#//But I love it all the same. I just love this little detail so much and I think of it all the time.

[mariasont]

hi pookie! <3

i loved loved loved the recent lipgloss fic! could you write smth about perfume? like bimbo! reader smells sweet asf and all of a sudden reid (or hotch) comes into the office smelling suspiciously sweet

tytyty!! <333

Suspiciously Sweet - S.R

a/n: hiiiiiii pookie!!!!!!! thank u so much for requesting i loved this lololol

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

warnings: fluffiest fluff, established relationship, spencer's relationship almost being exposed, hotch saving his ass, hotch hinting to having a secret girlfriend (aka my girl bimbo!assistant)

wc: 1.3k

You had a very distinct scent. This wasn't a bad thing, no, far from it. It was sweet and intoxicating, it reminded him of ripe peaches in the height of summer and cherries soaked in syrup, with a hint of something citrusy that reminded him of lazy afternoons in the sun. Was that too poetic? Spencer wasn't sure.

He noticed it everywhere. In the office, where it announced your arrival before you said a word. He noticed it at home. His pillows, his sheets, even the collar of the sweater you'd borrowed once—it was all steeped in the same honeyed scent that lingered after you left his bed, as if you were something he couldn't wash away—not that he wanted to.

This was why Spencer had started sleeping in on weekends when you stayed over. It wasn't laziness—not exactly—but how could he resist staying wrapped up in the thing that reminded him most of you?

Especially on those mornings when you were still half-asleep and clingy, burrowing into him with sleepy little hums, like you were trying to fuse yourselves together, and somehow, it worked. Your scent didn't just stick to his things, it stuck to him, sinking into his skin and leaving him a little dazed by the time you finally rolled out of bed.

Sure, he could rationalize it with some scientific explanation about heat transfer, molecules, or something equally clinical. But science (and he hated to admit this) didn’t account for how it made him feel.

Unfortunately, those feelings, didn't do him any good when one of those slow mornings he was becoming so fond of turned into an emergency call from Hotch about a case.

Now, he found himself here, hunched over the impossibly small sink in the jet's cramped bathroom, scrubbing his hands raw for what felt like fortieth time today. The scent wouldn't budge. It was as though it had soaked into his skin. He knew it was his fault—he couldn't seem to stop his hands from roaming across every inch of your body morning.

It wasn't that he minded smelling like you, but focusing on case details and running probability algorithms became infinitely harder when every breath reminded him of how tightly you had wrapped yourself around him just hours before.

He let out a bated breath, shutting off the sink before pushing his way into the main cabin of the jet. He found his way to his favorite seat, third back on the left side, which happened to be located far enough from the engines to minimize auditory distractions.

Morgan looked up, sniffing once as Spencer slid by. "Man, I don't know what it is, but something smells good in here."

Spencer tensed, his stomach dropping. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and he fought the urge to whip around. Surely it wasn't that strong. It couldn't be.

Rossi glanced up from his crossword, brows furrowing.

“Huh. I was thinking the same thing. It’s faint, but it’s nice. Like fruit or… maybe something floral?” Rossi’s nose wrinkled as he added, “Certainly an improvement over Morgan’s cologne.”

Spencer ducked his head so fast it could've looked like a nod, his cheeks burning as he avoided everyone's gaze.

JJ came out of the coffee area moments later, glancing at the case file in her hand as she passed him. She stopped abruptly, sniffed the air, then frowned.

"Wow, Spence, you smell really good. Did you finally cave and buy cologne?"

Spencer blinked up at her, every ounce of blood in his body rushing to his face.

"Uh, no," he said flatly, trying to mask the embarrassment. "I suppose I woke up smelling like this."

Technically not a lie.

He was acutely aware of everyone's eyes on him. Emily tilted her head, brow furrowing before a wide grin spread across her face. Not a good sign, he concluded.

"Wait a second," she said, pointing at Spencer. "That smells exactly like outside of Cruz's office. I pass it all the time."

Spencer cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around the armrests as his mind scrambled for an explanation—any explanation—to divert their growing attention. He could practically feel the walls closing in on him. He was doomed. This was it.

Spencer’s pulse was thundering in his ears, his face still flushed, when Hotch finally set down his pen.

For a second, Spencer braced himself for the worst, the horrifying moment when even Hotch would add to his scrutiny.

"That smell? It's the same hand sanitizer Cruz keeps in his office. He offered it to me after a meeting—probably the same stuff Spencer borrowed when he spilled his coffee this morning."

Spencer looked to Hotch, mouth opening and closing before nodding as if in agreement. "Yeah, that's... probably it."

The rest of the ride passed, to Spencer’s immense relief, without further incident. Morgan gave him a few odd looks now and then, but Spencer was too preoccupied, his thoughts spinning as he tried to figure out why Hotch had saved his ass.

When the last of the team finally stepped off the plane, Spencer hung back, letting the others pass. Hotch did too, falling in step beside him. His pace was slower than usual, his gaze fixed forward, but when he spoke, his voice was loud enough for Spencer to hear.

"Word of advice, Reid—next time, carry mints and a travel sized bottle of something unscented. You'd be surprised how much that helps."

Spencer’s head whipped around, his face going a deep shade of red. Hotch, meanwhile, kept walking, his expression completely neutral, as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

—

"He said what?"

You were laughing uncontrollably, the kind of laugh that made your shoulders shake and left you gasping for air, your hands grabbing him for balance. Rollers filled your hair—a ritual you'd patiently explained to him before—and loose wisps curled around your face. And your smile, well, he was perfectly certain it was the prettiest he'd ever seen you.

"Yup," Spencer confirmed, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

You froze mid-giggle, eyes narrowing.

"Wait, wait, wait—how does he know that? Is Hotch speaking from experience or something?" You blinked, then gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh, what if Hotch has, like, a secret girlfriend? What if it's someone at the BAU? What if it's Garcia?"

"It's not Garcia, and it's definitely not a secret." Spencer raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as if the answer was obvious. "Hotch has been dating his assistant for years. He thinks it's some big secret, but it's... not. He picks her up lunch at least twice a week, and his closed-door meetings with her? Not as inconspicuous as he thinks."

You gasped, practically bouncing in place as you grabbed Spencer's sleeve. "Shut up! I didn't know that! I love her clothes. Do you think she'd tell me where she shops? That red skirt she wore the other day was everything."

“You don’t need any more skirts,” Spencer said, his fingers finding the sensitive spot between your hip and ribs, pinching just enough to make you squirm on the countertop. “If your closet gets any fuller, you’re going to have to rent out a second apartment just for storage.”

You giggled, tightening your legs around him and clinging to him like a koala, your arms looped snugly around his neck.

"That's why I have your apartment," you said, sticking out your tongue. "Plenty of space for my skirts, and you get to see me model them. Win-win."

"When you put in like that, it's kind of hard to say no."

He leaned in as he spoke, his lips brushing against yours softly at first, teasing and testing, like a flicker of fire before it catches. You giggled into the kiss, your laughter blending into his smile. The kiss deepened, honey-slow and sweet, golden warmth spreading through his chest as you pressed closer, closing every last bit of distance between you.

When you pulled back, his lips still tingling, you grinned. "Wow, you really do smell like me."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @r-3dlips @m-indkiller @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @reiderrambles @averyhotchner @hbwrelic @sky2nd @messylxve @alexxavicry @doigettokeepyou @pleasantwitchgarden @kodzukenmaaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spenciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @c-losur3 @theylovemelody @alahnizamolo @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @spiderladyleah @estragos @khxna @spencerssoup @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @aecd27 @persephonestears @moonyxstars @xxmooxmooxx @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @jungchloee @she-wont-miss @duchesz @i2rapunzel @historicallyweirdandqueer @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs

join my taglist here!

[frostedpuffs]

i know this is probably a very unpopular opinion but i prefer the new animation over the old style. Adrien's new design will take some getting used to but everyone else looks AMAZING. and im sorry, i know we all loved the old animation, and it's nostalgic, but it was OUTDATED. miraculous needed an animation update so badly. some of the old episodes looked a little bit too much like cocomelon if im being honest!

i think a lot of people hate the new animation because they don't like change, which i get. I initially felt the same. but i think it's a massive improvement and those people who are refusing to watch the new season bc of the change are doing a massive disservice to themselves and the show.

it's all just so fun! the background characters have more diversity. there are so many more little details (like the strands in Marinette’s hair, the red streaks in ladybug's, the seams on their suits, Marinette’s room having clutter, the wrinkles/textures in clothing, nino's curls, and the entirety of Paris looking less dead). all the characters feel so much more like themselves and the new animation brings so much life to them. the new akumatization sequence is so cool and creative.

overall, i really, really love it, and i don't understand why people are so adamant saying it's bad when it very clearly isn't? other than disliking change which i do understand. but man im gonna be honest, it feels like this fandom hates any sort of change and literally always has something negative to say. shows getting an animation update after a long runtime is completely normal and happens all the time. maybe not this drastic of a change, sure, but it's very common. after 6 seasons of this show id HOPE the animation would've changed and been more up to the higher quality standard other animated shows are.

anyway, loving season 6 so far. loved episode 2. excited to see more. i adore this show more than words can describe it makes me so happy

(please do not make me regret keeping reblogs on by coming on here and telling me why you dislike it and arguing with me. i am fed up w the negativity)

[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤㅤI'LL LIKE YOU ✶ 보이넥스트도어

𝑓emale 𝑟eaderㅤ۶ৎㅤidol!reader & idol!bndㅤ☘️ㅤONETHOUSAND / fluff ʚɞ non established relationshipㅤ( CLiCK FOR MORE )

alternatively ───── when your fans ship the two of you together.

myung jaehyun.

jaehyun is the epitome of shy but calculating.

in front of you, he can barely string a full sentence together. he isn’t even able to look you in the eyes, his voice shaking as he blurts out, “y-you’re really talented. um—i, uh—really like your new song,” before practically sprinting away, face turning beet red.

fans live for his adorably flustered behavior, constantly making jokes like, “it’s not his fault he went to an all-boys school and has no information about the other chromosome in his database.”

but what they don’t know is how hard jaehyun works behind the scenes to fuel the ship.

he’d scroll through your instagram for hours, obsessively studying your outfit choices, your favorite colors, even the brands you wear. 

then, out of nowhere, he’s spotted wearing suspiciously similar clothes to yours, down to the tiniest details. fans, of course, catch on quickly, posting side-by-side comparisons of your photos, sending the internet into a frenzy.

when asked about it, jaehyun acts surprised, laughing nervously while scratching the back of his neck, “haha, i guess we just have similar tastes?” but inside, he’s thriving. he’s totally smug about it—he knows he’s been caught, but he’s secretly loving the attention.

when the members start teasing him, saying, “didn’t you just buy that bracelet because you saw yn wearing the same one?” jaehyun’s face turns bright red as he stutters, “n-no, i just like the design, that’s all.” sure, jaehyun... we’re all buying it.

park sungho.

sungho is a walking contradiction.

he tries so hard to act cool when the ship is mentioned, brushing it off with a shrug. “ah, fans are just having fun,” he’d say, his tone so nonchalant it almost seems convincing. but his red ears? they give him away every time.

fans live for the moments when he accidentally lets his guard down. like when someone shows him a video of you during a variety show—he’d sit there watching quietly, trying to suppress a smile, his lips twitching ever so slightly. but then jaehyun would chime in loudly, “why are you smiling so much?” causing sungho to immediately snap, “i’m not!” his voice a little too defensive as he avoids all eye contact, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

if you ever approach him at an event, though, his whole “cool guy” act crumbles. he’d stammer out a polite greeting, bowing so low and so awkwardly that his members have to stifle their laughter in the background. his hands fidget nervously, and he can barely meet your eyes.

later, when clips of the interaction inevitably surface online, fans zoom in on the way sungho sneaks lingering glances at you throughout the event. they also catch the soft, almost dreamy smile he wears whenever you’re speaking. within minutes, the clips go viral, with captions like, “bro is down bad.”

when he’s alone, though, he replays the clip of the two of you interacting like he’s preparing for a dissertation, his eyes glued to the screen as he analyzes every detail—how close you were standing, the way your voice sounded, and whether or not you smiled at him. his members tease him relentlessly about it, but sungho just mutters, “it’s not a big deal,” even though he knows he’s so far gone. 

lee riwoo.

he is so obvious it hurts.

fans catch him dancing to your songs a little too much during livestreams, his grin wide and his moves full of energy, as if he’s the biggest fan. “it’s just a catchy song!” he insists, trying to downplay it, but the way he lights up whenever your music starts playing says so much more.

his real feelings become painfully clear when you invite him to do a dance challenge together. on the outside, he’s all smiles, nodding eagerly, but on the inside? he’s screaming. internally losing it.

the moment you step into the same frame, though, his usual confidence evaporates. he stumbles over the choreography, his nerves getting the best of him, laughing awkwardly as he messes up. fans immediately notice how red he goes, and they absolutely eat it up. meanwhile, you just find him adorable, completely unaware of how flustered he is.

he’s a shy babygirl™ through and through, so whenever someone asks about it directly, he stammers, looking to his members for help like they’ll come to his rescue.

fans catch on quickly, noticing how he starts fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, or blushing whenever your name comes up in conversation. he denies being affected, always trying to play it off, but his members totally snitch on him during live streams, exposing how he practices greeting you in front of the mirror, muttering to himself, “hi, yn, i’m jaehyun, nice to meet you…” while his face turns as red as a tomato.

obvious, but too cute for words. 

han taesan.

this man is a pro at subtlety.

he doesn’t outright acknowledge the ship, but fans quickly catch on to how much effort he puts into feeding it.

during music shows and award events, he’s always in the background, staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and it's so obvious that fans can't help but point it out. whenever you’re on stage or accepting an award, he’s just there, soft smile plastered on his face, his eyes shining with pride. fans zoom in on clips of him, his gaze lingering on you, and caption them with things like, “taesan’s proud bf energy!” and the ship goes viral.

he’s definitely the type to secretly read fanfiction about the two of you..

when the members tease him about how much he lights up whenever your name comes up, he completely freezes. sungho teasingly asks, “taesan, didn’t you say you wanted to collab with yn?” and taesan, flustered and caught off guard, panic-answers, “n-no... i mean, maybe... let’s move on,” but you can tell he’s dying on the inside, trying to keep his cool. secretly, though, he’s probably rehearsing how he’d casually talk to you during the collab

he’s the type to subtly bring you up in interviews, too—“yn’s songs are great; i’ve been listening to them a lot lately”—just to see if fans catch it. and spoiler alert: they absolutely do.

kim leehan.

the definition of soft.

the first time he sees a ship edit of the two of you, his reaction is straight out of a romcom. it’s almost too cute to handle—he lets out an embarrassed laugh, his hands immediately flying up to hide his smile. “ah, fans are so funny,” he says, but his voice is so much softer than usual, and his blush? it gives him away. his ears turn red, and he’s absolutely melting inside, not knowing how to react to being the subject of such a sweet edit.

whenever he’s around you, he can't even hold a normal conversation without giggling nervously and stumbling over his words, offering compliments in the most awkward yet endearing way. and then there’s that awkward pause where he starts fidgeting, trying to salvage what little dignity he has left. but it's clear to everyone that he’s completely flustered and totally into you.

