven contestants remain. Chris tells the kids (or are they 18 by now?) upfront that today’s a reward challenge, the prize being a FaceTime with the eliminated contestants. Millie, still wanting answers, and Bowie, wanting to see Raj again, immediately dissolve their alliance. Everyone tries (except Chase, who had a phone the entire time and got to keep it three seasons in a row by not being as obvious as Julia was), but Millie comes out on top, ultimately learning about Nick’s alliance…and his crush. She has the decency to let Raj and Wayne say hi to Bowie. Chase learns something, too…

Episode 18. Nick decides Bowie’s more trouble than he’s worth, but rather than just telling everyone to vote him off (which he predictably finds overused), he decides to play a game of “show, but don’t tell”. So using that as the episode title. He immediately decides to play this on hard mode with the two remaining contestants who have the least amount of beef with him: the fangirl Felicity and the airheaded Chase. Surprisingly, this actually works and Bowie gets sent home, Nick realizing he doesn’t have to rely on others to make drama for him. Millie sees what he’s doing but is confused about his slightly convoluted methods, not helped by Nick’s complete and utter failure to explain himself, by this point completely smitten. Damien notices that Nick’s popularity is fading and decides to lie low for a bit rather than betray him or risk being associated with him.

Episode 19. Reward challenge time? With only Millie, Felicity, Nichelle, Chase, Damien, and himself left, Nick seriously considers playing the main villain. Chase is the odd man out, lacking any sort of alliance and still having sort of a target on his back, but he doesn’t seem too concerned. Millie struggles to approach Nick without breaking his heart, since while he isn’t really her ally, he hasn’t really done much to wrong her. After all, he’s a better partner than opponent.

Episode 20. Every villain has their nemesis, and Nick was not expecting it to be Chase of all people, but Chase outs him before Millie can. Damien sticks by Nick (in silence of course, because he’s still friends with Nichelle and to a lesser extent Felicity), but Millie’s conflicted. Nonetheless, Nichelle and Felicity start gunning for him, breaking up the alliance, and they would’ve gotten away with it too, if Chris didn’t remember sudden death challenges exist. Millie has the misfortune of finishing last and is sent home, but not before she decides to just ask him out, figuring she doesn’t have anything to lose at this point.

Episode 21. Notice a pattern? It’s another reward challenge! Scary Girl’s been in a rut lately, and the challenges have grown dull, so Chris has brought in many of TD’s most terrifying beasts, mutants included back on to spice things up a bit. Even the Dakotazoid returns, half the size she was before but now sporting wings for some reason. I guess mutations evolve. Chase chooses now to start caring about other people, but because it’s Chase it’s doomed to backfire horribly, given that it gives Lauren a wonderfully wicked idea…

Episode 22. …that involves locking people in closets. Specifically Chris and Chef. Scary Girl’s the host today and she’s back and more terrifying than ever. Nick, Nichelle, Felicity, and Chase put aside their differences (not that Felicity ever had issues with any of them) when the challenge becomes “Stop Lauren”. Aaaand now I realize Scarlett Fever was probably recycled from the scrapped episode where Dakota hosted the show after locking Chris and Chef in a closet herself. Anywho, Chase is fired on the spot for starting this whole mess…right before Scary kisses him, resigns, hops on the sling with him, declaring him her “boyfriend for eternity”. Chase has only half a second to process what the freshwater frick just happened before getting flung away.

Episode 23. Can you tell I’m getting tired? Only four remain, split between two alliances who used to be part of a greater one. Nick assures the others it’s nothing personal before things can start. Things happen, hijinks ensue, interns are mauled, but it’s ultimately Nichelle who crosses the finish line last. Better 4th than 12th or 14th. On that note, now we all know Felicity’s gonna be a finalist.

Episode 24. Nick and Damien part ways somewhat amicably, Nick knowing it was bound to happen eventually.

Episode 25. One final breather episode: this one’s just a big pre finale party! Really, the only thing the contestants need to worry about are Chase diving into the cake, Wayne and Raj freezing the pool, and Julia and MK doing their darnedest to bring the mood down.

Episode 26. A simple, no frills finale…is what I’d say if Chris hadn’t brought back every finalist the show has had (including Ezekiel, ostensibly because he got the TDWT prize money, but mostly to squeeze some mayhem in before Zeke’s first therapy meeting), in particular Priya, Bowie, Millie, Wayne, Julia, and Caleb. Damien vs Felicity vs Nick, battle of the nerds! Three go in…one comes out.

121 notes · View notes

flutishly · 5 months

Text

Note: This post includes no specific spoilers for Star Trek: Prodigy, though it does mention thematic aspects of two episodes in the first half of season 1.

Now that Star Trek: Prodigy is back streaming, I obviously had to rewatch my favorite episode - one of my favorite Star Trek episodes of all time, frankly - "Time Amok". And it's funny how even though I've watched it numerous times since it first aired, it still makes me cry and it still fills my heart entirely. But then I did something I've never actually done, and went on to watching the next episode ("A Moral Star, part 1"). Though I'd rewatched that episode separately, I'd not seen it immediately following "Time Amok" and I hadn't realized just how seamlessly the two fit together. "A Moral Star, part 1" is in my opinion another of the stronger episodes of season 1, with intrigue and cleverness abound, alongside heart and its persistent message and moral core.

Prodigy is a show about learning to become Starfleet, about growing into Star Trek. It's a children's show in as much as it's about children - notably, children from outside of the Federation's sphere of influence - becoming convinced of the virtues of this Federation, of Starfleet as an exploratory body and source of good in the galaxy. Not because anyone forced them to or even expected it of them, but because they want to do good and hold by those values. "Time Amok" is my favorite episode of season 1 because of its story, its exquisitely tragic happy ending, and the way it manages to do so much character work in so short a time. But "A Moral Star" (both parts) maybe best represents what both Prodigy and Star Trek as a whole should be. The fact is that the episode about characters coming into their own - as a team and as individuals - is necessary to lead into the one where they can work together to uphold Federation ideals.

Anyways, go watch Star Trek: Prodigy if you haven't already (and even if you've never watched any other Star Trek). It's great.

