#“are you seeing each other in a new light?”

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

pairing joel miller x female reader (18+) summary it wasn’t uncommon for you to seek each other’s presence after the sun was tucked away—for company, for comfort. but there’s something more consuming about tonight [post-outbreak, fluff, soft smut, 3.3k] a/n they're in love.

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There always had been something about the night. Something singular about its ability to take the most tightly wound days and coax them undone. Like the silken ribbon of a worn bow that had grown weary of holding its shape.

For quite some time now, your nights have belonged to each other. After years of going to bed alone, even Joel realized how good it felt to end the day next to someone who reminded him just how sweet life could be. 

Everyone's deserving of good company—you’d spoken those words to him in the face of his independence. Thankfully, with time, they’d worked their way into his spirit. Like vines, like air itself. He no longer feels wrong for craving care as tender as yours, even though his hands have made ghosts out of many men. 

Earlier tonight, it was you who came to him. 

Three muffled knocks had roused him from the beginning of a light sleep. Given he didn’t have to entertain Ellie tonight, he figured he’d turn in a little earlier than usual. He’d answered the door with fluffy hair and squinted eyes. There was an undeniable softness about his rumpled pajamas and the sight of his bare feet against the hardwood. Few words were needed between you as he helped you out of your coat and led you upstairs to his bedroom. 

It’s quiet where you lay now, tucked beneath sheets that smell faintly of earthen pine. You’ve draped one arm over Joel’s waist while your nose remains tucked between his shoulder blades like it belongs there. 

During the day, while out in the commune, you remained cordial and unassuming around each other. You weren’t exactly hiding from the attention of others but were protecting the bond forming between you. 

In due time, you’d allow the familiarity and intimacy of the night to bleed over into the day, but for now, this nighttime ritual is sacred in its newness. It had been a couple of months since your patrol partner didn’t show, and Joel stepped up to take his place. 

As it turns out, spending six hours with the right person in the cold can change your life. 

Joel holds his breath on an inhale when he feels your fingers begin to toy with the hem of his shirt. They slip beneath it a moment later, almost shy as they trail along his waistline and brush through the thin hair beneath his navel. Joel’s hips tilt just so. 

He swallows around a low sound as your hand ventures up his chest with featherlight curiosity. Exploring, cataloging. Past his ribs and to his chest to graze the pads of your fingers over his nipples, making something stir low in his gut. 

Your hand then drifts back down to splay over the small pudge of his stomach as if to center him again. 

“You’re so warm,” you murmur. 

If he were braver, he’d say it was by virtue of your touch alone. Your hands had wandered over each other's bodies, but never quite like this. This time, your touch doesn’t seek to soothe or ground but to evoke. 

Joel rests his hand over yours with a hum. It covers yours whole. 

“Your hands are so big.” Your voice dips into a purr. “And strong. Capable.”

Joel chuckles a low, flustered sound. He’s not sure what to do with these compliments or if that’s what they’re meant to be. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” you then say. “Fix my mailbox.”

Of everything you could’ve mentioned, he wasn’t expecting that. It was an easy task he’d knocked out earlier this afternoon. It took him no more than fifteen minutes. 

“Nothing to it,” he assures in a low drawl. 

Except, there was something to it. The fix meant Joel had been listening when you mentioned it broke. This wasn’t the first time he’d done something for you without asking for permission. Joel Miller is a man of action. If he sees a problem or a need, he doesn't hesitate. That strong sense of initiative had yet to steer him wrong. 

It’s lovely to be seen and heard by someone like him, especially in a commune where it wasn’t hard to slip through the cracks at times.  

A half-restrained shiver rolls down Joel’s spine when you press a kiss to the nape of his neck. The hair curled there tickles the tip of your nose. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Welcome—” His voice catches when you pepper more kisses to his nape. His hand stills yours when he feels your attempt to trail your touch downward from his stomach. 

“Sweetheart,” Joel breathes, a little wary. 

“Yes?” you lilt. 

The sheets rustle as Joel turns over to face you. He can only make out a few of your features in the glow of the moonlight slipping into the room. The rest, his mind fills in. You cup his stubbled cheek with a gentle hand. 

“Makin’ me hot.” His voice is soft and honest, a little frayed around the edges. A pleasant buzz has settled beneath his skin. 

Maybe you wanted him to burn. 

You scoot that much closer to press your lips to his. When the initial surprise dissipates, they move, slow and easy, against your own. Almost tired if you didn’t know any better. But even in the shroud of the night, he’s wide awake. For this. For you. 

A low sound rises in his throat when you take his lower lip between your teeth and gently tug until you’ve fully pulled away. 

Joel hadn’t realized his hand had drifted to settle on your waist, but suddenly, it’s not enough. He needs to feel you entirely. A need rooted so deep he aches with it. There’s no more denying the swell in his pants, where the brunt of his desire has made itself known. 

Restraint looks good on Joel, but there always has been an air of allure around the notion of him surrendering. Of what it looked like for him to partake and be partaken of. It’d been some years since he’d allowed himself to open up in this way, and anyone he shared himself with in the past was long gone. You wanted to demystify it all and come to know that side of him for yourself. 

This time, when your hand begins to drift lower, he doesn’t stop you. Not when your fingers slip beneath both his waistbands. Or as you wrap them around the base of his warm, rigid length. A pleasured shudder courses through him as you pull upwards in a reverent tug. At the top, your thumb encircles the velveteen head to spread the small, wet bead of eagerness.  

Joel starts to move upright but trembles back into place when your loose grasp descends, mapping back down each snaking vein before gently massaging the rounded fullness that hangs beneath. 

“Love the feel of you already,” you murmur. Joel’s face warms as his arousal kicks up under your ministrations. 

In an unexpected display of agility, he repositions to hover above you, pushes down his pants and boxers, and braces himself as he kicks them away. His movements are so seamless that your touch isn’t disrupted for long. 

You spit into your hand as best you can and reach out for him in the dark, knowing exactly where to find him as he bobs towards his stomach. 

Joel’s more interested in gripping your pants, and you place your feet flat on the mattress to lift your hips for him to shuck them off. The cool air of the room registers against the slickness between your legs as you clench. Joel lowers a finger to trace along your entrance, spreading the moisture upwards as he circles your budded nerves. 

He continues paying careful attention to the spot, even as your hand distractedly falls from him to curl into the sheets. Your exhale is shaky when he stops. 

“Just a second,” Joel rasps. 

He braces himself further up your body, one large palm splayed near your head. As the mattress shifts, you realize he’s reaching toward the nightstand. You move your hand to play between your legs to ease the throbbing ache lazily. 

A faint click sounds, and a flame sparks to life, balanced on the crooked wick of a candle. The light casts a dim, golden radius in the room. 

“Can’t miss this,” he explains as he returns to his original position. 

“Need to see you.” In a testament to his words, his arousal kicks up on its own accord yet again. 

You selfishly take him in. His intense gaze. Broad shoulders. Thick thighs. The straining, desirous region of him that your hands had come to know before your eyes ever did. A thatch of unruly dark curls rests at the base of him. 

Joel pulls his shirt over his head to reveal his last covered portion. His arms are toned and firm. A thin dusting of hair spans over his impressive chest. New and old scars pepper the expanse of his torso. The faint indents of a v-line remain even with the pudge of his stomach from age and finally eating good meals again. 

Now it’s your turn. Joel helps you out of your shirt and tosses it aside with renewed urgency. As you finally lay bare, his dark eyes admire your chest as if this first chance is the last chance he’ll get. He extends a careful hand to cup one of your breasts, gaze flicking to your face to watch the way your brows furrow in approval. 

“Christ,” he grouses in an air of disbelief. 

You suck in a quick breath when he leans down to kiss along the side of your neck. Goosebumps arise in the wake of his lips as he continues downward like it’s a path he’s traveled before. Over your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, straying to gently peck a pebbled nipple before returning to the centerline of your torso. 

In the process, he shifts himself further down the mattress, your legs propped like two mountains along either side of him. 

His kisses turn into toothless nips when he reaches the lower portion of your stomach. That sensation, paired with the scratch of his beard, makes your abdomen twitch and flex. It isn’t until he makes it beneath your belly button and strays toward your hip bones that your chest finally shakes with a laugh as you squirm. 

Joel stills you with a steady hand and peeks up at you with a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. He’s cataloging every shift and sweet sound. 

As his shoulders force your thighs to splay a little wider, you bite your lip both out of anticipation and to keep your lingering smile at bay. In seconds, he’s made a live wire out of you. 

Every other breath you take catches. You find yourself swallowing more than you had all night. But suddenly, there’s no urgency about him at all. You’ve slipped into an unspoken purgatory where your release looms on hold. 

He’s drawing things out, taking his time, ignoring the throb of his own need as he tries to pick you apart. 

Joel bypasses where you’re spread open and pulsing and delivers a kiss to the inside of your thigh, mere inches from where you crave him. You shift, hoping he’ll reroute, but he pretends not to notice. 

You try again, attempting to twist and present your core as an alternative to the fluff of your thighs. 

An exasperated huff escapes you. “Just…”

You let your sentence trail off as you attempt to give him your best pleading look. It almost works. They’re the eyes he’d steal the moon for, but he wants to relish this moment a little longer. He wants to hold out on you while you’re both safe to be these needy versions of yourselves. 

“Just what, sweetheart?” he coaxes. 

Your mouth opens a couple of times. “Do something. Touch me,” you murmur, cheeks warm. 

“I am touchin’ you.” He smooths a calloused palm along your leg to prove it. 

“Like you were before,” you specify, voice smaller now. 

Your stomach flips when he starts to move back towards your hips, and flustered, premature giggles bubble up your throat because he’s got you so on edge, and you just know he’s about to do those maddening little kisses again. 

“Not that,” you whine. “C’mon Joel, I need you.” The earnestness of those words sends a jolt toward the apex of his thighs. 

You’ve got him now, so you press further. “Please? Wanna feel you.” You make your voice softer. “Been wanting to feel you all night.”

Joel caves and runs a heavy finger through your folds, then gently spreads you open to press a kiss to that small, swollen part of you. His lips are so delicate you’d think he was kissing a rose bud. A helpless mewl escapes as he replaces his lips with the firm press of his index finger and begins drawing tight circles. 

The touch stirs faint, premature flutters that make you tilt your hips into his hand. “I gotcha,” he assures. 

He did have you, not just in this way, but in every sense of the word. He’d proven that from the day he met you, ready to be the supply to your demand when it came to all manners of your needs. Even the ones you didn’t realize you had. The thought alone makes pleasure knot in your stomach all the more. You clench around nothing but the idea of taking him alone. 

“Joel,” you breathe. 

His eyes lift from your core to your gaze. Your eyes sparkle with candlelit desperation. Still taking his time, he runs his finger back down and just barely breaches your entrance with a curious probe. He’s wet with your slick and knows he’d slip right in. 

“Need you,” you murmur again. It’s different this time. 

Joel withdraws his touch and crawls back up your body, muscles shadowing as they shift. You open your legs wider so he can slot himself between you, bracing a forearm near your head. He’s close enough that your chests brush. That your breaths mingle.  

He takes himself in his hand and guides the tip to the warmth of your center. The gentle touch soon turns into a glide that bumps your clit with every upward pass. You place your hands on his shoulders because your fingers are shaking, and you don’t know what else to do. 

Like a locksmith with a key, he notches at your entrance with delicate intentionality. Both of you shudder, and he briefly touches his forehead to yours. The world stills as he slowly begins to push inside of you. You welcome each new inch with the same steady, heated snugness. Not once does your body flinch or hesitate. You welcome him in even through the dullest ache until he’s burrowed.   

Your joint groans just barely register on the outskirts of your consciousness as the blinding haze of pleasure becomes one with reality. 

Joel grants you an quiet moment of acclimation before he pulls out a little and eases himself back in. A hum vibrates through your chest. This time, he pulls back a little further, then finds his way back inside the encompassing warmth of you. 

“You’re the warm one,” he counters your earlier statement. “Taking me so well,” he praises. 

He withdraws a little more each time until his thrusts become fuller, and he finds an easy rhythm. You encourage his movements with the dig of your heels at the back of his thighs. 

He tucks his head down to place open-mouthed kisses along your neck. Your fingernails dig into his shoulders and graze down his back. 

“You feel so good,” you admit in a frantic sigh. “So so good.” 

Joel nearly comes from hearing that alone. 

There is no reprieve from the pleasure, no moment that allows you two to fully gather your bearings or muster up a semblance of composure. Every sound that slips past your lips is helpless, a little gone. They join the tiny squeaks of the mattress and the sticky, rhythmic contact of skin meeting dewy skin. 

“Faster,” you breathe. Joel listens in a heartbeat, continuing to meet that dense, tender place within you that has your toes curling. “Oh god—” you choke out, a mix between a moan and a whimper. 

Before you can find your breath again, Joel cups your breasts, switching from one to the other and running his thumb along your nipples. The sound that escapes you almost sounds pained, but your face scrunches in the prettiest, rawest way. Joel’s hips drive forward in an involuntary thrust of force.

One of his hands slips between your bodies to rub over that still-pulsing part of you. A dreamy sound falls past your lips as you writhe and arch. The tightness builds. The sea swells. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to keep it all at bay and prolong the moment. 

“Open your eyes, angel,” Joel encourages in a rasp. 

You don’t listen and silently pray that he gives up. 

“Lemme see those pretty eyes,” he tries again. 

You whimper as his finger rubs faster circles, his thrusts remaining intense. 

Joel’s voice takes on a waver, cracking around the edges with something fragile and desperate. “C’mon, baby, please?” 

You realize then that he needs it. 

When your eyes flutter open, a few rogue tears run down the apples of your cheeks towards your ears. Joel catches them. It’s too much. The newness of it all, the warm weight of his body moving above yours, making you his. There’s a glisten on his forehead, in the divot of his sternum. The way his muscles flex with his thrusts is living art. You’ve never met a more gorgeous man or had the pleasure of knowing and becoming one with someone who made you feel this whole.

“There she is,” Joel hums. 

In an instant, your body jolts against the mattress as you come undone beneath his frame. Your walls flutter around him in strong pulses of pleasure that radiate outward and leave you floating. If it were light instead, you’d be a shining star illuminating the room. 

Joel’s seen fewer sights that have struck him at his core. 

It takes every ounce of decency and strength within him to override the recklessness of pleasure, and pull out of you in a swift drag. Away from your swollen, pulsing warmth. Away from one of the few places he could confidently say he belonged in this fallen world.  

Through dazed eyes, you watch as Joel wraps a hand around himself and begins stroking. He’s slick with you, and the veins in his forearms pop. 

He spills onto your stomach in seconds with an earnest, shuddered groan. Each pulse of his release grows duller, resulting in shorter spurts until there’s nothing more than a pearly dribble running down the sides of him. 

You reach out with a weak hand to take over and coax him through the last few waves. Joel twitches in your grasp but lets you continue. Another shudder courses through him as he grows sensitive and begins to soften. 

“That’s all of me, baby,” he says, voice low and soft just for you.

You hum in a daze as you withdraw your touch. The last thing you remember is the kiss Joel presses to your forehead, the dip of the mattress as he gets out of bed, the gentleness of his hands, and the warm towel as he cleanses you.

There’s something special about the following morning. Something soft, aglow, and singular as pale sun rays slip into Joel’s room. They coat the cozy space like a seal. It’s as if the events of last night had carried over and been made manifest into something warm, and lovely, and beautiful. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[gf2bellamy]

Hii! I am in love with your writing! Specially the sunshine!reader x Spencer, I don’t know if you are taking new requests, if you aren’t feel free to completely ignore this, but I would love to see your take in one of the BAU member (maybe Emily) sort of call out Spencer in the “soft spot” he has for reader. And he’s all like I don’t???? But ofc they would notice this bc 1. They are profilers 2. They just know him. I can imagine Emily’s speech on how it’s ok to let people in and how she thinks they would be good for each other 🥰 or idk something better you can come up

Anyways I just want to thank you for sharing your writing with us 🤍✨

good — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: postprison!spencer so mentions of insecurities in regards to that a/n: hiii !! this is such a wonderful idea <3 i wasnt entirely sure if you wanted post!prison spencer but i thought it fit your request best so i hope thats alright !! <33

Emily narrowed her eyes as she studied the scene unfolding before her. There you and Spencer were, sitting close together in the back of the jet.