Still, fans adore how genuine and sweet he is, especially when he unknowingly matches his mood to yours—smiling when you’re happy or looking concerned when you seem tired.   

kim woonhak.

woonhak is so loud in denying the ship that it’s painfully obvious he’s head over heels in love with you.

during live streams, as soon as fans even hint at mentioning you, he immediately shouts, “no way! that’s not true!”—almost too loudly, as if trying to convince both the fans and himself. 

but behind the scenes? he’s absolutely dying. when no one’s looking, he’s re-watching every single interaction the two of you have had, replaying the moments over and over, giggling nervously and trying to convince himself it’s not a big deal, but deep down, he knows it’s everything to him.

his members absolutely love stirring the pot, casually bringing you up just to see woonhak completely flail. “didn’t you say yn’s your ideal type?” taesan asks with a smirk, clearly enjoying the chaos. woonhak's face goes red in an instant, his eyes wide as he shakes his head vigorously. “i NEVER said that!” he insists, but everyone can see the way his lips twitch into a nervous smile, the way his hands fidget. fans eat it up, capturing every moment of him flustered.

he’s definitely the type to act all cool in front of everyone, but when it comes to you? he turns into a nervous, giggly mess. 

once, he accidentally liked one of your posts while scrolling through your feed, and when fans pointed it out, he immediately went into full denial mode, spamming “NO” on weverse and trying to distract everyone by starting a random conversation about something totally unrelated. but in his mind, he's already panicking—did they see that?

even when it’s not about you directly, you can see how his mood changes whenever your name is mentioned, like his face softens a little, or he just gives a tiny smile that he tries to hide. he’s loud, energetic, but soft for you in ways that he’s too embarrassed to admit.

ㅤㅤiRAㅤ:ㅤwe all know what inspired me to write this 🤭

ㅤㅤ•ㅤㅤfeedback 🗯 reblogs ───── highly appreciated ˆᗜˆ

tags @sgz-net @kstrucknet @k-films

[imaginespazzi]

Part 14: The End And The Beginning

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep (please don't leave)

(In which an infrequently-updating writer finally didn't take a month to update)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff and I guess a little bit of Hurt/Comfort

Words: 9.2K

TW: Swearing (and I believe that's it)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 It's a little past 2 AM but y'all wanted a chapter at an ungodly hour so here it is. It's insane to think that there will only be one more chapter of this fic. In all honestly I did have ways to drag it out for a little longer but ultimately, this felt like the right path to take. I feel like some of this chapter is a little OOC (though my lovely friends have said maybe I'm just being paranoid) but whelp it was for the plot so! Like I said, ungodly hour chapters means barely any editing for now but I will go over and fix things later. In the meantime if y'all wanna point things out in terms of grammar and typos, please feel free. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see as this story comes to an end. Have a lovely rest of your day (night?) my loves <3

June 2033 

Azzi thinks she might have every detail of her rather uninteresting bedroom ceiling memorized by now. After all -for almost 3 weeks now-  instead of sleeping, all she’s done is stared up at it, her mind wandering off to a thousand places, all plagued with the same face. Azzi hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to ache as much as it had the morning after the proposal, when the regret had hit and she’d rushed into Paige’s room, only to be told by KK that the older girl was gone. The days following had been torture, like enduring a heart attack over and over again, the pain crescendoing until she’d gone numb from it. 

But last time there had been no false notions, no open-ended goodbyes, just a clean break and somehow that had been easier to live with. These last few days -filled with the unbearable waiting of maybe today she’ll come back to me- have been worse. Perhaps it’s because of the innate hope flickering like a candle within her. And even though the flame of it seems to get smaller and dimmer every time she sees Paige and the older woman still can’t quite make the promise to stay, Azzi knows that until that hope of hers is either completely shattered or fulfilled, there is no moving on from this hurt. 

Sighing to herself, Azzi grabs for her phone. The screen lights up to countless notifications and she bites her lip when she notices the one from Clémence. Dinner had been uncannily awkward last night in a way that it had never been before when the French woman had been a much more frequent presence in her and her daughter’s life. But in between Azzi being completely lost in thoughts of her and Paige’s conversation in the locker room and Stephie somehow managing to find a way to relate every little detail back to Miss Buecks and her face-falling a little every time she did, well it was suffice to say even Clémence’s attempts as making the dinner more cheerful hadn’t been enough to make the evening less of a disaster. Azzi had almost let out a sigh of relief when she’d finally dropped the other woman off at the hotel, trying to not to wince when Clémence had leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. But cleary she hadn’t been inconspicuous enough -and neither had Stephie, who’s voice had been rather devoid of her normal Clémence related cheer when she’d wished the Frenchwoman a goodnight- and the guilt from the way the other woman’s smile had faltered, still lingers in Azzi’s stomach. 

Chewing at her bottom lip, she swipes the text open. It’s a simple “it was good to see you two again.” and perhaps it doesn’t mean much -maybe Azzi’s doing that overthinking thing again- but there’s something about the formality of it, about the full stop at the end of the sentence feels rather definite. Azzi almost feels like she should apologize for something, perhaps for being so aloof last night or maybe even more. She knows that Clémence had wanted something else from her, had patiently waited for her to turn their relationship into something beyond just casual, something Azzi had never been ready to give to her. But it almost feels too late for any of that and so all she says is “it was good to see you too.” and she hopes that Clémence knows that despite everything, she means it. 

Throwing her phone back on the dresser and now feeling perhaps even worse than she had a couple minutes ago, Azzi pulls her blanket above her head, almost pleading with her brain to just shut off. She’s about to give into the impulsive urge to scream into her pillows, when instead her door creaks open and she immediately throws the comforter off of herself, reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp as she sits up straight on her bed. 

Stephie stands in the doorway, a fluffy teddy bear cuddled to her chest as she stares up at Azzi with big doey eyes and the older woman’s heart constricts when she sees the hint of sadness sitting heavily within them. Her little girl had been quiet all day -really since dinner last night. With today being a rare off day, the two of them had spent most of it lounging on the couch watching movies. But Azzi could tell something was off about Stephie. Her daughter, normally ever the commentator, had been dead silent, cuddling into her mother’s side and barely even chuckling at the comedy scenes. Truthfully, Stephie hadn’t been quite the same ever since they’d left Paige’s that morning -and with the amount of nights she’d snuck into Azzi’s room since, her mother had almost been expecting it tonight- but it seemed like something else had shifted last night. 

“C’mere baby girl,” Azzi says softly as she holds her arms open and Stephie dutifully climbs into them, burrowing her head into her mother’s chest, “what’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” comes the muffled response from her daughter as Azzi gently rubs the little girl’s back, “can I sleep here with you?”

Azzi smiles, pressing a gentle kiss against Stephie’s hair, “of course you can sweetheart,” she whispers, before falling back into her pillows with her daughter still securely wrapped in her arms. 

She continues to brush her hands through Stephie’s hair, listening to the sound of her little girl breathing as she hums a lullaby. 

“Mama,” Stephie says tentatively, after a while. 

“Yeah Stephie-bean?”

“Yes-er-day when we were at dinner-,” the little girl swallows nervously and Azzi’s squeezes her shoulders, hoping it conveys that she’s listening, ready to hear whatever it is that’s been bothering the little girl, “yes-er-day at one of the other tables, I saw- I saw a woman with gold hair and she- she had it in a bun like- like the one Miss Buecks usually has.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, “go on sweetheart.”

“And she- she was-,” Stephie drops her voice down to a whisper, “she was kissing someone who looked a lot like you Mama.”

“Oh,” Azzi manages to get out as she feels her lungs compress. 

“And there was a little girl too and they both gave her lots of kisses too,” Stephie’s voice is small as she says the fact and Azzi has to bite her lips hard to keep in the sob that’s threatening to escape her lips. And she remembers the exact people Stephie’s talking about, remembers the way her heart panged as she’d seen the way three of them -the two women and their little girl- were practically giddy around each other. They’d looked almost like an exact replica of Paige, Azzi and Stephie, not that long ago. Azzi had, had to tear her eyes away from the scene, not wanting to let the tears that were dangerously close to her waterline slip down her cheeks. She hadn’t looked in their direction again. But Azzi hadn’t even imagined that maybe Stephie would’ve noticed that too, that her daughter would’ve felt the sting of the happy picture the same way she had. 

“Oh sweetheart-”

“My friend Anya has a Mama and a Mommy,” Stephie rushes out before Azzi can console her any further, “and my other friend Lena didn’t understand how that was poss-ble cause she has a Mommy and a Daddy like most of my other friends but Anya said it’s poss-ble and that her Mama and Mommy love each other just like Lena’s Mommy and Daddy love each other.”

“Anya’s right,” Azzi says softly, smiling at how simple children make everything sound even though she’s not quite sure where Stephie’s getting at with this story, “I’m sure her Mama and Mommy love each other a lot.”

“Anya says they kiss on the lips- just like- just like the women at the restaurant and like Nana and Pops or like Uncle José and Aunty Tully,” Stephie scrunches her nose as she finally untucks herself from Azzi’s chest, “Anya says that’s what people in love do but I think it’s kinda gross cause kissing on the lips looks kinda yucky.”

Azzi laughs, booping the little girl’s nose, “it does look a little funny.”

“But Anya says her Mommy and Mama do other things too. Like her Mama takes care of her Mommy when she’s sick and when her Mama cries over a movie, her Mommy laughs but then gives her Mama a big hug. And Anya says that sometimes when Anya’s Mama isn’t looking, Anya sees her Mommy looking at her Mama with a big smile,” Stephie stretches out her arms for emphasis as she climbs off of Azzi’s lap to sit on the bed next to her. 

“That sounds sweet,” Azzi says wistfully, still a little confused why she’s being told everything about Anya’s two mothers. 

There’s a moment of silence before Stephie drags in a deep breath as she stares intently at her mother, “I never seen you and Miss Buecks kiss, Mama.”

Her words loom in the air as Azzi’s mouth falls open, everything suddenly beginning to click, “Steph-”

“But when Miss Buecks was sick, I saw you make her soup and make her eat her med-cines even though Miss Buecks said they tasted yucky. And when you cry over Mr. Olaf melting in Frozen, Miss Buecks always says ‘Az you’re so silly, you’ve seen this so many times. How can you still cry at it?��”Stephie recites, doing an almost perfect impression that has Azzi’s letting out something in between a sob and a laugh. 

“But then she gives you a big hug anyways. And Mama,” the little girl continues, “when you’re not looking, I see Miss Buecks looking at you with this big, big, big, smile all the time.” 

“Stephie,” Azzi chokes out, trying to hold herself together. 

Her daughter looks at her with something almost like wonder, “you and Miss Buecks- you were just- you were just like Anya’s Mama and Mommy?”

“Yeah,” Azzi whispers, as she grasps the little girl’s hands in her own, bracing herself for whatever Stephie might say next, “yeah I guess we were.”

But Stephie doesn’t say anything for a while, sitting all quiet and contemplative for a moment until she slowly climbs back into her mother’s arms, resting her head right against Azzi’s chest. 

“Mama,” her voice is small when she finally does speak, “I really miss Miss Buecks.”

Azzi feels her heart constrict, finally losing the battle against her tears as they drip down her cheeks, and she tightens her grip on her daughter, “I know baby. I really miss her too.”

*** 

April 2025

“What are you doing?” panic filters into Azzi’s tone as she watches Paige slowly get down on one knee, her heart pulsating as she slowly begins to understand why her girlfriend had set this whole thing up. Really she should’ve known as soon as KK and Ice had excitedly bound into her room, mischievous knowing smirks on their faces as they’d made her change into something nice before practically dragging her onto the roof. She should’ve known when she’d seen the candles and the pink roses and Paige just a little too dressed up in the midst of it all, that this was more than just one of the older girl’s lavishly planned date nights. 

Paige smiles up at her, either not hearing the distress in the brunette’s voice or perhaps not quite understanding the gravity of it. She reaches for Azzi’s hands, soft fingers entwining with the younger girl’s like their holding onto a lifeline. An unfamiliar sensation builds in Azzi’s stomach, one she doesn’t think she’s ever felt in Paige’s presence before.  

“Paige,” she whispers helplessly. 

“I’ve got you baby,” Paige squeezes her hands gently, mistaking whatever it is that Azzi’s feeling, for simple nerves. 

But it’s not that. Azzi knows this unsettling feeling that’s tornadoing around her isn’t just nerves or butterflies or whatever else it is that one normally feels before a proposal. It’s something much, much worse. Something almost like dread. And Azzi can feel all those suppressed emotions that have been building for the last couple of weeks-the whispers of thoughts that she’d brushed away as nothing serious- suddenly rushing through her body and settling like a large, immovable lump at the back of her throat. 

She remembers the first time she’d felt it, that unfamiliar twist in her stomach. It had been at a press conference after some easily won Big East game with UConn’s Big Three sitting diligently at the media-table. And it had suddenly occurred to Azzi, just as they’d finished their media availability, that she’d been asked exactly one question about her own performance -a respectable 24/4/3 statline- from the pool of reporters. Every other question of the four that had been directed her way, had been about Paige. She’d come to a stop outside the press room, letting herself sit with the thought for a second until her girlfriend -with her bright blue eyes and just-for-Azzi smile- had come bounding up to her. And suddenly, as it always seemed to be when it came to Paige, Azzi couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Not when the blonde was lacing their fingers together and putting her lips dangerously close to her ears, whispering all the sinful things they could get up to that night.

But then it happened again two games later. One question about her own performance followed by a cycle of questions about Paige during a presser where the blonde wasn’t even in attendance. This time Azzi had thought about it a little longer but then she’d chided herself for it, chalking it up to her brain doing that overthinking thing again. It was natural to be asked about teammates, especially superstar, generational, teammates who were likely to go #1 in the upcoming WNBA draft. 

And then it happened again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until it was the Elite Eight and Azzi found herself, after a 28/5/4 statline and two clutch free throws to win it all, still somehow fielding more questions about Paige -and how the blonde had impacted Azzi’s game and recovery and their relationship as best friends- than about her own performance. 

That’s when she’d finally begun to understand what that twist in her stomach had been. She’d felt sick at the idea that it could be envy -how could she ever be jealous of her Paige’s success- but she’d understood then, almost gawking at the reporter who’d had the audacity to ask her, her fourth Paige-related question that night, that it wasn’t that. Maybe it would’ve been easier if it was. 

It was fear. 

The fear that her own identity in the basketball world was slowly withering away under the weight of her relationship. 

“Hey,” Paige’s voice feels like it’s coming from a distance even though she’s right in front of Azzi and the brunette swallows hard as she tries to pry herself away from her thoughts to focus on her girlfriend. 

“Paige,” she whispers back helplessly, as her eyes begin to water. 