#star trek #star trek: prodigy #longer thoughts #star trek prodigy #episode analyses #thematic explorations

54 notes · View notes

eriexplosion · 1 month

Note

I never let myself really believe they'd bring Tech back (because Occam's razor, or whatever). And I'm so used to weird/bad writing choices from other works that I'm mostly able to shrug my shoulders and go "aw rats, disappointment again :\" about TBB's ending.

... But I still feel kinda hollowed-out, post-finale. I'm not autistic (I think), but my sibling is, so it meant something to my old withered heart that a Star Wars show about family would have a confirmedly-ND character among their cast (though, somewhat tangentially, I agree with your post about all of the Bad Batch being arguably ND-coded). I was delighted that he was well-written, and that he'd eclipsed the stock "smart guy" trope he'd started out as in TCW.

And, I dunno. I feel like a sucker, having hoped for a brief moment that the writers wouldn't throw all that away. And for what? People on reddit were saying for months on end that "his sacrifice is meaningful and shouldn't be wasted", but I can't agree. I think it would've been more meaningful had he lived.

I feel disappointed with the trajectory the back half of S3 took, and I don't think that's unreasonable. Even beyond the disappointment of "dang, they really did that?", S3 after the first handful of eps (imo) felt kind of... rushed? Underexplored? Like there should've been a season 4 (for pacing/development's sake) and various changes to the plot, but there weren't.

Told myself several years ago that I'd reserve judgment for the writing until the series was over and done with. And now that it's all just wrapped up, I suppose I'm stewing with my thoughts, a little. The character arcs all feel like they fell short of their potential payoff, to me -- and maybe I'll change my mind in a few months, but right now? Eh.

Crosshair's got PTSD/trauma that makes his hand shake? Cut off the hand. Omega's got potential force sensitivity/a decision to make concerning what to do going forward? Who cares about that. Tech's getting a decent (and suspicious, in hindsight) amount of character development? Better kill him off so the audience really feels the sting. Cid, Phee, CX-2, Echo, Scorch? Who cares about them; they can show up when their skills are needed and fuck off without halfway-decent closure when they aren't. The familial/sibling themes that were open to being explored? Eh; let's focus predominantly on this one father-child bond. Omega doesn't even need to say goodbye to Crosshair and Wrecker, lol. Foreshadowing and setup? What foreshadowing and setup.

... I'm realizing that I'm actually Quite disappointed lmao. In a lackluster "I don't know what I expected" kind of way. Time to read so many fix-its

There's just a lot that was set up that never came to fruition and it's frustrating when the show has been so good up until that point. And the thing is that Tech being CX-2 would have resolved at least some of it! The CX-2 plot obviously but also, Crosshair's guilt and trauma being helped by being able to fix at least one of his mistakes? Omega's guilt over putting her family in danger being relieved because she finally has them all back?

It didn't even need to be fleshed out, I wouldn't have cared. The only thing I wanted this whole show was the family to be together and complete. And not only did we not get Tech back but yeah Echo was basically just not counted as part of that and Phee was ignored in the end.

This season feels like it needed another editing pass to work as a whole, even though I'd liked everything up to the finale it didn't really end up coming together for me. I'd even have accepted Tech being gone if they had put actual mourning in the first half, instead of stringing it along with little mentions and the CX-2 stuff. I'd be frustrated and mad, but at least it would have felt like they respected him as a character.

Really the only good things I have to say is I think Nala Se blowing up the databanks was a fantastic end to her character that didn't really redeem everything she's done but did bring her to an interesting stopping point. And I am glad everyone else made it out alive. I'm glad that Crosshair especially did after everything he's been through, he's still my boy after all this time even if the Tech stuff has overshadowed a lot of his growth in my head.

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #fandom salt #If anyone wants me to add a different tag to block these out with let me know #I know that it's a lot of feelings all over the place and I don't want to bother anyone who did enjoy the finale

33 notes · View notes

greensword101 · 6 months

Text

Connor Adopted AU

Okay, this idea came to me a few weeks ago with a little idea for a one shot that has now developed into a large idea.

So, we all know what happens in "Sleep Tight" in Angel, Season 3, right? Wesley decides to not tell anyone about the prophesy involving Angel potentially committing filicide and tries to kidnap Connor for his safety. What happens as consequence is Connor getting kidnapped by Holtz, growing up in the worst hell dimension possible, and Connor returning as a teen and ultimately becoming (in my opinion) the most tragic character in the Buffyverse.

Instead of doing the good old fashioned Poor Communication Kills route here, Wesley decides that Angel has a right to know about the dreaded last line: The Father Will Kill The Son.

Angel...does not handle it well. He insists that Wesley could have mistranslated, is pulling a prank, that he was reading the wrong scroll. In the end, he is forced to accept that it is true. Connor is just a baby. He has only begun to taste life and there are so many things Angel had wanted to do, so many steps he was eagerly looking forward to.

All of it gone in an instant.

"Not quite," Wesley says with a determined light. Angel is despairing that his son will die by his hand. But Wesley has already decided that it will not happen. You don't get half a miracle.

The biggest threats to the baby's safety are Holtz, Wolfram and Hart, and all of the cults obsessed with 'The Miracle Child.' They have to take priority.

"And Connor?" Angel dreads the answer.

Wesley looks close to crying. "We can't keep him..."

No one is happy with this decision. No one. But no one is happy with Connor dying, either, and so they begin making plans to find a home for him. Wesley and Cordelia work on creating a new identity for the baby and finding a foster family. Fred buries her grief in packing up what the baby is going to take to his new forever home. Gunn and Angel channel their rage and own despair into hunting down every last threat to their son/nephew. Lorne is working with the Furies on getting the best protective spells available to hide Connor from enemies and hide him under the radar.

Holtz realizes that he can't move forward with his revenge plan as word of Angel's rampage spreads throughout the underworld. His followers slowly abandon him as their fear for their lives overpowers their lust for blood. Even Justine leaves him, seeing it as a lost cause and there's nothing to be gained from fighting a losing battle.

A family is found, Cordelia fills them in on only what is essential: the baby is in an unsafe environment, the baby's father wants him put into a safe and loving home. Lawrence and Colleen Reilly already have a daughter that is ten years old, and they're too old to try passing the kid off as their own. But all it takes is one picture of little Connor for them to fall in love instantly.

And so, the day the Fang Gang had been expecting and dreading arrives. Angel kisses his son on the forehead one last time before disappearing into the night, unable to bear watching his son be taken away.

