DEADASSSS BRO SOMEONE USED ONE OF YOUR WANDA BOTS😭😭😭 FOR OUR RESEARCH UNIT??!!??!?! (No Se Como

SHE WAS JUST A BABY MY BABY 😭

isha is literally my fav character ever

look at her

she’s just baby

what we’ve been holding back

pairing: vada cavell & female reader

summary: for the first time, it’s just you, vada, and everything you’ve both been holding back.

warnings: smut (18+) oral (v receiving) fingering (r receiving) explicit sexual content.

author’s note: i hate this more than tongue can say but hope yall enjoy it anyway.

Vada never got the house to herself.

Not really, anyway. There was always someone around—her parents, of course, but more than anything, Amelia. Her little sister was like a permanent shadow, always appearing at the worst times, always needing something.

If she wasn't barging into Vada's room without knocking, she was hogging the TV remote or loudly FaceTiming her friends right outside Vada's door. And if she wasn’t being actively annoying, it was only because she was looking for new ways to be.

There were nights when Vada would be stretched out on the couch, half-asleep and watching some movie with you, only for Amelia to come crashing in, demanding to know exactly what you were watching before declaring it boring and switching the lights on. Then there were mornings when she'd blast music from the bathroom, knowing full well that Vada was still trying to sleep. Even on the rare occasions when she wasn't in the way, she was still there, existing in the background, always within earshot, ready to interrupt.

So when Vada found out that, for the first time in forever, she would actually have the house completely to herself, she barely knew what to do with the information at first. It didn't feel real.

It had started as a normal enough evening—her mom mentioning something about dinner plans as she moved around the kitchen, her dad chiming in with something about not waiting up. None of it really registered with Vada until her mom casually added that Amelia was already gone for the night, off at a sleepover.

That was what made Vada sit up.

The realization hit her all at once. No parents. No Amelia. No interruptions. Just her. Just you, if she got you to come over.

Excitement bubbled up fast, making her reach for her phone before she even fully processed what she was doing. She barely thought about what she was going to say—just that she had to tell you, and she had to tell you now.

The second you picked up, she was already talking, rushing through the words like she was afraid she'd lose the moment if she didn't get them out fast enough. You didn't even have time to say hello before she was telling you about the miraculous turn of events—how her parents had made last-minute plans, how Amelia was staying at a friend's house, how, for the first time in what felt like forever, she had the house to herself.

And more importantly, how that meant she had you to herself.

She barely gave you time to react before she was asking if you'd come over. It wasn't really a question—more of a demand disguised as one, her voice all hurried excitement as she told you to bring something nice to wear, even if she didn't know what for yet. She wanted tonight to be different, she told you. Not just another hangout, not just another "date" in name only, but something that actually felt like one.

Because most of the time, your "dates" weren't really dates at all. They were sitting on her bed watching bad movies while Amelia threw popcorn at you from the doorway. They were laying in the grass at the park, pretending the $3 slushies in your hands were expensive cocktails. They were long drives with no destination, no plan, just a vague hope that you'd end up somewhere interesting.

It wasn't that she minded. She loved that time with you—loved that it didn't take some grand gesture for you to want to be with her. But part of her still wished she could give you more than that.

She wished she could take you out somewhere nice, somewhere that didn't have sticky floors or fluorescent lights. She wished she could take you to a real restaurant, one with candlelit tables and expensive wine lists, where she could pull out your chair and hold your hand across the table without worrying about her little sister making gagging noises in the background.

But neither of you had the money for that, and even if you did, her parents were always home, Amelia was always home—there was always someone home. So your time together had to fit into the spaces left between.

Not tonight, though. Tonight was just yours.

So she'd cooked.

She wasn't a great cook—not even a good one, really—but she wanted to make something herself, something that at least resembled an actual date-night meal. Something better than the usual microwave dinners or takeout containers you two shared on her bed. So, she kept it simple: pasta. She figured it was hard to mess up, but even then, she still managed to overcook the noodles a little.

It wasn't fancy. It wasn't even that impressive. But it was hers.

And that had to count for something.

She'd even gone as far as lighting candles, the only ones she could find being the old, half-melted ones her mom kept under the sink. They smelled like vanilla and something vaguely floral, and the flames flickered unevenly, casting wobbly shadows across the table. It was probably stupid—it felt stupid. She could already hear Amelia's voice in her head, making fun of her for trying so hard.

And honestly, Vada would've made fun of herself too, a few months ago.

This was the kind of thing you two used to laugh at when you watched rom-coms together—how cheesy and soggy it all was, how ridiculous it was that anyone actually took the whole candlelit-dinner thing seriously.

But now? Now, she was starting to get it.

And that was enough to make her feel like maybe, just maybe, all of this wasn't as ridiculous as she thought.

Then the doorbell had rung.

Vada had barely had time to shake herself out of her thoughts before she had rushed to answer it, almost tripping over the corner of the rug in her hurry. She had stopped just short of yanking the door open too fast—because cool, she had needed to be cool—but all her effort at playing it smooth had gone straight out the window the second she had seen you.

You had stood there on her front porch, bathed in the dim glow of the porchlight, a bottle of wine in your hand. You had lifted it slightly, eyebrows raising as you had teased, "Thought this could make our very serious, very fancy dinner even fancier."

Vada had huffed out a laugh, eyes flicking from the bottle back to your face. Your face. Soft in the low light, lips curved in that easy way that had always made her heart trip over itself. The way your hair had framed your face, the way your eyes had flickered with amusement, the way you had looked at her—it had all been enough to make her forget her own name for a second.

She had recovered just enough to snatch the bottle from your grip, fingers brushing against yours for half a second longer than necessary. "You stole this, didn't you?"

You had grinned, tilting your head. "Define 'stole.'"

Vada had rolled her eyes but had still taken a step back, letting you in. And the second you had crossed the threshold, setting your hands on her waist, any and all of her previous self-consciousness had melted away.

You had kissed her before she could make some smartass remark, before she could even think about saying something stupid. It had been soft—slow, even—but warm in a way that had settled deep into her bones, making her feel weightless and anchored all at once.

And God, she had been able to taste the trouble on your lips already.

When you had pulled back, she had barely had a second to process before you had been taking in the dining setup behind her, eyes flicking over the candles, the plates, the pasta. Your smile had stretched a little wider, amusement clear in your gaze as you had turned back to her. "You really went all out, huh?"

She had felt her face heat, but she had just shrugged, trying to downplay it. "You're welcome."

You had hummed, clearly unimpressed by her attempt at being casual. Then, tilting your head, you had smirked. "So... which cooking tutorial did you follow?"

Vada had groaned, tipping her head back dramatically. "I hate you so much."

You had just laughed, nudging your shoulder against hers before stepping further into the house. And even as you had poked fun at her, even as you had made some offhanded comment about how the noodles had looked a little overcooked, she had been able to tell—you had liked it.

You had liked this.

Dinner itself had been a blur of easy conversation and laughter, of stolen bites and exaggerated reactions to how terrible her cooking had been. It hadn't been fancy. It hadn't been perfect. But it had been something.

You had liked this.

Vada had been able to tell by the way your smile had lingered as you ate, how you had stretched your legs out beneath the table, nudging your foot against hers like it was second nature. And maybe it had been. Maybe it had always been this easy for you—to just exist like this, to fit into every space you were given and make it your own.

She hadn't been able to take her eyes off of you.

Not while you had spoken, hands moving as if they could shape your words in the air. Not while you had twirled your fork through the pasta, the candlelight catching on the rim of your glass as you had lifted it to your lips. And definitely not when you had picked up the wine bottle, turning it between your fingers before tilting your chin up slightly.

"Some more wine, ma'am?" you had asked, your voice lilting in a way that had made her groan.

Vada hadn't even bothered to respond, just shaking her head as you had poured more into her glass anyway.

And now, even with the food long gone and the plates abandoned in the kitchen, she still couldn't take her eyes off of you.

The movie playing on the TV was one she had seen a hundred times, something you had both agreed on without really thinking about it, but she wasn't paying attention. Not to that, at least.

Because the way you were curled up against her, legs tucked over hers, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the back of her hand—that was more interesting than anything on the screen.

The movie had been playing for a while, the glow from the screen flickering across your face, catching in your eyes as you stared at it. Vada was supposed to be watching too, but her focus had started to slip long ago.

She had barely touched her glass of wine, her fingers curled loosely around the stem, more preoccupied with the way you had sunk further into her side, your body relaxed against hers. Every so often, you would shift slightly—reaching for more wine, adjusting your position, stretching out more against her. And every single time, she had to fight the urge to look down, to get distracted all over again.

She only snapped back to reality when you suddenly let out a breath, shaking your head a little before speaking.

"Okay, but why do people pretend this is the best movie ever? Like, it's fine, but it's not that good."

Vada had hummed in vague agreement, even though she had no idea what part you were talking about.

But then, a moment later, you turned your head toward her. Your brows furrowed slightly, like you were studying her, before your lips quirked up in a knowing smile.

"Are you even watching?"

She had barely caught herself in time, blinking and shifting her focus back toward the screen like she hadn't just been completely lost in staring at you.

"No, I am," she had said quickly, smiling through the lie.

And then she had forced herself to look back at the screen, even though it took everything in her not to glance at you again.

Vada had tried—really tried—to keep her eyes on the screen. But it was impossible when you were sitting right there, barely a breath away, looking the way you did.

Maybe it was the wine. You hadn't had much, just enough to feel the edges of everything blur, to make the warmth in her chest settle a little deeper. But still, it was enough to make her wonder if that was why she couldn't seem to look away from you. If it was the reason why, for the past ten minutes, she hadn't absorbed a single thing from the movie playing in front of her.

The glow from the TV flickered over your skin, soft and golden, mixing with the dim light from the streetlamp outside that slipped in through the window. It caught in your hair, traced over the curve of your cheek, reflected in your eyes when you blinked. You weren't even doing anything—you were just watching the movie, completely unaware of the way Vada was looking at you.

But she was looking.

And she couldn't stop.