Every time Azzi had imagined Paige proposing -the first time had been when she was 15 and she’d woken up from the dream, almost shaking but still filled with the serene calmness that came from knowing something was inevitable- she had always in fact pictured tears in her own eyes. 

But not like this. 

Because these little droplets cascading down her cheeks that Paige’s fingers diligently reach up to wipe away aren’t the tears of a girl whose dreams to marry her best friend -the love of her life- are coming true. They’re the tears of a girl who’s bracing herself for an inevitable fight when she puts her career before a relationship, when her head wins this fight against her heart. 

Blissfully unaware, Paige continues on, “I’ve um- I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you.”

Stop, Azzi thinks but all that comes out is a whimper. 

“So you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did you know. I uh- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too,” Paige laughs and the sound of it, that had once felt like a warm blanket shrouding all of Azzi’s senses, now feels a lot like a wintry chill settling around her body. 

“And what I realized,” there’s moisture pooling in the blonde’s own eyes now, “is that I don’t need a speech. I don’t need hundreds of words. I just need three. I love you,” Paige presses a kiss against Azzi’s knuckles and the other girl shudders, “I love you so fucking much Azzi Fudd. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

She lets go of the brunette’s hands to retrieve a black velvet box from her pockets and Azzi bites her lip so hard, the metallic taste of blood overwhelms her taste buds. 

“Azzi Jazlyn Fudd,” Paige says softly, flicking open the box to reveal a heart-cut diamond ring, “will you marry me?”

“No,” it comes out so soft, almost blending with the wind, that for a second even Azzi doubts she’d said it. 

“”What?”

Azzi clears her throat, “no.”

“No?” Paige repeats, blinking up at her with a mixture of confusion and anticipatory dread. 

“No,” Azzi says again, her voice much stronger now as she takes a step back, the tears freely falling from her cheeks. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Paige, still on one knee, stumbles a little as she tries to formulate the right words, “you- you don’- no?,” her eyebrows furrow in confusion, “you don’t want to marry me?”

I do, Azzi wants to scream. 

“I can’t,” she says. 

Paige stares up at her, something akin to disbelief etched across her beautiful features, “what does that even fucking mean you can’t?”

“I just-” Azzi struggles against the jumble of thoughts in head as she tries to piece together a coherent sentence, “I can’t.”

“Bullshit,” Paige snarls. 

“Paige-”

“Do not Paige me,” the older girl seethes, her expression darkening, “you better fucking explain yourself.”

“I- I will,” Azzi stutters, trying to make herself small as she wraps her arms around herself, “can you- just,” she eyes Paige, who’s still kneeling one one knee, “can you please- please just stand up.”

Paige flinches, like Azzi has asked her to shoot an arrow into her own soul. And maybe she had. But she does as asked. The blonde’s movements are reluctant, almost like it pains her to stand up and when she does, the distance she puts between her and Azzi can’t be more than a few meters, but it feels like it stretches the length of an ocean. 

“Explain,” Paige says scathingly.

“I just-” Azzi takes in a deep breath, barely able to meet her girlfriend’s eyes as she forces out the next words, “I don’t want to be known as just your wife.”

Paige lets out an expected noise of protest, “you wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know that,” Azzi cuts her off with a pointed look, “because right now- right now sometimes it feels like all I am is just Paige Bueckers’ best friend. It doesn't matter how many points I score or how many defensive moves I make on the court or whatever else I do on the court, somehow it all leads back to you. And it makes me feel-,” she chokes on the next words, the acidity of them leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, “I feel invisible.”

“Azzi-”

The brunette holds up a hand, needing to finish what she’s saying before she fully succumbs to her emotions, “sometimes- sometimes my entire career at UConn so far feels like- like it’s just an extension of yours. Paige you- you get to be Paige. Just Paige. The superstar. You get to go to entire pressers not having to answer a single question about me or our friendship. You get to have entire articles written about you that have just a throwaway line about me and not have half of it be dedicated to how I’m the driving force behind your success. And that’s how it should be because- because as much as we rely on each other, your success is still yours. But sometimes it feels like mine isn’t mine.”

“I’m sor-”

“No!” Azzi cuts Paige off loudly when the older girl tries to apologize, guilt flashing in her eyes, “it’s not your fault Paige. You- you’re my biggest cheerleader. You always have been. But I just- I need to have my own identity. And that’s already been so hard being known as just your best friend. It’s only going to get worse if I-” she stops, unable to say the rest but even unspoken, it lingers in the air. 

If I become your fiancé. 

 “I need next year to be different,” Azzi says instead, “I need it to be my year. Just mine. Just for once, I just want to be known as Azzi.”

“It will be,” there’s a newfound conviction replacing the previous anger in the blonde’s voice as she takes a deliberate step towards Azzi. Bolstered when the other girl doesn’t instinctively move back, she takes another one and then another and another, until the seemingly never-ending distance between them disappears. 

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Paige says softly as she gently holds one of Azzi’s hands between her own, “and I hate- I hate that you feel this way. But it’ll be different next year when we’re not on the same team anymore right? Out of sight out of mind type shit? They won’t- they won’t ask you about me or make everything you do about me anymore-”

“You don’t know that-”

The older girl continues like she didn’t hear the interruption, “I just- I just don’t understand why you can be known as my girlfriend but not my-” she swallows, “but not my wife? Because Az- when we come out-,” the girl in questions flinches and Paige pauses, her expression falters at the movement. 

A deadly silence clouds the air and it’s April in Connecticut and the spring breeze is just the right temperature. But as Paige slowly lets go of her hands, realization dawning on her face, Azzi thinks she’s never felt colder in her life. 

“You- you don’t-” the blonde looks at her almost accusingly as she takes a step back, “you don’t want to come out?”

“Paige-”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

Azzi casts her eyes downwards, digging her fingers as deeply into her palms as possible, “no, no I don’t.”

“I see,” Paige says slowly, her tone dangerously low, “and how long have you felt this way Az?”

“I-I-” the brunette stutters nervously, “I made- I made the decision after the Elite Eight.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Paige says calmly. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand-”

“How long Azzi?” the blonde sneers, “how long have you had all the fucking doubts about your identity and our relationship? How long have you been questioning everything about us? How long have you bee going through this whole fucking decision-making process about our future?”

“That’s not-”

“Oh no,” Paige interrupts harshly, “that’s exactly it. That’s exactly what you were doing. So tell me. How. Long?”

Azzi gulps nervously, “since the game at home versus Nova.”

Paige blinks at her, “three months? Three fucking months Azzi. You’ve been feeling this way for three months and you didn’t once think that maybe you should tell me? That maybe we should talk about it?”

“I didn’t know,” Azzi says helplessly, “I didn’t even understand it myself Paige. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t even know there was something to discuss.”

“But clearly you did figure it out, Azzi. Because I know you and I know you didn’t make this decision without figuring your emotions out, so why not come to me then? Why not tell me as soon as possible. God fucking hell Azzi- when even were you gonna tell me?” Paige yells, all pretence of calm gone from her body, “if I- if tonight hadn’t happened, when would you have even told me?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything and Paige shakes her head, starting to pace around the rooftop. 

“We had a plan Azzi. We’ve had a plan for four years. As soon as one or both of us was out of UConn, that was it. No more hiding. No more secrets. Just you and and me and we weren’t gonna care who the fuck knew about it,” the blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, “and you’re telling me that for three month- three fucking months- you’ve been questioning that whole fucking plan while I remained oblivious as fuck? Azzi all I’ve done these past few months is tell you how fucking excited I was about being able to call you my girl in front ov everyone. How excited I was to hold you in public and for us to just be us without giving a fuck who could see. And you just,” Paige’s voice breaks, “you let me. You let me do all of that- feel all of that. You let me be hopeful for a future that you weren’t even sure you could see for us.”

Azzi looks away, that rock of guilt settled in her stomach starting to get heavier and heavier with each word that leaves Paige’s mouth, “I’m just asking for a little bit more time Paige.”

“And what happens if that time doesn’t go the way you want it to Az?” Paige asks sadly, “what if we survive the next year but you decide that you can’t be attached to me to start your W career?”

“That won’t happen-”

“You don’t know that,” a sardonic smile appears on the blonde’s face, “I can’t keep hiding forever Azzi. All I’ve done is love you in secret. I can’t- I don’t- I won’t do that forever.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Azzi bursts out, her defensiveness suddenly translating into a burst of anger, “I am asking you for a little bit of time. Not even a whole year anymore. Just a little bit of time for me to establish my own identity and honestly Paige if you can’t even give me that- if you can’t understand why I need this time- then maybe-” she stops herself, eyes widening at the words -word she’d never even expected herself to think of - that are now sitting, like burning embers, on the tip of her tongue. 

“Then maybe what?” Paige asks slowly, but there’s an almost resigned tinge to her tone that suggests she already knows. 

“No,” Azzi shakes her head, turning away from the older girl’s piercing gaze. She looks down at the ground, still covered in rose petals. The wax of the glittering candles littered between them has melted onto them, causing their pink hue to turn into a darker shade of red. And it’s like there’s blood scattered on the remnants of Paige’s perfect proposal. 

“Say it Azzi-”

“No-”

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to,” Azzi covers her ears and she wishes this were a nightmare, wishes she could open her eyes and find herself waking up in Paige’s arms. Warm and soft and loved. 

“Godfuckingdammit Azzi,” Paige yells, “just say it. If I can’t understand why you need time then maybe we should what?” she repeats, waiting for the brunette to finish her own sentence. 

Azzi whimpers, continuing to shake her head, “Paige please.”

“Just. Fucking. Say. It.”

The younger girl swallows, “then maybe we should end it.”

Another beat of silence. 

“Maybe we should,” Paige’s voice is gravelly and Azzi doesn’t dare turn around, not ready to see the heartbroken expression -or worse, perhaps the nonchalant one- on the older girl’s face, “if after all we’ve been through, if it’s so easy for you to think those words. Then maybe we should- maybe we should end it.”

And Azzi thinks for the rest of her life she will wonder what she should have done next. If she should’ve said something or if -when she hears those retreating footsteps- if she should’ve run after her. She thinks, for the rest of her life, she will look back on this moment and dissect every single second of it, that she will wish for the time machine to go back and stop herself from doing and saying so many of the things she had on the rooftop that night. 

But Paige walks away. 

And Azzi doesn’t do anything to stop her. 

It isn’t until the morning after -when her head does finally catch up to her heart and all she can feel is that unfamiliar sting of regret- and she races into the apartment downstairs and Ice’s expression is filled with sadness and KK’s glare is filled with accusation, that she finds out just how far Paige had gone away from her and Azzi realizes, she’s just a little too late. 

*** 

June 2033 

There’s a redhead and a brunette, holding hands and chatting quietly as they wait outside the school. The two women are clearly entrenched in their own world -sharing those warm gazes and bright smiles that Azzi’s just a little too familiar with- blissfully unaware that they are currently being stared at. Actually, perhaps glared at is a more accurate statement because there’s a clear tinge of envy running down Azzi’s spine as her eyes remain laser-focused on the scene in front of her. She hadn’t meant to be doing this of course -nobody really plans to come to pick up their daughter from school and somehow end up stink-eying said daughter’s friends parents for being too in love. But as fate would have it, somehow from where she’s parked, Azzi has a perfect view of Anya, infamous Mommy and Mama. 

They’re sickeningly cute.

And Azzi fucking hates them.  

It’s unfair of her to feel this way; she knows that. But watching them lead the life she’d always imagined for herself, is more difficult now than it ever has been when Azzi had seen them before in passing. Back then, it was just a dull ache of something she craved but knew she’d turned away herself. But now- now she’s had a taste of that life; had gotten to live it out -even if just for a second- with the girl she’d always dreamed of living it with. Until one night and a series of revelations had snatched it all away, and now Azzi’s left with nothing but the bitter feeling of waiting to see if she’ll get that back forever or if it had really only ever been meant to be a fleeting moment in her life. 

A sigh of longing escapes her as she watches Anya go rushing into her mothers’ arms, the two of them catching her in perfect sync. She has the resentful urge to scoff at the scene. It’s all so goddamn dramatic for three people who see each other every day. Except Azzi’s mind is filled with memories that are almost exact replicas of the scene in front of her; just with different faces. 

“Hi Mama,” it isn’t until the backdoor opens and Stephie’s voice fills the car that Azzi finally tears her eyes away from Anya’s family. 

“Hey baby,” she choruses back, turning around in her seat to make sure her daughter is buckling herself in correctly, “how was your day?”

“It was okay,” Stephie shrugs and Azzi feels her heart plummet at how nonchalant the little girl sounds. She misses the sound of her daughter ranting about just how booooring school is, and thinks she wouldn’t even try to reprimand her if Stephie deemed school useless like she used to. Azzi just wants her ball of sunshine, talks-a-mile-per-minute child back because this meek, quiet little girl in the back feels like a shell of who Stephie used to be. 

“You excited for Mama’s game tonight?” Azzi presses as she starts to back out of the parking lot, almost relieved when it seems to cause Stephie to sit up a little straighter. 

“You’re- you’re playing the Liberty right?” the little girl asks quietly, “that’s- that’s where Miss Buecks wanna go? New York?”

Azzi freezes at the question, trying to keep her hands steady on the wheel as she hums in agreement. 

“They’re a good team right? Lots of champ-ships and stuff?” Stephie continues. 

“Yeah,” Azzi clears her throat, “it’s uh- it’s definitely gonna be a good game.”

“Anya’s Grammy and Grandpa live in New York. Not the city-city but close to it,” Stephie says after a moment, “Anya says New York’s really nice. She’s been there lots and lots of times to see her Grammy and Grandpa forChristmas. And she- she says when she went, it snowed lots and lots.”

Despite herself Azzi smiles as her mind drifts to memories of cold Northeast winters. For the most part, they had been filled with dreary chills and darky rainy days. But then amidst it all, there had been a couple rare days of snow and when she’d been at UConn, her teammates had taken full advantage. And just like most of her memories of those years, Paige is front and center of these ones too. The blonde had never been nearly as enamored with the snow as Azzi was, and she definitely wasn’t enamored by it at seven in the morning when the brunette would wake her up squealing that it had in fact snowed and the world around them was white. Despite her grumbling, Paige had still let Azzi bundle the both of them up in winter clothes and drag her outside. And her faux irritated expression hds slowly morphed into one of admiration as she’d flicked the snow off the younger girl’s eyelashes, pulling her closer by her scarf because Azzi I’m so cold, you have to kiss me to keep me warm baby. 

“We don’t get snow here,” Stephie says thoughtfully, unaware of the path down memory lane her mother had just taken. 

“No, no we don’t,” Azzi says, almost wistfully. 

“It would- it would be nice to live somewhere with lots of snow,” Stephie ponders out loud and her mother’s eyes widen as she starts to understand where this is going, “like- like in New York.”

“We could- we could have snowball fight and make snowmen like Mr. Olaf and snow angels and everything else you do in snow,” the little girl’s voice gets increasingly more and more high-pitched in excitement, “it would be so fun Mama.”