"Sleep tight, son. Daddy will always love you..."

Cordelia makes the journey to the Reilly's home with Wesley acting as the decoy in case Wolfram and Hart try anything. She's holding back tears as she hands Connor off to his new family, wishing them well while Lorne is in the car finishing the last of the spellwork to protect Connor and the Reillys. Wesley gets his throat slit when one of Lilah's security team thinks he has the baby. She's furious at being made a fool, but still ensures that Wesley is taken to the hospital because s̶h̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶o̶f̶t̶ ̶s̶p̶o̶t̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶h̶i̶m̶ she wants to send a message to Angel.

Angel is the first to see Wesley in his hospital bed, unable to speak and unable to move from his spot. He awaits judgement several feet away.

Angel is quiet. "Did you really think I had it in me to kill Connor?"

Wesley looks at him hard, silently saying You could have become Angelus.

Angel nods. "Do you think I'm Angelus now?"

Wesley doesn't blink.

"Well, I'm not. You believe me, don't you?"

Slowly, Wesley nods.

"Good." Angel stands up and moves to the bed. His hand reaches for the pillow underneath Wesley's head...and gently fluffs it. Then, Angel readjusts his chair so it is right next to Wesley's bed.

"I'm staying here all night whether you want me to or not. That's the least I can do for you."

Wesley reaches out to Angel's hand and squeezes it tight. Gunn is waiting outside with Fred, who is sobbing into her coffee. Every last trace of Connor is out of the hotel, as if he were never there. They stay there the entire night, later joined by Cordelia and Lorne a few hours later.

While one family mourns the loss of one child, another family welcomes the introduction of another into their home. Connor Francis Reilly kept only several things from his old home: his name (including his middle name), a few teddy bears and a duck-printed blanket. Thanks to the efforts of the Furies and Lorne, no supernatural forces come near him. He grows up understanding that he was adopted, that Lawrence and Colleen are not his biological parents...and not thinking any less of them.

Of course, he wants to find his bio family. But only out of curiosity. His mom and dad (his parents) only told him that his mother (or who they think is his mom) worked hard to find a good home for him. He doesn't feel abandoned. He doesn't have any traumatic experiences (other than the one time he got lost in the store when he was five). Connor grows up relatively normal.

He watches Charmed with his big sister when he's a toddler (and connecting with the fourth sister, Paige, cause she was adopted too and loved her parents too), goes camping with his friends, is drawn to a lot of fantasy books like the Anna Rice novels. Mainly the ones that have vampires, for some reason. But never Stephanie Meyers, though. He gives up before he gets halfway through the first chapter in that series. That Bella girl is such an ungrateful brat!

His family goes out camping a lot, which was something Connor loved! He could almost imagine living off in the wild like Tarzan or Robinson Crusoe. Larence laughed at this and said. "You might just become the local menace in the woods."

He also loves to dance. Connor doesn't realize that he is just as artistic as his father and mother (well, Darla could sing well, and Angelus saw murder as an art form, but that's another story). It's mainly because he used to do boxing until he was 8 and punched a bag so hard that sand spilled out.

So, his dad suggested dancing instead. He could be like Billy Elliot and the chances of him punching someone's head clean off their shoulders would drastically decrease. Plus, dancing was fun! He didn't have to wear a tutu (thank God, his sister would never have let him live it down), and his instructors were amazed at how effortlessly he moved on the stage.

That's also how he met his future boyfriend (he's bi, his parents accepted that when he came out), Marcus. Marcus is on the football team and loves watching his boyfriend dance. He can't get over how graceful he is, it's almost inhuman.

Connor Reilly has an amazing life, and he can't think of how it could get any better than that.

About two weeks after he thinks this, the protection spells that were cast to protect him from the supernatural realm and hide him from enemies finally breaks. Connor gets hit by a car and crashes into the garage of his family's home without a scratch on him. His parents, now well into their fifties, get an anonymous tip that they might find answers with a certain investigations company.

They trekked to L.A. and get accosted by a vampire cult. Connor is too stunned to do anything as they pull him away from his parents, screaming their heads off in terror as their only son is ripped away.

Vampires are real. He thinks over and over again as he's dragged underground into what he suspects is connected to the sewers. Vampires are real and I'm going to die.

He's stripped naked save for a loincloth. The man (or vampire) that he suspects in their leader looks euphoric as he looks Connor over in his cell.

"At long last, the Miracle Child is among us once more."

Connor doesn't understand how he could be a miracle. Well, other than how it was a miracle that he wasn't killed by that car. And the other stuff in his life that he is conveniently ignoring for the sake of his own sanity.

"You shall be freed from this human prison and be worshipped among your kind."

Connor doesn't like the way the creep looks close to kissing him just then. He's a minor and already has a boyfriend, thank you very much!

Too soon, he's dragged out and tied to an alter where the Head Creep suddenly changes his face and bares his sharp teeth. Connor tries fighting, but the bindings are too strong and he's frozen with fear.

And then the Head Creep is dust. Literal dust. One of the other creeps is behind him wearing that same Scary Face, but for some reason, Connor isn't afraid of that one. The sword in his (savior?)'s hand shines in the torchlight and slash at the bindings. Before Connor can react, he's swaddled in the robe the Scary-But-Not-Scary Guy was wearing and witnesses all of the other vampires being hacked and staked until there's no one left but him and the other guy.

Then, the face goes back to normal and Connor finds it funny that the guy looks like he's brooding. Well, he would if he weren't half naked and still possibly awaiting death by fanage. Suddenly, a bundle is tossed his way and Connor realizes that it's his own clothes. His savior has the decency to look away while Connor changes, which pushes him further up the Guess You're Not Really A Bad Guy bar in Connor's book.

"Are you hurt?" His savior asks.

"No." Connor says honestly. Then, he realizes that there's a scratch on his cheek (probably from when the sword was cutting off the rope).

For some reason, this seems to get his savior upset. "Oh God, Connor, I am so sorry, I wasn't looking! I wasn't trying to hurt you and" -

Connor cuts him off before he continues to ramble. "How did you know my name?!"

Then, he sees the guy's face. It looks so much like his own, except...broodier and his hair is short. Connor lost his hair band keeping his man bun in check and he has to brush away the bangs going over his eyes.

Connor then realizes that he's meeting his biological father for the first time ever.