Spencer was leaning in slightly, helping you solve a crossword puzzle. She watched as his fingers brushed yours gently when he took the pen from your hand, as he wrote the next answer. You glanced up at him, as if you weren't sure whether to be grateful or flustered. 

He’d practically solved the whole thing in the blink of an eye, but instead of simply finishing it, he waited for you to catch up, his gaze flickering to yours every so often with a small, encouraging smile. 

Emily couldn’t help but shake her head as she looked out the window again.

It wasn’t the first time she had seen the two of you like this—closer than anyone else on the team. She could see it in Spencer’s eyes—he had a soft spot for you, no question. The way he took his time with you, how he tried to make you laugh or ease your stress, it was so different from how he interacted with the rest of them.

And as much as she had grown to appreciate the dynamic, Emily had to admit, she was getting tired of watching both of you dance around the obvious.

Emily couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Spencer smile this much, this freely. It had been a long road since his release from prison, and though he was slowly piecing himself back together, it was clear that you played a significant role in his recovery.

The way he would light up at the smallest of gestures from you, or the way he would seek out your company without hesitation—it was a refreshing change.

Her thoughts were interrupted by your laughter—loud and genuine—as Spencer cracked a joke about one of the crossword clues.

Emily’s eyes flicked to the two of you just in time to see your shoulder brush against his, your body language open, comfortable.

But it wasn’t just your laughter that caught Emily’s attention—it was the look Spencer gave you in that moment. His eyes lingered on you, soft and warm. Emily noticed the way his lips curled upward ever so slightly.

Emily sighed inwardly, leaning her head against the seat. She wasn't sure what either of you were waiting for, but she hoped, for both of your sakes, that you would stop pretending like nothing was happening between you.

The next instance was when Emily had had enough.

The moment you and Spencer walked into the bullpen together, Emily's gaze immediately locked onto the way he had a hand resting casually on the small of your back.

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. She knew she wasn’t imagining it—there was no mistaking the way Spencer was always hovering just a little bit closer to you, the way his body seemed to naturally gravitate toward yours. 

“Do you want some coffee?” Spencer asked you. You hesitated for a moment as you approached your desk, dropping your bag down with a soft sigh.

You glanced at the stack of files waiting for you. “Yes, I have like 20 files to get through,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m going to need that coffee.” 

Spencer smiled. “I’ll make you one,” he said, his tone soft as he set his own bag down on his desk. He didn’t waste a moment before heading toward the break room, but not before he threw one last comment over his shoulder. “I’ll help you with some of your files later.” 

He didn’t wait for your response, though Emily could already predict what it would have been—a quick “No, that’s fine.”

You didn’t want him to do too much for you, but Spencer had this way of offering help, and even though you would have rather tackled the work yourself, you knew it would have been pointless to argue with him. 

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to slip out as you watched him leave. You turned your attention back to the files, your hand instinctively covering your mouth to keep yourself from letting out the giggle that bubbled up in your chest. 

Emily saw her opportunity and took it.

Without hesitation, she walked into the breakroom, where Spencer was carefully pulling two mugs from the cupboard.

One was your favorite—white with a print of Snoopy lying on his red doghouse. Spencer had gotten it for you on your birthday after overhearing you talk about how much you loved Snoopy as a kid.

The other mug was his—bright yellow, with an image of Woodstock perched happily on a branch. 

That one had been your gift to him. 

Emily still remembered the way Spencer had reacted when he unwrapped it, his fingers brushing over the design as realization dawned on his face.

“Snoopy and Woodstock have to stay together,” you had said with a grin, eyes twinkling with amusement. 

For a moment, he had just stared at the mug, lips parted as if he couldn’t quite find the words. Then, without thinking, he had pulled you into a tight hug. You had stiffened for half a second, caught off guard, before melting into his embrace.

Emily had caught the entire moment from across the room, sharing an exasperated look with JJ. The two of you were so painfully oblivious to what was right in front of you.

Now, standing in the breakroom, she cleared her throat.

“Morning, Spencer,” Emily greeted, reaching for a cup of her own. 

Spencer, clearly lost in his own thoughts, blinked at her before nodding. “Morning, Emily.”

He carefully poured coffee into the Snoopy mug first, taking his time, as if it was second nature to prepare yours before his own. 

“Have a good weekend?” she asked casually, watching him with thinly veiled curiosity. 

He glanced at her briefly before continuing his task. “Yeah. I was happy to have some days off,” he said with a small nod, carefully placing your cup aside before starting on his own. “You?” 

“Yeah. Thanks,” Emily replied, swirling her own coffee absentmindedly. She was biding her time, figuring out the best way to ease into the conversation she really wanted to have. 

“Did you do anything fun?” she asked, the question innocent enough but leading somewhere more intentional. 

Spencer shook his head. “Not really.” 

Emily hummed. “You know, you should do something fun.” 

Spencer finally glanced at her, a little suspicious now. He knew Emily too well to think she was just making small talk. She wasn’t one for casual, meaningless conversation. 

She didn’t say anything else right away, though. Instead, she took a slow sip of her coffee, eyes drifting through the breakroom window, settling on you. 

You were sitting at your desk, chewing absentmindedly on the end of a pencil, clearly lost in thought. Your brows were furrowed as you studied whatever was in front of you, your lips pursed slightly.

It was such a small, unconscious habit, but Spencer had noticed it long ago. He had seen you do it a dozen times when you were concentrating, and for some reason, it was something he always found himself captivated by. 

Emily turned her gaze back to Spencer, and—just as she expected—his eyes were already on you. 

And then, just as quickly as he had let himself get lost in the sight of you, he pulled himself away, dropping his gaze back to his coffee as if it had suddenly become the most interesting thing in the world. 

Emily smirked. Gotcha. 

“She’s good for you, you know,” Emily said, her voice softer now. 

Spencer’s grip tightened slightly around the handle of his mug. He stared at her for a moment. 

Then, just as quickly, he looked away again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. 

Emily chuckled. “Spencer.” 

He sighed, shaking his head, but Emily could tell he wasn’t annoyed. Just… hesitant. 

“You should tell her,” she said, shrugging. 

Spencer swallowed, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested against the counter. “It’s not that simple,” he finally admitted. 

Emily tilted her head. “Why not?” 

Spencer didn’t answer. Not immediately, anyway. But he didn’t have to. 

Emily already knew. 

She knew Spencer was afraid. Afraid of ruining what he had with you. Afraid that you didn’t feel the same way. Afraid that, after everything he’d been through, he wasn’t allowed to have something good. 

"She likes you too, you know that, right?" 

Spencer stilled, the metal spoon clinking softly against the ceramic mug as he hesitated. Emily’s words hung in the air between them, impossible to ignore. 

His grip on the spoon tightened slightly before he forced himself to continue stirring his coffee, feigning indifference.

“You don’t know that,” he muttered, his voice quieter than before. 

Emily huffed. “Spencer, you’re a genius. Do you really expect me to believe that you haven’t noticed the way she looks at you? The way she leans into you when you talk, the way she lights up when you’re around?” She tilted her head, eyes sharp as she studied him. “She likes you, Spencer. And you like her. So why are you making this so complicated?” 

Spencer swallowed, staring down into the dark liquid in his mug. “Because… because what if I ruin it?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but Emily heard him. 

Her expression softened slightly. “You won’t.” 

Spencer let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “You don’t know that either.” 

Emily sighed. She could see it now—the self-doubt, the hesitation, the fear that had been planted deep within him after everything that had happened. After losing so much.

He was afraid of getting too close, afraid that if he let himself have this, it would eventually be taken from him, just like everything else. 

Her voice gentled. “Spence, it’s okay to let her in.” 

He glanced up at her then, his eyes conflicted, torn between hope and uncertainty. 

“She’s already in,” Emily continued. “You just haven’t let yourself admit it yet.” 

Spencer exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly.

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to let himself have this—have you. But that lingering fear, that quiet voice in the back of his mind, kept telling him that if he did, he’d lose you too. 

Emily must have sensed his hesitation because she suddenly reached over and took the spoon from his hand, placing it on the counter with a firm clink. 

“Talk to her,” she said simply. “Or don’t. But don’t sit here and pretend like this doesn’t exist. Because we both know it does.” 

Spencer stared at her, then down at the two mugs once again.

Snoopy and Woodstock.

A pair that was always meant to be together. 

And then, before Emily could say anything else, he grabbed both mugs and walked out of the breakroom—straight toward you. 

Emily watched as Spencer placed the coffee in front of you. You barely even glanced at the mug before flashing him a wide, grateful smile as you wrapped your hands around the warm ceramic.

Spencer’s lips quirked into a soft smile, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than necessary. Emily caught the way his fingers twitched at his side, the way he hesitated—as if debating something in his head. Then, as if gathering every ounce of courage he had, he took a deep breath. 

And then—he said something. 

Emily couldn’t hear it from where she stood, but whatever it was made you freeze. Your mouth dropped open slightly, eyes widening in surprise. 

For a brief, agonizing second, Spencer looked like he regretted saying it, his expression shifting into something nervous, almost panicked. His fingers flexed at his sides, waiting for you to react. 

Then, suddenly—your face broke into a huge smile. 

A real one. The kind that made your eyes crinkle at the corners. The kind that held no hesitation, no uncertainty. The kind that answered whatever question Spencer had just asked. 

You nodded. Quickly. Eagerly. Almost as if you couldn’t believe it had taken this long. 

And Spencer—who had been watching you anxiously—grinned. A wide, relieved, genuine grin. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his whole body seeming to relax. His fingers tapped lightly against his leg before he instinctively reached up to push his hair behind his ear, a nervous habit that Emily had seen a million times before.

Only this time, it was different. 

This time, he was happy. 

He glanced at Emily from the side, as if checking to see if she had seen everything unfold. 

Emily, still watching, simply smirked and shot him a small, knowing smile. 

Finally. 

[alchemistc]

kiss me on the mouth, love me like a sailor

"Can we talk?"

He feels like every fucking part of his body is on fire. Like if he takes a deep breath and blows it out his bones will shake themselves loose and disintegrate, leave him a pile of skin and muscle oozing on the porch and just over the threshold where he currently has an arm banded across the frame. His elbow digs in and he wonders if the last thing he'll ever do is leave a Tommy sized imprint when the lightning strike turns him to ash on the doorstep.

Evan takes a deep breath.

Waves him in.

This is nothing like the last time he was here.

He's not sure what he'd expected before - for sex to fix things, for them to go back to the flirty innocence of fresh-blush romance even though six months is long enough to start nailing down what the hell you want out of a relationship. He's loved before. Lost, before, plenty of times. Sometimes his own fault, sometimes theirs.

Tommy has a bad habit of playing fast and loose with the people he orbits, a satellite that flies too close and then gets flung away for the trouble. Flinging himself away, usually. And what a hell of a job he's done at it.

"Uh, what - what are you doing here?" Evan asks, and Tommy shoots him a wry smile. Shakes his head, because there's a quip on the tip of his tongue that could completely derail his entire purpose in showing up here.

The purpose being to crack open his chest and see if Evan's interested in pressing his fingers to the steady, if currently overworked beat of his heart.

"Saw you on the news," he tells Evan, and takes a deep breath. He's unpacked, decorated. It's weird to see this place in the daylight, laid out with furniture, pictures on the walls, soft touches of decorative charm making themselves known. Lighter than Eddie's touch, more whimsical. Gayer, his brain supplies, and he shuts down the stereotype in his own mind and tries not to judge himself too harshly for it. "I wanted to..." He'd practiced this shit. In a mirror, harsh overhead light showing him all his flaws, trying desperately to figure out how to avoid that crook in his jaw, the pained dimple, before remembering that the whole point was to lay himself bare and let the chips fall where they may.

"I... I was gonna call," Evan says, and Tommy's eyes shift up to him from their perusal of the filmy curtains.

"Why didn't you?"

It's Evan's turn to purse his lips, and he's never been as good at hiding shit as Tommy, or maybe he's just never bothered to try. Hiding isn't his default setting.

"I don't know," he says, and he does this thing - this adorable, frustrating thing - shoulder tipped inwards, neck bent and bright eyes looking up through his lashes, and Tommy wants. Wants this all to be done, and over with, wants to just know whether or not this is going to mean anything in five minutes, an hour, a day. The last time he'd pictured a life with someone he'd been so far underground that radar wouldn't have recovered him. Six months is barely anything to go on, he'd had years with Abby before he'd even asked and -

He reminds himself this isn't all or nothing. He just has to - to talk about it, and not make any stupid fucking jokes or deflect how he's actually feeling. Lay it all out there and brace for impact.

He wishes he was drunk. Drunk drivers make it work - loose limbed and malleable, nine times out of ten they walk away from deadly accidents, and maybe with looser lips he wouldn't have to brace as much.

"I just... Didn't."

Which is fair. Tommy'd implied essentially the same thing the last time they'd managed five minutes of conversation without trying to maul each other's faces off. Or hurt each other in new and horrible ways.

That part was always easier. God, they'd fallen into bed so often and in so many fun new ways that Tommy had spent the first month with a semi any time he even thought about Evan. Even that first time there hadn't been a hesitant bone in his body.

But the other parts - they'd been sweet, with each other. Half a dozen inside jokes before Tommy took him on an actual third date, a constant stream of texts that Tommy had participated in just as readily as Evan. He was a brat, unruly and half-insane and Tommy had eaten it up, played into it, encouraged just as much as he tried to temper it. And it'd been nice, to have someone who let him take care of them.

Those parts had been good too. Evan, who always knew when not to push, Evan who grinned up at him around a mouthful of cock, Evan who was greedy with Tommy's time and didn't apologize for it.

"How are you?" Tommy asks, after a beat too long, because he'd heard enough to know that Evan had been without the rest of his team through that whole ordeal and he knows, he knows how much that has to have fucked with his head.

"Is that why you're here? You wanna know how I'm doing?"

"I always want to know that," Tommy admits, and swallows around the panic of honesty. "Not why I'm here, though. Not really."

Evan's eyes narrow. "Do you have a shift, later?" The tone is all brat, pointed, maybe a little annoyed. Not veering into pissed, yet, but maybe they'll get there.

Tommy breathes, and it hitches in his chest. Fuck. Jesus. He can do this. "No," he admits, and Evan nods. Points to the couch.

"Sit. I'm - I want a beer, do you...?" The vague gesture towards his kitchen is the end of that question.

"Just the one."

Evan disappears around a corner. Tommy's not a lightweight, by any means, but he is the kind of person who follows all the outdated recommendations regarding drinking and driving - a single beer leaves him stuck here for a good forty-five minutes.

Shit.

Fuck.

Evan knows this about him. Has teased him about it a few times, laughing because he'd only ever served people in resorts and they'd always been a little more lax about what constituted an over-serve, but he'd still memorized the card that gave BMI + time allowed for a given amount of alcohol.

At least they're both aware this is gonna be a rough conversation.

He hopes it'll be a good one, eventually.

Evan startles him by leaping the couch and nearly crash-landing into Tommy's side, two bottles clutched between beefy fingers that clink against each other as Evan readjusts. Close. Closer than Tommy had expected when there's a perfectly good chair right there.

The starter boyfriend thing had always come with Evan's knowledge that he could be a little less careful, do a little more roughhousing than he was likely used to from a partner. Tommy had leaned into it because most of the men in his orbit trended smaller, slighter, and it'd been a novelty to get shoved around just the way he liked by someone who could possibly overpower him, if it came down to it.