Her gaze drifted over every little detail of your face—the faintest crease between your brows when you concentrated, the slight part of your lips when something caught your attention, the way your lashes brushed against your skin when you blinked. She felt your fingers move absentmindedly over the back of her hand, tracing slow, barely-there patterns against her skin, and the way it made her stomach tighten was almost embarrassing.

It was all so effortless. So you.

And she couldn't believe she got to have this. That she got to sit here in this moment, surrounded by nothing but the warmth of the house and the flickering light of the candles she had been embarrassed to set up, and just watch you.

She should have looked away.

She didn't.

And of course, you noticed.

You let out a quiet, breathy chuckle before turning toward her, amused. "What?"

Vada felt her stomach twist, her face warming under your gaze. She hesitated, just for a second, before letting out a soft breath.

"You're beautiful."

The way you blinked, like you hadn't expected her to say that, made her heart lurch in her chest. And then you smiled—really smiled—something small and teasing but still so genuine. Your fingers slowed against her hand, resting there, your touch lingering.

Vada's gaze flickered down before she could stop it.

Your lips.

She felt something settle low in her stomach, spreading through her chest, making her breath come just a little shorter. She didn't even think before she spoke again, voice quieter this time, rougher, like the words were forming before she had the chance to second-guess them.

"And I want to kiss you."

You tilted your head slightly, your smile deepening at the edges, the teasing glint in your eyes making her pulse quicken.

"Is that so?”

You didn't pull away.

Instead, you shifted, leaning in just a little, just enough that your knees brushed against hers, your fingers tightening slightly over the back of her hand.

And God, she must have looked ridiculous. Because she could feel it—could feel the way her lips parted slightly, could feel the way her eyes were stuck on your mouth, could feel the way she must have looked at you, like she was desperate, like she was starving.

She barely managed to nod.

And then you leaned in, closing the space between you.

Your lips met hers, soft and warm and slow, and for a second, Vada forgot how to breathe.

The kiss started slow, soft, just like it always did. But it never stayed that way for long.

Because Vada loved kissing you.

You had made out more times than either of you could count—on her bed, on your bed, in the backseat of your car, pressed up against the wall by your front door when neither of you wanted to say goodbye. It was something she would never get tired of, the feeling of your lips against hers, the way your hands always found their way to her waist, the way your fingers would tangle in her hair when you got impatient. She loved all of it.

But this? This felt different.

Hotter.

The kind of different that made her ache.

Your fingers curled at the hem of her shirt, not pushing, not pulling, just holding. She felt the way your touch lingered there, like you were thinking about doing something with it. And God, she wanted you to. But she didn't have time to dwell on it before your lips parted against hers, before your tongue flicked against hers, slow and teasing and just enough to make her stomach twist.

Vada let out a quiet hum, barely even a sound, before her hands found their way to your face, fingers brushing over the heat of your skin, thumbs smoothing over your jaw as she deepened the kiss.

It still wasn't enough.

So, without even thinking, she shifted.

Her hands slipped down to your shoulders, pressing against them lightly for balance as she adjusted her position, swinging a leg over your lap. Her knee sank into the couch next to your hip, then the other, her weight settling over you as she straddled you properly.

And still, her lips never left yours.

She felt the way you reacted instantly—the way your hands gripped her waist a little tighter, the way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her shirt, the way your breath hitched, barely noticeable, but she noticed.

Of course she did.

Because she noticed everything when it came to you.

It deepened fast, all sense of restraint unraveling the second Vada settled on top of you.

And maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was just you—the way you felt underneath her, the way your hands kept fidgeting, like you couldn't figure out where to hold her. Whatever it was, it had something twisting tight in her stomach, making her push closer, kiss harder, until she wasn't even sure if she was kissing you anymore or just trying to devour you whole.

She barely realized what she was doing—how desperate, how messy she had gotten—until she felt you chuckle against her lips. And God, that should have slowed her down, should have made her think, but instead, it only made her worse. Because the second you smiled, the second you mumbled something about her being so needy, Vada groaned against your mouth and kissed you even harder, hands threading into your hair to keep you right there.

And your hands?

God, your hands.

They moved constantly, like you couldn't decide where you wanted them most. First, your fingers tangled in her hair, threading through the strands, tugging just enough to make her whimper. Then they slid lower, pressing against the thin fabric of her shirt as they smoothed down her back. And then—fuck—then they landed on her ass, barely a pause before your fingers squeezed, firm and possessive, making heat shoot straight through her.

Vada gasped against your lips, the sound half a moan, and she swore she felt you smirk.

But just as quickly as your hands had gotten there, they moved again, fingers skimming up over the curve of her hips, finally settling there, thumbs pressing lightly into her skin through the fabric.

And then—oh God, then—you guided her.

The touch was loose, barely even forceful, but she felt it. The way your fingers flexed, the way your grip tightened just enough to encourage her to move. And before she even thought about what she was doing, her body responded.

Her hips rocked against yours, slow and experimental, sending a sharp, warm shiver straight up her spine.

Oh.

Oh.

This was new.

Your hands had wandered before, gotten a little bold when you made out, but this? This had never happened before. And the realization, the fact that you were doing this, that you wanted her to do this, sent a rush of excitement straight through her, making her stomach flip.

So she did it again.

And again.

Each movement growing a little more confident, a little more sure, until she didn't even have to think about it anymore. Until her hands were gripping your shoulders just to keep her balance, until she was pressing herself against you exactly the way she wanted to, the way you were leading her to.

And Vada had never been more excited in her life.

Because she had noticed.

The second she opened the door and saw you standing there, she had noticed. The black off-shoulder top clinging to you, the delicate curve of your collarbone on display, the way the fabric settled so perfectly against your skin. And she hadn't thought much of it at first, just that you looked really fucking good. But then, when you leaned over the table to pour more wine, when the neckline of your top shifted just slightly, the realization hit her—

You weren't wearing a bra.

And now, as she pressed against you, her hands skimming over the soft fabric of your shirt, the thought was making her dizzy.

She wanted to see you.

Her fingers curled at the hem of your shirt, and she hesitated for only a second before pulling away just enough to look at you. You understood immediately, a slow smile playing at your lips as you raised your arms, giving her permission, encouragement, and—fuck—Vada could barely breathe as she pushed the fabric up, over your ribs, over your chest, finally tugging it over your head and tossing it somewhere.

She didn't care where it landed.

Because—

Oh.

Oh.

She froze.

Her hands, still mid-motion from discarding your shirt, stilled. Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and her throat, and her brain completely short-circuited.

She was fucking gone.

She had imagined this before—of course she had, she was only human—but nothing, nothing, compared to the reality of it. The way the candlelight flickered over your bare skin, painting you in soft golds and shadows, the way the warm glow from the TV barely illuminated the curves of your chest, making them look almost unreal.

God.

Vada just stared, mouth slightly open, eyes wide with something between disbelief and absolute, stunned awe.

She wanted to touch. Wanted to feel.

But all she could do was look, completely mesmerized, completely wrecked, because holy shit.

Vada barely realized the word had left her mouth until she heard it. "Wow."

It wasn't intentional—just something that slipped out, breathless, awed, like her brain hadn't caught up with her mouth.

She hovered her hands over you, close enough to feel the warmth of your skin but not quite touching. She wasn't sure why she was hesitating. Maybe because she didn't want to ruin the moment, or maybe because she didn't know if she could handle it.

But you didn't seem embarrassed.

Didn't shift under her gaze, didn't cross your arms over yourself or make any move to cover up. You only smirked, a soft, amused chuckle slipping past your lips, and somehow, somehow, that made everything even sexier.

Vada swallowed hard.

And then, finally, finally, she touched you.

Her hands settled on your breasts, hesitant at first, just feeling, getting used to the weight of them in her palms. Her thumbs brushed over your nipples, and when she felt them harden beneath her touch, something in her snapped.

She grew bolder, kneading them more firmly, watching your expression shift as your lips parted just slightly, as your breath hitched.

God, she loved this. Loved how soft you felt, how warm, how responsive.

Then she leaned in, capturing your lips again without stopping her movements, her hands still exploring, still touching. She felt the way you sighed into her mouth, how your fingers slid into her hair, tugging her closer, deepening the kiss.

But it wasn't enough.

Vada needed more.

So she let her hands drift down, gripping your waist as she shifted lower, trailing her lips from your mouth to your jaw, then lower still, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the side of your neck.

And then she kept going.

She slid down your body, slowly, adjusting herself as she moved lower, her knees sinking further into the couch cushions, her body stretching out across yours so she could reach. Her lips trailed past your collarbone, over the slope of your shoulder, and then—

Lower.

Her mouth hovered over your chest now, and she hesitated for just a second, looking up at you.

Your head had tilted back against the couch, your eyes fluttering shut, your lips parted just slightly as the softest moan slipped out.

And fuck, that was all she needed.

Vada pressed soft, lingering kisses along the curves of your breasts, giving them both equal attention, her lips parting slightly to suck at the delicate skin. She took her time, savoring the way you reacted, the way your body tensed and relaxed beneath her touch.

And when her tongue flicked over your nipple, circling it in slow, deliberate motions, she swore she felt the way your breath caught.

It should have felt new. It was new. She had never done this before, never been in this position with anyone. But somehow, it didn't feel unfamiliar.

It was like second nature, like her body knew exactly what to do without her having to think about it.

Maybe it was because she'd watched people do this before—had spent more time than she'd ever admit scrolling through videos, studying the way hands moved, the way mouths teased, the way lips wrapped around sensitive skin just like hers were doing now.

Or maybe it was just you.

Maybe it was the way you made everything feel so easy, so natural, like she was supposed to be here, like she was supposed to be doing this.

Your hands found their way into her hair, fingers threading through the strands, gripping just enough to make her feel it, to make her shiver.

And then—

"Fuck, Vada."

Hearing you say her name like that, breathless, desperate—God, it wrecked her.

Vada barely had time to process the effect it had on her before she felt your hands on her sides, fingertips pressing lightly, almost hesitantly, before they trailed up. The warmth of your touch sent a shiver through her, and when your fingers slipped under the hem of her hoodie, she swore her heart skipped a beat.