“Steph-”

“And Anya said that- that- that- she’d even visit me like she visits her Grammy and Grandpa. She promised Mama, she promised she’d come see me if I lived in New York-”

“Honey no,” Azzi cuts her daughter off heartbrokenly, “we are not going to live in New York. 

“But Mama, Miss Buecks-”

“Stephie stop-”

“No Mama listen,” Stephie protests indignantly, “Mama what if- what if Miss Buecks really needs to be in New York. What if it’s impo-tant. And that’s- that’s why she can’t stay here. With us. Not cause she doesn’t want to but cause she can’t. But Mama just because Miss Buecks can’t say doesn’t mean we can’t go Mama.”

“Sweetheart-”

“And you- you just said the Liberty is a good team and you’re such a good player Mama. I think you’d be good on their team too. And I- I really, really like the Valk-ries and I would really miss Aunty J and Aunty Tessie and Aunty Joy but if you- if you and Miss Buecks played for the Liberty- I know I’d like them too. And I’m sure Nana and Pops and Uncle Jon and Uncle Jose and Aunty Tully would come visit us lots and lots and I wouldn’t even miss them lots cause they’d visit so much. I just know it. It could work Mama- I know it could.”

“Stephanie,” Azzi's voice is louder than she’d meant it to be as she pulls onto their street, “sweetheart, we are not moving to New York.”

“But Mama-” the little girl whines. 

“No Stephie. That’s just-” Azzi swallows the sob stuck in her throat, “that’s now how the world works.”

“But what if I want it to work that way?” Stephie asks softly with all the innocence of a five-year old as she meets her mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh baby,” Azzi’s so caught up in her daughter’s earnest wishful thinking that she doesn’t even notice there’s another oh-so-familiar car parked in her driveway until she almost crashes into it. 

“That’s Miss Buecks car,” Stephie whispers softly, craning her neck to get a better view. Her eyes widen in tandem with her mother’s as they both catch sight of the same thing at the same time. 

It’s Paige. 

Paige, whose eyes are sunken in and red-rimmed. Paige, whose hair is tossed back into a messy bun -looking like it’s been in that same one for days- with little loose strands falling out of it. Paige, whose entire body is hunched over as she sits on their front porch, holding a grey hoodie close to her chest. Paige, whose hands are fidgeting with themselves because she can never sit still, especially when she’s nervous. Paige, who looks up just as Azzi parks her car -whose staring at the both of them like they’re still her everything. Paige, who despite it all, still looks like the most beautiful woman in the world. 

Paige, who’s here. 

It’s Stephie who recovers from the shock of seeing Paige first, the click of her seatbelt being unclasped pulling Azzi out of her own trance. The little girl pushes her door open, getting out of her car seat with quickness as she stumbles out of the car. 

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out immediately but Stephie isn't listening, already rushing up the pathway as Paige -her expression hopeful- stands up at the sight of the child running towards. 

It isn’t until Stephie hesitates, coming to a halt just a couple of meters away from Paige, that Azzi draws in a deep breath and gets out of the car herself. Unlike her daughter, her steps are much slower, her movement hesitant and guarded. She knows this is it; knows that this is when all that waiting she’s done in the past few weeks will finally be over, that Paige is either here to fulfill a dream or to start a nightmare. 

Azzi walks up the pathway until she’s right behind Stephie, one of her hands instinctively reaching out to hold her daughter’s shoulder, conveying two messages. One to Stephie, a promise that no matter what happens now, she’ll still always have Azzi. The other to Paige is an unspoken message from a protective mother, silently begging her that if she is here to break their hearts, to break Stephie’s gently. 

“Hi,” Paige’s voice is croaky when she speaks, her eyes flickering nervously between the mother and daughter in front of her. 

Azzi clears her throat, willing herself to reply, “hey,” she pauses, continuing only when the older woman keeps her own mouth shut, shuffling her feet nervously, “do you- do you want to come in?”

“Yes,” Paige says, her cheeks reddening at how quickly the word leaves her mouth and that almost makes Azzi smile. 

She nods at the older woman, her hand travelling from Stephie’s shoulder to instead hold her hand as they walk up the steps together. Azzi’s shoulder brushes against Paige’s as she moves past the blonde to open her door and electricity courses through her veins. From the way Paige gasps, the brunette is sure she must’ve felt it too. It crackles in the air as Azzi unlocks the door, her brain feeling foggy at the mere feeling of having Paige so close after so long. 

The three of them walk quietly towards the living room, Stephie’s hands still clasped in Azzi’s and Paige following closely behind them. The little girl’s grip is tight and despite how young she is, Azzi knows just how perceptive Stephie is. She’s just as aware of this moment as the adults are, realizes it just as much as they do, that they’ve reached a crossroad and the path they take -a path determined by whatever Paige chooses- will shape their future together or apart. 

“I um- I- well- the thing is- I-,” Paige breaks the silence first, stuttering over her words before letting out a soft sigh She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, there are little droplets of water on the edges of her eyelashes. 

“I really missed you guys,” she confesses in a whisper, her voice breaking throughout. 

There’s a second of silence as her words linger in the air and Azzi feels Stephie’s hand slip away from her own and the little girl almost stumbles over her own feet as she races towards Paige, the older woman’s arms immediately opening to catch her and as she kneels down to pull Stephie into her her chest. It’s like the blonde’s confession had broken a dam, and the water that came rushing through it, had washed away the last little bit of pretence of nonchalance that Stephie had been holding onto. 

For the last few weeks, every time Azzi’s little girl had seen Paige, be it when she accompanied her mother to a practice or when she was on the sidelines at a game, Stephie had ignored the blonde, maintaining the same angry façade as the one she’d had the morning after that night. But Azzi had seen that resolve weaken over time; had seen Stephie’s eyes linger just a little bit longer on Miss Buecks with that familiar look of yearning. And Azzi had known that resolve was almost completely gone, in the car, when Stephie had all but begged her to consider moving to New York if that was the only way they were going to be able to keep Paige in their lives. 

She feels her own set of tears prickling in her eyes as she takes in the scene in front of her. Stephie’s face is pressed into Paige’s neck, the blonde has one arm wrapped around the little girl’s waist and the other other gently brushing through her hair. Their grip on each other is tight with barely any space for air between them, tears freely streaming down both of their faces. 

“I missed you too Miss Buecks,” Stephie sobs and Azzi notices the way Paige’s hold on her tightens at the familiar nickname, “missed you so much.”

“Me too Stephie-bean,” Paige affirms as she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, cupping it in her hands, “I’m so sorry sweetheart. So, so, sorry. I missed you so, so, so, so much,” she says, punctuating each word with a kiss to Stephie’s face in between. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie looks down nervously, her fingers playing with the collar of Paige’s t-shirt, “can me and Mama come to New York with you?”

“Stephie!” Azzi exclaims as Paige’s eyes widen. 

“Wh-what?” the blonde asks softly as she searches the little girl’s face in confusion.

“I don’t want you to go,” Stephie says quietly, “but if you have to- then can we come with you?”

“Oh sweetheart,” there’s disbelief in Paige’s tone, something almost akin to awe as she tilts Stephie’s chin to make the little girl look back at her. 

“My friend Anya says New York’s nice,” Stephie rambles, repeating what she’d been telling her mother in the car, “and-and-and she says there’s lots and lots of snow and I told Mama that I think it will be nice to live in lots and lots of snow. Mama hasn’t said yest,” the little girl briefly looks back at Azzi with a sheepish look on her face before turning back to Paige, “but I know- I know we could cov-ince her because Miss Buecks, Mama’s missed you so, so, so much too.”

“Has she?” Paige asks, her eyes flickering to Azzi who’s trying desperately to keep her face neutral as she keeps her own gaze firmly fixated on a picture of her daughter on top of the mantle. 

“She has,” Stephie confirms, before using a finger against the older woman’s cheek to get her to return her attention back to her, “so can we come with you? Please.”

Paige slowly tucks a strand of hair behind the child’s ears as she shakes her head, “no.”

“N-no?” Stephie’s bottom lip trembles at the rejection, “why not? Why can’t we go to New York with you?”

“Because nobody’s going to New York, Stephie-bean,” Paige says firmly and Azzi’s eyes shoot towards the blonde, her lips parting slightly as she processes the meaning behind her words, her heart beginning to race with anticipation. 

“Nobody?” Stephie repeats as a question, her little voice filled with hope. 

Instead of answering, Paige grabs the grey hoodie she’d brought with her that had fallen to the ground. She gently un-scrunches it, holding out the sleeve of it for Stephie to look at. Azzi cranes her head curiously to get a better look of it, squinting her eyes when she notices something written in washed-out black ink. 

“You probably don’t remember this because you were a lot littler when it happened,” there’s a teasing smile of Paige’s face as she uses the incorrect word, “but the first time you ever spoke to me properly, you told me, that your Mama says that one day, you’re gonna be an even better basketball player than she is.”

Stephie beams, “Mama says I’m gonna be the best in the world today.”

Paige chuckles, “I believe it and I believed it then too. That’s why,” she points down at the hoodie, her fingers brushing over the material so delicately, like it’s one of her most treasured possessions, “that’s why I had you sign my hoodie.”

“You asked for my auto-graph?” Stephie’s eyes glint and perhaps she doesn’t quite remember what Paige is talking about exactly, but Azzi can tell that it’s stirred up recollections of something. 

“Yeah- yeah I did. And you said, ‘silly Miss Buecks, I’m not famous’ and I said, ‘but if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, you will be. Just like me and your Mama.’ And I meant it. You’re gonna be so- so great one day sweetheart. I know you are,” Paige says with conviction as her thumbs lightly caressing Stephie’s cheeks, “and I- I wanna be right here every step of the way, I wanna be right here to watch you grow up and become the great player -the great woman- that you’re destined to be.”

“You mean it?” Stephie asks, her eyes shining with a fresh new set of tears.

Paige nods, delicately wiping her thumbs under the little girl’s lower eyelid, “I do. I wanna be here, with you and- and your Mama,” she raises her head toward Azzi, mustering a watery smile, “I want to stay. Forever. If you’ll have me.”

Azzi lets out a staggered breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as her eyes remain locked with Paige’s. And suddenly, after eight years spent feeling unfulfilled -eight years spent with this constant sense of being incomplete-, hearing Paige finally say she wants to stay forever, feels a little bit like as if that missing part of Azzi has finally returned back to where it rightfully belongs. 

A loud squeal echoes throughout the living room as Stephie leaps back into Paige’s arms, a large smile stretching the length of her whole face as she buries her face back into the crevice between the blonde’s shoulder and her neck. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” the little girl chirps excitedly, “of course we’ll have you. Of course, of course, of course,” Stephie says in delight before she turns herself slightly in Paige’s grapes, arms still around the other woman’s neck as she looks imploringly at Azzi, “right Mama?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, pursing her lips as she tears her gaze away from the two people in front of her. 

“Mama?” Stephie presses. 

“Give me a second Stephie-bean,” Paige whispers to the little girl, bumping her head against her temple. 

From the corner of her eyes, Azzi watches as the blonde disentangles herself from Stephie, before slowly getting to her feet and walking towards the younger woman. 

“Az-”

“It’s been almost three weeks-”

“It’s been two weeks, six days, five hours and around fourteen minutes,” Paige shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her face, “give or take a few minutes.

Azzi continues to look away from her, trying to keep her face devoid of emotion, “still took you a really long time to decide you were gonna stay.”

“Well I’m an idiot,” Paige says matter-of-factly and Stephie snickers behind her, “you know me Az. Sometimes these things- they take me a little while to understand.”

“I told you we wouldn’t wait forever,” Azzi says softly. 

“I didn’t make you wait forever,” Paige reaches out to gently grab her chin between her thumb and index, turning the brunette’s face towards her, “just needed a little bit of time.”

“You didn’t give me time,” Azzi accuses and the blonde flinches. 

“I know. I- I should’ve. Should’ve don’t a lot of things differently when it comes to us but I didn’t and I- I can’t change that but Azzi, I promise, I promise I’ll do everything right this time,” keeping one hand cupped around Azzi’s cheek, Paige uses the other to guide one of the brunette’s hands to rest against her chest, “I swear.”

Azzi swallows, feeling the quick rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat under her fingertips, “how do I know you won’t run away again?”

“Because I trust you,” the blonde whispers, “I trust you to stay and I trust you not to break my heart again. And that- that doesn’t mean that I’m not scared anymore- cause I am. Not a lot but definitely still a little bit. But someone once told me that, trusting is really scary but that maybe- maybe it would be a lot less scary, if we did together.”

“They sound like a really smart person,” Azzi bites her lip, “you should probably listen to them more often.”

Paige chuckles, “well if uh- if they give me the chance, I think I’d listen to them for the rest of my life.”

Azzi shudders and she doesn’t know if it’s from the earnestness of the words spoken or the strength of the emotions in the blonde’s gaze that’s still completely transfixed on her. 

“What about New York?” she asks finally. 

“I called the whole thing off,” Paige states nonchalantly,“I had Talia call Jonathan Kolb last night and I explained everything to Ohemaa this morning. Everyone’s on the same page. There is no deal anymore.”

“You-” Azzi gapes at the girl in front of her, “you- you already called the whole thing off?”

“I did,” Paige confirms, not a hint of regret in her voice, “I don’t need an escape plan.”

“You called it off before even talking to me?” Azzi asks, knitting her eyebrows together, “you didn’t even know how this was gonna go.”

“I already told you. I trust you,” Paige says simply, “I believe in us Az and I really hope you still believe in us too.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Azzi’s crashing into her, the weight of her body sending the blonde staggering back a few steps before her hands steadily secure themselves around the younger woman’s waist. A slightly surprised gasp escapes Paige until the sound of it is stolen by Azzi pressing her lips against the older woman’s. Despite her initial surprise, Paige kisses Azzi back with equal fervor, both of them pouring the myriad of suppressed emotions between them the last few weeks into it. And it feels like a cliché, like coming home. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Paige breaks away first, eyes widening as she slowly turns around to look at Stephie who’s practically vibrating with happiness as she watches the two of them, “Stephie-”

“She already knows,” Azzi says with a slight grin, shaking her head fondly at just how joyful her little girl looks. 

  “You told her?” Paige looks between the mother and daughter. 

Stephie smirks triumphantly, “I figured it out myself Miss Buecks.”

“Of course you did smarty pants,” Paige smiles at the little girl but Azzi knows her well enough -is still so in tune with every little bit of Paige despite the time apart- to see the small hint of disappointment behind it. 

“I would’ve told her myself if she hadn’t,” Azzi says quietly and Paige turns back around to face her. 

“What?”

“I love you,” Azzi says and she swears no three words have ever sounded as right on her lips, as those three do, “I love you,” she repeats again and she can feel Paige’s hands shaking as they instinctively tighten their grip on her waist, “I love you so much Paige Madison Bueckers and I want everybody to know it. Stephie, our families, our friends, our teammates, the whole world. I love you and I never wanna hide that. I want everybody to know that you’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.”