That night, Evan had been desperate, needy, and not afraid to use his body to get exactly what he wanted.

And Tommy had let him, like always, without ever telling him why.

When Evan hands him one of the bottles he shifts his weight just enough to wedge his knee into the side of Tommy's thigh, persistent pressure and an unnerving amount of eye contact and a curious tilt to his head.

Tommy isn't fucking ready.

"So. Talk," Evan says, and tips the bottle against his lips, neck stretching, eyes careful, his body language so at odds with the clipped tone of his voice that Tommy immediately has to fight the urge to bolt.

His thigh twitches under Evan's knee and Evan looks at Tommy like he knows exactly what's on his mind.

Tommy swallows back a mouthful of spit, takes a swig.

And he starts talking.

[earthchica]

Lady Love

terry richmond x black, fem!/plus size reader

summary: you and Terry have a cute, shy interaction in a library. He tries to ask you on a date but is nervous and slightly shy.

warning: fluff, shyness, use of y/n, kissing, errors, slight cussing, bookworm, wholesome, love at first sight & more.

note: let's get back active in this b*tch...this is something short and sweet. I hope you enjoy it. Spread some love and sweetness on here for y'all...we need to get back to good times and stop all this drama.

-

It was a quiet afternoon at the library. Sunlight streaming through the tall windows cast a warm glow over the rows of books.

You were tucked away in your usual corner, flipping through pages of your latest read, when you noticed a tall, muscular figure browsing nearby.

His light caramel skin perfectly caught the light, and his striking light eyes sparkled like two tiny stars.

As you tried to focus on your book, you couldn't help stealing glances at him. He looked so engrossed in a book on the shelf, his brow slightly furrowed as he combed through the titles.

After a few moments, he seemed to sense your gaze and turned to meet your eyes. Your eyes widened, and you quickly looked down, feeling warmth as embarrassment crept in.

"Uh, hey," he said, his voice low but friendly. A slight nervousness made his words almost stumble.

You looked up again, and he offered you a shy smile. "I’m Terry."

"Nice to meet you, Terry...I’m [Your Name]," You replied softly, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach.

Both of you exchanged shy smiles, and for a moment, it felt like the world around you faded away.

Terry shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as if he was gathering the courage for something big.

"So, um, do you come here often?" he asked, scratching the back of his neck. A hint of an awkward chuckle escaped his plump lips. It was endearing how genuine he seemed, just a bit out of his element despite his confident appearance.

"Yeah, actually, I do. It’s one of my favorite spots," You admitted, feeling braver. "I love getting lost in a good book. What about you?"

"First time...I’m just over here trying to find some new reads,” he said, glancing back at the shelf. “But honestly, I kinda got distracted when I saw you."

Your heart skipped a beat. Did he really just say that? A shy smile crept onto your face, and you could feel the warmth rushing to your cheeks again.

Terry took a deep breath, his gaze steadying on you. "So, I was thinking…maybe we could grab a coffee or something? If you're free?"

His words tumbled out in a rush, and you could see the nervous flutter in his light eyes as he awaited your response.

You could see the genuine hope reflected in his gaze and the slight tremor in his hands as he waited for you to answer.

Your heart was racing, but you couldn’t help but feel that spark of excitement.

"I’d love that,” You said, your voice barely more than a whisper, but you could see the immediate relief wash over his face.

"Really? That's cool… I mean, great!" His smile widened, and suddenly, that nervousness seemed to melt away, replaced by a bright grin that made his eyes light up even more.

"How about this weekend?" Terry asked, his confidence growing with each passing second. “There’s this nice café not far from here."

"Yeah, that sounds perfect," You replied, your own smile growing wider as both of you exchanged numbers.

It felt like the start of something sweet and new, surrounded by the comforting quiet of books and the gentle hum of the library.

As you parted ways, you couldn’t help but glance back at him one last time. Terry stood there, staring at his phone with a triumphant smile.

-

The day of your date finally arrived, and excitement bubbled up inside you as you prepped for the afternoon.

You stood in front of the mirror, your fingers working through your hair, shaping your natural curls into a cute wash-and-go style.

The sunlight streamed through your window, illuminating your reflection and making you feel even more confident about your appearance.

Sliding into your favorite soft outfit—a cozy yet stylish oversized sweater paired with high-waisted jeans—you feel comfortable and cute.

You completed the look with fresh sneakers, just the right touch for a casual café date. After a final check in the mirror, you grabbed your bag and headed out, heart pounding in anticipation.

As you arrived at the café, you spotted Terry immediately. He was sitting outside, looking effortlessly handsome in a fitted tee showcasing his toned arms and a pair of jeans that complimented him.

The sun's warm glow around him made everything about the moment feel perfect. You caught his eye, and his face broke into that bright, genuine smile that made your heart beat.

“Hey, you look amazing!” Terry called out, standing up and giving you a little wave. The nerves you’d both felt in the library were nowhere to be found now, replaced by a comfortable familiarity.

“Thanks, you too! That shirt looks good on you,” you said with a shy smile, feeling a little flutter at the compliment. You both settled into your seats, the chatter of the café blending with the gentle clinking of cups and saucers.

“Alright, what’s your drink?” Terry asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

“I’m all about that vanilla latte life,” you replied, grinning. “What about you?”

“I can’t resist a classic black coffee—keeps it simple,” he said confidently.

As you both placed your orders, the barista whipped them up quickly. With your drinks in hand, you settled into the cozy corner of the café.

The ambiance felt just right—soft music playing in the background and freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air.

You took a sip of your vanilla latte, and Terry’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as you set your cup down.

“So, what’s your favorite book?” he asked, leaning closer, his eyes keen and focused.

“Oh man, that’s a tough one! But I’d say I’m a sucker for anything by Toni Morrison. Her storytelling is just… next level. What about you?” You replied, feeling the conversation flow effortlessly.

Terry chuckled, his face lighting up. “I feel that! I just finished ‘Song of Solomon,’ and it hooked me. But don’t tell anyone, I lowkey love some graphic novels too—like, you ever read ‘Saga’? It’s wild!”

“Right? I love how it blends genres—sci-fi and fantasy. You get the best of both worlds,” you said, nodding enthusiastically.

“I know! Look at us, nerding out over books. You’d think we were at a damn book club or something,” Terry said, grinning, and you both laughed.

As the conversation flowed, you began to discover more about each other.

“So you mentioned working in a restaurant? What was that like?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, genuinely interested.

“Oh man, it was a crazy ride! I worked in a little diner back home. The rush during brunch was no joke! You know how it is—people can get wild when hungry. How about you?” you replied, leaning back comfortably.

“Same here! I was at this small restaurant, but we had some hilarious regulars. One guy would always order the same thing but ask for ‘extra everything.’ Like, bro, chill!” Terry laughed, mimicking the guy’s over-the-top enthusiasm.

“Right? We’d get some characters! I had this lady who insisted her eggs needed to be ‘sunny side up, but just on the sunny side.’ Like, what does that even mean?” You both erupted into laughter, reveling in the shared experiences.

“Man, I miss those days sometimes,” Terry said, sounding nostalgic.

"Yeah... so what do you do for fun?" you asked.

“I love hiking and camping too. Have you ever hit the trails?”

“Absolutely! Hiking is my thing. There’s nothing like being outdoors—exploring trails and soaking up the fresh air. Plus, camping? The vibes are unmatched.”

“Right? I recently tackled this intense trail. The views were unreal! There’s just something about it that makes ya feel alive,” he said, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Sounds cool! I’m all for climbing up to catch the sunrise. Nothing beats being on top of the world, you know?” You shared, and Terry nodded vigorously.

Then, a playful spark lit up the air between you.

“Alright, since we’re sharing secrets, what’s your go-to jam? I need to know if you vibe with my music taste,” Terry teased, leaning closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Oh, I definitely have a thing for jazz. There’s something about those smooth saxophone notes that just hits differently,” you said, shooting him a mischievous grin.

“But rock music? That’s a whole other level. My heart is at classic rock—nothing can top that.”

“Okay, I see you. A rock and jazz lover, huh? We might just have to set up a little jam session, real talk,” Terry said, his tone playful, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Not gonna lie—I'm down! But just so you know, I might just rock some questionable dance moves on the side,” you joked, doing a little dance in your seat, which made him laugh.

“Please, don’t leave me hanging when you do! I’ll bring the popcorn to watch,” he shot back, grinning ear to ear.

The flirty banter kept rolling, and as your coffee cups emptied, you both felt the warm connection growing stronger. The light teasing and shy smiles turned to comfortable laughter and playful nudges.

When the café started to wind down, Terry leaned forward, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. “You know, I really dig this vibe we’ve got going. It feels easy, right?”

You nodded, feeling an electric connection buzzing between you.

“Yeah, it really does. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much on a first date.”

Terry sighed, his eyes softening as he leaned in just slightly more.

“I’m glad we met at that library, [Your Name]. Feels like one of those movie moments, ya know?”

You laughed softly, a little shy but feeling bold at this moment. “Totally. A meet-cute for the ages.”

His gaze intensified, and the playful energy shifted into something more profound.

“Can I…” he started, trailing off momentarily as he gauged your reaction.

You held your breath, feeling the air between you thicken. “Yeah?”

And without breaking eye contact, he leaned in, closed the gap, and gently brushed his lips against yours.

The kiss was soft and hesitant but deepened as you melted into the moment, feeling the warmth and connection unfold.

As he pulled back, still lingering close, both of you were grinning. “Fuck...I mean, sorry...Wow. That was amazing,” he said breathlessly.

“Yeah, it was,” you replied, your heart fluttering, knowing this was just the beginning of something special.

[rafesbbdoll]

ticket repay ✩ rafe cameron

୨˚̣̣̣୧ where dumb!reader tries to get out of a ticket with officer!rafe.

warnings ׅ 　female!reader, cursing, cheating, drunk driving, smut, blowjob in public but hidden, reader is actually dumb as hell, mentions of law enforcement, reader is 22 & rafe is 34

word count ׅ 　1.2k

masterlist taglist

it was 1:27 AM on the streets kildare. it was quiet in some areas, some loud and booming with music. you just so happened to find yourself at a party that a few kooks had thrown in celebration of a new edition on the island, expanding figure eight. you were drinking with some other girls, giggling and dancing with a drink in your hand. your head was to floaty to comprehend that time was going by fast. before you knew it, it was 2:03 AM.

your boyfriend had texted you several times, called you, and even tried to contact your friends, but you were having too much fun to notice. it wasn't until you felt sick when you decided to head out for the night. you had grabbed your purse and made sure your phone and keys before heading out. your feet stumbled upon each other as you walked clumsily to your car.

now, you knew this wasn't safe, but how else would you get home?! you didn't want to leave your car at some random house where you wouldn't remember the address, so your best bet was to attempt to drive back home. once you got into your car, you blinked a couple of times, trying to fix up your vision. taking out with phone, you texted your boyfriend back, letting him know you're on your way back.

you knew that he would be mad at you, but at least you were coming home! clumsily, you put the keys into the ignition before starting and driving off. the roads were were mostly empty, occasional cars passing by, side eyeing you from their window. unbeknownst to you, you were swerving in your lane, as well as driving 10 miles under the posted speed limit. singing your heart out to your spotify playlist, you were unaware of the flashing police lights from behind you.

it wasnt until you heard and male voice come from a speaker when you pulled over to the side. you turned your music down, winding down your window with a confused pout on your face. "what? i didn't even do anything," you slurred to yourself. a few min later, a cop walked up to your window. you looked up at the man, noticing his uniform, making your heart drop.

"good evening ma'am. do you know why i stopped you tonight?", he asked, flashing his light into the car to get a look at you and your surroundings. you shook your head, looking up at him with your dazed eyes. "i wasn't doing anything bad. jus' on the way home," you slurred to him. he chuckled at you, noticing your eyes. "have you been drinking tonight?"

you blinked slowly before replying, "only a little bit." he could obviously tell that you were lying, your leg bouncing up and down in your seat. "what's your name again, officer?", you asked. "officer rafe cameron," he replied. "can you step out of your vehicle for me?", he requested, standing back enough for you to open the door. you frowned and sniffled before opening the door and stepping out. "am i under arrest?", you asked, stepping over to him, your blown out eyes brimming with tears.

he sighed before explaining, "not yet. just gonna run some sobriety tests to see how much you've had to drink." you nodded, wiping the falling tears off your cheeks. "what's your name, hun? gotta write it for our records," he explained while taking out a small notebook. "y/n l/n.... you said i wasn't under arrest!", you mumbled to him, crossing your arms and turning away.

"you're not. just have to write it down, okay? the first test we're gonna take is this: say your abc's backwards," he explained to you. you giggled a little bit, "that's easyyy! z... y... x... w... v... t... r... s...." he shook his head, sighing to himself. "you failed, y/n. let's try walking in a straight line, hm?" you huffed in confusion, swearing to yourself that you did it correctly. "but- its right!" officer cameron laughed in response before orchestrating the next test for you.

after you failed the other tests dramatically, officer cameron finally had enough of your antics. "alright miss. you will be receiving a ticket tonight for driving under the influence. do you have someone that can take you home tonight?", he asked, staring down at your face. your bottom lip wobbled, shaking your head. "i can't get a ticket! i didn't do anything wrong", you said to him, moving to tug at his uniform.

he looked down into your eyes, moving his hands on your shoulders to adjust you slightly, "i'm sorry sweetheart, but these are the repercussions." you tugged at his uniform again, looking up at him. he could stop the way his cock stirred in pants as he looked into your eyes, the desperate yet helpless look in your eyes. "i'll do anything, just no ticket please," you sniffled, your hands moving to his belt buckle.

"y/n. this is not appropriate behavior. you know that," he said quietly to you. you blinked up at him, moving your clumsy fingers to unbuckle his belt. "please, i-i don't want to have a ticket. i'll be good i swear," you say, reaching your hand down into his pants. rafe grunted lowly, sighing once your hand removed his cock from his pants

your eyes looked down at his dick, sucking in a breath at his size. rafe looked around, making sure that you two were in a secluded area. he then looked down, finding you on your knees in front of him. letting out a shaky breath, he spoke, "go 'head. get out of a ticket, hm?" you nodded, taking his tip in your mouth a sucking gently. your thighs squeezed together in order to stop the throbbing from your cunt.

having had enough, he took your head into his hands, pushing himself fully down your throat making you gag. he loud out a moan, head tilting back into the night sky, his hips moving back and forth into your mouth. your hands had moved onto his thighs to hold on for support as his pace quickened. he grunted as his tip hit the back of your throat repeatedly, "fuckfuck ㅡ you're so good, y/n. no more ticket, a'ight?", he groaned, his fingers tangling in your hair.

you moaned around him, taking him out of your mouth to jerk him off. "thank you s-so much," you replied, looking up at him with your fucked out eyes. the idea of a police officer always turned you on, but now that you finally have your hands on one, it made you so much more horny. yes, you knew it was wrong to cheat on your loving boyfriend at home, but you couldn't have this on your record!

before you know it, rafe was finishing on your face, groaning as he watched his cum mark you. he sighed, his high subsiding. you stood back up on shaky legs, watching him closely. your fingers collected his cum from your cheeks, putting them in your mouth to get a taste. you hummed to yourself at his taste; it was salty yet sweet in a weird way which made your head even more fuzzy than before.

"good?", you asked. rafe nodded, tucking himself back into his pants. he fixed up your hair and fixed your lips before speaking, "don't let me or one of my guys catch you again." he took out his notepad again, writing down something before giving it to you: his number.

and that's how your relationship began.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

@13hischiers @rafestoothbrush @ohgodimgoungtodie @massivepenguinfart

[videokilled]

Vox seemed to be honed in on his next goal. Or at least their next step. And the balm of a good orgasm and long morning would only be so helpful if he continued to struggle with this phone.