#connor angel #angel btvs #wesley wyndam pryce #cordelia chase #charles gunn #winifred burkle #krevlornswath #alternate universe #adoptive parents #family #angel the series #buffy the vampire slayer #buffyverse

45 notes · View notes

dumfanting · 5 months

Text

Same Heart ch 35- Riddur (Finale)

AO3 Link

Rating: E, explicit

Warnings: proposal, handjobs, fingering (f receiving), squirting, PiV, body dysmorphia, Emotions, oral (giving and receiving), blowjobs, face sitting, vibrators | fem reader, present tense, second person PoV

This was originally supposed to be just three chapters, and I didn’t expect anybody outside of a small discord server to see it. Now it’s a full-blown multiple volume series and I can’t even imagine how many people have read it at this point. I wanted to quit multiple times, but the support everyone’s shown me and this work is what kept me going. I can’t really put into words how it feels to reach this point. Thank you all so much for making this what it is today, and a huge thank you to @kaminocasey @madameminor and @mcganns for (gently) pushing me to break out of my comfort zone and write fics in the first place. I love y’all so much.

Illustration is my own work

Consider this a ‘season finale’. There will be more, and the next volume will pick up just before ‘Aftermath’. I hope you’ll enjoy that just as much as you have this.

6738 words

F! Reader/ Echo | F! Reader/ Crosshair

All is right in the galaxy again as you both drift off to sleep.

It’s immediately clear where the glowing stone had gone. It’s been cut and faceted into a kind of cushioned oval and set into a thin ring of bright silver, the colors of the stone reflecting off of the metal in the low light. It’s nothing flashy or even all that fancy, but it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. Echo clears his throat and speaks.

“I kept saying half of me was missing, but I realized today that it isn’t. It’s you, and it always has been. You’ve done so much for me, I don’t have the words to express how deeply I love you and how grateful I am. I… I never want to be apart from you again,” he says, and you’re taken aback by the emotion in his voice and the way he stumbles over his words.

“Echo, w-wha-?” you say, but can’t speak further due to the thundering of your heart in your chest. He clears his throat and calls you by your formal name.

“Keep me whole. Be my riddur?”

It takes you a solid thirty seconds to process what’s happening, but when it does, it hits you all at once. His odd behavior throughout the day, why he and Shalka kept looking at you, what he and Crosshair had been talking about, even the slight jealousy you sensed from Crosshair, it all adds up. You can’t decide whether to laugh or cry, and wind up doing an odd combination of both.

Startled by this, Echo tries to get to his feet, but you drop to your knees in front of him and pull him as close to your chest as you can, still laugh-crying. After a minute or so, he shifts back from you and sets the small box aside before carefully cupping your face in his hands.

“Should I not have-?” he starts, but you interrupt him by crashing your lips against his. He’s caught off guard, at first, then eagerly reciprocates. After a minute, Echo pulls away for air, panting. Before you can kiss him again, he firmly holds you by the shoulders and doesn’t let go until your breathing returns to normal.

“Good Maker, are you alright?” he asks, incredulous, though his voice is soft and low.

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” you say. Echo still looks concerned. You sit back on your heels and wipe at your eyes with the back of your hand, a feeble laugh escaping your lips every now and then as you take a moment to collect yourself.

“I’m just relieved,” you say. He makes a confused sound at you and you explain: “You’ve been acting off all day, and after the Force thing last night I was worried you were afraid of me.”

“It was startling, but no, not at all,” he says. He leans forward and kisses you again, softly this time, and picks the small box back up. He holds it open within your line of sight.

“So…?” he says pointedly, glancing nervously between your eyes and the ring.

On the verge of being overcome with emotion again, all you can manage to do is nod with a wide smile when you meet his eyes.

It takes a few seconds for him to realize that you’ve said ‘yes’ before he throws his arms around you and kisses you deeply again. You hold onto each other as tightly as you can, neither wanting to let go.

Eventually, the two of you sit back, and Echo delicately picks the ring out of the box and slips it onto your finger. It’s a little snug, but you can still slide it on and off without getting stuck. You stare at it, watching the blue and purple colors of the stone swim as you move your fingers, and Echo is captivated by the way its glow reflects in your eyes.

He gets to his feet, then pulls you upright at the foot of the bed. He holds his hands to your hips and softly rests his forehead against yours. As he does, you sense a rush of things from him all at once, but most prominent are feelings of gratitude and love so intense that your entire body tingles.

“I love you so much,” you whisper.

“I believe you,” he says, just as quiet.

He kisses you, and the air feels electrified. Soon, whatever has been holding you both back vanishes, and you’re kissing and touching each other with the same intensity that you had back downstairs.

Echo lays onto the bed, pulling you down with him as he goes. You hover over him on your hands and knees and start to undo the snaps and straps of his armor, moving entirely by muscle memory as you go, despite how long it’s been since you last did this. With your hands busy, he’s putting his to good use by quickly unbuttoning your shirt. You break away long enough to free your arms from the sleeves and drop the shirt onto the floor, followed by your pants. Echo takes this opportunity to shuck off the remaining pieces of his armor you haven’t already freed him from.

Once you’ve stripped to just your bra and panties, and he to his blacks, Echo grabs you by the shoulders and crashes his lips into yours. You open up for him and as your tongues dance, he shifts his weight and rolls the two of you over so that he’s on top. Without breaking away, he moves his hands underneath you and manages to unhook your bra on the first try. Surprised, you pull back and can’t help but smirk at him.

“Nice having two hands again, huh? What else can you do?” you say with a laugh. You slip your arms through the straps of your bra and throw it aside too, freeing your breasts and making Echo groan. He dips his head down where your neck meets your shoulder and mouths at the delicate skin there, making his way up to your ear.

“Let me show you,” he says, making you shiver. He ghosts his cybernetic hand over the wet spot in your panties, and when you excitedly nod at him, he moves the thin, lacy material aside and slips his two middle fingers into you. You flinch and he glances back up at you, then starts to move back out, but you stop him by holding his wrist in place.

“No no, I’m okay! It’s just a little cold,” you say, apologetic. Echo cringes, but you softly kiss his forehead. “Please touch me, Echo,” you say, the faintest whine audible in your voice.