A strangled sob escapes Paige’s mouth as she presses her forehead against Azzi’s, “I love you too. I love you, so, so, so much. I’ve loved you since the beginning and I’m gonna love you till the very end. Forever.”

Their lips meet in a searing kiss and it’s unclear if they’re both crying more or giggling more, as they hold each other as tightly as possible. And this isn’t their first kiss, far from it- far closer to being their millionth or so- but still it feels like a fresh new start, a brand new love story but with that same old special, all-consuming, forevermore love that has always connected them to each other. The one that had never gone away, no matter how long they’d been apart. 

“Ahem, ahem,” an exaggerated cough breaks them apart and the two of them turn their heads at the same time to see Stephie looking dramatically at them, her hands on her hips. 

  “So, Mama loves Miss Buecks and Miss Buecks loves Mama. What about Stephie?” she pouts, exaggeratedly stomping her foot. 

Paige and Azzi both laugh, removing themselves from each other just enough to crouch down and open their arms out for Stephie, beckoning for her to join their embrace. The little girl’s attempt at a sour expression is immediately replaced by a cheerful grin as she runs into their arms, tiny hands somehow managing to wrap around both of their necks. 

“You know we love you the most Stephie,” Paige whispers into the little girl’s hair, who lets out a content sigh as she burrows herself further into the two women’s arms. 

Azzi hums in agreement, closing her eyes as she leans her head against her daughter’s, feeling Paige’s fingers intertwine with her behind Stephie’s back. And then it’s quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the three of them breathing and their hearts beating together in sync. Azzi feels at peace, her mind completely calm, no longer overthinking anything. 

Because now she finally has everything. 

Paige, Stephie, and the promise of a world the three of them can build together, it’s everything. 

[takes1]

i just wanted to tell you how GOOD that asahi x reader that u posted recently is like OML. ty for doing gods work and posting for my MAN

extra: a rough!asahi drabble

i appreciate your kindness so much. 😭this is just a small final-final drabble to the rough!asahi series, nothing much but some ppl were asking <3

warnings. implied nsfw, heavy recreational drinking, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / fluff-esque / asahi is the aftercare king / mutual size kink / playfighting kink / power struggle fetish / nishinoya loves his friends / 900 words

links. my masterlist. my ao3. more haikyuu. part one here. final part here.

Thanks to some calculated foresight, nobody noticed you and Asahi leaving at the same time. Everyone had been involved in their monetized 50/50 odds with Kageyama/Tsukishima's brawl that nothing else mattered.

That was, of course, only until Nishinoya couldn't find his bestie.

He was turning to call to you, make one more joke about how you scared the big coward off.

He quickly scanned the rest of the room- you had both vanished from thin air.

"Yachi?"

It was a little tap against her leg. He sat on the floor, back against the sofa that she was perched on. She leaned forward to hear him amidst all the commotion.

"Did you see where Asahi went?"

Her face grew bright, bright red. She straightened and didn't look at him, except for another tiny, nervous glance.

Yachi infamously could not keep secrets. And, although it wasn't exactly a secret that you two left, it was obvious that you didn't want to be followed, and she knew your feelings well.

Nishinoya's mouth hung open- he pushed himself to sit between her and Daichi, watching her way too close.

A suspicious mutter, right next to her cherry-red face, "You know something."

"Okay- okay, 'Noya-!" Daichi grabbed him hard enough to make him sit naturally again, "Stop that."

"Where is Asahi!" He shouted.

He shoved Daichi off and got up to a kneel again so that he could scan the entire living room. It was hardly a question, because this twilight-zone couch wasn't going to get him any answers.

Suga tried a smarter approach, after sharing a panicked look to Daichi.

"He probably had to take a shit, or somethin'."

Nishinoya stood on the couch, pointing a harsh finger at Suga. He was completely tipped off now, unable to trust a single person, because it was obvious he was not in on something. Now they were all trying to lie.

"You know he only shits in his own house!"

Daichi had to stifle his laughter- that was so true, and such a tiny detail they all knew, and never acknowledged. His attempts to grab Noya were compromised as he giggled. Being pretty wasted did not help.

"Noya, Sit- aah-hahaha-! Sit dowwn!"

"Okayyy, relax man!"

Nishinoya was freaking out, also drunk, knocked back down to his knees because of Daichi's clumsy pulling, "Wheeere! Is! Asahiii!"

Suga stood up to help, only throwing a glance to Yachi- who looked like she was about to implode. The pressure was high, made worse by everyone else's loud chanting, a count-down, for Kageyama to keep his hold on Tsukishima in the center of the circle.

"You're gonna-Ow! Hurt yourself!"

It took the combined strength of Suga and Daichi to keep their smaller friend in place. Tens of minutes passed by with Nishinoya restrained by his legs and waist- sprawled awkwardly over their laps. He would occasionally cry Asahi's name up to the ceiling in a monotone, defeated drawl, as if he was dead.

Nobody else cared, aside from thinking Nishinoya was a funny little guy when he had been drinking.

The rest of the matches were quieter. Daichi had to give up his ref position to Kageyama, since he was sober and the most willing, but that didn't stop him from making the world's worst calls.

Yachi was the first to hear it.

She was zoned out, staring forward at the blank wall, but got roused by a small, and somewhat familiar pitch.

"Oh- oh no--," She leaned over Nishinoya's leg, shaking Daichi's shoulder. She mouthed, 'I can hear them!'

Instead of springing up into action right away, like she expected them to, they sat still. It took a second to understand that they were trying to listen.

The very feint, but undeniable, sounds of some very good sex met their curious ears.

"The speaker-!" Suga caught his breath, sporting a very similar, harsh redness, as he shoved Nishinoya off, "Fuck, I- I'm getting th'speaker."

The solution was efficient, and a surefire way to keep everyone downstairs for longer. It was waking up those that were falling asleep.

It also helped to disguise Asahi once he began barreling down the steps. To the little group, all in on it, they were turned around already, waiting to see him as he stepped into the light.

He was glittering with sweat.

A brief, uneven, "H-ey, guys."

He cleared his throat, unable to meet any of their eyes, as he continued to the kitchen for some water.

Daichi collapsed onto the couch. He was taken completely with laughter, and Suga sat upright, mouth hanging open, growing warmer and warmer, clutching Yachi for support.

If that's what Asahi looked like, it was safe to assume that you must've been in shambles.

When he came back around with water, Nishinoya flung his torso over the back of the couch and barely snagged him by the shirt.

"Asahiii!" He gripped him tight, meeting his eyes with a messy smile, "Who won?"

Asahi made a frightened sound.

In his violent shudder, Nishinoya was shaken off and had to go without a proper response-- he scoffed, calling after him, "You're such a wuss!!"

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

taglist. thanks for supporting!

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my masterlist. more haikyuu. my imagines.

[sukunastoy]

Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Prologue (CEO! Sukuna x Fem! Reader, MDNI)

⭐This is a redo of my story, Shameful Attraction. I've rewritten it as I originally wanted so long ago. I was trying to write it to appease people and once I let go of that and just started to enjoy the story for itself, the flow became a lot better. For those who read it before, there are major changes you'll notice upon the next upload. For those who haven't read it at all before, I hope you enjoy. <3⭐

⬇️PLEASE READ BEFORE STARTING THE STORY! ⬇️

Modern age AU, no curses. Sukuna still has his tattoos, but his face ones are carefully hidden. This story is set in Japan, and I've done my best to impliment real life into it. For example, tattoos in Japan are still taboo, and people associate them with the yakuza, so its not normal to see everyday people have them. Though I know I won't have all the details of modern day life in Japan correct, I hope you still enjoy.

Pairings: CEO Sukuna x Fem Reader Content/Trigger Warnings: This story has a lot of abuse in it. Reader is in an abusive relationship with her fiance, Toji. There are several moments in the story that highlight this including, but not limited to, acts of violence and aggression towards reader, including name calling, shoving, punching, sexual assault, being manipulated, unwanted bondage and containment, food denial, being drugged etc. Reader is thin, not allowed to eat a lot per Toji's rules in regards to her weight. If she feels like she is gaining weight, she will make herself throw up after meals. Reader also struggles through depression though often hides it through masking, however there are ocassional thoughts of suicide when some scenarios are too extreme to cope with. She's scared to leave, assumes she could never get away, so just deals with it all as she doesn't know what else to do. Wordcount: 2k+

Prologue

Present Day ~ Friday, 10:23 PM

It was happening again. There was nothing you could do to stop it. No amount of shame or fear could keep you from hiding in the bathroom at 10:23 PM, your thumb hovering over the open message icon on your phone. You knew who it was, the person you desperately craved.

The sender's name was your best friend and coworker, Yuna.

You always talked to Yuna; sometimes you even stayed with her after work was over in the affluent area of Tokyo, Roppongi Hills. There were even the rare times you'd stay overnight after work because you felt like you couldn't see each other long enough. At least, it's who your fiancé thought you were talking to and seeing. If he ever found out otherwise, well, you weren't sure you even wanted to think about what might happen.

Toji would get annoyed at you for wanting to talk so much with one of your friends, and he always demanded to know what you two did or talked about all the time, which you offered very detailed lies in response to his questions. It's not like you came to these decisions lightly. You stuck it out faithfully for almost seven years before giving up and needing someone else to make you feel like a beautiful and worthy woman again. To know someone else could appreciate you and offer excitement in your life. To not hit or yell at for everything was a huge plus also. Even if it was only temporary. Even if they didn't care about you in the same way you cared for them, you still needed whatever you could get.

Listening carefully in the silence of the night, you could still hear Toji snoring from your tiny, shared bed down the hall, and finally, your shaking thumb pressed onto the screen, closing your eyes as you felt the little bzzt of the message opening.

Swallowing tightly before accepting the message visually, you peeked an eye open and felt your face flush with a tingling heat that traveled down into your core, making your thighs squeeze together tightly as you sat on the edge of the tub, breath hitching at the photo and caption that now had you uncontrollably mesmerized.

Clicking the lock button on the side of your phone you dropped it down onto the soft rug below, your shaking hands now covering your face before going through your hair and you let out a long quiet breath.

Your heart pounded with the image in your mind, and what usually happened after you got one of these messages, there was no stopping it, and you hoped it never would.

Finally calming your nerves at the moment, you picked your phone back up, only to have that heated chill drop to your stomach again as there was another message to open now. Biting your lip, you opened it and at this point, you could nearly hear your own elevated heartbeat.

-"Aren't you going to answer me, doll? I know you're still awake."-

You covered your mouth with your free hand to try and quiet the excited breaths escaping your mouth, scrolling up slowly to review the previous message.

-"I know it's late, and to be honest, I really don't care. I want you here, need you beneath me in my bed where you know you belong. Letting a real man fuck you. You know he can't make you feel like I can." Photo attached: It was of that enormous bulge desperately trying to push through dark sweatpants that were loosely tied at the hip, shirt lifted and held up by sharp canines to show off that ridiculously built body, and sinful black tattoos that hugged the skin.-

Damn him. A quiet whine churned in your throat as your thighs clenched together more tightly in that shameful desire. He was right though. Toji could never fuck you as good as Sukuna. It was so embarrassing. Embarrassing how easy it was for Sukuna to turn you completely limp in his arms, and how quickly you'd lose yourself beneath him. Embarrassing because of how loud and lewd your moans were. Embarrassing because of how much you wanted this arrogant playboy.

Knowing another message would come through if you didn't reply, you quickly responded with the only thing you could think of at the moment, being so flustered and already getting dumb over dick through a teasing photo. -"I still have that report I have to finish this weekend, I don't think you'd be too happy if I don't complete it by Monday, Sukuna."-

As soon as you sent the message, it was as if there was an answer already waiting, and your phone almost immediately vibrated in response. -"Just stay the whole weekend with me, I don't even care anymore at this point. You can finish that here after I'm finished with you. I've already transferred the train ticket vouchers to you. The last one leaves at 10:51 pm. I'll pick you up at the station when you arrive. Just don't keep me waiting, my pretty, little thing."-

Running a hand over your forehead that felt a bit damp from nervousness, you shoved your phone into your pocket and let out a quiet but heavy breath. Having an affair with your boss was undoubtedly making you the happiest you've felt in years, but still, at the same time, it made you so frightened and ashamed. Especially since it felt like you were getting more attached to him, though you knew Sukuna wasn't looking for a serious relationship of any kind. He had made that perfectly clear. Painfully clear. You weren't the only woman in his life that he entertained, and you knew you wouldn't be the last. You were just fortunate to have his attention, for now.

He certainly knew how to make you feel like the only woman in the world though, despite knowing you were just sharing him. At least he kept his wandering eyes and flirtatious comments under check when the two of you were spending time together. Meanwhile, Toji acted like the biggest flirt in the world with every woman he encountered, even with you at his side.

Toji could be so gentle and loving when he wanted to be, but it never lasted long, and it was only when he was rewarding you for properly behaving. There'd always be something to set him off or some woman nearby he couldn't keep his eyes off of. You were certain he had been sleeping with other women for years, the way he acted around some of them proved it. Despite your supsicions, you had stayed faithful and loyal. Even through the beatings and constant derogatory things he called you. You weren't sure if it was because you had morals, or because you were terrified of him.

So long as you were obedient like a trained dog, Toji wouldn't hurt you. Mentally or physically. Most of the time you were too frightened to fall out of line, knowing how easily he could knock you out, or break an arm; something he's done before in a fit of drunken rage. He definitely scared the shit out of you, and cheating or lying like this was enough to make you shake in fear for your safety.

But, Sukuna never asked you to officially stay for several days like this at his own home. Sure, you've taken work trips together, but even though you gave yourself to Sukuna in any way he wanted, most of those were strictly professional and work related. So, as terrified as you were of your fiancé finding out, you couldn't pass up this type of opportunity. Maybe Sukuna was getting more attached to you as well? 

"I have no desire for a relationship of any kind beyond this. Don't get any hopes or ideas, I simply enjoy what we have, and it wont ever change."

Doubtful.

Even knowing his attitude towards your relationship, it wasn't always easy to keep your mind free of hopeful thoughts, unfortunately. The way he'd hold you so close or kiss you so gently at times brought such confusion it hurt almost worse than any slap from Toji.

You carefully snuck out of the apartment, praying to god that Toji wouldn't hear you. You'd have to come up with some lie at some point, but for now, you just wanted to see the man you desperately longed for. The train station was only a couple of minutes away from your apartment, so it was a quick walk down the road. Approaching the kiosk to pick up your tickets, you held the voucher barcode on your phone underneath the scanner and it printed out a set of tickets for you to board the train. 

Knowing the ride would be a little time-consuming, roughly over an hour, you stared aimlessly out the window for most of the trip, your leg bouncing in anticipation. You tried not to think of all the shameful things you were going to let this beast of a man do to you through the rest of the night, and how you craved every bit of it. It was the only time you didn't have to think or worry, you could just let Sukuna use you as he wanted. 