The dry smoke stayed poised between his fingers as if it were lit while he fiddled with the phone and formulated a plan. At least satisfying the busy hand part of the urge. The new world was a world of smart phones and they’d have a hell of a time doing anything in this city without a car- without a working mobile.

One of which they had perfectly well until it was doused in swamp water. Surprising even himself, Vox couldn’t find much indignation toward his companion even at the memory of being tossed into a beast infested bog. If that didn’t scream volumes of the growing influence he didn’t know what would. Vox wasn’t even sure Valentino would be able to weasel his way out of… of course he would.

Vox was a simp when you finally weaseled in past his shell of an exterior. The only two to really do so were Val and Alastor.. Velvette was on her way.. but their alliance wasn’t there yet- too new. (Old as it was still.)

The moment they were outside Vox put the smoke into his mouth- but hesitated to light it himself.

He was walking like someone who was set on a mission and comfortable in walking on crowded sidewalks now. Focused on reading those that passed him until he chose his mark after a minute.

Accidentally shoulder checking the chosen one.

The older man- looking to be about Vox’s age gave a scoff and turned- about to let the literal demon have a piece of his nerve.

Vox to which played his piece and looked equally about to let the other have it— then gave a very humble and good hearted chuckle, and put his hands up in a decently acquiescing manner.

“All left feet- really— I can’t keep my balance when I’m wanting.”

The other man predictably paused at the odd verbiage-

“Wanting?” He hissed warily, shifting his own cigarette in his mouth. (Likely why he was chosen in the first place.)

Vox jostled the dry cigarette around gently to gain attention, and moved to the side of the sidewalk crowd- ushering the other to do the same without even lifting an arm.

“Ruined my lighter— and my phone. You wouldn’t happen to have a light on you?”

The man hesitated a bit, as if the bit wasn’t quite going to work- but then pulled a weird electric lighter out. It zapped a little blue arc, and the end of the smoke was lit soon after. Vox wanted it.

“You really are a saint my man…” Vox said pulling in a deep inhale. But it seemed the other did not have time to linger, shoulder checking Vox again in his attempt to leave.

This did not suit Vox.

“Hey buster.” Vox clipped after the busy bee.

When the man turned back with some prepared sass- it was drawn right back down into the man’s throat. The rigidness of the man slid, and slumped. And if Alastor moved to the left to see Vox’s face (which he had angled to hide from the majority,) his left eye was blaring red and pulsating those cyan rings. It looks different when crammed into the proportions of a human- but maybe that much more alarming. And the pull of his gaze would tug on Alastor too if he looked for more than a moment.

“Pull your phone out. Take off the passcode. Give it to me.” The man complied with each lethargically. Vox held the gaze as he then pulled the man closer and put the girls phone he had swiped earlier into the man’s breast pocket. Patting his chest.

“Go home, fuck your wife, and get out of my face.” Vox hissed and nudged him on his way.

Vox slumped back in the seat when he was indirectly chastised for overreacting. Or it least it felt that way.

“I’m not lighting it.” He said back simply and immediately. Usually there might have been some snip woven into it. Just within Vox’s nature. But it seemed the morning they shared complete with the copious amounts of sleep, drugs, sex and now well made food had fixed even that.

He still swallowed notably. Trying to almost visibly get the reigns on whatever thoughts kept coming back up. That he had saved once- and then fumbled so hard there was likely no going back. At least Alastor didn’t know details. But the similarities between their situations felt glaring in this setting. At least to him. It kept coming to the forefront of his mind.

Except Vox still had his soul.

If that even mattered in lieu of that they had instead.

Vox started to get up. No longer comfortable just lounging after his slip up. He needed to move and feel in control.

“I figured we’d just use your card for one of those Uber LX ones. I just need a second with another device against this one.”

But in light of recent topics… he didn’t want to cheat again. Not at the hotel at least.

The cigarette stayed out. Twirling around his fingers as he fidgeted with it.

[22ayla21]

Requests where mydei’s can’t sleep at the night, and while his wife’s sleep he start to talk with her pregnant belly aka baby

Nighttime Talks with the Baby

At night, while they think their wife is sleeping, they communicate with their unborn baby.

From the Author: I've already added other men from Amphoreus, as this idea was already in my drafts, I just forgot to post it earlier.

The night in the palace was quiet. Only the faint moonlight filtered through the windows, playing on the walls, and the soft crackling of the fire in the fireplace broke the complete silence. She lay in bed, eyes closed, her breathing even and calm. Her husband, Midey, sat beside her, leaning slightly forward, attentively watching her condition. He thought she was already asleep.

He didn't know she heard every word.

Mydei quietly placed his hand on her stomach, as if he had already grown accustomed to the fact that someone was there now. Her condition was unfamiliar to him, but he had learned to accept it as something natural. He still couldn't believe that a child would soon appear in their family, and the thought of it always evoked something strange in him—not quite relief, not quite mild anxiety.

He rested his forehead against her hand, covered with a blanket, and quietly began to speak. He didn't raise his eyes, thinking she was already asleep. His words were not loud, but each phrase was filled with a care that would never have otherwise come out. He spoke not so much to her as to the baby who had not yet been born, but for whom he was already ready.

"You're already there, little one. We're waiting for you," his voice was soft, almost tender, uncharacteristic of his usual gloominess.

He paused for a moment, then continued, holding back his emotions.

"You will be safe. I will be there, always. Nothing will be able to touch you."

Quietly, like a shadow, he touched her belly, conveying his protection and love with this subtle touch. He felt his heart fill with a new warmth, a new meaning. And it seemed that all this was directed towards this little being who would soon be born.

And just as he sighed quietly, returning to his chair, his attention was drawn to a light hand that briefly squeezed in response to his touch. Unaware of this, Mydei got up to return to another part of the room, not suspecting that she had heard everything.

Moments stretched, and in the silence of the night, only his footsteps sounded, and the invisible connection between him, her, and their future child.

At night, when the silence in the room was almost complete, Anaxa and his wife seemed to sink into their usual rhythm. He, as always, sat in his chair, immersed in his thoughts and books, while she nestled comfortably in bed, almost lulled by the silence of the night.

However, as soon as his wife slightly closed her eyes, he quietly got up and approached the bed. Carefully, so as not to disturb her, he sat on the edge, placing his hand on her stomach. She didn't move, not breaking the peace, but he knew she could hear.

He rarely expressed his feelings in words, but now, when their child had not yet been born, his words sounded with unusual softness.

"I can't wait to see you, but I want you to know: I will always be there, wherever you are. We will learn everything. Everything will be as it should be."

His words were full of deep respect for this little being, and although his voice remained calm, one could feel a subtle thread of excitement hidden behind his outward composure. He paused for a moment, as if listening, then continued:

"You are growing and becoming stronger every day. Maybe you even think of me as a scientific experiment. But you, little researcher, will soon begin your journey."

He smiled at the corners of his lips, but said nothing more, stroking his wife's stomach, feeling every movement, every slight sway of her belly, like a signal from their baby.

Unaware that his wife, despite her apparent drowsiness, was quietly listening to every word, he quietly got up, touching her forehead with a soft kiss, and returned to his chair, immersing himself back into his work.

But her eyes, barely open, remained fixed on those nighttime words, sinking into the silence. She couldn't help but smile, knowing that Anaxa, with his habit of controlling everything around him, had still found a moment of vulnerability. Even if he didn't say everything he wanted, she heard everything that was important to him.

At night, when the silence in the room becomes almost palpable, Phainon stays close to his wife. He can't fall asleep, watching her calm breathing, how her chest rises and falls, and her hair softly spreads across the pillow. He gently places his hand on her stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin, and slowly, almost in a whisper, begins to speak.

He doesn't notice how she, despite her fatigue, is not asleep. Her body is relaxed, her eyes are closed, but her consciousness remains alert. The words that Phainon whispers into the darkness fill her heart with warmth.

"You will be strong, like your mother..." his voice is low, even, and always confident. "I will protect you, I will always be there..." his hand slightly squeezes her stomach, and she feels the strength of his hand at that moment. "When you grow up, you will become great. We will teach you everything I know. But for now, just be healthy..."

He smiles, not seeing her reaction. This little conversation seems natural to him, and it is filled not only with care but also with a promise to be there. He doesn't think about her hearing, that his words are already etched in her heart.

At one point, his voice becomes a little softer, as if he is sharing something intimate, personal.

His wife hears his breathing change slightly, as if he is trying to hide a certain vulnerability. His words wash over her, and she feels his love and care already directed towards their future child.

But she doesn't wake up. She doesn't want to interrupt this moment, doesn't want to show that she hears his every word. She feels how his concern for their child and for her penetrates her own heart, strengthening her confidence that they will overcome any difficulties together, no matter what happens.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |11|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Attempted Murder, Stabbing, Shooting, Violence

Word Count: 3.6k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You rode all the way to Gale’s place in silence. You felt Gale constantly glancing at you out of the side of her eye, but you refused to acknowledge it, you just kept your eyes focused straight ahead. When you finally reached Gales’ place you couldn’t help the way your mouth hung open. You knew Gale lived on the upper west side, but it seemed you didn’t realize how well off she truly was.

You couldn’t help but press your head against the window, trying to look up at the building. You furrowed your brow as Gale pulled down into a garage under the complex. Your eyes widened, it was a struggle finding parking in New York and yet Gale had an entire parking garage under her building. You didn’t even have a car anymore, you and the others walked everywhere and where you couldn’t walk you rode the subway.

You followed Gale out of the car, clearing your throat to try and hide just how impressed you were. The two of you entered the elevator, Gale swiped a card then hit the button for a floor near the top. Your eyes widened; she wasn’t at the very top of the complex, but she was pretty close.

Some soft music played in the elevator to fill what would have usually been an awkward silence. The elevator dinged as you arrived at the floor in no time. You stepped out into a small hallway that had less than a handful of doors in it. You had your hands shoved in your pockets as Gale step up to one of the doors and pulled out her keys. You glanced around as she unlocked the door, if there was less than five condos on each floor that meant the space had to be rather large.

“Make yourself at home,” Gale said, holding the door open for you.

Your mouth once again fell open as you stepped into Gale’s condo. It was an open floor plan with the door opening up right into the living room. From where you stood in the doorway you could see the kitchen, a long hallway that probably led to the bedrooms, and a balcony that stretched the length of the kitchen and the living room.

“Damn,” you couldn’t help but whisper.

You could barely afford the one-bedroom crappy apartment you had in Woodsboro to begin with. New York was another monster all together, you made more money bartending than you ever did back home, but rent was also more than triple what you paid. The only reason you were able to afford the current place was because you, Sam, and the money Bailey paid for Quinn’s share helped divide things up. You weren’t sure what would happen now, a Ghostface attack happened, meaning the apartment was no longer safe, meaning Sam would want to move again. Quinn was also murdered in said apartment, which definitely didn’t help, and a roommate, along with you, Tara, and Sam was the only way you could afford the place.

“Didn’t know a reporter’s salary could get you all this,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Helps when you’ve written several bestselling books,” Gale said.

You couldn’t help but scoff. Those books she wrote, though based on real events, tended to paint everyone in a bad light, except for herself of course. Sam got the worst of it but even Sidney was never portrayed the best.

“Profiting off others pain,” you commented. “Definitely something to strive for.”

Gale let out a sigh and when you turned around, she at least had the decency to look at least a little be ashamed. “I know you weren’t a fan of my interpretation from last year’s events,” Gale said calmly, like she was trying to choose her words carefully.

“It was a bunch of bullshit,” you snapped. “What you said about me, about Sam,” you started gesturing with your hands. You and Sam might not have been friends and only really tolerated each other because of Tara but she didn’t deserve all the crap Gale said about her. “The only one portrayed decently was…” your words quickly died, and you had to look away. You quickly tried to blink away the tears.

“You weren’t portrayed bad by any means.”

“No!” You snapped, the anger coming back to you in full force. “You just used me as a prop to make you look better.” Gale physically flinched at your words. “Abandoning your daughter to keep her away from the horrors of Ghostface,” you mocked. “How honorable.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Gale whispered.

“Well, at least our fictional relationship is better than our real life one,” you shrugged. “We really get to bond and reconnect.” You saw the tears in Gale’s eyes, but you didn’t even so much as begin to back down. “To bad in real life our relationship is nonexistent.”

You turned away, no longer able, or wanting to, look at her. You were the reason the two of you didn’t have a relationship. A part of you wished things could be different, you didn’t regret your decision though, maybe if Gale was different, if she had proven she could be different. In her book she made it seem like she did you a favor, giving you up. She went on about how you reunited, how the two of you grieved Dewey and despite how hard it was you found yourself able to forgive Gale for what she did. The thing about fiction though, it had a habit of being better than real life.

“I know,” Gale whispered. “When I got to writing I…” you glanced back to see her shaking her head as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say. “I got carried away; I started fantasizing about how I wish we could be. Meeting for lunch regularly, getting to know you,” she began to list off. “Being a part of your life.”

“Well, none of that is true,” you snapped.

“No,” Gale whispered sadly. “I’ve tried to respect your decision, in wanting nothing to do with me.” You were thankful she couldn’t see your face as a lone tear escaped your eye. “And I apologize for any pain my writing might have caused you.”

“Whatever,” you shook your head, your voice hardening. “I didn’t come here for apologies, I meant what I said,” you turned to face Gale again. “There’s safety in numbers. So, let’s just keep this simple.”

Gale’s eyes fell to the floor, but she didn’t argue, she just nodded her head. “Make yourself at home,” she said again, gesturing to the living room.

You opted to sit on the couch, stretching out your leg just enough to give your knee some relief. You checked your phone, making sure Tara hadn’t messaged you. The last text you got from her was her replying to you telling her to be careful. Nothing good ever came from you and Tara separating but you couldn’t just let Gale go off on her own.

Gale grabbed her laptop and set up next to you on the couch, though she made sure to leave plenty of room between the two of you. You glanced at her out of the side of your eye when you heard her mumbling to herself, it sounded like she was complaining about Kirby. You glanced at her laptop screen and saw she was still researching Jason and Greg, she was still investigating, trying to figure out who this new Ghostface could be.

“Jason and Greg weren’t involved,” Gale mumbled. “They were just in the way.”

“Meaning whoever this asshole is,” you said. “Doesn’t just want us dead, they want to be the one to do it.” Gale looked at you, you could see her clench her jaw before she nodded.

If this Ghostface just wanted, you guys dead they could have just hung back and let Jason and Greg try to fulfill their plan. You doubted it would work, you didn’t think the boys would have taken down any of you. That wasn’t the point though, Jason and Greg weren’t a real threat, they were just in the way of what the real Ghostface was planning.

“I’m hungry,” Gale said. “Are you hungry?” she was already getting up as she looked at you. “I have takeout menus in the kitchen.” Before you could even open your mouth, Gale was already walking away.

You watched Gale disappear into the kitchen and grabbed your phone when you felt it vibrate. You furrowed your brow at Tara’s name popping up. “Hey,” you answered, a slight frown on your face. It was a little early for them to already be done, that was unless something went wrong. “What happened?”

“Ghostface is there!” Tara shouted.

“Wait, what?” You sat up straighter. “What are you talking about?” You were already moving, intending to find Gale. “What…” your words died in your mouth as you turned around, Gale was standing there, phone to her ear and tears in her eyes.

Gale’s eyes widening was your only queue. You turned around, raising your arm just as Ghostface brought his knife down. You kept him at bay, but he used his other arm, pushing the knife closer to you. In the process of trying not to get stabbed you dropped your phone, you just hoped Tara wasn’t freaking out too much.

“Hey!” Gale shouted right before smashing her phone into the side of Ghostface’s head.