You didn't need to say anything. The way your hands lingered there, the way your thumbs brushed over the bare skin just above her waistband—it was enough. And she wanted it too.

She hesitated for just a second, her breath catching in her throat, before she pulled away just enough to reach for the fabric herself. In one smooth motion, she lifted the hoodie over her head, her hair falling messily around her shoulders as she tossed it somewhere—she didn't know, didn't care. Not when your hands were already reaching again, already touching her.

You started slow, fingertips grazing her shoulders, sliding under the straps of her bra. The touch was light, teasing, and yet it set every nerve in her body on fire.

She felt your fingers pause at the clasp.

Her breath hitched.

And then, slowly, so slowly, you worked it open.

The straps slipped down her arms, the fabric falling away, and then it was gone.

Vada wasn't sure what she expected—if she expected anything—but when she finally gathered the courage to meet your gaze, what she saw made her feel like her whole body had just been set ablaze.

You were staring.

Not just looking. Not just seeing. You were taking her in, eyes dark and hungry as you admired every inch of her.

Vada had never been in this position before—half-naked in someone's lap, completely exposed—but somehow, she didn't feel nervous. She should have, maybe. But the way you were looking at her... it was like you wanted her, like you needed her, like this moment had been building up for so long that neither of you could hold back anymore.

And when your hands found their way to her waist, gripping just a little tighter than before, pulling her back in like you had to, like you couldn't stand even a second apart—she swore she could have melted.

You pulled her back in, your lips meeting hers again, slow at first—like you were savoring her, like you wanted to take your time. Your hands traced gentle paths along her waist, your fingers spreading out over her bare skin, warm and steady, grounding her in a way that made her dizzy.

Vada let herself sink into it, let herself melt against you, let herself feel everything. The softness of your lips, the way your breath mixed with hers, the way her whole body felt like it was burning from just this.

And then, between kisses, your voice came, soft but certain, against her lips.

"You're beautiful."

It was so simple, yet it sent a rush through her that she hadn't expected.

She hadn't realized she needed to hear it—not until you said it.

A smile pulled at her lips, small at first, then wider as she let her forehead rest against yours for just a second, breathing you in. She knew she was beautiful, she'd been told before—but hearing it here, Now, from you? With your hands on her, your lips brushing against hers, your gaze still lingering like you meant it?

She didn't feel shy anymore.

She pressed another kiss to your lips, slower, deeper.

"I can't believe we're doing this," she murmured against your mouth, the words slipping out before she even realized she was saying them. But she didn't regret them. Because she couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that after all the teasing, all the stolen kisses, all the almosts—this was happening.

And God, she never wanted to stop.

Vada pulled back just enough to look at you, her breath warm against your lips, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded with something deeper than just desire. It was hunger—real, undeniable hunger—but beneath that, something softer, something nervous. Not because she didn't want this, but because she did—so much that it made her hands tremble slightly as they brushed over your bare sides.

Her gaze flickered over your face, searching, memorizing, as if she were trying to commit every second to memory. Because this was happening. Finally.

She swallowed hard, blinking down at you before her lips twitched into the smallest, almost shy smile. And then, she kissed you again—deeper, slower, savoring it. But it wasn't just that. It was purposeful. Like she had already made up her mind about something.

You felt it when she shifted, her hands smoothing over your sides, then lower, gripping your hips as she carefully slid back, slipping off of your lap and sinking to the floor between your legs.

Your breath hitched.

She kissed her way down as she moved, lingering at your jaw, your collarbone, your chest—her lips pressing reverent, open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin there. Then lower, down your stomach, her nose brushing against your skin, her breath warm, making you shiver as she went.

And then she stopped. Right at the waistband of your jeans.

Her fingers hovered there for a second, hesitating, before she glanced up at you.

Her lips were slightly parted, her pupils blown wide, and yet—her eyes searched yours, questioning, asking without words. She wasn't unsure about what she wanted, but she needed you to tell her. To say it.

You held her gaze, your chest rising and falling a little too fast, your skin still tingling from the way she had kissed her way down your body.

Then, finally, you nodded. And when you spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper—soft, but certain.

"Please."

That was all it took.

Vada let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and then—her fingers moved. The button of your jeans came undone, the zipper following soon after, and then—she was tugging them down, her hands warm, her touch careful but eager, as she pulled them off of you.

With your jeans gone, the only thing left on you was your underwear, a thin barrier between you and her. And Vada—she just stared.

Her breath was uneven as she reached for them, her fingers hesitating against the waistband, her nerves flickering back to life despite the overwhelming heat between you. But it wasn't uncertainty. It was something deeper.

Because this was it.

She was really about to see you. All of you.

Her lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking up to meet yours again, searching, almost like she was waiting for permission all over again. And you—God, you looked so good like this, half-naked on the couch, skin flushed, chest rising and falling just a little quicker than before. You weren't hesitant.

You weren't second-guessing anything. If anything, the way your lips curled into a soft, expectant smile—the way you lifted your hips slightly, giving her silent permission—only made Vada's heart hammer even harder against her ribs.

So she tugged them down.

Slowly. Carefully.

And then she saw it.

Her breath hitched, her fingers freezing against your thighs as she took you in.

Fuck.

She didn't know what she was expecting. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about this before, wasn't like she hadn't imagined it in the back of her mind on nights when she was alone, when the teasing had been too much, when she could still feel the ghost of your hands on her skin.

But seeing you—like this, bare and spread out before her—was something else entirely.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her wide, dark eyes flickering between your thighs, drinking in every detail, her hands still resting against the tops of them. She could feel the heat radiating from you, could see how wet you were, and it sent a dizzying rush straight through her.

God.

She almost laughed—half out of disbelief, half because she suddenly felt so overwhelmed, like her brain was short-circuiting, like she was having a hard time processing just how fucking gorgeous you were.

But all that slipped past her lips was a soft, breathless—

"Wow."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, filled with something almost reverent, almost awestruck.

You let out a quiet chuckle, your head tilting slightly, watching her, waiting for her to do something, say something more. But you didn't look embarrassed. You didn't try to shy away or cover yourself, didn't shift under her gaze like you were self-conscious about the way she was staring.

And that only made this even hotter.

Vada hovered her hands over your thighs, fingers twitching, like she wanted to touch you but wasn't sure if she was allowed to yet.

You reached down, running your fingers through her hair, tugging her closer, a silent encouragement. And when she finally touched you, sliding her hands up your legs, gripping your thighs and spreading them just a little wider—she swore she felt herself ache with need.

Because fuck—she wanted you.

All of you.

And now she was finally about to have you.

But just before she dove in, she looked up at you again, her lips slightly parted, brows furrowing as if she was only now realizing what she was about to do.

"Should I...? Do you want me to—"

The nervous energy crackled in her voice, a sharp contrast to the hunger in her eyes, and God, it would've been adorable if you weren't already aching for her.

You cut her off, your fingers still tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to get her attention.

"Vada, baby, please."

That was all she needed to hear.

"Right."

And then she did it.

She started slow. Tentative. Like she was testing the waters, figuring out what made you gasp, what made your fingers tighten in her hair. But she wasn't unsure. Far from it. She licked a slow stripe up your center, tasting you for the first time, and Jesus Christ, she nearly moaned.

You were so wet.

For her.

Her hands flexed against your thighs, gripping them as she let herself sink deeper into it, flattening her tongue, pressing in closer, wanting more.

And the sounds—God, the sounds you made.

The quiet gasps, the breathy little moans that slipped past your lips, the way you exhaled her name, voice shaky and wrecked—fuck.

She had never done this before. But somehow, she knew exactly what to do.

Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the way you reacted to her—your body arching, your breath hitching, the way your thighs tensed when she flicked her tongue just right. Or maybe it was the fact that she had definitely watched people do this before, studied the way they moved, imagined what it would be like.

Either way, she wasn't stopping.

Not when she had you like this—breathless, desperate, falling apart under her tongue.

And God, she loved this.

So she should've felt confident. The way you gasped, the way your body tensed, the way your fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer—it all should've been enough to tell her she was doing this right.

But still, she couldn't help the doubt creeping in, the slight hesitation in her movements as she pulled back just enough to look up at you.

"Does it feel good?" Her voice was soft, uncertain, lips glistening as she spoke.

You barely managed to open your eyes, your head still tipped back against the couch, breath coming in short, uneven pants. And God, Vada loved how wrecked you already looked.

Your fingers twitched in her hair, tightening just a little. Keeping her there.

"Mhm." You nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "Baby, it's great."

That should've been enough for her.

But she still watched you, eyes flickering between your face and the way your chest rose and fell, like she was waiting for more.

And you could feel it—the slight hesitation, the way she was still holding back. Still unsure.

So you tugged her in closer, your voice coming out rushed, almost pleading.

"Please, continue."

And fuck, that flipped something in her.

Any hesitation she had before—gone.

She dove back in with renewed hunger, her hands gripping your thighs tighter as she flattened her tongue, moving with more confidence this time. More intent.

And when she felt your fingers tighten in her hair again, pushing her down just the slightest bit, guiding her to exactly where you needed her most—God, she nearly groaned against you.

Because that told her everything she needed to know.

You wanted more.

And she was more than happy to give it to you.

Vada never considered herself patient, but she took her time now—partly because she wanted to savor this, and partly because she was still figuring it out. But she knew one thing for certain: she wanted this. Wanted you. And judging by the way your body tensed beneath her, the way your breath hitched every time she moved, she was doing something right.

Her hands gripped your thighs, thumbs tracing slow circles against your skin, grounding herself as she let her mouth explore. She started off careful, tentative, trying to gauge your reactions. But the second she heard your sharp inhale, the quiet, breathy "Oh—" that slipped out before you could stop it, something in her ignited.

She pressed in deeper, her movements growing more confident, more eager, and she felt the way you responded instantly. Your fingers curled into her hair, not pulling, just holding, tugging her closer. And fuck, that did something to her. The idea that you wanted her right there, wanted more of her.

And God, she wanted to give you everything.

Your head tipped back against the couch, a shaky breath escaping as you murmured, "Oh yeah, that's good." Your voice was unsteady, like you were barely able to get the words out, and that was all the encouragement Vada needed.