He shrugs in an ‘if you say so’ manner and you unhand him. He moves slowly, giving you time to stretch around him, then twists his wrist in a way that wouldn’t be possible with his organic hand. Your brief confusion over this is immediately forgotten when you feel his fingers start to vibrate inside you, and you gasp at the new sensation. He starts to move his fingertips in a tight, circular motion, quickly and expertly finding that specific spot that makes you moan loudly and arch your back.

After a minute of this, he slips his fingers out of you long enough for you to ditch your panties and for him to take off his undershirt before plunging back into you. He’s still kissing you, and his free hand is cupped around the back of your head, his fingers buried into your hair. Once he’s found a rhythm between your legs, he makes you curse when he uses his vibrating thumb to gently stroke upwards along your clit. Your hips buck involuntarily against his hand and you whimper.

“Oh god, Echo-oh!” you cry, but the sudden force of your orgasm stops you from finishing that thought as you clamp your thighs together and draw his name out into a loud moan. He keeps his hand moving, working you through your orgasm and beyond it; he only stops after your hips buck once more and you come a second time with a yell as you soak his hand and the duvet below. He twists his wrist in that unnatural way again and pulls his stilled fingers out of you, sitting up and watching you pant and gasp.

“Wh-,” you try to say, but you need a second to collect yourself and catch your breath. “Who’s idea was that?”

“Tech’s, according to Shalka,” Echo says, clearing his throat. “They’d been talking for so long I just tuned it out and didn’t hear him bring it up. She told me the next day.”

There’s a surge of heat that rushes to your core when you hear this that you’ll examine later, but you ignore it and laugh a little as you shake your head. You make a mental note to thank Tech when you next see him, then quickly put everything aside from Echo back out of your mind.

You clasp your hands behind his neck, pull him down to your level, and kiss him deeply, humming softly when he kisses you back. As this happens, your hands move along his back, his sides, and his chest while you delicately trace your fingertips around where the edges of his modifications meet his skin. When he notices what you’re doing, he freezes and you take your hands off of him immediately. He turns his head and swallows hard, unable to meet your eyes. You softly apologize and carefully hold one side of his jaw before gently pulling him back to face you.

“This is entirely at your pace Echo. Just tell me to stop and I will,” you say, your voice firm.

“God, please don’t ever stop,” he whispers, and rests his forehead against yours, failing to hide a hiccup. “I… I need you,” he continues before trailing off and looking away from you again, making your heart ache for him.

You’ve seen him naked often by now and got a pretty thorough look at how his body changed, but you know that right now is different. Completely alone with you and so emotionally charged, you’ve never seen Echo this vulnerable before. You realize how much he trusts you, to completely let his guard down like this, and your heart aches for him again.

Unsure of what to do, you glance around the room until an idea strikes you. You’re able to sit up and stretch your arm far enough to reach the single lit lamp and click it off. You settle back into place and softly pat your chest, and Echo correctly interprets this by resting his head to your chest, right over your heart. You gently set the palm of one hand between his shoulder blades, and trace your nails over his scalp with the other. You keep this up for a minute or two and notice when he relaxes significantly. He props himself back up and dips his head down to shakily whisper that he loves you into your ear.

“You too, Echo. Tell me what you need,” you say, your voice soft and warm as he kisses his way back up and down your neck.

“Just you, Meds,” he says. After a moment’s hesitation, he nervously takes hold of your wrist and guides your hand to his groin.

You gently cup him there and he groans. You feel his cock twitch against your palm and look pointedly up at him, biting your lip. Echo says “Please,” in an almost desperate tone and kisses you again.

Permission granted, you slip your hand into his blacks and free his cock from its confines. You spit into your palm and begin stroking him, making him moan. After a moment, you cautiously tug at his waistband, and he quickly strips off the last of his clothing.

The two of you slip between the sheets and you lie underneath him, your hands resting on his lower back as your legs open. You nudge your knees against his, and immediately after, he takes a deep breath and carefully lines himself up with you. He glances between your hips and your face, making sure you really want this. You move your hands to the sides of his head and pull him down to you, whispering your consent before crushing your lips to his.

With this, Echo slowly starts pushing himself forward and finally, finally penetrates you, making you both moan as he hilts. You’d almost forgotten how perfectly he fits into you, and it’s so familiar that you suddenly think of Fives and have to fight off a lump in your throat. Echo notices the change in your expression and quickly slips out, clearly knowing what you’re thinking.

“I know, cyare,” he whispers, cupping your cheek, “you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you say, also whispering.

“Promise?” he asks, quiet enough that you almost don’t hear him.

“I swear,” you say, looking into his eyes. “Please, Echo. I need to feel you again, it’s been so fucking long,” you continue, almost begging him.

He believes you and gives you a soft kiss, then seconds later gradually pushes himself back into your hot, wet pussy, the both of you moaning loudly as he bottoms out. You wrap your arms tighter around his upper back and hold him, softly panting. He repeats the motion, and when you moan his name, he begins moving in earnest. You wrap your legs around his hips as they smack against yours, and the sound of skin on wet skin is obscene, though it’s nearly drowned out by the equally obscene sounds the two of you are making. You’re idly aware that there are people who might hear you, but you don’t give a damn.

Echo starts to thrust into you harder, and you already feel a familiar tension in your lower belly. You stretch your neck and kiss him, and when you break apart he presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and breathing you in. The feeling of being so intensely loved makes you shudder in the best way.

After a moment, you move your hands to grip his shoulders, and with a little effort you manage to roll the two of you over until you're on top. You sit up and straighten your back as you straddle him, moving your hips in slow, languid circles. His hands settle there and he holds you in place, moving his hips like a piston upward into you. Your lower back tingles from the feeling of being so full, and you bend at the waist until you’re chest to chest with him. You take his hands into yours and lock your fingers together, all the while never letting your lips leave his for more than a second.

After a minute of this, Echo imitates you by gripping your shoulders and rolling the two of you over until you’re under him again. However, his movements slow, then stop altogether. You can tell he’s holding himself back, and the pained expression on his face grabs your attention.

“Echo? What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice so soft that it’s almost inaudible. He doesn’t answer you right away and in fact is having trouble looking at you.

“N-nothing,” he eventually says, and his voice is thick, which startles you for the second time tonight. “It’s just…” he trails off.