Gale yanked you to the side when Ghostface stumbled away. You didn’t know the layout of the penthouse, so you were really relying on Gale. She dragged you to the kitchen, rounding the enormous kitchen island. Ghostface recovered and now stood on the opposite side of the island.

You were at a standstill, the only potential place to go was out onto the balcony. Ghostface could easily block your path to the front door, as soon as you went one way he’d know where to move. The only options were to wait for Ghostface to get impatient and move first or to split up. If you went one direction and Gale went the other Ghostface would have to choose who to go after. You weren’t willing to take that risk, the odds were never in your favor it seemed when pertaining to Ghostface.

Ghostface rocked back and forth, their patients clearly waning, though they didn’t seem anxious about it. Finally, Ghostface moved, opting to take the side that would block the front door. You spun around, giving Gale a gentle shove as the two of you made your way to the balcony.

Gale flung open the door, not hesitating to rush out into the cold. You were right behind her, but Ghostface was right behind you. He jumped on your back, slamming you into the doorframe before you could actually get outside. You yelled out in pain as you felt the knife pierce your shoulder, just barely missing your neck.

The two of you tumbled out the door together. Ghostface was still on top of you, straddling your waist as you managed to turn around. Your hands shot up, catching Ghostface’s hands just as he brought down his knife. You gritted your teeth, trying to hold him back as best as you could but he had the advantage.

You couldn’t help but notice how familiar this position was, the first time you were ever attacked pretty much the same thing happened. You had been alone in your apartment when Ghostface attacked, managing to get the jump on you. You had turned the tables on them in the kitchen, and you had been the one pushing the knife towards Ghostface’s chest though.

Another key difference from last year was that you weren’t alone. You were reminded of that when Gale seemingly came out of nowhere smashing a potted plant over Ghostface’s head. As soon as you felt his grip loosen, you shoved him to the side, instantly finding Gale’s hand as she yanked you to your feet.

The two of you rushed to the other door. If you could just make it there, then you could lock Ghostface out. On the balcony he’d have nowhere to go, he’d be trapped for once. Just as you were about to run through the door someone grabbed you by the collar of the shirt and yanked you back. You were pretty sure you heard Gale call out your name, but you were too busy catching yourself on the railing of the balcony.

You groaned when your back hit the railing, you looked up to see Ghostface slamming the door closed in Gale’s face. You didn’t even have time to push yourself off the railing before Ghostface was on you again. They leaned all their body weight on you, forcing you to lean over the railing as much as possible. You held them by their wrists, trying to keep the knife away from your eye.

You glanced back, your eyes widening at the city below you. You weren’t sure which would be worse, falling to your death or Ghostface gutting you. Your breath caught in your throat as the knife came down, inching closer while you were distracted. You did your best to wiggle your body to the side, using enough leverage to get Ghostface stumbling forward.

The two of you went back and forth fighting over the knife. Ghostface kept trying to stab you and you did everything to keep that from happening. You weren’t sure when the two of you started moving, you were so busy focused on trying not to go over the balcony that you weren’t ready when the two of you crashed through the door.

You rolled over with a groan, glass crunching beneath you. Gale didn’t waste time asking if you were okay before she yanked you up and began dragging you down a hall. You furrowed your brow, it seemed going out the front door would be the better play but when you looked back you saw Ghostface already on their feet, though a bit disoriented.

Gale dragged you into a room, quickly pushing you to the back and slamming the door closed just as Ghostface got to it. She clicked the lock and ran to her closet. It wasn’t the time, but you couldn’t help the way your eyebrows raised at the closet, it was more than half the length of the room. You and Tara were supposed to share a closet, which was still mainly filled with Tara’s stuff, while yours was all in the dresser, which Tara also took over half of.

“Are you okay?” Gale asked. She looked over from what she was doing but quickly dropped her attention back to trying to open a silver case. “Fuck!” She smacked the case when the lights lit up red, rejecting whatever code she punched in.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

“I’m fine,” you said.

Gale punched in the code again and finally the lights lit up blue. She grabbed the gun and was already aiming it at the door even though it sounded like Ghostface stopped slamming his body into it. Gale didn’t wait though, she fired a few rounds into the door, if Ghostface was still on the other side he surely would have been hit. Your entire body went rigid when a phone ringing shattered the already uneasy silence.

Gale picked up the phone and by her irritated tone you knew it was Ghostface trying to mess with her again. She walked closer to the door, firing two more rounds into the door. You moved to follow her but let out a hiss as you winced. You looked down to see spots of blood staining your shirt. You flicked your eyes to Gale; her attention was fully on the door and talking to Ghostface. You gritted your teeth as you gently lifted your shirt, getting a good look for the first time at the bit of glass stuck in your side.

You rolled your shirt back down as gently as possible, then powered through the pain as you came up behind Gale. She flung open the bedroom door, her gun steady in her hands as she held it out, moving and checking every potential place Ghostface could be hiding before passing it. You made sure to stay close, you had nothing to defend yourself with and you were sick of Ghostface catching you off guard.

“Hold please,” Gale said. You furrowed your brow and watched as she clicked a few buttons on the phone and redialed the number Ghostface had used to call her.

The two of you whipped around when ringing started coming from the closet you had just passed. Gale set the phone down, allowing the ringing to just continue as she gently nudged you back and stepped in front of you. She fired a couple rounds into the hall closet and the two of you heard a thud.

Gale inched forward, still making sure to keep the gun raised. Just because you both heard what sounded like a body falling to the ground didn’t mean Ghostface was actually down. Ghostface had faked being down plenty of times, he could have also stashed some random person in there to use them as bait. You didn’t think that last one was likely, but it definitely wasn’t insane to think about.

Ghostface launched out of the closet before Gale could react, knocking the gun out of her hand and shoving his knife into her shoulder. He pushed her back until she hit the stone column in her living room. He gripped her by the hair and began slamming her head against the stone. You didn’t think as you charged forward, tackling him off her like as if you were a football player.

The two of you rolled around on the floor, both of you fighting for control of the knife. Ghostface reached up and clawed at the stab wound on your shoulder. Pain seemed to radiate through your entire body, forcing you to instantly release Ghostface. Ghostface tackled you, your head smacking back against the hard floor. Ghostface seemed to like bashing someone’s head because he gripped you by the hair and slammed your head into the floor until you were seeing spots.

You were sure you had a concussion, again. When the image above you began to clear you were left frozen as Ghostface hovered above you, holding his knife high. You wanted to move, you kept telling your body to move, to roll out of the way, to fight back, to do something, but you just lay there. Ghostface brought his knife down but before it could get to you Gale tackled him off you, sending the two of them crashing into the glass coffee table.

You rolled onto your stomach; through blurry vision you could see Gale get up first. You couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath. She approached Ghostface, stepping on his wrist before yanking the knife out of his hand. She turned the knife in her hand before kneeling down next to Ghostface.

“Wait,” you gasped.

You reached out with your hand, as if you had any of hope of reaching Gale. Before Gale could bring the knife down, finally ending Ghostface, his hand shot up, impaling her in the side with a shard of glass. Gale collapsed, managing to drop the knife as both her hands went to her side. Ghostface rolled over as if none of what had happened had phased him.

“Don’t take it personally,” Ghostface said, taking the knife back. “A legacy character was never going to make it out of this.” He stood above Gale as she continued to gasp for breath.

You managed to use your forearms to push yourself up and began crawling towards them. You didn’t know what you were going to do, you stood no chance against Ghostface, you were probably only going to just get yourself killed quicker. Ghostface looked over at you, tilting his head before giving it a shake in disappointment.

“Look on the bright side,” Ghostface said. “At least you don’t have to see your child die.” He looked back at you as you continued to crawl towards them. “But they do get to see me gut you in their last moments,” he chuckled, his laugh sounding more sinister through the voice changer.

Ghostface brought up his knife, finally ready to end things once in for all. You heard someone shout, Ghostface looked up from Gale and dove away as whoever yelled came running into the room. The person grabbed the forgotten about gun on the floor and instantly began firing as Ghostface ran through the penthouse.

“Oh my god,” someone said, dropping down next to you.

You blinked several times and could finally make out Tara’s face in front of you. You let out a relieved breath that turned more into a sob. “I’m fine,” you tried, Gale was in worse shape than you, she should be the priority.

“Shut up,” Tara snapped, but she cradled your head as gently as possible and helped ease you back until you were laying on the ground again. “Just, stay awake,” she ran her hands through your hair.

Your eyes drifted past Tara to Gale. Sam was on her knees, trying to stop the bleeding. “G-Gale,” you rasped out. You even attempted to reach out with your hand again.

“Focus on me,” Tara guided your chin until you were staring up at her again. “Just focus on me.” You weren’t sure if it was your concussion or what, it was hard to tell, everything was still slightly fuzzy, but it looked like Tara had been crying.

You did as Tara asked, you stayed still and focused on only her. Even as the medics came in, you focused only on Tara. Even as you saw them loading Gale onto the backboard out of your peripheral you only focused on Tara. You never lost consciousness as the medics checked you out, you figured that was a good sign.

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[bbina]

wonbin takes a long drag off his cigarette, letting the substance fill his lungs for another temporary escape from reality. he exhales the smoke and lets it curl around him before he fans the smoke away from his face

he takes another drag, his hands already raised to his mouth before he hears a familiar voice behind him. the voice he knows all too well to forget

"you know, a guy like you shouldn't be smoking"

wonbin's eyes widened and turns around at the speed of light to see you in the flesh

it was you

wonbin takes a good look at you. this was the first time he has seen you up close in months. the last time he saw you was when he dropped you off at the train station before midterm break started and that was the very last time he saw you since

sure you two lived across each other but wonbin had deliberately avoided you at all cost and you did the same. you can't even recall the last time you opened your window blinds since you came back from midterm break

"it's nice to see you! how have you been?" you smile, taking a seat next to him on the curb he was sitting on

wonbin couldn't believe his eyes and ears. it really was you and you just sat next to him like nothing happened between the two of you

".. i've been good. you?" wonbin answers quietly, diverting his attention back to the cigarette in his hands. if he stares at you longer, he wouldn't know how to act

"i'm doing really well actually. i feel like i finally found my spark again" you share, smiling at him slightly before looking up at the night sky

there was that weird sense of deja vu. this was exactly how you two met each other a few months ago and it almost feels surreal that it happened again but this time you two were in two completely different situations

you take note of the box of cigarettes next to him. the same brand you used to use when you did smoke. you can't help but think that he'd resort back to smoking because you two did make a pact before that you two would stop smoking if the latter stops

"you're smoking again" you comment

wonbin notices you staring at his cigarette. he quickly puts it out and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket

"sorry. old habit" he murmurs, unsure how to keep the conversation going when all he wanted to say was that he's sorry

you purse your mouth shut as you let the silence do the talking. the same silence that used to comfort you with each other. although you don't harbor any resentment towards wonbin anymore, you just can't help the awkwardness growing in the atmosphere

like there were so many words left unspoken that's waiting to be let out

what seems like a couple of minutes of silence, wonbin decides to break it

"hey" wonbin calls out softly, slowly raising his head to look at you

"hm?"

"i'm sorry" wonbin blurts out, "for everything"

there it was. the words you've been dreading to hear from him. you had already moved on from the situation a long time ago. you had accepted the fact that he wasn't ready yet and that you couldn't wait for someone who was still uncertain with themselves so you let it go

obviously it hurt the first time. it was hard during the first few weeks after midterm break. you were in a routine with wonbin during those months and adapting to a new normal wasn't that easy

but you had better company than you realize. you hung out more with your own friends and sion, who you'd say made your life so much brighter when he came into the picture

sion was so full of life. it honestly weirded you out the first time when he was so considerate of you and your feelings. he knew that you were going through something during midterm break and he didn't try anything but to comfort you as a friend

wonbin picks up on your silence and he drops his head low. he bites his lip as he comes up with more words to say. this is the perfect moment to tell you everything even if it won't change the past. he just needed you to hear him out

"i'm really sorry that i wasn't ready back then. it's just hard for me to accept the fact that you liked me and i was scared that–"

you hold your hand out in front of him, causing him to pause his apology. wonbin clamps his mouth shut, waiting for you to say something in case you wanted to address something but instead, you shake your head

"it's okay, bin" you chuckle, "that was in the past. if anything, i was in the wrong too for expecting"

expecting. ouch, that's gotta hurt. did he really make you feel that way without realizing?

wonbin opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it

"we were naive back then now that i think about it" you start, recalling your shared memories with the man beside you. the same man who had your heart in his hands, "like the odds of two people who were relatively fresh out of a breakup meeting at a place like this. bonding over recent heartbreaks and all that stuff is quite rare and quite comforting in a way" you rambled

wonbin listens intently at your words, processing everything while reminiscing your time together

"if anything we found comfort in each other at the time" you turn to look at him in the eye, "the late night talks, the comfortable silence when we're together.. i wouldn't trade that experience for anything in the world"

"we were alone together, you know?" you smile, looking away from him, "even if we didn't work out in the end, i still felt a genuine connection with you"

wonbin just sits there in silence. the reality of you healed and moved on from whatever you two had was beyond him. there was nothing he can do about it anymore but dwell on the what ifs and what could've been with you

your conversation is cut short when your phone rings. you jolt in surprise before answering your phone

it was sion

"hello? is our ramen done? i'm outside!" wonbin watches you talk to your boyfriend on the phone. he can't help but feel his chest twist in pain that he could've be the one in sion's place if it weren't for his own selfishness

he thought that if he protected his heart, he wouldn't be hurt again but what happened was that he not only hurt himself but the girl who genuinely liked him

now all he can do is watch you from a distance. watch you be treated the way he was supposed to treat you

his train of thought gets cut off when you wave your hands in front of his face

"i gotta go wonbin. sion's inside the convenience store waiting for me. i'll see you around, okay?" you stood up from the curb, wiping your pants with your hands, "bye wonbin, it was nice seeing you again" you smile before walking inside the convenience store

wonbin watches you til the doors closed. he stares at the way sion kisses your cheek when you walked in the store

he forces himself to look away before the pain in his chest worsens. this hurt even more than the time his ex girlfriend ghosted him twice that he had developed a fear of commitment

yeah. this was way worse. to see your dream in a different reality

now all he can do is force himself to walk away from the convenience store. ironically enough the same place you two had met. the same place where everything started, he was now walking away from

maybe in alternate universe, you two had worked it out. maybe he wouldn't be scared of vulnerability. maybe, just maybe, in some alternate universe, you two would still be alone together.

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . alone together

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

⋆｡˚ prev | main masterlist | alone together masterlist ˚｡

꩜ notes .ᐟ holy fucking shit.. its over...... i did it... i finally finished this shit show of a fanfic... SEVENTY FUCKING CHAPTERS, over 43k words overall.. I HAVE CROSSED THE FINISH LINE 😭 imma need a pat on the back for this cus holy SHIIIIIIIITTTTTTT im so proud of myself for finishing this cus it was a rollercoaster of emotions. if u made it this far then thank you sosososoososososoososo much for reading and enjoying my works 😭 it really means a lot to me that you guys genuinely enjoy my shit lawl. i wanted the ending to be real af as this fic is basically true to life except for the ending. i wanted to show a story where not all love stories end in happy endings, some end like this hence the ending i chose. to me, this is the happy ending and the sad ending is that yn ends up in the same cycle but thats another story for another day! again, thank you sosososo much for reading! until my next riize smau :] bbina OUT!

p.s if u guys are gonna reblog the masterlist, pls dont spoil what kind of ending it is 🙏 so people can react the same as you guys HSADHJASHJDASHJ

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @pwbjsc @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @quicksilverstone @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingraspberry @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @wbyeolz @peterm4rker @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @ennycutie @sa3ha @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu @mujeans @ijustreallylike2read @endtostartbreathin

[riddlesrizzler]

𝙢𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙤 𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙭 𝙜𝙧𝙮𝙛𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙧! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

headcanons of mattheo with gryffindor! reader

warnings: rivalry. smut, taunting. oral (female receiving). fingering. p in v. sex in public place .