Her grip on your thighs tightened, holding you still as she settled into a rhythm, pushing past her nerves, following nothing but instinct now. The more she gave, the more she wanted—you were warm, soft, intoxicating beneath her, and hearing those quiet sounds fall from your lips only made her more determined.

She could feel your breath coming quicker, the rise and fall of your chest growing uneven, and when your fingers in her hair tightened—really tightened—she felt another rush of pride surge through her.

And when she heard you whimper her name, that was it.

Vada swore she could've stayed like this forever.

But it was clear you couldn't.

The way your thighs started to tremble, the way your breath hitched on every exhale, coming out in these ragged little gasps—it told her everything. You were unraveling, slipping closer and closer to the edge, and fuck, she could feel it. The heat of you, the way your body arched into her touch, desperate, pleading without words.

And then there was the way your hands had tightened in her hair, no longer just holding but gripping, like you were keeping yourself grounded. Like the pleasure was so overwhelming you needed something—someone—to hold onto. The realization made something deep inside her clench, a rush of pride, excitement, maybe even disbelief washing over her all at once.

She was the one making you feel this good.

She was the one drawing out these breathy little moans, these broken gasps, the soft, helpless whimpers that sent a shiver down her spine.

You rocked against her, chasing the feeling, chasing more, and she let you, gripping your thighs as she worked her tongue in slow, deliberate motions.

Vada never wanted to stop.

But then your hips stuttered—just slightly, just enough for her to notice. Your breath hitched sharply, and the hand buried in her hair tugged before you let out a shaky, "Fuck, I'm close."

Your voice, wrecked and desperate, sent a bolt of heat straight through her, but she didn't dare slow down. Instead, she gripped your thighs, keeping you in place, letting herself sink even deeper into the moment.

You needed this.

And God, she needed it too.

Vada didn't let up.

If anything, hearing you say that only spurred her on. She flattened her tongue against you, dragging it slowly before flicking the tip against your most sensitive spot. She could feel the way your body reacted, the way your thighs tensed beneath her palms, your hips jerking up ever so slightly like you couldn't help it.

She did it again—slow, teasing, before switching back to those quick, precise flicks, alternating between the two until she felt you start to tremble. The way you whimpered, the way your fingers tightened in her hair, almost pulling her closer, told her you needed more, needed her to keep going just like this.

So she did.

She wrapped her lips around you, sucking gently, adding just the slightest pressure as her tongue moved against you in tight, perfect circles. You let out this soft, strangled moan, your thighs twitching against her, and fuck, that sound—Vada swore she could feel it, deep in her chest, in her stomach, everywhere.

She didn't know how she was doing this so well, didn't know how she knew exactly what you needed—but she wasn't questioning it. Not when you sounded like this.

And then you broke.

Your body tensed, thighs clamping around Vada's head as a sharp, breathless moan escaped you. Your fingers tightened in her hair, pulling just enough to make her whimper against you, but she didn't stop—not yet. She kept her tongue moving, guiding you through it, slow and deliberate, savoring every second as you came undone beneath her.

She could feel it—the way your stomach clenched, the way your hips stuttered before finally stilling, the way your breath came in short, uneven gasps. She didn't stop until she felt you physically twitch from the sensitivity, until you exhaled a shaky, "Vada—" that sounded so sweet, so wrecked, that she had to listen.

Only then did she finally pull away, lips glistening, pupils blown wide as she looked up at you. And God, she had never seen anything more beautiful.

You were still trying to catch your breath, chest rising and falling unevenly, body still warm and buzzing from the aftermath. Your head was tilted back against the couch, lips slightly parted, eyes half-lidded as you blinked down at her. You looked completely wrecked in the best way, and Vada could not stop staring.

She stayed between your legs, grinning softly, her own breath still uneven. There was something so intoxicating about seeing you like this, knowing she had been the one to get you there. It made her stomach twist in the best way.

After a moment, she tilted her head, eyes flickering up to yours, and asked, almost shyly, "Was that good?"

You let out a breathy chuckle, still dazed. "Amazing, baby."

And God, Vada swore she could've melted.

But then you spoke.

"My turn."

Vada's grin faltered for just a second at your words, her breath hitching as realization settled in. Your turn.

You had finally caught your breath, but she lost hers.

She stayed between your legs for a moment longer, her hands resting on your thighs, but now there was a shift—something in the air that made her shiver. You reached for her, fingers curling around her wrist as you guided her up, and she followed without hesitation.

You kissed her again, slow and deep, before gently maneuvering her until she was straddling your thigh, her knees pressing into the couch on either side of you. She was already breathing heavier, already so affected by just the idea of what was coming next.

Her hands found your shoulders for balance, and you smoothed yours down her sides, over the curve of her waist, before sliding them lower. Your voice was soft, but certain—confident—when you said, "I want to make you feel good too."

And just like that, Vada felt like she could combust.

Your hands dipped lower, fingers working at the button of her jeans. It wasn't the easiest thing to do with the way she was straddling you, but you didn't seem to mind the challenge. Neither did she. If anything, it made her pulse race faster.

She bit her lip as you popped the button open, then dragged the zipper down. But when you tried to push them down her hips, the angle made it impossible. She huffed a soft laugh, already desperate to get them off.

"I should probably—" she mumbled, already moving before she could finish the thought.

You let her go, watching as she stood, hurriedly shoving her jeans down her legs. They pooled at her ankles, and she kicked them off, nearly stumbling in her rush. A breathless giggle escaped her lips as she caught her balance.

Her hands were already at the waistband of her underwear, but before she could do it herself, you reached forward, hooking your fingers there.

"Let me."

She swallowed hard, nodding, letting you pull them down in one slow, smooth motion.

And now she was bare for you. Just as you had been for her.

She was already moving back toward you before she even thought about it, climbing into your lap again, her breathing uneven as she settled against you—closer than before, warmer than before.

And God, she needed you.

The moment she settled back onto your lap, you pulled her in for a kiss—deep, slow, intoxicating. Your tongue brushed against hers, and she whimpered softly into your mouth, her hands gripping your shoulders for stability.

Your hands didn't stay still for long. They traced their way up her sides, fingertips ghosting over her waist, her stomach—warm, soft, nervous. She shivered under your touch, but she didn't pull away. If anything, she pressed in closer.

And then your hands cupped her breasts.

Her breath hitched—sharp, surprised, new. No one had ever touched her like this before. Not anyone else. Not even close. The only hands that had ever roamed this part of her body were her own, and this was so different. This was you.

Her lips parted against yours, a soft, shuddering exhale slipping free.

You parted from the kiss, your breath mingling with hers as your hands settled on her hips, thumbs smoothing over her warm skin. Your eyes met hers—dark, wanting, hungry, but underneath it all, there was something else. Something softer.

Love.

And then, in one fluid motion, you shifted, guiding her onto her back against the couch, your body hovering over hers. Her breath hitched again, eyes wide for only a second before a grin tugged at her lips—God, she loved this. She loved you.

Her legs instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you in as her hands slid up your arms. But when your hand moved down between her legs, she shuddered, her grip faltering as her thighs loosened slightly around you, just enough to give you the access you wanted.

Your fingers trailed down, brushing over the heat of her, feeling how warm, how wet she was for you. The slightest touch had Vada sucking in a breath, her stomach tensing as her hips shifted instinctively toward you. Her eyes fluttered shut for a second, like she was trying to process it, to hold onto the feeling, but she forced them back open, locking onto yours. She needed to see you. Needed to watch you.

You kept your touch light, teasing, dragging your fingertips along her inner thigh before moving back to where she was desperate for you. Her body reacted instantly—another sharp breath, the way her fingers dug into your arms, holding on like she needed something to ground herself. And maybe she did.

"Is this okay?" you murmured, your voice softer than ever, filled with nothing but care. The way you looked at her, the way you asked—like she was something delicate, something that mattered more than anything else in the world—it made her dizzy.

Vada swore she could've come just from that. Just from you.

She tried to answer, but her throat felt too tight, the words tangled somewhere inside her. So she just nodded, quick, almost frantic, because yes, yes, she wanted this, needed this.

And then you pushed in.

Two fingers, slow but certain, sinking into her with ease. The air left her lungs in a sharp, broken gasp, her head tipping back against the pillow as a sound she'd never made before slipped out of her mouth. Her body clenched around you, hot and tight, and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel.

Couldn't do anything but feel.

Your fingers moved with purpose, slow at first, letting her adjust, letting her take it all in. The way you filled her, the way your touch sent warmth spiraling through her body—it was overwhelming, almost too much, but she didn't want it to stop.

A sharp, breathless sound escaped her as you curled your fingers, pressing against something deep inside her that made her entire body jolt. Her hands clutched at your arms, her nails digging into your skin, as she let out something between a gasp and a moan.

Your face was so close to hers, your breath ghosting over her lips, hot and unsteady. She could feel you, all of you—your hands, your mouth, the way your body pressed into hers, keeping her grounded even as everything inside her felt like it was unraveling.

Her mouth fell open, but no words came, only the broken sounds of pleasure slipping past her lips. It was nothing like she imagined—no idle fantasy could have prepared her for the way you touched her, the way you knew exactly what she needed.

You whispered something to her, voice low and soothing, and she barely processed the words. All she knew was that she wanted more. That she never wanted this moment to end.

A shuddering breath left her lips before she could stop it, her whole body tightening as your fingers pressed deeper. "Fuck." The word slipped out before she even realized she was saying it, half-whispered, half-moan, raw with desperation.

She didn't know what to grab. Her hands twitched, searching for something, anything to hold onto, but the couch beneath her wasn't enough. Her fingers curled into the fabric, gripping tight, but it didn't ground her—it only made her more aware of how good this felt.

Her hips moved instinctively, chasing the pressure, grinding against your fingers as heat curled low in her stomach. It was intoxicating, the way you touched her, the way you watched her. She could barely keep her eyes open, barely form a coherent thought, but that didn't stop the words from spilling out of her mouth, breathless and unfiltered.