Nearing the destination, you clicked on Yuna's name in your contacts and took a quick selfie, angling the camera so your pushed-up boobs were clearly visible as well. Before Sukuna, you could never feel confident enough to take such pictures. Even when Toji demanded some risqué photos, you couldn't feel comfortable doing so. Sending them to Sukuna was exciting, however. Being satisfied after a few images, you attached a message, -"I'm coming. ❤"-

-"Yeah, you'll be screaming that soon enough."- he replied nearly instantly.

God, you could hear his cocky chuckle through the text. -"Please, 'cause I seriously need it. This whole week was awful."- You type out, still feeling the throbbing, dull pain in your side where Toji jammed his fist into your ribs for talking back to him. -"Yeah? Well, glad I had you come over then. I'll make sure to fuck all of the stress out of you."-

He sent another photo and you nearly dropped your phone once it popped up on the screen as you weren't expecting to see his large hand tightly wrapped around his hardened cock. You let out a near silent yet audible whimper as your eyes fixated on it. A shudder traveled through your body as you recalled how amazing he could make you feel.

You were just grateful Sukuna asked you to come over tonight, and it not be mainly for work, considering you and Toji had another fight about his past financial problems that somehow became your main responsibility to fix. At the time of your engagement when you were young, dumb, and in love, you had agreed to put all of his bills in your name and his credit debt as soon as possible so he could catch a break and start rebuilding his finances and you'd be able to help with the payments then.

Of course, through some miscommunication, you were responsible for ALL the payments now, and you couldn't keep up. To make it worse, he kept taking out new loans for who knows what and it seriously terrified you. Loan sharks were nothing to mess with. They'd give you anything you want, but if you didn't pay it back, they weren't afraid to get rough for their money. No point in calling the cops either, cause the cops were scared of them half the time too.

Seeing the city lights get closer, you let out a deep breath of suspense, knowing within the next few moments or so you'd be getting fucked stupid in one of the very expensive, luxury penthouses of the seductively, dominant man you met only a few months ago.

You knew the moment you had literally run into him while rushing down the sidewalk, causing his hot morning coffee to spill onto you and all over his expensive suit that things were going to change in your life, even if just for a little while.

End Prologue

I hope you enjoyed! <3 I'm happy to actually be writing this story again. I truly LOVE comments so please leave some! They make me smile so much. ヾ(•ω•`)o

I'll do my absolute best to keep this story updated, unlike before. I promise!

[gh0stly-mp3]

the path to you

yukimiya x gn!reader

synopsis: you and yukimiya pass by each other every day, put suddlently you stop appearing and he gets worried

tags: fluff, yukimiya is a gentlemen, strangers to friends/lovers, can be seen as platonic

warnings: mention of illness, might have some grammatical errors

a/n: hey! just asking, would you read a mma fighter!male reader fic? been thinking about it too much. byee 🏃‍♂️ - requests are open

Yukimiya is the type of person who likes to observe the things around him, as if every detail has something special to it. After all, one day he might not be able to see anymore.

He's not sure why, but ever since he started seeing you every day, at the same time, walking the same path, something inside him became… curious. It’s not like he was looking for anyone, but you… well, you always seemed interesting.

Every day, you would pass each other by. You two never spoke, but little by little, a kind silence started to build a connection between you. Yukimiya began to look forward to that moment, the moment when his eyes would meet with yours, even if it was just for a second. You always looked down or away, but when your eyes met his, he loved it. A shy smile, maybe, something that suggested you were starting to notice him too.

Yukimiya is not the type of person to shy away from approaching someone, quite the opposite. He has always been charismatic and confident, with his confidence up high. He’d stand there, sometimes just smiling, waiting to see if your shy smile would appear again. And it always did, even if quickly, like a reflex.

Then, one morning, the unexpected happened. You weren’t there.

At first, he thought maybe you were just running late. It happened from time to time. But when the next day came, and then the next, and the next… Yukimiya couldn’t help but feel a knot in his stomach. It wasn’t like you were great friends or anything, but… your absence bothered him. The poor boy found himself looking at the spot where you’d usually be, waiting for you to show up, but nothing.

The days turned into weeks, and he tried not to think too much about it, but the anxiety only grew. It wasn’t normal, I know, but… He was really worried.

And then, after two weeks, there you were again, with that familiar gaze and the lightness in your steps. His heart jumped.

The moment your eyes met, Yukimiya couldn’t hold back anymore. He couldn’t just smile from a distance like he used to. The need to know if you were okay, to understand what had happened, overtook him.

"Hey… I know you don't know me, but we pass by each other every day. And you suddently desappeared, are you okay?" - He asked, more urgently than expected, not really knowing what he was doing. - "My name is Yukimiya, by the way".

You seemed a bit surprised, like you hadn’t expected him to approach you directly. But then, your eyes softened, and with a small laugh, you said: "Yeah, I’m fine. I… was really sick these past few weeks. But I’m better now. Thank you for asking!"

Yukimiya felt an immediate sense of relief, but something else surfaced too. A desire to… be closer. To know more for you, if I could.

"I’m glad you’re feeling better! Sorry for approaching you like this" - He smiled, feeling the conversation open up in a way neither of you expect. - "If you want, I… could invite you for coffee later, just to talk. I don't know if it sounds weird, but I wanted to know you better."

What he didn’t expect was your look, almost surprised, but also with a hint of interest. What had once been just exchanged smiles on the street now seemed to have transformed into something more meaningful.

"I’d love that!" - You replied, and that simple answer made his heart race. - "I was also kinda interested in getting to know you. Let me give you my number!"

And so, with a shared smile, you both went your separate ways. But something inside Yukimiya told him that the routine of fleeting encounters were going to evolve into something more.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

If you're looking for threesome requests, my personal favorite is Blood Orange (Raph and Mikey). I don't need anything too crazy (I'm honestly as vanilla as they come 😅) but maybe it's the two of them and the reader's first time together? They're still figuring things out a little, and Raph and Mikey need to come to an understanding on how to go about things, and it ends up being very sweet, passionate and ultimately a success. I hope this is okay. Let me know, and thank you so much!

Blood Orange (18+)

Fortnite!Raphael x reader x Fortnite!Michelangelo

A/N: I’m not that vanilla myself, but I’ve decided to cut back just a little, before any full on action is about to happen, keeping it very implied (and maybe because I got a little tired but still had an urge to get this posted today😂💚). It doesn’t go into detail about their first time together, but it does set the stage for how a threesome would come about, and I hope that’s okay❤️🧡

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Fwb relations, implied smut, almost fingering, turtley anatomy, implied threesome.

You had tried plenty of things in your life. Many exciting things that some people could only dream of. Though you might not consider them exciting or as extreme as some people might see it, but you did enjoy it. You had enjoyed all of it. But there was still one thing that you really wanted to try. A thing you had only been able to dream of. A fantasy that had been making its way through your thoughts, over and over for quite some time now. And now, as you sat between Raphael and Michelangelo on the couch, watching a show that they had decided on, your little fantasy made its way back into focus, causing your heart to quicken a bit. And what was that little fantasy of yours? A threesome. Not just any threesome, but a threesome with you, and the two mutant turtles you sat between. And to be quite honest, that fantasy had been getting you in the mood like no other. Especially when you knew exactly what the two brothers were capable of.

For several weeks now, you had had a friends with benefits relationship with not just Raphael but Michelangelo as well. However, neither of them seemed to know about the other. None of them knew that just moments after you had been sucking Raph off in his bedroom, you would just skip across the hall to Mikey’s room, where he would eat you out in his own room. And in all brutal honesty. You loved it. It was probably one of the best things you had ever gotten yourself into. Some days it had gotten more freaky than others, with you having been fucked thuroly by one of the brothers, before you made your way to the other brother to experience the whole thing all over again.

You have had both Raph and Mikey, several times, even within hours of each other. So of course, the natural thing to be wanting next, was to have both of them at the same time. And of course, as you sat there, squished between the two men that have been pounding you to heaven and back, you couldn’t help but wonder if you should do something about it. That this was the day that you would cause your fantasy to become real.

With a lip bite you shifted your attention between the two mutants, wondering which one would be the first to make a move on you. Normally, it wouldn’t take long before one of them would cough, or do something before mumbling something about going to their room, as a sign for you to follow when the coast was clear, and all suspicion was off. So now you sat there, excitingly waiting for any of them to do something. Both Mikey and Raph sat with their eyes glued to the show, playing on the screen before you. They would only move once in a while, in an attempt to get more comfortable on the couch. At every move, you found yourself hoping, getting excited at the thought of what might happen next. So you could not help but feel a little disappointed when they were only scratching their chin, or just moving one leg over the other. It was almost getting to the point of infuriating. But then, something happened, sending shivers of joy through your body.

Raph had moved a hand to his chin, giving it a few scratches, before letting it fall back down. But instead of returning to a rest in Raph lap, just like it had done moments before, it now came to rest on your thigh, giving it a small squish, before letting his thumb rub against your clothes. It was impossible for you to not bite the inside of your lip.

Just as you started to focus on the feeling of Raph’s hand on your thigh, you felt Mikey’s hand carefully nudge yours onto his lap, with his hand slowly guiding it to where he wanted it, getting closer and closer to his cloaca. You sucked in a silent breath, noticing how both brothers were still staring at the television, not noticing what the other was doing. It was thrilling, as you felt your lower region beginning to puls with excitement. Raph’s hand moved closer to your pulsing center, as your little finger made contact with Mikey’s needy cloaca. You swallowed a moan, but you could not hide your heavy sigh. That caused Raph to chuckle, and Mikey to crack a small smile.

“And here I thought she would be a harder nut to crack”, he chuckled, finally looking your way, with his hand squishing your thigh once more. This time you could not hide your moan, too shocked to even try.

“Really?”, Mikey asked, slowly moving your hand over his cloaca, smirking as you saw your flustered and confused expression. “I honestly expected her to crack a lot sooner. You know how she gets when she has first put her mind to something”.

“What are you talking about?”, you asked, feeling your heart beating faster and your breath getting heavier.

“Did you seriously not expect us to know?”, Raph chuckled with a smug smile, leaning in closer to your face, his hand moving to cup your heat, while Mikey’s member slowly came out to let your fingers grace against it. “We’re mutant turtles babe, we can smell it on you”.

“What?”, you asked, suddenly feeling very mortified, freezing in your seat.

The two brothers started laughing, before moving closer against you.

“I don’t think she knows, Mikey”, Raph said, rubbing his hand over your center. “I don’t think she knows that we can smell when she gets aroused, or when she has been with any of us”.

“You can what?!”, you asked, turning from one to the other, your eyes wide, as the revelation of Raph’s words started sinking in. They knew, and they had always known.

“What Raph just told you”, Mikey smiled, using your hand to stimulate his cloaca, letting his head fall back against the headrest of the couch, looking at you with dreamy yet mischievous eyes. “I don’t think you realize how much fun we’ve had with it”.

“Fun?”, you asked, feeling Raph’s fingers sneak towards the hem of your bottoms.

“Yeah, fun”, Raph smirked, slowly moving below you underwear, as his fingers sneaked their way down. “It’s almost a game to see who can make you cum the quickest, or if we can beat your highest amount of orgasms in one day”.

“Why do you think we both want you on the same day, just right after each other? We know just how to overstimulate you”, Mikey said.

“But tonight”, Raph said, making his way past your mount, with one finger gracing your slick folds, causing you to shutter, wishing that he would press down, right where you needed him and Mikey the most. “We thought it would be best to see if we could do it all, together, right here, on the couch”.

“How does that sound?”, Mikey asked, his voice already sounding airy.

You did not hesitate, pressing your fingers against Mikey’s cloaca, causing his member to slowly slip out, his head peeking into the palm of your hand, while you lifted your hips just a little, chasing Raph’s fingers.

“I say, bring all you got”, you smiled, feeling delighted that your fantasy was finally becoming a reality.

[ionobjectshow]

Hello granddad!! Really enjoyed the new episode by the way :D I just wanted to ask something, I dont know if you already answered this so I'm sorry for bothering you if you have D:

Do you have a particular interest in nuclear physics? I'm wondering because when I watch ION it seems to me like you must be very passionate about it as well, either that or your just very good at researching (or making stuff up this sounds legit to people who dont know anything about physics, like me! /j), but it sounds like you know a considerable amount! Maybe it just seems like that to me because I don't understand physics at all :P

I really love cracklin!! So much!!! I've felt like I was too naive and childish for most of my life, I felt weak, pathetic, i cried nearly every day and my feelings of self hatred were only solidified by the people around me. And even though I act MUCH differently now and am in fact quite crude (I am much like a bird squawking outside your window that refuses to shut up!!!) and say uncomfortable things, I'm still regarded as naive and dumb sometimes! The thing Sylvia and cracklin have going on feels very similar to MANY friendships I've had with girls my age. I liked school very much and liked to work, so it made them angry that I managed to be "so stupid and so smart at the same time" (quoted directly from something a girl said to me when I was in middle school). I feel very seen.

I also want to ask if you have a particular interest in object shows, or if you just happened to choose to make your show an object show by coincidence? Object shows are my special interest and I LOVE how your show goes against (almost) everything standard for an object show. Your show is absolutely unique and there's nothing like it out there! I'm sure you will inspire many young creators to make their object shows more serious and complex, deviating from just the typical competition show. In my eyes something is qualified as an object show when there are objects (or non human characters) and the creator considers it an object show, so I love how versatile the title can be! Your designs communicate a lot about the characters and that's SO uncommon!!!! I love it!!!!! You inspire ME!!!! The art is also BEAUTIFUL, really abnormal to see in object shows, most of the time very little detail is put into it, but your backgrounds feel so ALIVE

Have a good day! :]

☢️ As soon as I saw this secret message, the words flashed through my mind: “this letter is very autistic, perhaps it was created by an autistic person.” ☢️ I love long opinions with lots of details and sincere emotions, thank you for this text, I was very happy reading it!

☢️ Yes, you guessed it - nuclear physics (especially everything related to the operation of Nuclear Power Plants) has been my special autistic interest for about 5 years now. I love everything about it. In fact, I am absolutely bad at the exact sciences, but the dance of nuclear energies fascinates me and takes my breath away! I order manuals on nuclear reactors for myself and read them with great pleasure, waving my hands. I often go to a coffee shop to read there by the window with a cup of coffee ^^

☢️ I created ION during the most terrible period of my life, and this project was the only thing that held me while anxious depression was rapidly developing and consuming me into some bottomless black abyss. So I put my whole soul, all of myself and what I love into ION, I made this project my mirror. ☢️ It is very important for me to see how this story touches the hearts of other people, I scream with delight if some neurodivergent people recognize themselves in Cracklin! This is extremely important to me.