“Just what?” you ask, concerned and slightly confused. You prop yourself up on your elbows and when his eyes meet yours, you’re hit with an unexpected wave of sorrow and loneliness.

“I… I told you that I’d dream about you, back on Skako…” he says, and you nod, recalling the conversation clearly.

“It was always like this,” he continues, then takes a moment to clear his throat. “But every time you and I would… I- I’d wake up just enough to realize that I was actually alone.” He hiccups and hides his face in the crook of your neck, a single warm tear falling onto your skin. Your heart shatters and you hold him with one hand on the back of his head and the other between his shoulder blades.

“I don’t want to wake up and lose you again,” he says, his voice trembling badly.

You make a quiet shushing sound and rub a hand up and down his back in a soothing, gentle way, taking care to avoid his modifications.

“Echo, baby, look at me,” you say, calling him that for the first time, and when he looks up at you, you cup his cheek, then gently brush a stray tear away with your thumb. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ll never have to be alone again, I promise you,” you say, turning your hand around to remind him of the ring he’d just put onto your finger. He hiccups, but the fear is starting to fade from his eyes as he looks at you. He takes a deep breath and lets out a shuddering exhale a few times, gradually calming himself back down.

Once it seems that he’s leveled off, you gently kiss him, then subtly shift your hips around him as he stays inside of you. He curses softly under his breath and when you do it again he meets your eyes. The trace of doubt you find there slips away when you tell him that you love him. He cautiously starts to move again, and you lay flat on your back, raising your hips to meet his thrusts. Before long, he’s returned to the same hard, feverish pace he’d set earlier, and much too soon, that tight feeling in your lower abdomen returns.

“I’m so close, Echo,” you whine.

“Good,” he says, panting. “I won’t last much longer.”

You kiss him again and as you do his hips stutter and his muscles lock. As you feel his cock twitch deep inside of you, the tension in your gut is released and you come with a loud cry, clenching around him and milking out everything he has.

Seconds later, his muscles abruptly relax and he collapses into your chest. The two of you gasp for breath, clinging onto each other for dear life. You remain like this for about a minute before Echo shakily props himself back up on his elbows. When you look into his eyes, you involuntarily sense what he’s feeling again. Everything you’ve been through, the loss and horror and especially the grief, are all washed away by the powerful, indescribable warmth of love and euphoria that crashes over you from him.

You only notice the tears in your eyes when Echo softly brushes a few away with his thumb, then you reach up and return the favor. You press your foreheads together again, and you both start to laugh and cry at the same time.

Once this passes and he goes soft, he pulls out of you with a groan, and you feel his release spilling out, but you don’t care. Nothing in the universe could distract you from Echo right now. He pats your shoulder and you move over a little, giving him space to lie on his back. You, now on your side, rest your head in the hollow of his shoulder. Eventually he turns and faces you, and the two of you hold each other tight, not speaking a word but still saying so much.

All is right in the Galaxy again as you both drift off to sleep.

Hours later, the mid-morning sun shines through the enormous window of the room. Echo quickly regains consciousness, but stays still with his eyes shut tight. Last night replays in his mind and he’s afraid that once he fully wakes up he’ll find out it was just another dream. That is, until he feels movement on his left side and hears you yawn softly before whispering his name. He steels himself, and reluctantly opens his eyes. When he does, he sees you, backlit by the sunlight and smiling at him. He lets out the breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding and you chuckle at him.

“I told you I’m not going anywhere,” you say, your voice raspy from sleep. Echo doesn’t say anything but the relief you sense from him and see on his face is overwhelming.

You press your nude body against his and kiss him passionately. When you break apart after some time, Echo groans and you feel his cock twitch against your thighs. In response, you push him onto his back and slip down past his waist, coming to a stop with your head over his pelvis. The sensation of your warm breath breezing over his skin gets him achingly hard almost immediately and he groans. You giggle and lick a wide stripe along your palm before you firmly take his cock into your hand and jerk him off at a slow but steady pace until his hips buck up into your hand.

You let go of his cock, but still hold it up with a single finger under the tip as you drag your tongue along the underside, eventually reaching the head and tracing around his slit, lapping up the sticky sweetness of his precum. His hips jerk again and he whines your name. You look up and softly smile at him before wrapping your lips around his cock head, making him twitch again. As you suck his dick, rapidly moving your head up and down along his shaft, you draw the most deliciously sinful sounds out of him. You giggle and hum, and the vibration of your throat proves to be too much.

“Fuck, don’t stop, I’m gonna-,” he says, the last word melting into a long groan and his hips twitch violently as he cums. You swallow around him, sucking out as much as you possibly can, humming in pleasure all the while. Only once he curses and jerks back away from your mouth do you sit up and free him. He watches you, panting for breath, before he suddenly sits up, grabs your hips, and pulls you forward as he lies back down.

Knowing what he wants, you shift to your knees and hover your dripping cunt over his face. He grabs your hips again and yanks you down, making you sit on his face as he slips his tongue into you and slurps up as much of your arousal as he can. When you moan his name, he takes it a step further by twisting his cybernetic’s wrist and holding his vibrating thumb to your clit as he eats you out like a man starved. The sudden additional stimulation makes you inadvertently grind down against his strong tongue and you whimper.

Echo looks up at you with a satisfied expression and doubles his efforts, increasing the vibration of his thumb with another odd twitch and making you cry out as your legs clamp around his head. He pushes you back enough to look up at you and you hold eye contact as you orgasm with a shiver and a loud gasp of his name. You grind yourself downward again and it intensifies when he nips at the head of your clit and sucks at it between his teeth. Your entire body tenses up before you slip sideways off of his face and bonelessly drop back onto the mattress, your hips still occasionally spasming forward from the aftershock of such a powerful orgasm.

After you catch your breath, you sit up and find Echo watching you, his back straight against the headboard and his cybernetic hand lazily stroking himself. He cocks an eyebrow at you and you eagerly nod at him. He sits up a little straighter and folds his legs, then you quickly climb into his lap and squat as you lower yourself down onto his leaking cock. Once you’re seated properly, you move your legs and wrap them around his waist, locking your ankles together against the small of his back. The newfound tightness this position creates makes you so full that your lower back tingles, and you clench around him. He groans your name and grabs a handful of your ass before he starts to undulate his hips and fuck up into you.