"Jesus—God—that's—fuck, you're so—" A strangled whimper cut her off as you curled your fingers again, hitting that spot that made her body jolt. "So good."

Her voice was shaking, her breath uneven, and she couldn't stop herself, couldn't stop the way she was moving against you, couldn't stop the way she needed more.

Her fingers clawed weakly at the couch cushion behind her, nails dragging against the fabric as her hips moved in rhythm with your hand. Her head tilted back, lips parted, breaths choppy and uneven. She kept trying to say something, kept opening her mouth like the words were there—right there—but all that came out were broken sounds, strangled moans that cracked in her throat.

And then, between gasps, she finally said it—barely audible, like it slipped out without permission.

"I've thought about this," she breathed, voice hoarse and raw. "So many times."

You didn't stop, just kept your pace steady, fingers dragging in and out of her with that perfect angle, that perfect pressure that made her thighs tense around you. Her stomach flexed with every wave that built, and her eyes fluttered open—just barely—to find yours.

There was a flicker of something deeper behind her dazed expression. Lust, obviously. But also disbelief. Awe.

"Not like this though," she managed, her voice catching in her throat. "Not this good."

Her gaze dropped to where your hand was moving between her legs, the slick sounds of it only making everything more intense. She looked at your fingers like she couldn't believe what they were doing to her—how deep they were, how wet they were. Her jaw trembled, and her eyes rolled back again as another moan tore from her.

Vada's legs were starting to shake around your waist, but her hips kept moving anyway—needy and uncoordinated, like her body didn't care how far gone she already was. Her head lolled to the side, teeth catching her bottom lip, but she couldn't bite back the moan that spilled out next. Her hand slid from the couch to your arm, gripping like she needed something to anchor her.

"I used to think about this so much," she panted, eyes blinking slowly, trying to keep them open. "Like... I'd imagine you touching me, sometimes when I couldn't sleep, or when I was just—" She broke off for a second, the pleasure crashing over her words. "I never thought it'd feel like this. I thought I'd be nervous, or too in my head—"

"Baby," you murmured, your voice low and uneven, but she kept talking, trying to push through it even as her body clenched tighter around your fingers.

"—but it's just you, and it feels—fuck—it feels so—"

"Vada."

Her name landed like a spark on her skin. Her voice died out, breath catching in her throat, and the sound that left her was more of a moan than a response.

"Yes?" she whispered, almost a whine, her eyes fluttering shut and then open again like she couldn't decide if she wanted to look at you or just fall apart.

Your lips hovered close to hers—so close she could feel your breath in her mouth, warm and shallow. The only thing separating a kiss was your restraint. Your nose grazed hers. And she could feel how breathless you were too, though not quite as wrecked as she was. Not yet.

"Please shut up," you said, barely more than a breath, but you were smirking—hot and slow—like it was a warning and a tease at the same time.

Vada didn't argue. Her breath caught again. She went quiet instantly, and the look in her eyes made it clear she liked that. Liked how wrecked she felt under you. Liked that you could still manage control even when she couldn't.

And you didn't stop.

Your fingers curled up inside her with practiced pressure, the pads dragging against that one spot that had her breath catching every time. You didn't let her hips escape you either—your free hand slid up her side to hold her in place, your palm splayed flat just under her ribs as she squirmed.

Vada let out a choked moan, her nails digging into your bicep now, trying to hold on to something as her thighs tensed around your waist again. Her body was too responsive to hide anything—every time your fingers thrust in, slow but deep, her whole chest jolted forward, her back arching off the couch in little jerks she couldn't control. Her head tipped back hard against the cushion, exposing her throat, her mouth slack with whimpers that kept slipping out between her gasps.

You dipped your head, lips grazing along her jaw, your breath brushing her ear as your fingers pumped faster. You didn't need to look to know how wet she was—you could feel it, slick and warm, coating your fingers and dripping down over your knuckles.

And her face—god, her face. She looked like she was losing it.

Her brows were furrowed, cheeks flushed, lips trembling as she tried to breathe through it. But she couldn't keep still. Her hips were chasing every motion of your hand, grinding into your palm like she needed more, needed it harder, deeper, anything. Her thighs clenched around you again, tighter this time, and a broken curse left her mouth.

"F-fuck—"

Her voice cracked halfway through it. Her whole body stuttered, trembling under your weight, and her hands flew to your shoulders now, clutching at you, nails scraping lightly down your skin like she couldn't hold herself back anymore. And that's when you knew—she was right at the edge.

So you stayed right there, fingers moving with purpose now, pushing in just a little deeper, curling up just right. You let her ride it out, your face still so close to hers that you could feel every unsteady breath against your lips. Your name tumbled out of her mouth like a plea, broken and urgent, over and over again.

And then her whole body seized—legs locking, mouth falling open in a silent moan before the sound finally caught in her throat.

She came hard.

You felt it all—every twitch, every clench around your fingers as her orgasm tore through her. Her whole body arched beneath you, thighs trembling, her chest rising fast as her moans broke apart into gasps she couldn't catch. It hit her so suddenly and so deep that she was left stunned, lips parted like she was still trying to speak, but nothing came out.

You didn't pull away, not right away. You kept your fingers buried inside her, letting her ride out the aftershocks as her body spasmed beneath you. Slower now, gentler, your touch shifted—fingertips stroking her from the inside, coaxing every last ripple of pleasure until she was too sensitive to take it.

Only then did you ease your hand away, and her legs fell open, limp and trembling. Her hands slipped down from your shoulders, dragging weakly across your back as her body sagged into the couch like she had no bones left to hold her up.

Her chest was still heaving.

Her skin was flushed.

And her eyes—when she finally blinked them open—were glassy, dazed, and somehow still locked on you. You leaned down, brushing your lips against her jaw before you settled over her again, your hands gentle now as they smoothed up her sides.

Vada was smiling.

Barely, lazily, breathlessly.

She looked wrecked. And it was maybe the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

Still catching her breath, she gave a quiet laugh, lips twitching like she couldn't quite form real words yet. But she tried.

"Holy shit."

You kissed the side of her mouth, slow and warm, and when you pulled back, she finally looked at you fully—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, hair messy against the cushions.

And then, with a small smirk and a husky voice, she whispered, "I can't feel my legs."

You didn't say anything right away. Just let yourself look at her, really look—at the way her lashes stuck together at the corners from the wetness in her eyes, at the little flush still lingering across her cheeks and chest. Your hand moved without thinking, gently brushing sweaty strands of hair back from her face. She leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a second like even that soft contact was too much.

Still breathing heavily, Vada shifted slightly beneath you, her thighs twitching in aftershocks as she tried to get comfortable again. She winced a little, laughing under her breath as her body reminded her just how hard she'd come. You whispered something close to her ear—some soft murmur that made her smile—but mostly, you stayed quiet. Let the silence settle around you both.

Eventually, you started to move. Carefully. Slowly pulling her underwear back up her legs, tucking her in again like you were scared she'd break. She watched you, dazed but glowing, her fingers brushing against your arm as you helped her. When you sat back down beside her, she immediately curled into your side, her head resting against your shoulder like it belonged there. Her breathing was steadier now, but you could still feel the occasional hitch in her chest when your fingertips moved over her bare skin.

You let your hand rest on her stomach, your thumb tracing idle little circles as you both just... lay there. Warm. Spent. Close.

And then she tilted her face up toward yours again, eyes half-lidded and mouth pink from all the kissing and gasping and biting down on moans. Her voice was rough, still catching on the tail end of her own breathlessness.

"Can we do that again?"

halfmoonaria's masterlist

started: january 21st 2024 last posted: january 3rd 2025

jenna ortega stalker life on stage superstar

tara carpenter return reason unanswered ↳unanswered II what i can't say ↳what i can't undo this christmas, without us

cairo sweet testify chasing ignorant her own undoing

sam carpenter not allowed ↳not allowed II when she lied to see you

Caves are weirder and more varied than you think

Imagine jinx as a streamer and a female reader BUT jinx's fans don't know that jinx has a gf and when reader walks into the live the chat goes wild😱😱

𝐒 𝐓 𝐑 𝐄 𝐀 𝐌 𝐄 𝐑 ! 𝐉 𝐈 𝐍 𝐗

you’re woken up to the distant shouts of your girlfriend, jinx. you know she’s a streamer, it’s something she kind of flaunts — it’s one of the first things you knew about her. while her content isn’t necessarily the type you’d like, you welcome it nonetheless.

you welcome it until it wakes you up in the middle of the night.

scratchy, high pitched shrieks rattle through your thin walls, and you just know what she’s doing.

you’d both come to the mutual agreement that she has to keep quiet when it comes down to streaming, especially at night.

you roll over, searching for the clock with your fluttering eyes.

2:31AM.

aka far too early to be yelling like this.

groaning, you roll over, grasping at the twisted duvet to unravel it from your legs. the cold floor meets your feet, and you cringe at the sudden shiver shooting up your legs.

using your phones flashlight, you navigate the halls, listening as her voice grows louder and louder.

you swing open the door, not even realising you’d be caught on camera — and there you are, in the distant corner.

“jinx.” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest bitterly. she whips her head around, braids smacking the side of her face with the force.

“sweets!”

“don’t you sweets me, jinx,” you sigh, leaning your weight on the shared doorframe. “you’ve woken me up. again. it’s 2 in the morning!”

you throw your arms up for emphasis, and it’s only then you hear the distant ping, the sound custom to one of jinx’s favourite songs.

‘u never said u had a girlfriend lol’ a $5 donation. your face flushes, and they continue coming in.

‘SHE HAS A GIRLFRIEND????’ $15.

‘lmaoo jinx got the thousand yard stare’ $50.

the live chat is going far too quick for you to read all the comments, but the donation comments are enough to tell you what everyone else has to say.

with a flick of jinx's wrist, she’s gesturing you over. when you hesitate she continues, nodding her head to guide you over. dejected, you saunter over, taking her hand in your own.

“my girlfriend guys!” she beams, taking her hand from your own to squish your cheeks, framing your face to the camera. “aren’t ya jelly? i’m too lucky.”

you swat her away, giggling when she doesn’t let up, pinching your cheeks between her fingers.