☢️ Object shows are not my special interest, but I was very surprised and intrigued by this genre of web animation. At first, I did not like the concept of an object show and I could not understand why people were watching it … and then something switched inside me and I really wanted to create my own experimental Object show. To create it entirely myself. To make an author's project that will become a part of me. I didn't even hope that ION would be liked by anyone else, I posted 1 episode with the thought that I was doing it only for myself. And now I am happy as a rainbow in the sky, reading so many kind comments and support! Thank you very much

[merbear25]

can you write a small drabble for aokiji with a f! reader? maybe something relating to his love for women with big bazoongas and reader is rather... well endowed... (SORRY IF THIS IS A LITTLE ODD)

It's not odd at all! I hope you like what I've written for you! 💜💜

You were oblivious to your secret admirer. His longing gaze took its time breaking through that haze you were in. With an instant connection forming, you went against your better judgement to see how brightly these embers could burn. You were left wondering why it’d taken you so long to notice him.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, perversion, breast fondling and sucking, a bit of body worship, teasing, reader is a part of Blackbeard’s crew

Much needed attention (Aokiji)

Couldn’t there have been a different alignment of the stars you’d found yourselves under? Meeting under these circumstances was far from favorable, and yet here you were on board the same deck as him, both contributing to Blackbeard’s greed.

You were a captivating creature; there was no denying that. His eyes found you long before you even noticed him. Not giving him the time of day at the beginning, he chalked it up to you drowning in your workload. That wouldn’t do, though. An alluring woman such as yourself should be given only the greatest pleasures in life. 

His eyes lingered on your chest. Even from afar, the gentle rises and falls were evident from the subtle shake of your breasts. Despite your attention being directed elsewhere, a shiver ran down your spine, averting it away from your task. Your eyes scanned the area for only a moment before they laid on Aokiji. They fixated on him, combing over his laid back demeanor. He propped his head up on his hand and gave you a half smile.

Having only noticed him for the first time and he already got you blushing. Your flustered mind was flooded with thoughts of him; questions of who he was, how long he’d been there, and where he came from raced laps on your now one track mind. You were so caught up in these newfound emotions that you were unaware of his approaching footsteps.

He leaned down, keeping enough distance to better judge your reaction to him. “You’re a very beautiful woman.”

The compliment took you off guard. The heat on your cheeks spread to the entirety of your face. “You can’t just be forward like that!” Your attempt to speak in a hushed voice was in vain.

He paused for a moment as if deeply considering your frantic words. “Why not? It’s just a fact. You’re beautiful and—”

“Shhh! Stop blurting that out!” Heart beating fast, the heat on your face burning, stumbling over your words: you couldn’t remember the last time anyone made you feel like this—out of control.

Snickering crept up from behind you, making the situation you were naive to ignore become reality. The sinking in your chest made those delicate movements more prominent. Without meaning to, you were making yourself out to be that much more ravishing. The temptation to be the one to comfort and soothe you was nearly too much to bear.

“You don’t need to listen to them.” Offering his hand, his whisper wrapped those warm words tightly around you. Taking his hand, you followed him to a more private area where you could explore these sparks flaring between you.

In closer proximity, you got a better look at the details on his body. Even under his layers, there was no mistaking the muscle underneath.

“Do you want to touch me?” 

Despite his nonchalant tone being something to get used to, you nodded in response. Resting your hands upon the fabric, your fingers memorized the feel of it. He reached up to undo his shirt, while his eyes never left your expression. There was a clear arousal in it, no matter how much you may have tried to deny.

Hesitantly at first, your touch soon roamed his chest with a deep hunger that hadn’t been satisfied for a long time. The need in your expression was obvious, practically begging him to reach out and touch you. When he cupped your breasts, a shaky breath came out of both of you in unison. Even while in his sizable hands, your breasts managed to dwarf them. Their softness, the sweet sounds you made when he played with them, the feeling of your nipples hardening from increasing arousal: you truly were a sight to behold.

Soft kisses found your neck. Gasps and moans passed your lips as he traveled further down your body. Kneading your breasts more roughly, he managed to squeeze out a few needy pleas. He buried his face between your breasts, carefully rubbing your erect nipples between his fingers as he bounced them against his face. Your hips began moving back and forth slowly, tempting him to go further with you. A low groan vibrated against your chest before letting you see the burning desire in his eyes.

Leaving a trail of heat in their wake, his lips finally found their way to one of your nipples. A firm suck on it was promptly followed by a lathering tongue—flicking at it to coax out each delightful moan you could muster. The hunger within you was growing ravenous, but his was just as famished. 

Pulling you closer, he firmly held you in place as if expecting a specific reaction out of you. His other hand slid up your skirt and was greeted by the arousal pooling in your panties. Breathless moans bathed your bear chest as his fingers ran over your clothed slickness.

The soaked fabric twisting around his fingers left the friction against your clit that much more unbearable. There was no stopping the cascade of blissful moans and whimpers. You rutted against him, desperate for him to be the one to commit to breaking your dry spell. Each deliberate motion from him played your body more skillfully than he could have ever imagined. Plucking the strings to the fine instrument of your ecstasy threw you into an ascending melody of euphoria.

A cooling sensation tickled your breasts the more you moved in his arms. Pinning you against him, that hot wet tongue of his was now leaving a slight chill against your sensitive skin. Your pants grew needier and your gasps turned into grunts as your senses were under attack in the more erotic way you could have dreamed of.

With just a few more tactful brushes between your sensitive folds, you cried out for him while he pushed you through your climax. The pool between your thighs was coating his hand, tethering him to you with a thin elastic string. He caressed your hips tenderly, and while his lips trailed back up to your neck, they showered your breasts with the affection they were just left absent of.

Calls from up deck indicated the arrival to shore. Being pulled away from this intimate moment was done forcefully, although you knew that it wouldn’t be long before you’d be able to sneak away to finish what you had started.

[mayasaura]

The how Alecto got into Harrow to be Nona question is pretty easy to explain using the information Augustine gives us about revenants! Ghosts can follow thanergetic links that are created by contact with the deceased's thanergy. In the case of Harrow and Alecto, the link was created when Harrow touched Alecto's body in the Tomb. Alecto follows the link, finds Harrow's body without Harrow in it, takes the opportunity to hop inside, and bingo! You get a Nona.

And ghosts very much do just jump on bodies, especially in the River. Mercy explictly warns Harrow about the possibility of exactly that happening.

A Lyctor’s body, empty, with its battery intact but nobody in the driver’s seat? Do you know what could take up residence? Anything could get inside you—any horrible or evil or lonely thing, any miserable revenant, or worse—and you, you Ninth House child, are not remotely qualified to fight an outside predator. You are like a little baby. Listen to this: if we get to the other side and find you’ve gone and left your soul behind—I will separate your brain from your skull without waiting for you to catch up.

Anything could get inside her. Possession is a risk from any ghost, ghoulie, or devil that happens to find her.

Let's use Wake as an example. She definitely does not have any soul-sharing bond with Harrow, and has never become a lyctor. Abigail explains to Harrow that the Sleeper is laying seige to Harrow's subconscious with the intent to oust her, and concludes her explanation with:

Right now, in this moment, you are alive—let us ensure that if your body survives, you will remain at the helm.

The meaning is not ambiguous. If they fail, and Harrow's soul is killed here by the Sleeper, the Sleeper will possess Harrow's living body in the waking world. Abigail, the preeminent expert on ghosts and revenants, takes this as self-evident.

Possession is a risk when dealing with any revenant. No one needs to have consumed a part of another person's soul.

Once again I find myself agreeing with your conclusion that Gideon and Harrow's souls are acclimated to one another's bodies while disagreeing with your proofs.

Even if you're entirely right that Harrow planned for Gideon to surface, we have no idea if Harrow would know her body rejecting the possession was even a risk. We get that information from Pyrrha, who is in a unique position to know more about soul transfers and body sharing than just about anyone. I would hesitate to assume that Harrow, who describes her own knowledge of spirit magic as "execrable," has all the same knowledge as Pyrrha.

If I were to point to evidence of how becoming a lyctor effects ghostly possession, I'd look at Ianthe's steps five through seven.

Step five, incorporate it: find a way to make the soul part of yourself without being overwhelmed. Step six: consume the flesh. Not the whole thing, a drop of blood will do to ground you. Step seven is reconstruction—making spirit and flesh work together the way they used to, in the new body.

Step six especially. If the cavalier's flesh needs to be involved for grounding, it follows that step seven—making spirit and flesh work together the way they used to—anchors the soul of the cavalier to the lyctor's body as if to its own, and prevents the lyctor's body from rejecting it.

Harrow never completed step five, but she did perform the ritual completely enough that she was able to wield Gideon's sword against Cytherea. So odds are very good that her body wouldn't reject Gideon's soul.

Yeah, we are waaaay far away from the original point of Pyrrha being doomed by the narrative 😂 But I fucking love talking about necromantic theory, too. There are so many little details tossed out to us as they become relevant, and so far, they've all linked up to create an increasingly coherent picture.

Pyrrha feels so doomed by the narrative, I thought for a long time she was probably secretly dying according to Anastasia's tripod principal, the body only being able to go on for so long without G1deon's soul. But taking a second look .... nope.

The tripod principal says body plus thalergy plus soul equals life. The body in equilibrium produces thalergy, so it shouldn't matter that the soul, Pyrrha, is technically dead. It wouldn't work for most ghosts—a body will usually reject a transplanted soul and start shutting itself down, like Nona—but after ten thousand years a lyctor, the body has adjusted. Pyrrha's got squatter's rights on life.

She still feels pretty doomed to me. She's so fucking old and knows too much and has too many regrets. But if she is, she's gonna have to die of being killed.

[akookminsupporter]

There’s a photo—or, well, I guess it's a screenshot from this clip—that happens to be one of my absolute favourite pictures of Jimin and Jungkook. This clip itself is one of my favourites of the two of them for two reasons.

The first reason, and probably the most obvious one if you’re someone who pays attention to details, is how perfectly their outfits are coordinated. It’s like they’re matching but not in a way that’s too deliberate or forced. They’re both wearing the same colours, but the way those colours are used or styled is slightly different in each of their outfits. Jimin and Jungkook do this quite often—whether it’s a coincidence or intentional, who knows?

If you think about it, they’ve always had this knack for wearing the same colour palette. Over the last few years, they’ve even started leaning towards a similar overall style of clothing. The main difference is that Jungkook’s outfits tend to be noticeably more oversized, while Jimin’s clothes are oversized as well, just not to the same extreme. But in general, their styles are so alike that it’s hard not to notice. They both gravitate towards neutral tones—white, black, greys, and the occasional earthy tones. Jimin, however, is a bit more adventurous when it comes to colours. He’ll sometimes add a pop of something unexpected, but even then, he stays within a very sophisticated, monochromatic or neutral vibe.

This makes it pretty common to see them with outfits that feel unintentionally coordinated. Sure, other members also dress similarly from time to time—for example, Yoongi often wears neutral tones, too but you wouldn't immediately say he coordinated his outfit with Jimin or Jungkook or both.

Now, the second reason I love this clip has more to do with the phrase written on the back of Jungkook’s bomber jacket. If you take it from the perspective of what we believe their relationship might be, that phrase feels incredibly meaningful. It almost seems to capture how they have to navigate the world they’re in. For people like them—living under constant scrutiny, with so much pressure on their shoulders—it must be incredibly isolating at times. And yet, the phrase on his jacket seems to reflect the idea that, no matter how hard or lonely it gets, they’ve got each other.

Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I’ve always thought that phrase encapsulates so much about who they are and how they seem to handle things together. From the way I see them, there’s this unspoken connection between them—a sense that they just get each other on a level that’s hard to explain.

This connection goes beyond clothes or coordinated outfits. Jimin and Jungkook seem to share so many things in terms of their personalities, tastes, and even their thought processes. Out of all the members, I feel like this is something almost unique to them. It’s not just fans who notice it, either. The other members have commented on it, sometimes confusing one for the other or saying that either one of them could’ve done or said something because they’re so similar. Even their laughter sounds alike, especially when they’re together. It’s one of those little things that feels so endearing and makes you wonder just how much time they’ve spent together to develop such similarities.

Can you imagine what they’ll be like once they’ve finished their military service? I can’t wait for all the behind-the-scenes content that’s bound to come out when the group starts promoting together again.

At the end of the day, their dynamic feels so special. Whether it’s through their coordinated outfits, shared laughter, or the way they just seem to click, there’s something about them that’s completely unique. It’s one of the reasons why moments like this clip—and even something as simple as a photo from it—stick with me. It’s not just about how they look together but about everything they represent.

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 22

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

Jake misses Christmas, Rooster realizes a few things

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

The first couple of weeks had been hard on everyone. Natasha and I had spent the first few days curled up in one bed, then she had slept over with Javy more often than not. Proving to the world that Tasha and I were right when we said that Bob was the best person in the world, he had let me sleep over on his couch whenever I felt like it, which had been quite often. We would watch old movies and order take out, ending the night the same way every time by looking at dog pictures. 

I was doing…okay, all things considered. Until Harvey sent a text asking if I was still coming to Iowa for Christmas. Sure, I knew Christmas was coming, it was hard to miss the decorations everywhere, but it hadn’t really sunk in that Jake wouldn’t be there until that moment. Somehow I had managed to get through the call without crying, confirming that I would take a flight up in a few days to spend Christmas with them. Seeing my nieces would help distract from the pain of Jake being away and I would be able to spoil them rotten with presents.

But today seemed to be the day of overwhelming phone calls because as soon as I was done with Harvey, my agent, Jason, called. 

“Heya, D. How’s the draft coming along?” I rolled my eyes, laying back in my bed. Jake’s pillow still smelled like him, mostly because Javy had stolen Jake’s cologne for me to spray on it, and I found myself sleeping on it more often than my own.

“You’ll get the pages when I’m ready to share them, nosy,” He laughed. I could imagine him sitting with his feet up on his desk, tie hanging loose around his neck. “How’s the scheduling for the book tour coming? Any way we could do it in the next six months?” Keep busy. That’s what Penny had said to do and being away from the apartment for a month or two, every second of my day being directed by Jason and Grace, would be the perfect way to keep my mind occupied. 

“You’re never this eager to do a book tour,” Jason laughed again. “I can schedule something out for March, four months should be enough time to book everything. Grace will be ecstatic, I’ll call her once we hang up. Ooh, I could conference her, one sec.” 

“You don’t have to-”

“Whaddya want, Jason?” Grace’s thick Jersey accent came over the line and I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

“Our little angel is on the call, she wants to do a book tour.” Grace gasped,

“Hell must have frozen over, good lord. Daisy, is this true?” 

“It’s true, dang, you two don’t have to act like I physically run away from you guys to avoid public engagements.” As soon as I said it, I knew what Jason was going to bring up.

“Do you remember Tucson?” 

“Nevermind, proceed with the roasting,” I groaned, “I deserve that.” Grace and Jason began to regale me with all of the times I had claimed to have a cold or a headache to get out of events. 

There was still no news on whether or not they would be able to talk with Jake and Rooster during the deployment, so Penny had told me to write letters but not send them. Letters from loved ones were notorious for getting lost, so it was more of just an exercise in letting out my emotions. So that’s what I spent my flight to Minnesota doing, writing out letters in the cursive scrawl Jake had once called pretty, detailing how much I missed him, what was going on at home, and other random thoughts that popped into my mind. 

My suitcase was filled with presents and enough warm clothes to survive the drastic weather shift. Christmas wasn’t the same without snow and I was happy to see that Minnesota had gotten the memo, the ground being covered in inches of the powdery whiteness. 