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

⟡ ݁₊ .rivals to lovers

𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵

⟡ ݁₊ .the air was still warm even though the summer was ending, the nerves and yet the excitement of starting a new school were certainly making the new students buzz with anticipation. the challenge of new courses, curriculum that some of them hadn't heard before made them sick with anxiety.

⟡ ݁₊ .not you.

⟡ ݁₊ .you greeted every challenge, every subject, every word with a sense of courage, the trait making you the gryffindor that you were. But one challenge seemed to exhilarate you more than anything, which was flying.

⟡ ݁₊ .mattheo had first spotted you in your first flying class of the year. the flying class that had been gryffindors and slytherins grouped together.

⟡ ݁₊ .he watched you on the field, standing in your too big of robes, gripping the wooden stick of the broom tightly. not missing the wide and eager smile on your face.

⟡ ݁₊ .he would roll his eyes as he thought that your happiness was exhaustingly annoying. turning back to madam hooch as he just wanted to get this over with, he was already good at flying after all.

⟡ ݁₊ .but when chaos strikes resulting in neville longbottom being taken to the hospital wing, and draco malfoy proudly announcing that he stole neville's remembrall, things change.

⟡ ݁₊ .you were quick to stick up for your fellow gryffindor, only your way of doing so was punching draco right in his nose.

⟡ ݁₊ .mattheo's eyes widened slightly at the action. here he was thinking that maybe you were some eager to please know-it-all, but instead you had done something that he had always wanted to do, punch malfoy.

⟡ ݁₊ .and for that he respected you.

⟡ ݁₊ .he realized that he should probably do something when he sees you gearing up to hit draco's blonde head with a broomstick. he steps up before pushing draco out of the way.

⟡ ݁₊ ."easy, tiger."

⟡ ݁₊ ."i'm not a tiger, you buffoon, gryffindors are lions."

⟡ ݁₊ .he watched you huff in annoyance before some of your friends had come to talk some sense into you, that you couldn't just beat up malfoy, no matter how annoying he was.

⟡ ݁₊ .the tiniest smile quirked on his lips as he watched you storm away, remembrall in hand, muttering yourself about how much of a weasel that blonde headed kid was.

⟡ ݁₊ .he liked you.

⟡ ݁₊ .mattheo had never been surrounded by healthy emotions, so when he realized that he had developed a small crush on the fiery, gryffindor girl. he wasn't sure what to do. so he resulted in doing what every eleven year old boy did...

⟡ ݁₊ .he teased her.

⟡ ݁₊ ."impressive. for a gryffindor."

⟡ ݁₊ ."terrible. for a slytherin."

⟡ ݁₊ ."feisty as ever, tiger."

⟡ ݁₊ .their banter never stopped, it went on for years as their relationship had turned into rivalry.

⟡ ݁₊ .it was all about who could get the better grade, who could flyer faster, who could make it to the Great Hall first. nothing was off limits. the two of them were constantly pushing each other in order to be better than the other.

⟡ ݁₊ .it was your sixth year at hogwarts and the rivalry hadn't lessen over the many years that you two had competed against each other. If anything, it got more intense.

⟡ ݁₊ ."i bet i could out drink you, riddle."

⟡ ݁₊ ."alright, tiger, i just hope you can keep up."

⟡ ݁₊ .the two of you then started to chug whatever alcohol was at your fingertips, the party lights making it harder to see, while the smell of smoke and firewhiskey clung to the air. you felt more determined than ever that win.

⟡ ݁₊ .it was after your fourth drink when mattheo paused. watching you lean your head back and started to chug the substance in the cup. your eyes fluttered closed in concentration. he knew what you were like when you got like this, willing to do anything to win.

⟡ ݁₊ .but something lurched in his stomach at the fact that if you kept pushing yourself, and you would, you could get really sick.

⟡ ݁₊ .so, mattheo put his drink down, putting his hands up in defeat. he could keep drinking, hell, he could double what you were doing without a sweat, but he didn't care. he didn't want to prove himself if it meant putting you at risk.

⟡ ݁₊ .when he saw your face light up in victory, your hands coming up like you had finished the biggest race of your life. you smile was wide, your eyes were glassy but filled with that same sparkle you would get when you beat him.

⟡ ݁₊ .he felt his heart lurch, more than it ever had before as he came to a realization.

⟡ ݁₊ .one of, he would lose every fight, throw in the towel, take a hit to his pride, he would do absolutely anything to keep that happiness spread on your face.

⟡ ݁₊ .the next morning you had woken up with a major headache, groaning in pain as you sit up, only to realize that you weren't in your room.

⟡ ݁₊ .the walls decorated with greens and colors of darkness, the bed smelt like cologne, there were quidditch robes draped over a chair. you had fallen asleep in some boys room.

⟡ ݁₊ .you blink before the door of the bathroom opens only to reveal, mattheo riddle, standing there with wet curls stuck to his forehead. your face pales as you suddenly try to figure out what happened.

⟡ ݁₊ ."oh my gods- did we...?"

⟡ ݁₊ ."no, tiger, you were just drunk off your ass, so i let you sleep here. i slept on the floor."

⟡ ݁₊ ."you let me sleep here? why would you do that?"

⟡ ݁₊ ."because i care about you more than anything, tiger. you push me to be better in more ways than i could ever imagine. and i don't know what i would do if something ever happened to the one person i would lose everything for."

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱

⟡ ݁₊ .the teasing, the bickering, the competition didn't stop. if anything it only grew, but with a lot less malice behind the words.

⟡ ݁₊ .“i think you just want to see me fly again. you like watching me make your team look bad.”

⟡ ݁₊ ."you might be right. watching a gryffindor outshine the slytherins is entertaining. but don’t let it get to your head, tiger. the next match will be different."

⟡ ݁₊ ."i'm counting on it."

⟡ ݁₊ .people often compare your relationship to an old married couple, the way that you were both so comfortable with each other and yet could bicker over stupid little things.

⟡ ݁₊ .you show him what love could be like. mattheo had never felt this type of love. the one where you hold hands and feel unashamed of who you are. the one where you prefer spending nights in playing cards, instead of going out. the one where you find yourself feeling warm and content.

⟡ ݁₊ .you weren't afraid to be seen with him. he had suggested that if you wanted to keep it quiet, then he would understand.

⟡ ݁₊ .you responded by dragging him out to the middle of the courtyard to kiss him passionately. your hands tangling in his hair, his hands pulling you closer.

⟡ ݁₊ .you didn't care what other people thought, and if someone happens to say a snide comment while walking by, you both were quick to stick up your middle fingers- not even breaking the kiss.

⟡ ݁₊ .he finds himself taking in the small moments. ones where your curled up with a blanket in front of a fire. one that wishes that could match your warmth, your temper, you.

⟡ ݁₊ .he finds himself grinning as you mumble something under your breath about the game between the wimbourne wasps and the ballycastle bats, when he swooped you into his lap.

⟡ ݁₊ ."you amaze me more and more every day, tiger. no flame could every amount to your light."

𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘹

⟡ ݁₊ .i will be straight up- the sex is hot.

⟡ ݁₊ .stolen moments in between classes as he pulls you into an empty classroom before bending you over the desk with your skirt around your waist.

⟡ ݁₊ .his slytherin tie shoved in your mouth would muffle your moans of pleasure as he thrusts his cock deep inside you, making your eyes roll back into your head as you claw at the desk.

⟡ ݁₊ ."gods- your pussy is perfect, baby. fucking couldn't wait any more."

⟡ ݁₊ .or in the locker rooms after an intense quidditch game which led you both to taunting each other, wanting to see the other one break. the same game that you won, which now had led you to your current position in the shower. leaning against mattheo's bare, wet chest as your thighs shake from your previous two orgasms.

⟡ ݁₊ ."how many goals did you score? ten? oh babygirl, you've got a long way to go."

⟡ ݁₊ .he would always be quick to find some way to have his hand on your thigh, making easier to slip a finger over your core if he finds your temper starting to rise. one quick brush to your cunt, and your mouth shuts closed.

⟡ ݁₊ ."come on, pretty girl, what were you going to say? hm? use your words."

⟡ ݁₊ .but in between the teasing, the rough sex that made you see stars. there were times where he made love to you. taking his time to worship you and he sinks to his knees and buries his face into your dripping cunt.

⟡ ݁₊ ."fucking love you baby, so bloody perfect."

⟡ ݁₊ .sometimes mattheo thanks merlin himself for having draco steel that remembrall from neville. because if the blonde boy wasn't a giant dick, then he wouldn't have met the one person who he wants to be better for, the one person he would lay down his life for without a second thought. in the end, he would gladly give it all up if it meant you would stay.

⟡ ݁₊ ."everything i do is for you, tiger. every fight, every word, every breath. it has all led me to you. every fiber of my being has always known that i was meant to be with you and you, with me."

[pazziescapism]

Break Our Ice - Chapter 4

pairing: paige x azzi

wc: 12.1k

au fic what??, figureskater!Azzi x icehockeyplayer!Paige

fake dating, just like playful banter teasing relationship to lovers, basically paige and azzi dancing around each other

a/n: HI GUYS!! i am truly sorry for the wait i have no idea why this chapter took me so long, honestly this is definitely my least favourite chapter and sorry if it seems choppy i took out and rearranged heaps of scenes i don't watch ice skating or ice hockey so i didn't really think about how i would write about it... AHAH anyway i guess this is kinda the last chapter?? i think id be down to do some bonus ones but i am working on something new so we will see, again thank you for reading! ps, did u see that wc?? 12k, yes im very proud

Someone is pulling Azzi to the side, a hand digging into the meat of her upper arm, hard enough to bruise. She’s having a hard time registering anything over the noise and lights. It feels like there’s a hundred people surrounding her, pushing her off to the side, crushing her by the borders.

Then the crowd falls away, and Paige’s in front of her looking harried. The press continues to shout from the side, the noise a little quieter now that they’ve moved, a crowd of people in front of them like a barricade.

“Ah, man,” Ice says, next to the two of them. “Bad luck.”

“I’ve got to go back out and do press,” Paige says, and she looks upset, running a hand jerkily through her hair. “Can you get someone to take Azzi out the back way?”

“It’s only the tabloids,” Azzi says and stays where she is. The situation is mixing badly with the insecurity in her chest, her head. Something selfish and angry has taken up residency in her, curling and twisting unpleasantly. 

“That’s the problem,” Paige says, not even looking at her, her face scanning the crowd, like she’s already searching for a way to get Azzi away. 

Like a picture of them together would be something so dreadful. 

“They’re already here,” Azzi points out, not moving. “Who cares if they get a picture or two?”

Paige frowns. She’s gotten fully ready to act within seconds, Azzi’s coat clutched in her hands. “They’ll come to the wrong conclusions,” she says, and Azzi’s heart sinks. 

The unpleasant feelings in her stomach give a sharp twist, and Azzi feels herself smile and knows it must look off.

“As long as they’re here,” she whispers, leaning in closer to Paige. “Let’s give them a show.” 

Paige’s eyes drop to her lips, like Azzi knew they would; for an instant, their faces are inches apart. She hears someone yell, and the camera’s go off again, too many bright lights to see, photographers moving around the crowd in front of them to get a picture. Paige steps fully away from her, panicked expression twisting into something sharper.

“For fuck’s sake, Azzi,” Paige says, viciously angry, and Azzi steps back too, taken aback by the reaction.

“I didn’t mean to,” she starts, and she isn’t sure what she didn’t mean to do so she lets that sentence trail off and starts again. “I didn’t mean it.” 

This doesn’t seem to make Paige feel much better, judging by the volume of her retort, her eyes angrier than Azzi’s ever seen them, as she shoves Azzi’s jacket into her arms. “You can’t just fuck around with my life when you get bored. Those pictures are going to be everywhere by tomorrow.”

“Don’t yell at me,” Azzi says back, her face burning hot with what might be anger, or might be shame. She’s off-balance, tilting too far one way and then the next. I don’t understand, she wants to yell. She wants, selfish as it seems, for Paige to understand her, without Azzi having to explain. 

Is it that awful to be seen with me? Azzi thinks, her head buzzing miserably.

Ice’s got her by the arm, then and they’re both heading down a dark little hallway, leading out to the parking lot. 

“I practice here too,” Azzi snaps, and yanks her arm away. Her jacket is gripped in her arms, and the jersey suddenly feels tight and humiliating on her skin. “I know the way.”

Ice doesn’t seem to take offense, which makes Azzi feel worse, just nods good-naturedly, her head ducked to avoid stray cameras. “That makes sense.”

Azzi swallows, hard. “I’m sorry,” she says, and that at least, is sincere. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ice tells her, and then hesitates as they exit out into the employee’s only section of the parking lot. Someone must have told Caroline, because Azzi can see her car heading towards them. “Hey, and- um, Paige just kind of hates cameras more than the rest of us, so, I mean, try not to-”

“Whatever,” Azzi says, cutting her off. She doesn’t really need the reminder. 

It’s freezing outside, thick dark clouds rolling over the sky, threatening snow at any minute. Azzi shivers, and then steps away from Ice as Caroline pulls up, nodding goodbye stiffly. 

To Caroline’s credit, she doesn’t ask any questions as Azzi angrily peels the jersey off the second they get onto the road, leaving her in only the thin sweater she had been wearing underneath. For good measure, she throws it on the floor and stomps on it, her dirty sneakers creating a bizarre black mark over the fabric, before throwing it to the back of the car. 

She considers slipping on the jacket, which at least doesn’t have Paige’s name written on it, but the image of Paige’s white knuckles around it as she tried to usher Azzi out as quickly as possible rises to mind and she chucks it to the back too. 

“So,” Caroline says casually, reaching over to turn the heating up in the car. “After game jitters?”

“Fuck you,” Azzi says bitterly. “Actually, fuck her. Let’s turn around so I can go slash her tires.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Caroline says, like a hint. 

“No,” Azzi says. “I already told you what I wanted to do, but you missed the turn.”

White flurries are starting to drift down outside the window, the wind picking up speed. Some of the flakes drift against the glass, individual specks so that Azzi can get a brief glimpse of the small symmetrical patterns making up each snowflake before they melt away against the window. 

“I’ve been trying so hard to make her like me,” Azzi says suddenly, into the quiet of the car, “and she doesn’t.”

“I’m sure she does,” Caroline says, accepting this too, without question. 

“She was such an asshole, just now,” Azzi seethes. “It’s one picture, will the world end? Will the sky fall?”

“I’m sure you already know this,” Caroline says, “but it was probably a bigger deal to her than it was to you.”

“I piss her off all the time,” Azzi points out. The anger is separating into hurt, a needle digging under the skin of her ribs. “She’s never reacted like that.”

Caroline doesn’t respond to this, as they pull into their neighbourhood. “You want to come over?” She offers. “Kaitlyn’s away for the day.”

Azzi is still considering this when her phone rings in her pocket, making her jump. She keeps meaning to set it to vibrate. She looks at the caller ID and considers hanging up. It would make her feel good, she reasons, give her a little vindictive pleasure. She’s aware of Caroline’s eyes still on her.

“Yes?” She says tersely, answering the phone. 

“Hey,” Paige’s voice sounds a little hoarse on the other end. “I ditched the press conference. I’m on my way home. I thought, maybe we could talk?”

Azzi stares out the window. The temperature’s dropped fast, and the wind has picked up, white snow starting to cover the sidewalks, clinging to the window and the windshield. 

 “Talk about what?” She asks, forcing herself to lean back against the seat. 

“Um,” Paige says. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like- I wanted to apologize.”

“I don’t want an apology, Paige,” Azzi says coldly. “I want to finally lay this humiliating chapter of my life to rest.”