“gross.” you scrunch your nose playfully at her.

‘blink twice if ur being held hostage LMAOO’ $1.

of course you blink twice, and that’s enough to convince jinx to balk and shove you away.

“dude, you’re gonna get me demonetized!”

“if that means you’ll come to bed, i’ll take it.” you quip, pinching her cheek back.

zib zib to be cringe is to be free jinx says whilst tucking her hair behind her ear this wasnt proofread btw

This is actually beautiful Tell me your secrets

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Description: In the aftermath of Mr. Miller's heartrending rejection, A newcomer has arrived in rural Tennessee, bringing a touch of indulgence that resonates all the way to Cairo.

Chapter Four

You gently closed the book you were reading, rolling over in Cairo's bed to give her your full attention. "Yeah?" you answered, curious about what she had to say.

"Would you like to go to the Fall Ball together?" Cairo asked, her voice soft yet direct.

Part of you had been waiting for her to ask, but the way she phrased it caught you off guard. It sounded more like a friendly invitation than the romantic proposition you had imagined. Nevertheless, you knew deep down that you'd rather go with her than with Winnie, regardless of how she asked.

"Sure," you replied with a smile, masking your slight disappointment. "You never told me why you decided to attend, but I think I know now," you added, trying to lighten the mood with a hint of playful curiosity.

"Well, I just thought it might be nice to get back out there or something," Cairo deflected, her words lacking conviction. You nodded quietly, feeling a pang of disappointment at her response. Deep down, you sensed she was hiding something, but you couldn't quite decipher if it was because she didn't want Winnie to ask you instead or if there was a different reason altogether.

"I'm gonna head to bed," you announced simply, eager to distance yourself from the uneasy exchange. Cairo's frustration with your inscrutability was evident; she despised your ability to remain unreadable, leaving her to wonder about your thoughts and whether you were onto her crush.

"It's early," Cairo protested as you made to leave. You merely shrugged, leaving the conversation hanging in the air as you retreated to your own thoughts.

"Fuck," Cairo whispered to herself as she closed her door, already missing your presence and the warmth you brought to her bed. Moving to her bedside dresser, she lifted the small slab where she kept her cigarettes and other personal items, including a piece of clothing you had left behind—a tank top she had secretly claimed for herself. Bringing it to her nose, she inhaled deeply, reveling in your lingering scent with a soft sigh.

Lost in her thoughts, Cairo began to imagine what it would be like if you were with her right now, kissing her passionately and perhaps even more. But as she indulged in these fantasies, a wave of self-loathing washed over her. She realized just how infatuated she was with you, and she despised herself for it. Maybe, she thought bitterly, she should just let Winnie have you, sparing herself the torment of unrequited feelings.

She folded the tank top with care, placing it back under the slab before shutting the drawer with a sigh. Standing there for a moment, Cairo wrestled with conflicting thoughts before ultimately making a decision she knew she would berate herself for later.

With a resigned sigh, she crossed the hall to your room, her heart pounding with nervous anticipation. Gently knocking on your door, she waited for your response, feeling a surge of relief when you answered.

"Yeah?" you responded, still awake but clearly attempting to drift off to sleep.

Cairo pushed the door open slowly, her hand fidgeting nervously behind her back. "I was thinking... we could have a little Saturday night sleepover, if that's okay. It's fine if you decline," she said softly, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability amidst her attempt at nonchalance.

You sat up on the bed, peering at Cairo over your legs with a faint smile playing on your lips. "Come here," you beckoned softly, and Cairo felt her stomach somersault as she obediently crawled onto the bed towards you.

"Now you're sleeping over," you declared with a warm smile, and Cairo couldn't help but mirror your expression. In that moment, bathed in the soft glow of the room, she realized just how deeply she cared for you. But the realization sent a jolt of panic through her, and she quickly averted her gaze, unable to confront the overwhelming truth.

Cairo was a river of denial, her heart torn between the longing for your affection and the fear of acknowledging her feelings for you. But as she settled into the warmth of your embrace, she couldn't help but wonder if denying her love for you was simply an exercise in futility.

"So, what are you wearing to the ball?" Cairo asked, trying to distract herself from the tumult of emotions swirling within her.

"My mother's dress. It's the only dress I own. Wanna see it?" you offered, your voice tinged with a hint of excitement.

"I think I'd rather see you in it on the day of," Cairo replied quickly, her heart racing at the mere thought of seeing you in that dress now. She knew that if she saw you in it, she might just lose control over her feelings.

"Fair enough," you conceded with a smile. "What about you? What are you wearing to the ball?" you asked, redirecting the conversation.

"Possibly a pantsuit. Wanted to be a little more modest," Cairo answered, her tone tinged with a hint of self-consciousness.

"A suit... you'd look..." you trailed off, your mind conjuring an image of Cairo in a sleek pantsuit, but you hesitated to articulate your thoughts.

"Look like what?" Cairo pressed, her curiosity piqued by your unfinished statement.

"I don't know yet," you replied evasively, masking the truth of what you truly thought. In reality, you knew exactly how stunning Cairo would look in a suit, but you weren't willing to admit it, not when Cairo had maintained a certain distance from you. This reluctance to acknowledge your feelings irritated Cairo, evident in the subtle tension that hung between you.

"You do know you just won't tell me," Cairo blurted out, her frustration evident in her tone as she took the first step in vulnerability, allowing herself to be emotionally upset.

"What's it to you? You already know everything anyhow," you replied casually, shrugging off her accusation.

"You can't just start a sentence and then leave everything hanging," Cairo insisted, her gaze piercing into you with intensity.

"I can. Many great writers do it... What do you want me to say, Cairo? I don't like arguing with someone I'm living with," you responded, attempting to diffuse the tension with a touch of humor, though the underlying unease remained palpable between you.

Cairo moved closer to you, her breath mingling with yours as your noses nearly touched. "I want you to tell me what you were going to say," she demanded, her eyes locked with yours, radiating determination.

Feeling the pressure intensify, you held your ground, unwilling to concede. As Cairo's proximity enveloped you, you sensed the electric tension between you. But you couldn't let her win.

Leaning in slightly, you ghosted her lips, teasingly close. Then, with a sudden motion, you placed a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her away. Cairo's expression shifted to one of embarrassment, her mind fogged up from the closeness of your lips. For a moment, she nearly forgot the whole ordeal.

"I think I'd rather tell you on the day of," you said with a smirk, mocking her earlier refusal to reveal her plans. The playful jab served to diffuse the tension, albeit leaving Cairo flustered.

Your phone suddenly rang, interrupting the charged atmosphere between you and Cairo. As you answered the call, Cairo watched you closely, her thoughts swirling with unease. Why couldn't Winnie just leave you alone?

As you excused yourself to take the call in the bathroom, Cairo's suspicions only grew stronger. The tension in the air was palpable, and she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of her stomach. Was there something more between you and Winnie? Or was it simply Cairo's own insecurities taking hold?

As you answered the phone, you were met with unexpected sounds of moans and whimpers. "Hello? Winnie?" you said, your confusion evident in your voice.

"Oh, Y/n... Please, I need you. God, I just want you. I don't understand why you won't go to that ball with me," Winnie's voice came through, filled with desperation and longing. The implications of her words left you stunned, and you could only imagine what she might be doing on the other end of the line.

Feeling a surge of discomfort and unease, you struggled to respond, unsure of how to navigate the situation. The tension in the air thickened, and you couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to become even more complicated.

You decided not to engage with Winnie, especially given the strange circumstances of her call. As you emerged from the bathroom and settled back onto your bed next to Cairo, she couldn't help but notice your demeanor.

"What'd she want?" Cairo inquired, her gaze fixed on you, searching for any hint of what transpired during the call.

"She was begging me to go to the ball thing with her or something," you replied with a sigh, casually reaching for your water bottle on the nightstand.

"Oh yeah, she can be stubborn... What'd you say to her?" Cairo asked, her curiosity evident as she observed your body language closely.

"I just hung up," you replied nonchalantly, leaving out the finer details. Cairo sensed there was more to the story, but she didn't press further. While she harbored her own dislike for Winnie, seeing you hang up on her was a small victory. Still, she couldn't shake the nagging desire to understand the full extent of what had transpired.

Cairo hummed softly as you both settled under the covers, the quiet of the room embracing you. She was pleasantly surprised when you moved closer, a tender gesture that caught her off guard.

Playing with a lock of her hair, you recited, "Mirror of the night, your eyes green swords inside my flesh, waves between our hands."

"Mirror of the night?" Cairo echoed, leaning into your touch.

"It's from a poem I read today," you explained, your voice soft as you continued to caress her hair.

"I love it," Cairo responded with a soft smile, her eyes meeting yours with affection.

You smiled back, the connection between you palpable in the gentle intimacy of the moment. "I shall shut my eyes for slumber," you yawned, adding a whimsical touch with an English accent that elicited a chuckle from Cairo. As you both drifted off to sleep, Cairo felt grateful for the closeness you shared, even in the simplest of moments.

Oh so close but yet so far.

Sister Michael could have handled the yellowjackets but coach Ben could not handle the Derry Girls

Your child calls her mom for the first time

Jenna Ortega x fem!reader TW: just pure cuteness <3

Jenna glanced away from the TV and to your little girl on the couch beside her, noticing that she was so tired that she was struggling to keep her eyes open despite how excited she'd been to watch this movie a little while ago.

It was no surprise though.

Bedtime is always eight o'clock for Amelia but since you had to work late tonight, Jenna let her stay up a few extra minutes, as long as it was their little secret.

Amelia had been pretty excited about that. But it's ten minutes after eight and she's already falling asleep.

"Are you tired, honey?" Jenna asked, and Amelia nodded before reaching out to Jenna to pick her up.

She chuckled before turning the TV off and bringing her into her arms.

"I've got you", she carried her up the stairs and turned the light on in her room so she wouldn't trip over her toys scattered across the floor.

"I'll help you pick those up tomorrow", Jenna whispered as she gently placed Amelia on her bed. She brought her blankets up to her shoulders and sent Amelia a little smile.