“Auntie Daisy!” Sarah screeched, waving excitedly beside her sister, Haley, who was also waving. Harvey looked good, his ginger mustache waxed into a handlebar, wearing matching Christmas sweaters with his wife Emma, whose blond hair was held up 

“Hey there, babies!” I sweep both of them into a tight hug, letting their giggles wash over me, the love making me feel warm from head to toe.

“It’s so good to see you, DeeDee,” Harvey pulled me into a hug, kissing my temple, his mustache tickling me. “It’s been way too long.” 

“God, did you get even taller?” Harvey had long surpassed my height but it was still fun to tease him, “Emma, you must be feeding him well.” I hugged my sister-in-law with a grin,

“You know me, Harvey’s been doing all the cooking. I’m glad you’re here though, his cooking’s got nothing on yours.” 

“I see what this is,” I laughed, feeling lighter than I had since Jake left. “Invite me here just so I’ll make lasagna for you.” God did it feel good to be around family. 

The days until Christmas were filled with festive activities with the girls, going sledding, building snowmen, making homemade hot chocolate and marshmallows, and decorating too many gingerbread cookies for my wrists to handle. On Christmas, after everyone had gone to bed, Harvey and I had sat down on the couch one night with hot toddies and gingerbread cookies, curled up under blankets.

“So, how’s everything been going with that pilot of yours?” Harvey sipped his mug of tea and bourbon. I smiled, feeling a tinge of sadness thinking about Jake. When did I go from being completely opposed to a relationship to being so stupidly in love that I couldn’t go a few days without missing one person? 

“He wants to get married,” Harvey’s expression took on that of a teenage girl who just got told Taylor Swift was coming to town.

“Oh my God! That’s so exciting, I mean, do you want to get married?” His excitement was understandable, I had loudly proclaimed my resistance to get married many times in the past, much to my brother’s disappointment. My face must have given the answer away because he gasped dramatically, hand over his heart. “Oh my God, you do.” 

“Kind of want to have kids too, one or two of them, watch them run around with the girls and have fun.” Harvey looked like he was about to pass out from happiness. Honestly, I had never thought that I would end up being this happy in my life, not since the day our parents died, and it was kind of surreal to even be voicing this aloud, especially to Harvey. “Kind of want to be Mrs. Daisy Seresin when he gets home from wherever the hell he is.” 

X

“Stop grinding your teeth, you’ll get a headache,” I reminded Hangman for the third time that day. Poor guy had been on edge since the moment we got on the ship and I was under strict instructions from Daisy to keep an eye on him. “One day at a time, man, we’ll get through this.” 

What we had assumed would be a standard deployment, hanging out on the ship, flying recon or just for practice, and getting to call home every night, had turned out to be a top-secret mission that needed them on standby just in case. This meant that there would be no phone calls home, no letters unless sent through command staff, and not knowing what was going on unless they got the go. The uncertainty of it all was killing me but nowhere near as bad as it was Jake. 

I understood. I mean, he wanted to get back to his girl. Back to Daisy, who, if I was being honest, was way out of his league. They were clearly in love, the kind of love that no one could deny or question, and again, if I was being honest, I couldn’t help but be a little jealous of. Though, both of us going insane being separated from our partners probably would’ve resulted in a stolen jet and joint court-marshalling for being AWOL and theft of government property. So maybe it was a good thing that I wasn’t in love. 

“This is going to be the longest six months of my life,” Jake groaned, unclenching his jaw. I crossed my fingers that Daisy would somehow get letters to Jake through command, for my own sanity if nothing else.

Next Chapter

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[lunisoular]

For the soulmate thing, it says they share pain, right? So does that mean when luffy got his 'x' scar, the other strawhats felt all that? Or is it a dulled version of the pain? Same with when sabo 'died', luffy and ace would've gotten the face scar, right? Wouldn't this change a bit of that part of the story? (Sorry if you haven't thought about it a lot. I just love the idea and want to know more) :)

-Death Anon

yes ! they feel everything.

because the strawhats are such a large group, though, the world basically makes it a little easier on them by making it so that they can feel the most severe pains first, while the little things like bruises and papercuts aren’t felt as much. this is so they’re not constantly hurting. it’s all about severity

(when the number of soulmates is a more manageable number, like 1-3, this does not apply)

but yes they do feel everything. down to the very last detail

and yes, ace and luffy do feel and get sabo’s scar ! when a person dies, their soulmate will receive a soulscar in the shape of the wound that killed them, if there was one. (ie if someone was stabbed in the stomach, their soulmate would feel the pain and receive a mark, and it remains just as any other scar would because the dead cannot heal.) because of this, they did not immediately know that sabo hadn’t died.

and yeah it would chabge a little lol. it’s a little hard to ignore the blue and navy scratches that start showing up on their fingers when they can see it happen and feel the sting

u are free to ask questions ! i have talked a decent amount about this with friends, wnd even if u ask something i havent thought of yet, it’d be fun to think about !!! :D

[the-morningstar-family]

So what's the business

Alastor enters the office, which door reads I.M.P. Upon opening the door, a very startled, and slightly worried prince looks his way. As well as the tall imp beside him. He finds it nice to know that even Hellborns are aware of his presence.

Blitzø: “Oh hey, I know you! You came here once! You're that creepy radio fuck!”

Stolas: “Blitzø!”

Blitzø: “What?”

Alastor: “I am indeed the radio demon”

He puts emphasis on his actual title, but with what little he knows about the man, he is sure he will have forgotten again by nightfall. If he even got it at all, because Blitzø is eyeing him up an down.

Blitzø: “So is there another deal thingy - shit going on?”

Stolas puts on a very much learned and faked grin. He seems to adjust adequate to the lower class, if only through the guidance of I.M.P.

Stolas: “I am very sorry, is there a service we can provide you, sir?”

Alastor: “In a sense, though likely not your usual. I have a visitor”

Blitzø: “Wait a second - we don't just -?”

Ignoring the imp, Alastor opens the door to let Lucifer in. Stolas gasps, shoots up from the stool and bows.

Stolas: “Greetings your majesty. How can we be of Service?”

And while the prince goes through the royal stick, Blitzø, instead, steps in front of him.

Blitzø: “Hey! He's already punished, you can't fucking come back now-”

Stolas: “Blitzø please -”

Blitzø: I'm done with this shit-!”

Lucifer: “Woah! Hey I'm not - what should I even punish you for?”

The pair shares a look. The imp opens his mouth, only for Stolas to slap a hand over his, to avoid unnecessary threats.

Alastor: “As you see Lucifer hasn't exactly been informed of what transpired. But what was said in court wasn't entirely the truth, was it?”

Both stiffen, if they had them, one could've seen their souls leave their bodies. Their roles flip, and now the bird stands in front of his boyfriend.

Stolas, nervous: “I - I don't know what you mean”

Alastor: “I mean, that I am well versed in ulterior motives. If we promise you protection from further punishment in this regard, would you be willing to share your story?”

Blitzø: “Wait- what do you get out of-”

Quickly, Stolas drags him to him, bending down a bit to have a slightly more private conversation.

Stolas, half whispering: “Dear, we cannot just deny the king”

Blitzø: “Why not? I deny you all the time and you're a prince.”

Stolas: “That is not the same -”

Blitzø: “I don't care -”

Lucifer: ”I just want to understand something. Please?”

Blitzø crosses his arms, but reluctantly nods.

Blitzø: “Look, I needed that fancy book, we fucked for it, then we got closer, then his ex and her brother tried to fuck with us and Stolas took the fall!”

The king blinks, not quite getting it, and getting even less what Alastor is getting at. Though a peeved bird interjects yet again.

Stolas: “There is a touch of nuisance he left out-”

Alastor: “There are a few details most important to us. To begin with, why did you and your now wife marry?”

For a moment the bird looks startled, as if it was obvious, but quickly pulls himself together.

Stolas: “To produce a contonary heir, of course.”

Alastor: “Mh. So it stands to reason that there was not much actual love lost between you and your ex wife?”

Stolas: “Not- not exactly, no”

The prince turns red, trying to avoid the kings wide eyes, as if it was a failure in some way.

Alastor: “Now, I am not mistaken that you two are an item?”

Blitzø: “Fuck yeah, that bird puss is mine”

He would've found it quite adorable to have a possessive Blitzø for once, if it was not for current company. As is, the bird would like the floor to swallow him.

Alastor: “And this started as an affair, did it not?”

Stolas, embarrassed: “Yes…”

Alastor: “But you and your ex wife had never loved one another, no? So what was her actual gripe with this relationship?”

Stolas: “...That I was bedding an imp”

He shoots his partner an apologetic look, he shrugs. It is a normalisation that Alastor himself is familiar with. The deer turns to Lucifer, who looks uncomfortable to the floor. But oh, the demon is not done yet.

Alastor: “But I must say, it is quite an impressive business for an imp to create”

The I.M.P. bus puffs his chest proudly at that.

Blitzø: “Of course it is! We got our own fucking office.”

While Lucifer has seen much worse establishments in hell, this still wasn't exactly a five star building. One of the windows was even covered with a piece of cardboard, and by the looks of the it, the cardboard is not exactly new. The imp sees Lucifer's prolonged look around, and gets a tad annoyed.

Blitzø: “I know it's not a fuckin’ palace. But I'm also not trying to become a ass kissing butler, so an office is fine”

Lucifer: “No- no it's really cool. So you work here like, every day?”

Stolas, nodding: “Even on holidays”

Both Alastor and Blitzø snort at the privilege.

Blitzø: “Hey, it's ensured!”

Alastor: “It is likely surprising how hard it can be to make end's meet, is it not?”

He turns to the prince behind the secretary's desk. He gets a slightly sheepish expression.

Stolas: “There's a lot of things that need to be taken care of that I was not aware of…”

Blitzø: “Yeah he didn't even knew how to queue!”

Lucifer: “Queue?”

Alastor sighs. He loves him, but he is an idiot. He turns to the pair they have bugged long enough.

Alastor: “Now, I remember last time there being a young hellhound lady, no? You did have a dispute over adoption, may I inquire where it took place?”

The imp eyes him suspiciously.

Blitzø: “Why?”

Alastor: “To show the king some of hell's own institutions. One has to stay in touch, no?”

Blitzø: “Uh, the one at the edge of pantagram city. The shitty one”

Alastor: “Thank you kindly for your time-! Ta ta!”

The radio demon pushes the dazed angel outside.

Blitzø: “What the fuck was that?”

The pound looks as miserable as ever, and so does everyone in it.

There are several things that disturb Lucifer. First of all the condition of this thing in the first place. Sure it's apparently the ‘shittg one’ but even the bad ones shouldn't look like this. And it matches Alastor's description of the hospitals he was allowed to attend to scarily well. Patched together… that's a god word for it. Second, how casual the violence is. All these … kids… are fighting for something. For some privacy, for their meager belongings - they are biting, hitting, scratching, and no one gives a fuck. There is no intervention of any form. And third, there's the adoption process. Anyone can just waltz in and adopt a kid. They don't check where that kid will be going, they just say ‘there you go, sign here’. As if someone's getting a pet.

Lucifer, small voice: “I– I -I”

His eyes are teary and breathing is getting harder. The demon gently takes his shoulders to guide him out.

Alastor: “Now, now dear. Don't cry.”

Lucifer, sniffling: “Why not? I– I clearly fucked up- I mean I could've prevented all of this”

And Alastor doesn't object. So the king let's himself fall onto the nearby bench.

Lucifer: “Are you mad at me?”

Alastor: “I… I think I am rather disappointed. I had assumed there is a deeper reason than ignorance for your lack of action”

Tears roll down the red tinted cheeks, that Alastor gently wipes away.

Alastor: “I did not show you this to guilt trip you, dear. But this is important to know, and perhaps to change. There will be Hellborns that think that our children are lesser, or wrong or dirty. It is our duty to make them know that they are not, that they are important. That it matters who they are and not what they are.”

Lucifer, sniffling: “I really need to have a fucking word with Satan”

Alastor: “Yes my dear, but do me a favour”

Lucifer: “Yeah, sure, of course!”

Alastor: “Educate yourself first. You cannot fight this if you do not understand it. That includes the other rings. This is not a one day venture.”

Lucifer: “... Yes. It's, it's kinda my job. A job I have neglected far to long”

[eclipseberrycake]

I do have a few questions about the entire healing twisteds. Do any physical twisted traits linger? You mentioned that they have scars from the ichor, but how far does that go? Do some of them still have unusually sharp teeth, or are some slightly taller than before? What about toons like finn? Did he just regrow his legs? I imagine some toons healed better than others depending on how much the ichor changed them. And that's not even mentioning the impact of the trauma. Im mostly asking because I want to make a post ichor design of mouse distractor, i need to come up with a nema for them, now that we have a few more details.

Sorry if im reading too much into this. I just love digging into world building

Nah, dig all you want bestie. Dig and dig and dig and pick my brain. So, I imagine there's kind of stages to this sort of thing, because tbh im making this up as I go so lets see if I can finagle this.

Stage one:

This is the toons first time being a Twisted. It's more docile comparatively, but no less dangerous. It's more confused, less than angry like the clones are. The damage taken is still real, but reversible. It does leave it's mark. Like in MBC PT. 7, Cosmo points out how they all have scars from their times as a twisted. It's not very noticeable things, not for the first time, but smaller bits. Maybe it's small scars, or maybe they're just that little bit more afraid of being alone. Small things like that. The recovery is still difficult in this stage, especially with Toons like Finn and Shelly, who have more noticeable scars, but otherwise heal all the same. It just took them a little longer to regenerate :) As for the scarring, its mostly white outlines of their scars from their times as a twisted, at least for the first time.

Stage two:

This is after getting infected a second time, so this is where D! Reader is at. Their twisted is much more active and much more aggressive as you have the original toon as a Twisted now and the clones. Regardless of which it is, the research counts; Additionally once a cure is awarded, the clones disappear until the original has been cured. This being said, after being cured, the recovery is much harder this time around. The toons are more likely to keep some of their Twisted Traits, like D! Reader for example? Will keep their sharper teeth and their nails will be stronger than they used to be. Their scars will also become more apparent, a brighter, starker white (Or if the skin/fur/porcelain color is white, then it's a gray that changes shades darker and darker as they go.) This also means the toons are less likely to make a full recovery. As I've mentioned in Pt 7, Reader has a harder time always keeping track of Astro since his Stealth makes it much harder for Twisteds to spot him, and Reader is still fighting that part of them (Maybe they'll recover, maybe they won't :) I haven't decided yet).

Stage Three:

This is the toons final chance at remaining a full blooded toon. I probably wont touch on this too much in the future because I'm too soft to actually hurt any of the toons. The physical traits are much more likely to stick around and recovery is by far the hardest hear. It truly is up to the toon at this point. If they can't fight it, they may be stuck in some sort of half-limbo until they can. Their eyes are still red and they still have some violent tendencies if they aren't watched and monitored carefully.

Stage Four:

There is no saving them. Grieve them while you can.