You can’t remember the last time you’d been hit so deeply, and you arch your back as you moan Echo’s name. He takes his free hand and cups one of your breasts, the cool durasteel of his palm against your warm skin making you shiver. He repositions his hand, now holding your pebbled nipple between two fingertips and gently rolling it between them. You let out a shaky gasp and grab the sides of his head, pulling his mouth to yours and kissing him. He thrusts into you harder, and as you moan into the kiss he opens up and swallows all the pretty sounds you make to keep for himself.

You begin to grind your hips into his in loose circles and slip one of your hands down to where your bodies meet. Before you can touch yourself, Echo snares your wrist and softly tuts at you. He moves his replaced hand downward and away from your breast, his fingertips barely brushing along your skin as he goes. With a twitch of his thumb he’s vibrating again, and when he grazes the very end of your clit you cry out his name.

“Oh fuck, Echo!” you whine. He smirks at you and presses the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you almost convulse around him as your eyes roll up towards the ceiling.

“God damn it you’re perfect,” he says, growling lowly into your ear and nipping along your neck again. When you shiver in response, he sits back enough to commit the look of near-ecstasy on your face to his memory. Still working your clit and thrusting his cock into you, he leans forward, grazing his teeth against the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. You whimper, and he raises his head just enough to breathe into your ear.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he says, his breath hot on your skin.

“I-I’m right there, please Echo,” you say, setting your pride aside.

“Will you a good girl and come on my cock, riddur?” he says, chuckling darkly when he notices the way you whine and clench around him when he uses the Mando’a word.

“Yes! I’ll be good for you Echo, I need-,” you say, nearly begging him, but he cuts you off by making you cry out as he bites into your shoulder and sucks a dark bruise into your skin. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you finally orgasm, your entire body locking up with the intensity of it.

Satisfied, Echo returns his hands to your hips and holds you down tightly against his pelvis as his cock twitches and he fills you with so much cum that it leaks out. His hold on you loosens at the same time your muscles relax and the two of you slump into each other, both completely fucked out and panting for breath.

About an hour after your senses return to you, you and Echo have both cleaned yourselves up, gotten dressed, and packed your things. As you take the long ride back down to the ground floor in the lift, Echo wonders aloud how often, if at all, you’ll be able to get that close while on the Marauder. You admit that you don’t know.

“It doesn’t matter how quiet we are, Hunter is always going to be able to tell,” you say with a sigh.

“His hearing really is that good, huh?” Echo says, allowing you to step out of the lift first and lead the way into the lobby.

“Well, there’s that, yes, but I inadvertently found out on Anaxes that he can fucking smell it too,” you say.

“Damn, even in the shower?” Echo asks, failing to hide his disappointment. The two of you step into the queue for the front desk and continue talking.

“Despite the shower,” you say, rolling your eyes as Echo curses under his breath. “But don’t worry, we’ll figure something out,” you say, briefly pecking his cheek.

“Oh, we’d better,” he says, tracing a fingertip across the dark spot on your neck and making you twitch. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to go without tasting you again,” he says, his voice low in your ear. You loudly clear your throat and try to ignore the blossoming heat between your legs.

The conversation ends right when you reach the front desk. The same young Chiss man that you’d spoken to last night is there again, and he greets you with a wide smile. “Well, good morning!” he says. “What did you think of the view up there?”

“Oh, we didn’t notice,” Echo says, taking your hand into his and glancing over at you. The young man looks between you with a knowing expression and finishes out the transaction with no further comments, aside from thanking you both for staying before you walk away.

You’re almost back to the hangar in yet another taxi when you suddenly think about Crosshair. You stare down at the ring on your left hand and wonder if this will change things with him. You must be wearing your concern on your face, because Echo speaks up as if he knows what you’re thinking.

“You wanted to know what Crosshair and I were talking about, right?” he says, and you nod. He takes your hand and holds it up to the light, making the colors of the glowing stone on your finger shine brightly.

“It was this,” he says thoughtfully.

“What, did you ask his permission?” you say, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Of course not,” Echo says, interlacing your fingers with his. “It’s not like either of us own you.”

“Good answer,” you say, and he softly shakes his head at you.

“I just told him what I was planning,” he says. “He didn’t seem to object to it,” he adds with a shrug. You huff in an exaggerated manner.

“And he clearly told the others so they all could pitch in and upgrade the room,” you say. “I really was the last one to know, wasn’t I?” you say. Echo softly kisses your cheek.

“Yes, but that’s kind of the point,” he says.

“So, what did he say?” you ask, fidgeting with the strap of your bag.

“Ask him yourself,” Echo says, nodding towards the window behind you as the taxi slows to a stop. Outside, you see Crosshair and Wrecker waiting on the sidewalk for you. After paying the driver, you both step outside, and Echo leaves you with Crosshair while he and Wrecker gather up your things from the trunk.

You meet Crosshair’s eyes and nervously bite your lip, waiting for him to say something. He lifts your left hand and gets a good look at the ring on your finger.

“Surprised it fits,” he says casually. You blink at him, confused. He looks between you, the ring, and Echo, then smirks at you.

“This changes nothing, I hope you know. Told him that too,” he says, then holds you about the waist and pulls you in for a deep kiss. You sigh into him, relieved. Almost immediately, you feel someone’s eyes on you, and when you step back from Crosshair, you spot Wrecker staring at you confused. He glances between the two of you and Echo a few times.

“That’s allowed?” he says in disbelief.

You’re about to say something but Crosshair, with his hand on your shoulder, rolls his eyes and leads you back toward the ship, leaving Echo behind to explain it to him.

“At this rate Hunter is the only one who hasn’t asked about it,” Crosshair says as you both walk up the Marauder’s open ramp.

“Oh, I already knew,” Hunter says, meeting you inside. Crosshair shakes his head, somewhere between amused and annoyed, and mumbles something about an application process. He walks past Hunter and tugs you, laughing, behind him.

Once inside, Crosshair goes into the refresher and you spot Tech in the cockpit going through his usual preflight checks. You stand quietly in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt him. He’s startled by your unexpected presence when he turns around, but quickly regains his composure, adjusting his goggles as he approaches you.

“There you are Meds, I was wondering when you would get here,” he says.

“Missed me that much, huh?” you say.

“I have,” he says, surprising you. Before you can react, he moves past you and continues speaking.