"Go to sleep. Your mom will be home soon and I'm sure she'll come tell you goodnight when she gets here."

"Okay," Amelia said before reaching for Jenna's hand. It melted her heart.

She's been trying so hard to form a bond with your five-year-old daughter because your relationship is getting stronger day by day. Since Amelia's dad hasn't ever been in the picture, having left months before she was born, you've been anxious about letting anyone get too close because it doesn't impact you if they leave, it impacts Amelia as well.

But Jenna's the one for you and you're the one for her, you both know that wholeheartedly.

All that Jenna wants is for Amelia to love her and know that she's always going to be there for her whenever she needs her and she'll never leave.

"Did you have fun today while your mom was at work?" Jenna wondered.

The two of them had spent the whole day together.

Jenna let Amelia decide how they spent the day and it mostly consisted of watching cartoons, having a tea party, and Jenna reading her stories from Amelia's bookshelf.

"Yeah," Amelia replied with a bright but tired smile.

"Good, so did I. Now go to sleep, okay? I'm just going to be down the hall if you need me".

Amelia nodded and Jenna pulled her hand away from her tinier one and kissed her forehead softly, making her giggle.

"Goodnight princess. Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite"

"I love you, Mom," Jenna froze as she stared at Amelia, her heart about to burst as she replayed what the five-year-old had just said.

"I love you too" Jenna whispered.

"I love you more, Mom" Jenna giggled and blinked away the tears in her eyes as she shook her head.

"Impossible. I love you most, now go to sleep" Jenna held back the tears of happiness in her eyes as she turned on Amelia's nightlight, turned off the light over her bed, and then stepped out of the room after closing the door almost all the way.

She went down the hall to your room, knowing that you would be home soon.

Through the blur of her tears and with her big smile on her face, she texted you excitedly.

"She called me mom!" she grinned proudly.

This was the very first time Amelia had ever called her that and it meant everything to her. Her phone chimed and she picked it up again to see you had texted back.

"That's so adorable! I knew she would in time. I'll be home in about ten minutes and I want you to tell me everything! I love you!"

"I love you too, baby" She texted back before setting her phone down and laying back on the mattress.

She'd never forget this day for as long as she lived.

You and Amelia are her whole world and hearing her call her mom meant the world and more to her.

She was truly the happiest woman in the entire world and felt so thankful for you and Amelia; her beautiful little family.

oh my GOD-

Jinx and her skilled fingers

i think i’m actually speechless why can’t she just be real here as my rock star girlfriend i can’t stop STARING. HEEEELP

this artest captured her essence so well it’s incredible 😭🙌

Cant forget this

》ғʀɪᴅᴀʏ ɪ'ᴍ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ《

Mary Ann x fem!reader

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Song: Friday I'm in Love - The Cure Summary: After the events of the failed Pet Wash, Mary Ann gets slightly jealous and R reminisces. Warnings: fem!reader, green-dyed pets, Mary Ann being jealous, adorable, fluffy, no animals were harmed in the making of this one-shot (green dye), is much more different than I had imagined in my mind Requested by: Requested Words: 3.8k

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It was green.

Everywhere your eyes landed as you seemed to turn in a full circle as if in slow motion, was green. You had no clue how they managed to turn Princess Flufferina green or how they did the same to the dog, rabbit, pig and bird but they had all become the vivid colour of green, their colours or lack thereof being completely blended into green.

You looked down at Princess Flufferina in your arms, your eyebrows furrowed. You could've sworn, bet your life on it that she had been a beautiful snow white only a moment ago. You were certain that she hadn't had a speck of colour on her fur, besides the small particles of dirt. You took a moment to glance towards Mary Ann, who had now begun leaning backwards on her heels, looking anywhere but at you. Alfalfa doing the same when your eyes landed on him, but unlike Mary Ann, he had been covered in the dye himself.

The silence was almost deafening as you looked back down at the now green cat, "I was gone for five minutes, how did this happen?" Your glare made its way to Spanky as your index finger now pointed in his direction, your voice coming out sharp, "What did you do?"

Spanky glanced behind him, before pointing towards himself as his eyes returned to yours, "Me?" Spanky's voice squeaked as he lifted his hands in surrender, the hands that were conveniently covered entirely in the evidence, "What makes you think it was me?" You raised an eyebrow at the vivid colour that seemed to stain his hands, causing him to quickly put them behind his back as he smiled innocently, before his eyes settled onto Mary Ann, his face now that of a pleading child.

You were quick to deposit Princess Flufferina into Mary Ann's arms, pointing towards all the animals in the garage's proximity, "Now I ask again Spanky," you glare at the boy fiercely, "What did you do?"

The boy looked away his voice becoming small, "Someone, and I'm not naming names, may have added green dye instead of soap."

"Would that someone happen to be... Oh, I don't know," You stalked closer, pretending to think of the matter, as you tapped your chin before you crossed your arms completely, a glare still adorning your face, "You?"

"Maybe..." Spanky avoided eye contact, afraid of being turned into stone from the fierce glare he was receiving, before squeaking out, "Yes."

You had always been the oldest rascal, having been a year older than the others since you had started school a year later than all the other kids. Your first ever friend had been Mary Ann, who had despite your usual standoffish personality, continued her endeavour to be your friend, which in terms made you closer with the rest of the rascals who were all too happy to have another rascal in their midst, even if you were a bit bossy at times.

Spanky closed his eyes at your potential rath, Alfalfa taking a step back. You had always felt the need to be the responsible one in the group, especially when it came to ideas presented by Spanky, most of his ideas seemingly ending in trouble, the kind that you always had to fix.

You glanced at Mary Ann, who was petting the cat in her arms, causing you to sigh softly, your eyes returning to the slightly frightened boy. "Firestar better not have a speck of green on his orange fur Spanky or so help me god," Your eyes narrowed, "Now where is he?"

The cat purred as it made its way up to you. You were quick to gently pick him up observing every inch of his orange fur for any green dye, before sighing in relief, which in terms made Spanky reciprocate the action. The orange cat snuggling closer into your arms, as your hold seemed to slacken, "See he's perfectly fine," Spanky inputted as he cleared his throat.

You glared at him slightly, your glare less deadly than before, now that you knew Firestar hadn't suffered from Spanky's obviously failed pet wash. "You got lucky," you shook your head in disapproval, "If there had been a speck of green on him, I would've had no problem making you disappear.", You rolled your eyes when he seemed to gulp fearfully, "You better take responsibility for all of this, because I certainly had nothing to do with it."

Spanky relaxed as he sighed heavily, "Fine." Pouting but also relieved he didn't get the whole lecture that he usually got when he did anything wrong, which happened most of the time. He never minded your bossy attitude, even if he never told you so, it kept him grounded, especially when all he did was make stupid choices, that usually got the other rascals into trouble. He liked the fact that even though you knew they were going to lead to nothing but chaos, you would still follow, even if he had a feeling it was only because Mary Ann was involved.

You gently placed Firestar on the ground, the ginger cat prancing directly towards Mary Ann as she continued to pet Princess Flufferina. It was a sight you liked seeing, the way the orange cat never seemed to go to anyone else, your lips twitching in what appeared to be a smile.

Mary Ann seemed to relax at that, as you patted Spanky's shoulder softly before making your way over to her, her dimples showing as she smiled at you. You stuck out a hand as you closed the distance, poking one of her cheeks, the temptation to touch one of her dimples becoming too much, the giggle you elicited from her being all too worth it.

"It's time to face the music," you said as you bent down to stroke Firestar's fur, as the orange cat began to purr. You looked back towards Spanky as you spoke, the boy digging his shoes into the ground, with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. "The worst thing they'll do is most likely ask for their money back." You gave a reassuring smile.

Spanky groaned at that, "There goes the money for Grandma's bakery."

You smiled sadly in return, "Don't beat yourself up," You sighed, feeling a warm hand begin to stroke your hair as you made to get up, only to meet Mary Ann's eyes, "I have faith we will find a way to save it." You smiled softly at the girl.

Mary Ann smiled in return as she leaned in to kiss you on the cheek, "I have faith in us also." Your cheeks heated up at the gesture, the dimples of her smile making your cheeks heat up even more.

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The pet owners were most definitely not satisfied with the new makeover their pets had received. You witnessed it from your position inside the house, your back leaning against the closed door, each kid walking up and getting their now green animal. Mary Ann stood directly beside you, Princess Flufferina still in her arms purring softly, Firestar was rubbing his orange fur directly against your left leg, repeating the process again and again as he purred. Alfalfa and Spanky were in complete panic as they occupied the makeshift counter of their 'business'.

"Come back," Spanky begged as he looked around at the abundance of unsatisfied customers making their departure, "If you don't like green, we can make them any colour you want."

"I don't they wanted them dyed at all..." You grumbled, receiving a slight elbow to the ribs from Mary Ann causing you to wince and rub the spot she had elbowed softly.

Darla had finally made her way to the stand, looking directly at Alfalfa in exasperation "Alfalfa," the boy's eyes widened at his obvious crush, "What happened to you?"

"Oh, just been working hard," his voice trembled in slight panic and nervousness.

Darla smiled with a pep in her step as she looked at the two boys, "I'm here to pick up Princess Flufferina, is she ready?"

"Ehhh, sure..." Alfalfa replied, sharing a look with Spanky as he panicked, before his eyes returned to hers, "And wait until you see her exciting new look."

Darla's smile immediately dropped as wariness took over her features, "What new look."

You took a deep breath as you stopped leaning your back on the door, reaching for the handle, "She's going to have a heart attack," You quickly tugged softly on one of Mary Ann's braids as you gave a nervous smile, "Prepare your ears."

"Let's hope it isn't that bad," Mary Ann whispered, reciprocating your nervous smile in reassurance. You twisted the door handle, pulling the door open for Mary Ann, allowing her to step out first, Firestar following suit as you walked out the door next. "Here you go, one Princess Flufferoni," You felt it coming before it even happened as you covered Mary Ann's ears, as Darla looked at her cat in complete shock, screaming at the top of her lungs; loud enough to make yours and potentially everyone in the proximity of the neighbourhoods, eardrums nearly burst at the octave you thought was impossible for any human to go.