“Azzi,” Paige says. “We won’t get anywhere if you refuse to talk about it.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” Azzi snaps. Her split lip stings as she speaks, newly scabbed over skin starting to split again. “We were never going anywhere to begin with.”

There’s a silence over the phone, only Paige’s breath filling the space, still so fucking steady. “You don’t mean that,” she says finally, voice charged with a bone-deep tiredness.

“This was always temporary,” Azzi says, always clawing her nails into wounds that are already bleeding, both her own and other people’s. “Sorry that you thought otherwise.”

“Fine,” Paige says into the phone, frustration jagged in her voice. “The dating part is fake, yeah, but- Christ, Azzi- I thought we were at least friends.”

Azzi is breathing too fast, too heavy. She wants to cry. She wants to scream some more. She wants to put her head on Paige’s shoulder and just breathe in the familiar smell of her, until they’re in sync again, inhaling and exhaling in the same rhythm. She doesn’t want to be friends.

“Go home, Paige,” she says, and feels the cavity in her chest split open a little further. There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end, so vulnerable it nearly rips her determination into shreds. The next thing she hears is the dial tone. 

The car is horribly silent. Azzi doesn’t look, but the sound of Caroline’s disapproval is nearly audible.

“Don’t start,” Azzi moans. “I just- fuck, do you think I fucked up?”

Caroline is quiet for a moment, long enough for Azzi to turn and see hesitation lining her face. 

“I think you would feel better if you were honest about your feelings,” she says finally. “Even if it doesn’t end up getting you what you want.”

Azzi lets her fingers fall, tracing over the material of her sweatpants. “It was going so well too,” she says, trying not to sound like she’s whining, and not quite succeeding.

“It’s not a real relationship, though,” Caroline says, and Azzi’s head snaps up in irritation.

“Thank you for that,” she says, curt. “Exactly what I needed to hear.”

“What I mean is,” Caroline sighs and then starts over. “It’s not real. It’s easy to have a great relationship if you don’t have as much to lose. You’ve been living in fantasyland.” 

“This is like, the most unhelpful you have ever been,” Azzi tells her. “And that is saying something.”

“All I’m saying is, if you want to have a relationship with her after this whole thing is over-”

“I don’t,” Azzi interrupts, and Caroline closes her eyes like this whole thing is horrible for her, personally.

“Sure. But if you do, you need to figure out whether this is all it’s going to take before you give up.

“Ugh,” Azzi says. She glares out the window again. The snow is starting to blow in heavy gusts outside, and when Caroline parks, she can see that it’s piling up on the staircase leading up to their building. The snowfall is starting to pick up speed, thick, soft heaps of white beginning to form, deep enough to get in your shoes, sink into your socks. 

The cab driver stops before turning into the long, narrow street leading to Paige’s building, and tells Azzi that with the current road conditions, she’ll either have to pay extra or walk the rest of the way. Azzi looks at the storm starting to rage outside, the snow swirling on strong winds, until she can barely see anything other than white through the window. She looks at the still-running meter. She decides to walk. 

About thirty seconds in, she’s regretting it. She didn’t bring a jacket with her, so the snow is flying everywhere, landing in any available gaps in her clothes and melting into ice cold water on contact with skin. Her feet are suffering the worst, the snow piling up inside her shoes, melting and then piling up again until she can’t feel her toes anymore. 

“Paige,” she says when she reaches the building, hitting the buzzer for Paige’s apartment. “Paige, if you don’t let me in, I’ll die. I’ll die, seriously.”

“Azzi?” Paige says over the intercom, static blurring her voice, and she says something that sounds like a question, but the locked door clicks and unlocks, and Azzi misses the words as she shuffles eagerly into the heated building. 

It’s only once she’s in the elevator, a minute away from Paige’s door that she realizes that she has no plan, she’s forgotten her speech, and the snow collected in her hair and clothing has melted, leaving her sopping wet and creating a puddle of dirty water where she’s standing. 

It’s all she can do to keep herself standing when Paige opens the door, her eyes widening as she takes in Azzi, sniffling only a little pathetically in her doorway, soaked to the bone in a thin sweater and sweatpants. 

“I’m sorry,” Azzi says, before Paige has the chance to say anything. “I didn’t mean to say- I just- we are friends and I want to keep being friends and I don’t want to fake break-up, and I’m a really terrible fake-girlfriend, but I want to keep being your terrible fake-girlfriend.”

Paige’s mouth opens. Closes again. She seems, for the first time since Azzi’s met her, to be at a total and complete loss for words. 

“And I’m sorry for pushing it about the picture thing,” Azzi continues nervously. A patch of melting snow is sliding down her back. “I didn’t want to- You hurt my feelings, a little, so I wanted to hurt your feelings and now I feel bad about that-”

“You are the dumbest person alive,” Paige says, and she grabs Azzi’s wrist and yanks her inside. 

She closes the door behind them, almost as an afterthought, her hands fluttering over Azzi’s body, her fingers, her neck, her cheek, bringing a moment of blissful warmth wherever they land. “You’re shaking, Jesus Christ. How far did you walk like this? There’s a blizzard warning out, are you stupid?”

Azzi peels her shoes off and then stands in the entranceway, unsure of where to go or what to say, her hair dripping water onto her already wet socks. 

“Unbelievable,” Paige is saying, already halfway across the living room before she realizes Azzi isn’t following. “Go, sit,” she says, and gestures at the stools across the kitchen counter. 

Azzi obediently takes a seat. 

It isn’t long before Paige returns to stand in front of her with a towel in her hands, and chucks it over Azzi’s wet hair, her hands scrubbing at it like she’s planning on taking Azzi’s whole head off. 

“What is wrong with you?” Paige is asking her, though it seems to be rhetorical, her hands still busy drying Azzi’s hair, none too gently. “No jacket, no scarf, not even any decent shoes. Did you look outside before you decided to come running to apologize? You know how long it takes to get frostbite?-”

“Paige,” Azzi interrupts and Paige stops, both the lecture and the scrubbing, tilting Azzi’s face up so their eyes meet. Azzi’s tongue flattens at the expectant look in her eyes, and it’s with considerable effort that she manages to start again. “Paige, you forgive me, right?”

For the second time in as many minutes, Paige looks absolutely floored by the words out of Azzi’s mouth. Azzi can’t explain it to herself, any more than she can explain it to Paige, but she needs to hear the words, needs to see the shape of them in Paige’s mouth. 

“Yes,” Paige says finally. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“I know,” Azzi says, a shaky smile lifting the edges of her mouth. 

Paige doesn’t move for a second, just watches Azzi, her green eyes contemplative. Then she starts drying Azzi’s hair again, a gentler set to her mouth, if not to her technique. 

“You have qualifiers in a couple days,” she continues, as if nothing had happened, Azzi’s neck aching from the directions it’s being pushed and pulled in. “What would you have done if you’d gotten sick? Would you have sat out? Idiot.”

  “I would have won anyway,” Azzi mumbles, a little guiltily, and then screeches at a particularly rough yank on her head. “But I won’t if I go bald! Paige!” 

“Oops,” Paige says, not sounding very regretful. “Was that one too much?”

“Obviously, you fucking-” Azzi wails as Paige does it again. “Paige, my hair!” 

Paige snickers, and pulls the towel away completely, tossing it into Azzi’s lap. “Drop this off in the laundry. And find some clean clothes and take a warm shower. I’ll get you some hot water with lemon and honey, so you don’t catch a cold. Silly girl.”

Azzi doesn’t answer, busy trying to feel her aching scalp for possible bald patches. 

“Don’t worry,” Paige tells her, pushing her off the stool. “I promise you’re still pretty.”

Azzi whips around, beaming, ignoring Paige’s increasingly forceful attempts to shove her in the direction of the laundry room. “You think I’m pretty, Paige?” 

She says it as half a joke, mostly expecting Paige to roll her eyes and push her away. It catches her by surprise when Paige’s expression softens instead, as she reaches up to push a strand of damp hair behind Azzi’s ear, the pad of her fingertip brushing softly over the shell of Azzi’s ear. 

“You’re very pretty,” she says indulgently, her hand falling back to her side, Azzi staring at her wide-eyed. “Even when you’re at my door looking like a drowned puppy.”

Azzi goes to take a shower without further comment. 

When she pads out, significantly calmer, in barefeet and a soft bathrobe, Paige is squeezing some lemon into a glass, the hot water creating condensation along the sides of the glass, fogging it up. It tastes honey-sweet going down Azzi’s throat, warming her up where the heat of the shower didn’t reach. 

She feels warmer still when Paige presses her up against the kitchen counter, rough hands slipping inside the bathrobe, spreading across her back, as she licks into Azzi’s mouth like she can taste the remnants of honey and lemon lingering on Azzi’s tongue.

“Your lip is bleeding,” she murmurs, pulling away from Azzi, kissing the corner of her mouth in apology. “Sorry.”

Azzi licks over her lower lip, tastes metal in her mouth and grimaces. “Oops.”

Paige is already grabbing a tissue, and running it under the tap. She squeezes water out into the drain and presses the damp tissue to Azzi’s mouth, wiping away where the blood has smeared. Azzi winces at the contact, and Paige holds her chin between a finger and a thumb, keeping her in place. “Stay still, baby.”

Baby, Azzi thinks delightedly, lets the sound echo inside her brain. She’s still thinking about the word choice when she realizes Paige’s stepped away. 

“Does it hurt?”

Azzi blinks. “Huh?” 

Paige stares at her. Azzi stares back.

“Your lip?” Paige prompts, after it becomes clear that Azzi won’t be answering, a small smile playing at her own mouth. “It’s bleeding.”

“Oh,” Azzi says. She’s lost it. “Yes. The lip. It was bleeding. Still bleeding?”

Paige just looks at her, her eyes blinking slowly, like Azzi is the most fascinating person in the world. If this was anyone else, Azzi thinks, she would probably be embarrassed. But Paige just smiles at her, and Azzi can only muster up the smallest hint of sheepishness at being caught out so directly.

“Yes,” she amends, and wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. “It hurts lots. Kiss it better.”

Paige groans, her hands landing on Azzi’s shoulders, resisting her attempts to pull them back together. “You are insufferable. Did you know that?”

“Yes,” Azzi says again, honestly, and she nudges her cold nose into the space between Paige’s shoulder and collarbone, drinks in the smell of Paige’s perfume (which she thinks is actually a cologne) “But here you are. Suffering.”

Paige’s eyes meet Azzi’s and hold eye contact, her face unreadable. Then she sighs. “You have no idea.”

Azzi doesn’t know what to make of this insult that doesn’t sound like an insult. She doesn’t respond, she presses cold feet against Paige’s shin in retaliation, grinning at her put-out expression.

“I can’t believe your toes didn’t fall off,” she says, and tugs Azzi over to her fireplace using the belt on her borrowed robe.

Azzi settles cross-legged in front of the blazing heat, lets it sweep over her back, feeling thrillingly, deliriously happy, sparks running up her still damp skin, making her heart beat faster in her chest. 

“What do you look so happy about?” Paige asks, when Azzi grabs her and tugs her closer. She goes willingly, her head settling in Azzi’s lap, wincing as Azzi’s cold hands come around to pull at her cheeks. 

“I’ve accepted my fate,” Azzi tells her.

“Your fate as what, exactly?” Paige says, the words mumbled as Azzi tugs on her face.

Azzi doesn’t answer, just leans forward and plants a kiss on her forehead, right above the bridge of her nose. 

Has Paige’s New Relationship Gone Cold? Hockey Player ‘Iced Out’ by Figure Skating Fling!

Azzi’s Out On Her Ass! ‘Hit the Slopes!’ Says Paige! “On Thin Ice” Says Exclusive Source.

Azzi, Cold on the Ice, Colder in Bed?! Insider Sources Speak Out About Skating Couple’s Frigid Romance!

“Kaitlyn,” Azzi says, interrupting Kaitlyn’s dramatic reading. “You could read these in your head.”

“Good literature deserves to be shared,” Kaitlyn tells her, and holds up a new one. “A source close to the couple reveals the relationship has been on the rocks for months. Did you know that?”

“Where are they getting all these sources from?” Azzi wonders out loud. 

“Beats me,” Kaitlyn says mournfully. “I’ve been calling offices all day to tell them you’ve got mad cow disease. Nobody even cares.”

Azzi pauses, looking up from the suitcase she’s packing at Kaitlyn, who’s draped over her bed. “You know humans can’t get mad cow disease, right?”

Kaitlyn, who is ostensibly meant to be helping Azzi pack, stops flipping through tabloids to look at Azzi, horrified. “Are you serious? I’ve wasted so many phone calls, man.”

“It’s literally called cow disease,” Azzi says, and Kaitlyn is still complaining when the door swings open, creaky hinges announcing Caroline’s arrival. 

“There was a whole section about you guys on my way home. Like a whole section of a newsstand with just your faces on it,” she calls, already halfway into Azzi’s apartment. Azzi does not remember giving her a key.

“Did you bring any back?” Kaitlyn asks, already bounding up in excitement.

“Breaking!” Caroline reads, walking into the bedroom. She hasn’t changed out of the branded shirt she wears to work, a cartoonish smiling skull peering down at Azzi from under her own face, pressed against Paige’s on a magazine cover, bold lettering over their bodies.  “Azzi, Withholding Her ‘Icicle’ From New Girlfriend?! ‘Not Until Marriage’ New Sources Report.”

“Who is writing these?” Azzi asks in amazement. 

“And who is doing their fact-checking?” Kaitlyn says, peering down at the page over Caroline’s shoulder. “They should be fired.”

“Are you guys breaking up?” Caroline asks, and both her and Kaitlyn are staring at Azzi, expressions nauseatingly similar. “I need to know where to place my bets.”

“How’s the casual sex going for you?” Kaitlyn adds, looking irritatingly knowing. “Still no feelings?”

Azzi looks back down at her suitcase. It’s too full. If she adds anything else to it, she won’t be able to get it closed, but she hasn’t even packed any clothes yet. “No,” she says to the peanut gallery, an answer to both questions. She adds her folded clothes and takes the performance makeup out. She can probably put that in the carry-on.

 “I’m starting a six-year plan to make her fall in love with me,” she says casually. “Can one of you come help me close this?”

“I love being friends with you,” Kaitlyn says, neither of them moving. “Every decision you make is worse than the last. Like a slow-motion car crash. Thrilling.”

“Why is it taking her six years to fall in love with you?” Caroline asks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Azzi says. “At the end of the six years we get married. The suitcase?”

“Thrilling,” Kaitlyn repeats, and comes over to plant her full body weight on top of the suitcase so that Azzi can zip it closed. 

Azzi is staggeringly drunk. Mind-bendingly drunk. Everything is swirling into pieces around her and then swirling back together, the noise pounding in her eardrums reverberating through her entire body. It’s loud, sweaty, hot, crowded. The smell of alcohol is stinging her nose, a too-expensive bottle of champagne still staining her clothes, sticky where it touches her skin. 

Every now and then, the realization comes back to her and then she’s smiling again, her cheeks aching with the force of it, her throat raw from screaming. 

“I made it!” She yells to Caroline. The two of them are so close together but her voice is carried off in the noise regardless, and she can see Caroline blink as she tries to process. 

Then Caroline is grinning back at her, just as wide. “We made it!” She yells back, and Azzi throws her head back to laugh, giddy. 

Someone pulls her away and Azzi goes willingly, out of her mind with joy and nearly deaf from the music.

The quiet of the evening, when she stumbles outside, is an ice-cold shock. The sudden stillness surrounding her, the indiscernible noise of screaming teenagers in the background. It had been a struggle to extricate herself, a tugging push and pull until she made it out into the night air. She’s pressing the call button before she can talk herself out of it. 

“Azzi?” She hears Paige say, only a dark blurry shape on the small screen of her phone. There’s rustling movement, the click of a lamp, and then Paige’s face is peering blearily at her, illuminated by soft yellow light. “Are you wearing bunny ears?”