“I’m sure you’re aware that I and the others have been modifying the ship,” he says, leading you to the bunks. You’re about to answer him, but you stop short when you both get there.

When you joined the squad, there were six bunks on the ship, three to a side, and the extra two at the back were used for temporary storage. Your first night aboard, Wrecker had readily given you his spot and moved into the emptied spare behind it.

Looking at them now though, you’re confused when you only see four, then you notice a wall and a small closed door that definitely wasn’t there before. You only realize that Echo has caught up with you when he inadvertently voices your thoughts.

“What the hell did you do to the bunks?” he asks, just as confused as you are. You step toward the door and it slides open, revealing an entirely separate room. You poke your head inside and find a bed, in one piece, made up of the two missing bunks. It’s tucked against the left wall, and there's a small intercom speaker and switch near the door, a fair few compartments, and just enough room to stand upright and move in front of the bed.

You back out, allowing Echo to get a look at the space, and Tech catches your eye, looking quite proud of himself.

“That’s what you’ve been doing all week?” you ask in disbelief.

“Where’d ya think we’ve been?” Wrecker says, approaching with your bags. He squeezes his way past everyone and into your room, then drops your things onto the bed, surprising you when it makes no noise.

“The idea occurred to me after seeing the two of you cram into one bunk once we left Anaxes. I was originally going to just clear out the last extra bunk, until Hunter informed me that you and Echo would likely prefer to share a space. I had to rearrange a large portion of the ship's components and wiring, but I believe you’ll find it satisfactory,” he says. You simply stare at him for a moment while you try to find your words.

“But that must have been an ass-load of work!” you eventually say. Tech waves this off.

“Hunter did insist on one thing,” he continues, then nods at Wrecker, who grins and shuts the door. About a second later you hear a very muffled sound from inside, which impresses you, knowing how loud he can be.

“It’s almost completely soundproof,” Hunter says, speaking up from the back. “Thank god,” he adds, giving you and Echo a stern look. Echo meets his eyes and awkwardly rubs at the back of his neck. Meanwhile, Crosshair, who you only now notice is in the vicinity, smirks and rolls his eyes from where he’s standing behind Tech.

Once Wrecker leaves your room, everyone disperses, save for you and Tech, who’s stayed behind to keep telling you about the new space. He leads you inside and points out a few key things, mainly the lock on the door and intercom controls. He realizes that you haven’t said anything else in a while and looks over at you. He finds you watching him with a soft expression, which catches him off guard.

“This is so thoughtful of you,” you say, looking around the room.

“It simply made the most sense,” he says, shrugging at you. You turn towards him and smile.

“Well, I’m very grateful,” you say. Tech simply nods at you and turns to leave the room, but before he does, you remember something.

“Oh, by the way,” you say, recapturing his attention. When he stops and turns back toward you, you take a few steps closer to him, then glance around to make sure you won’t be overheard.

“Echo told me while we were alone last night that a specific feature of his cybernetic was your idea,” you say, keeping your voice low. Tech’s lips part and his eyes widen.

“What,” he says, then pauses to clear his throat. “What about it?” he asks, matching your low volume.

“Just that I really enjoyed it, so I wanted to say thank you,” you say, holding his gaze. It takes him two attempts to speak.

“E-everything functioned to your, um, needs then?” he asks, and you barely manage not to chuckle when you notice that his face is flushed.

“Oh yes, it all worked perfectly,” you say, keeping your tone casual, as if discussing the weather. You startle him for a second time that day when you very briefly kiss his cheek.

“Thank you Tech, for everything,” you say. He seems unable to speak, and it occurs to you that you probably crossed a line.

“Oh damn, did I-?” you say, speaking quickly and taking a step back.

“N-no, it’s,” he says, finding his voice. He clears his throat. “It’s fine, Meds. I don’t mind,” he continues, then abruptly slips out of the door without another word. He glances back at you over his shoulder as he goes and you can sense a faint feeling of want drifting from him in your direction.

You start to feel bad for flustering him, but the feeling is quickly forgotten when Tech’s place is almost immediately taken by Crosshair, who shuts the door behind him. He kisses you, then sits on the bed and pulls you into his lap, resting his chin on your shoulder, your back to his chest.

“I see that things went well last night,” he says, pressing a finger to the mark Echo had left and making you inhale sharply. “Did you two-?” he says, leaving the question open-ended.

“Finally, yes,” you say with a laugh. A laugh that morphs into a soft gasp when Crosshair moves and starts kissing along your neck.

“Good,” he says, and although you can’t see his face, you can practically hear him smirking. “That means it’s my turn,” he says, nipping at your pulse. You turn around in his lap and roll your eyes at him. He rests his hands on your ass, then leans in and kisses you with surprising gentleness, humming softly when your lips meet.

“I missed you, kitten,” he says, pressing his forehead against yours.

Before you can say anything, there’s a knock at the door. You reach over and open it to find Hunter standing there, and you can’t tell if he’s annoyed by what he sees.

“We haven’t even left the ground yet, you two really can’t wait?” he says, leaning against the door frame.

“The entire point of this room is so you won’t bother us,” Crosshair says, definitely annoyed. “What do you want?”

“Orders just came in, they want to do a full work up with Echo on Kamino,” Hunter says, then shakes his head again as he walks away. Before the door slides shut, Echo steps inside and looks at you two, amused.

“Tech wants me up front,” he says, then steps forward and briefly kisses you. “Can you two contain yourselves, at least until we reach hyperspace?” he says, trying to hold back a smirk. You and Crosshair exchange a glance and say ‘no promises’ in unison. Echo rolls his eyes and steps back out, closing the door behind him.

You return your attention to Crosshair and find him watching you with a soft look in his eyes. He leans in and kisses you, then lies back onto the bed, pulling you down with him and holding you closely to his chest. You meet his gaze and sense nothing but love and adoration. You abruptly remember Fives’ warning about Crosshair, but easily chase the thought away, surprising yourself.

Whatever the future may hold, you think, you’ll handle it as it comes. Right now, all you want to do is be with the men you love.

Taglist/ thank yous: @kaminocasey @madameminor @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69 @the-cantina @jedi-hawkins @wolveria @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @whore4rex @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @vanyaluxz1007 @jane8675

#my fics #series #Same heart #my art #thatll get its own post later #Milestones

31 notes · View notes