You rubbed your face before chuckling nervously as her scream finally finished, your hands detached from their place against Mary Ann's ears, "It isn't that bad."

"Isn't that bad?!" she yelled exasperated, motioning towards the cat, "She's green!"

You grinned in mock confidence, "Yeah, but doesn't that just make her unique?" you tried to convince, leaning forward with an elbow on the counter you had found yourself against, "I mean who else can say they have a green cat?"

Spanky nodded his head, "Yep and it's all thanks to me" he smiled as he observed Darla who was now looking at him, "Doesn't she look good?"

Your eyes turned sharp in an instant as they landed on him, "Spanky," your voice coming out low, "That isn't what I meant when I said take responsibility."

"Fine." He pouted, crossing his arms sulkily.

"As I was saying," you put your focus back onto Darla, your grin returning, "Imagine how jealous your friends will be when they see you have a green cat, and they don't." You scratched behind Princess Flufferina's ears softly before lifting her out of Mary Ann's arms, who seemed to be reluctant to give her to you as she seemed to be slightly glaring at Darla, Firestar seeming to do the same thing as Mary Ann bent down to pick him up now that her arms had become free.

"You might be right," Darla was deep in thought as she observed her cat.

"Not might, I am," You pushed forward, handing the cat back carefully, the grin never leaving your face as you tried to convince her, "They're all going to want a green cat for themselves after they see Princess Flufferina."

Darla nodded her head, a bright smile now taking over her face, "You're right," she rubbed the cat's green fur, her eyes shining now that they met yours again, "Thank you, Y/N" She leaned forward and placed a kiss on your cheek as she smiled. You heard a slight hiss in the background, as your cheeks heated up. It didn't help that Mary Ann was the only person to ever kiss you on the cheek. "I'll definitely come back soon." Darla batted her eyes at you.

You felt yourself be pulled back roughly, the hand on your arm sending a shiver down your spine, only for your eyes to meet the glare of Mary Ann as you seemed to turn. Her glare hadn't been directed at you, but Darla whose eyes looked at the hand on your arm, meeting Mary Ann's glare with one of her own. You would've called Mary Ann's glare adorable if it hadn't been for the palpable tension in the area. "Or don't come back at all."

The hold on your arm stopped you from stepping back from the tension emitting off the two girls, Darla's smile turning sickeningly sweet, "I bet Y/N would like me to come back," she turned back to batting her eyelashes at you, "Wouldn't you?"

You looked between them both with a gulp, "I-"

The hand on your arm moving down to your hand squeezing it stopped your words. Mary Ann seemed to step forward in front of you as Darla and she squared off. "There really isn't any point," Firestar was being held in only one of Mary Ann's arms at this point as if he was also a part of the battle, with what looked like a scowl on his own face, as he hissed towards the other girl. "She'll be too busy to even talk with you." The devilish smile took over her face as she spoke.

Darla scowled at that, Alfalfa and Spanky backing away from the group, not wanting to be in the middle. "I think she can speak for herself," Darla's glare turned deadly, and her attention moved back towards you as she smiled, "Can't you Y/N?"

You cleared your throat, "She's right though, Darla," you scratched the back of your neck with your unoccupied hand, "I usually am busy running errands and making sure things go right."

Darla pouted at that, "Well that's a shame," she then thought for a moment, "Maybe we can hang out by ourselves another time then".

Mary Ann's hand tightened around yours as she gritted her teeth, "I'm sure Alfalfa is free to hang out with you," she then looked towards the boy in question, "Isn't that, right?"

He chuckled nervously at that, "Yeah, of course" he blushed, "I'm always free."

Darla reluctantly agreed with a roll of her eyes, before seeming to storm off with Princess Flufferina in her arms.

"Not even a goodbye, how rude" Spanky grumbled.

You raised an eyebrow, "You did kind of turn her cat green."

Spanky let out an exaggerated sigh, "What are we going to do"

"You mean about Grandma's bakery?" You frowned.

Spanky seemed to reciprocate the expression, "Yeah."

You knew how he felt, being as upset as the rest of them when it came to Grandma potentially losing the bakery. So you did the only thing you thought to do, you smiled softly, "We'll figure it out," you then paused, "Just no more green pets."

Spanky nodded his head, Mary Ann started to lean her head on your shoulder, and Firestar curled up in her free arm as she stood next to you. "We can figure it out in the treehouse later."

Spanky rose a brow at Mary Ann, "Why not now?"

"I think I've seen enough green today, and Alfalfa is covered in it" You grimaced as you motioned towards the boy who still had green dye all over him.

Mary Ann began pulling you towards her home, as you said goodbye to the other rascals. "You're sleeping over tonight remember?"

You chuckled as you smiled the bright smile that was only reserved for her. "How could I forget?" You let her pull, following her lead every step of the way. You hadn't noticed when Firestar had been let down, as he seemed to follow the both of you. You did notice when she seemed to use her now free hand to wipe your cheek with concentration, receiving a smile from you.

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You looked around Mary Ann's room, the orange cat making himself at home on her bed, curling up comfortably. It hadn't been the first time you had been here, sleepovers remaining a constant action in your friendship with her.

Your fingers seemed to trail across the abundance of plush toys that seemed to litter the head of the bed, your eyes catching on to one in particular. Your fingers brushed it, before grabbing a hold of the small polar bear.

It still looked brand new even though you had won it for her a few years ago. You remembered the day like it was yesterday, it was the day that you had made her smile, a smile so beautiful that it would forever cloud your mind.

"I'm never going to win this," Mary Ann grumbled sulkily as she tried the claw machine again, tongue poking out slightly, the arcade they were in already bustling with the sound of people playing other games.

You stood beside her, watching as she tried and failed to capture the polar bear plush that seemed to escape her grasp. "Don't say that," you smiled softly at her, "my mamma always tells me that I should never give up, and that if I wish for something hard enough. Then I'll be able to catch it."

Mary Ann smiled slightly, "Does your mom actually believe that?"

"I mean, I don't think she would've told me it if she didn't" You scratch the back of your neck nervously.

She laughed softly, before going back to the machine and putting another quarter into it, before having another go. It was so close, the way the claw captured its target. Mary Ann's eyes brightened as it slowly came towards the exit, before it dropped back into the pile of other plush toys, leaving her to groan.

Mary Ann pouted, "This is stupid".

You just stood there watching and supporting her as she used quarter after quarter to try to win the polar bear. By her last quarter, it had already hit the afternoon, having been there since morning trying to capture the plush that you assumed just didn't want to be caught.

It was already time for her parents to arrive and pick her up, so instead of leaving with the bear, she left sad and with a dejected look on her face as she sighed, giving you a hug and a kiss on the cheek as she left with them.

A look of determination seemed to take over your features as you pulled out your allowance and put a quarter into the machine. You spent hours, trying and failing to get the plush, you knew that these machines were rigged, it felt almost impossible. It didn't deter you as you prayed upon your final quarter.

It popped into the machine with a 'clang', your hand shaking as you placed it on the joystick. You took a deep breath to calm your shaking nerves. The claw began to move as you tried getting it into the perfect position, it was in slow motion as you pressed the button and the claw began descending, capturing its target in what seemed to be a loose grip.

The polar bear shook in the claw's clutches, seemingly on the verge of falling, your heart was in your throat as you watched it slowly make its way to the exit point. Your breath had caught, the claw getting ever so close. The plush dropped.

You were on the verge of screaming in happiness, tears welling up in your eyes as you grabbed the plush from the prize flap. You hugged it close to you, ecstatic that after hours you had finally caught it. You were grinning like a complete idiot as you waited for your parents to finally arrive.

Rain was pelting outside as you held the plush under your jacket. Your smile didn't seem to drop as you hopped into the car making sure to hold the Polar bear incredibly close as you asked if your parents could drive you to Mary Ann's quickly. It took a little convincing as you explained that you just wanted to give her the plush as soon as you could.

It didn't take long, her home came into view as you got out of the car quickly, running out to knock on the front door. It wasn't Mary Ann who opened the door though, it was her mother, your mother who had caught up behind you and was quick to apologise.

You waited as Mary Ann's mother let you both in and out of the rain, your smile grew bigger as you caught sight of her, a look of confusion on her face as she saw you there and not understanding why you had been grinning so big, but it had felt infectious as a smile seemed to take over her face too as she ran and hugged you.

"I got you something" You pulled away from the hug.

She smiled in confusion, "What?"

You pulled the plush out from your slightly soaked jacket, presenting the polar bear to her. You watched her reaction closely, as tears of happiness seemed to begin forming in her eyes. "Think of it as an early birthday present" your voice shook nervously.

"You got this for me?" the dimples came out as her grin grew bigger.

"I don't like seeing you sad," you expressed as you pushed the polar bear into her arms, "It makes me sad".

"I wasn't sad" Mary Ann mumbled, rolling her eyes as you raised an eyebrow at her.

You watched as she examined the polar bear closely, before tackling you to the ground with a laugh as if she didn't mind the fact that you had been previously soaked by the rain. But you didn't seem to mind either as you looked up, it was the smile that you had hoped for, how the dimples were almost so pokable, you loved that smile. It was the brightest smile you had ever seen, and to you it was beautiful.

You heard the door open as you looked up at Mary Ann coming back into the room, "Do you think my mamma was right?"

Mary Ann tilted her head in question, "About what?"

"That if I wish for something hard enough, that I'll be able to catch it." You questioned with a small smile.

"I think it depends on what you want to catch," she replied with a smile of her own.

You smiled as if you had a secret, an answer to that question as you stared at her dimply smile. The one that if you could, you would capture it, because it was beautiful and one you hoped you could watch forever. And so, you wished and hoped that maybe one day you could. Capture it in a moment and keep it forever close. You hoped that the smile she presented to you would forever be reserved only for you.

You watched her as she petted Firestar gently, the ginger cat purring and melting into her hand, a sight that you had always enjoyed. Your eyes shone brightly as they admired the girl.

"I think I've already caught it."

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Jamie Speaks:

Mary Ann is just the cutest.