“I think I got them from a fetish store!” Azzi tells her, and it’s only when Paige flinches away from the phone screen that she realizes she had been yelling. She lowers her voice abashedly. “They wouldn’t let you in without a costume,” she whispers, like she’s letting Paige in on a secret. “But I didn’t have one.”

Paige falls back and Azzi can hear her laugh tiredly, voice still gravelly with sleep. She must have set the phone down, because all Azzi can see now is the ceiling of the hotel Paige must be staying at. Her team had left for a series of away games, both of them now far from home. 

“Paige,” she says to the ceiling. “I can’t see your face anymore.” Her words are starting to blur together, but she can’t concentrate enough to pull them back apart.

“Sorry, sorry,” Paige mutters, and there’s another rustle before her face returns, now with headphones. “Are you out celebrating?”

The word celebrating reminds Azzi why she called to begin with and she beams back at the camera, exhilarated once again. “I made it! I’m going to the Olympics!”

Paige is laughing again, though Azzi isn’t sure why. “I know,” she says. “You texted me.”

“Oh,” Azzi says. Then, “What did I say?”

“Um,” Paige says, and then her video is paused. “Hang on. You said ‘i made it’ and then ‘Olympics baby’ and then ‘can alcohol absorb through your skin?’ and then there were a bunch of letters.”

“Oh,” Azzi says again. “What did you say?”

Paige’s face returns to the camera once more, her smile fonder than usual, the planes of her face carved out soft in the mellow light. “I knew you’d make it.”

Azzi thinks that if it’s possible to be crushed by sheer affection, she’s feeling it now, a building pressure in her chest that pulls her accelerating heartbeat back to ground level.

“Thank you.” Now that she’s calmer, she notices for the first time how Paige’s eyes are fluttering closed, how her voice is sleep-rough, and she feels a pang of guilt. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Nah,” Paige says, clearly lying. “I couldn't sleep anyway.”

“Liar.” There’s that soft, tired laugh again, and the phone shifts to a view of the ceiling again, like Paige has set it down beside her. Azzi can hear the sound of her breathing, each breath slipping slowly into a steady rhythm.

“S’Okay,” Paige mumbles. “I like the sound of your voice.” 

This is enough to stun Azzi back into silence. Her brain feels slippery from how much she’s had to drink, the hot pink lighting of the club she had been in still dancing across her feet, a glimmering haze over her field of vision. She’s so aware, all of a sudden, of how cold the night air is, biting into exposed skin, how tightly the headband of the bunny ears is pressing into her scalp, of the hair falling over her forehead-  of how much love is piling up inside her, scrubbing her raw and threatening to drown her under its weight. 

If Paige liked the sound of her voice, Azzi would read her a novel, would read her a dictionary, would write her a new love letter every morning and recite it to her every night. 

As it is, she whispers into the phone, “Goodnight, Paige,” and lets herself wait five full seconds before hanging it back up.  

That night Azzi crashes on the sofa of a hotel suite she could have never afforded by herself, legs too wobbly to make it to a bed. She doesn’t sleep, she just lies there, the bright glow of her phone across her face the only light in the dark room, and she drafts drunken texts and deletes them, writing out confessions she’ll never send. 

Are you still awake? She writes to Paige, and deletes it.

Good luck tomorrow.

Recently, you’ve been in all of my dreams. Do you think that means something? 

I wish you had been here today. 

In a hazy space of her brain, it starts to register to Azzi that this is possibly a little bit embarrassing. She doesn’t feel embarrassed- she feels giddy in a way she hasn’t for years, caught up in the middle-school thrill of having a crush, something that reminds her of drafts of love letters on pink stationary, of leaving gifts in lockers and roses on desks. It’s the indulgent happiness of allowing herself to get caught up in the push and pull before a relationship, both of them on edge, neither willing to slip first. 

It’s enough, she tells herself. For now, it’s enough. They’ll have time. 

The sun is just beginning to set when Azzi walks back to her apartment days later, a plastic bag of groceries crinkling in one hand, the other holding Paige’s hand. The heat is starting to return after a long winter, and there’s sweat collecting between their hands, but neither one moves to disentangle their fingers. 

“You don’t have a fucking clue,” Paige is saying heatedly, and Azzi scoffs but doesn’t interrupt. “You have no idea how much I’ve suffered because of this. It’s the worst possible-”

“Not the worst,” Azzi interjects. “I’ll take a lot but I won’t let you lie to me right now-” 

“It is the worst, it’s the laziest way out, it never makes sense, it creates so many plot holes-”

“I think it’s fun and creative,” Azzi says, and passes the bag of groceries to Paige, who takes them unquestioningly, as Azzi fumbles one-handed with the lock. “And the plot holes wouldn’t exist if you didn’t think about them.”

“That’s the target audience,” Paige says grimly, as Azzi pulls her into her apartment via their connected hands. “People who don’t think. Like you.”

“Time travel is an old, respected, trope,” Azzi says. “Just because you don’t understand it-”

“Boo!” Paige says, setting the bag of groceries onto the counter. She starts unloading them without Azzi asking her to, taking out the eggs to place them into the fridge, not even pausing in the flow of conversation. “There’s nothing to understand, because it sucks.”

“Not enough things getting blown up for you?” Azzi asks snidely, and pulls out a cardboard pink box, wrapped with matching pink ribbon before Paige can respond. “Are you ready for your present?”

Paige comes to stand beside her, reaching out a hand to pull at the strings of ribbon and pouting when Azzi slaps it away. “I don’t know why you had to make me stand outside the bakery. It’s not like I can’t guess it’s a cake.”

“Hush,” Azzi says. “As long as it’s not open, it could be anything.”

They had only had Valentine’s Day cakes available at the bakery, so when Paige opens the box, it’s to a mess of pink and red frosting over a small heart-shaped cake. In cursive script over the top, white lettering reads ‘C U @ O.V.’

“They were charging per letter,” Azzi says. “O.V.  stands for-”

“Olympic Village,” Paige says, grinning. “I get it. I love it.” 

Azzi beams at her. Paige had cleared the team selections for the national team yesterday, when she had still been away for a game. She had made it back last night, the pair of them reuniting for a private celebration that left bruises that ached pleasantly along Azzi’s hips, her chest, her thighs. 

“Here,” Paige says, in a suspiciously innocuous tone. “Taste.”

Azzi narrows her eyes. “What-”

Paige runs her finger through the icing as Azzi starts talking and then sticks her finger into Azzi’s open mouth. 

Azzi clamps her teeth down around the finger immediately, glaring at Paige. She’s hoping the look in her eyes communicates something like a threat, like I could bite through your finger like a carrot right now and not holy shit, I want to eat you out. It’s always so hard to figure out the line between the two with Paige.

Paige tries to pull her finger away, teasingly, and her eyes widen as Azzi bites down a little harder. 

“Hang on,” she says, her wrist falling a little limp. “I’m trying to figure out if this is turning me on or not.”

Giving in is against Azzi’s principles but this is beginning to seem torturous, so she lets her mouth close, keeping her teeth back to let her lips close gently over the first knuckle. Paige makes a strangled noise and it feels like victory. 

“Yeah. Definitely turned on,” she says decisively. 

Azzi can’t speak, just swirls her tongue around the pad of her finger, tastes sugar and strawberries, lets it dissolve in her mouth, relishes in the way Paige’s lips tug up in exasperated acceptance.

She’s thinking of abandoning the cake entirely and starting up those celebrations over again, or maybe just dropping to her knees in the kitchen, when the doorbell rings. 

“Ugh,” Azzi says, pulling away reluctantly, turning toward the door. 

She’s stopped by the firm grasp of Paige’s hand around her jaw, bringing Azzi’s face back to her own. Azzi thinks about complaining about the hand Paige’s using to do it, feeling her own spit touching her cheek, sticky and off-putting and gripping hard enough to bruise.

But Paige’s lips are already on her, tongue slipping into Azzi’s mouth with a proprietary confidence that makes Azzi’s hands clench tight around the edge of the countertop, keeping her on her feet. 

The doorbell rings again, and Paige pulls away with a sigh and a wet parting of mouths, Azzi’s eyes fluttering back open in slight shock. 

Paige is watching her lips, looking all too pleased with herself. “Yum,” she says, letting go of Azzi’s jaw with a pat on the cheek and a wink. “Strawberry.”

The doorbell rings for a third time, aggressive in how long it lasts, like the person outside is leaning on it, impatient.

Paige’s eyebrow twitches slightly at the noise but she steps fully away from Azzi, looking entirely regretful at her own actions. “Tell them to go away” her eyes flicking down to Azzi’s lips meaningfully. 

“Stop saying words,” Azzi says, flustered beyond measure, and tries not to rush to the door in order to do exactly as told.

She opens the door, flushed and still half-laughing, the remnants of a smile on her face fading away as she sees Jayden outside her apartment, still in that ugly fucking coat, the human personification of a cockblock.

“Yes?” Azzi asks, leaning against the door. She doesn’t want Jayden taking a step inside. She doesn’t want Jayden here at all, encroaching on a moment Azzi was enjoying, his presence a reminder of a truth Azzi would rather forget. She very selfishly hopes Paige doesn’t see him. She wants Paige to forget about Jayden all together, forget that two of them had ever been together for a reason that wasn’t so they could watch old science fiction and argue about director’s cuts. 

“Just thought I’d drop by,” Jayden says. “You’re not going to let me in?”

“I’m a little busy,” Azzi says coolly. “You should really text first.” 

“Busy?” He’s smiling a condescending little smile that makes Azzi’s eyebrow twitch. “You aren’t at practice?”

“I’m hanging out with my girlfriend.” If she places more emphasis than is strictly necessary on the last word- well. 

If Jayden is surprised to hear this, he covers for it well, only a slight blotchy red flush to his cheeks giving away a reaction. “I thought- I heard that you’d broken up?”

“Been reading a lot of tabloids recently?” Azzi drawls, letting her head fall to rest on her door frame. 

“You haven’t brought her around for dinner,” Jayden counters, still mostly placid. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“We’ve both been busy,” Azzi says, eyes narrowed. “It’s the season for it.”

Jayden smiles a little wider and it feels like an accusation. “I’m sure my dad would love to meet her.”

They will never find your body, Azzi says with her eyes. 

With her mouth she says, “We’ll see you guys Wednesday.”

Once the articles had come out, it had become impossible to ignore Geno’s hints about meeting her new girlfriend. Azzi hadn’t expected to be able to avoid it for long but she had gotten away with it for longer than she expected.

She didn’t know how she felt about the dinner now that it had arrived. Somewhere inside her, something was screaming that this was too serious, too much, too fast. That the unsteady foundation of their little show couldn’t hold up under any more serious inspection. Another part was screaming that Azzi hadn’t been acting for a long time. 

A month and a half had passed easily under the guise of their fake relationship. A month and a half, so much time and almost none at all. 

At no point during those forty-five days had she prepared herself for seeing Paige waiting in her apartment for her to finish getting ready, complaining on Azzi’s terrible couch, wearing a white sweater, the thick knitted pattern against the pale of her skin. 

She’s used to seeing Paige in sharp angles and hard muscles. Like this she looks almost soft. Huggable.

“I bet you’re just a natural-born parent pleaser, aren’t you?” Azzi says, eyeing the gentle cling of the fabric to her shoulders. 

“What are you ever talking about?” Paige responds. “Come on, I brought some flowers and they’re going to wilt if we don’t hurry.”

“Flowers,” Azzi says, to herself, as Paige takes her hand and drags her along. “Of course she brought flowers.” 

“Listen,” Azzi says, once the two of them are in the elevator heading down to the main floor. “We need to bring our best game tonight.”

Paige does not seem to be listening, her eyebrows a little furrowed as she responds to a text on her phone. Azzi can feel her blood pressure spike. 

“Paige,” she says, and Paige’s head lifts immediately, the look she sends Azzi endearingly nervous. “As far as I’m concerned, this is a competition,” Azzi continues, very seriously. “And if I lose to Jayden of all people, I’m killing you and then myself.”

Paige slides her phone into her back pocket as the elevator doors open, and takes Azzi’s hand again instead, pulling them both towards where her car is parked. Her thumb is tracing small circles over the back of Azzi’s palm, a motion that she assumes is meant to be calming. Insultingly, it works, the tense slope of Azzi’s shoulders relaxing into a less rigid line. 

“It’s fine,” Paige says. “I’m sure we’ll nail it.”

“That’s a lot of baseless confidence,” Azzi says. “Especially for someone who can’t lie.”

Paige only sends her that familiar exasperated look as she starts the car, like she can see right through Azzi’s bullshit but likes her anyway. Azzi smiles back, a little helpless in the face of that familiar affection.

By the time they arrive at Geno's house, the effect has worn off, and Azzi is a stretched out ball of nerves all over again, her leg bouncing against the floor of the car so fast it’s nearly vibrating. 

“Seriously,” Azzi says again, grabbing onto Paige’s sleeve as she moves to open the car door, the two of them still parked in Geno’s driveway. “If they ask any serious questions, I’ll take it. You just- tell the truth unless absolutely necessary.”

“I’m not that bad at lying,” Paige complains, but Azzi isn’t amused, her hand still tightly gripping Paige’s sleeve.

“Hey,” Paige says, a little softer, and extricates her sleeve from Azzi’s grip, just to replace it with her own hand. She lifts Azzi’s hand up, and presses her lips to the knobby bone at Azzi’s wrist, looking back up at Azzi with a smile. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”

Azzi tries to maintain a scowl, but her hand untenses in Paige’s grip, against her will and she gives in.

“Fine,” she says, ungracious but accepting. “But if this all goes wrong, the murder-suicide is still in the plans.”

“Like you could kill me,” Paige snorts, and Azzi makes a sharp dissatisfied noise as they both finally exit the car, a large wrapped bouquet of orchids in Paige’s arms.

“I so could.”

“Maybe if I let you,” Paige says.

“Paige, please you would let me do anything to you.”

“Oh my god Azzi! We are just about to go inside, and you insist I’m the vulgar one” Paige complains as she rests her head on the wheel before they get interrupted.

“I thought I heard yelling,” the old man says, the sharp clean lines of her white haircut unforgiving against the bright light shining from behind her, the doorway lit up against the darkness of the night sky. “Azzi, is the impression you want to make on your guest?”

“Sorry,” Paige says instantly as Azzi scowls, her head bowed.

Geno’s expression changes so fast it’s almost comical, a beaming smile overtaking the thin, wrinkled face as she turns to Paige.

“No, no,” she says dismissively. “Don’t apologize. I know an Azzi antic when I see one. It’s good to meet you. Please, come inside.”

“She started it,” Azzi mutters, only a little sullen as the two of them enter the large house, the foyer illuminated in white by bright lights set into the high ceiling. Her breath leaves her with an ‘oof’ as Paige elbows her gut in silent response, smirking at the betrayed look Azzi sends her.

“Nonsense,” says Geno, who has apparently decided to miss that entire interaction. “Here, let me take your jackets.”

“It’s alright,” Paige says quickly, and smiles that white smile again and Azzi is suddenly struck by the image of a newspaper ad, ‘Perfect Girlfriend’ scrawled in large expansive lettering over the top. $9.99 a month. 

“I brought flowers,” Paige says, doing nothing to dispel the image, and holds out the bouquet. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Oh,” Geno says, and takes the offered flowers. “These are lovely, thank you.”

Azzi is expecting Geno to return to the kitchen to put away the flowers, leaving her some time with Paige in the hall before the trial begins, but the man just lingers, watching Paige hang up first her jacket, and then turn to Azzi for her. 

“You’re so polite,” Geno croons in a voice that Azzi considers unseemly for a man of his age. “Not at all like the last girl Azzi brought home.”

Both Azzi and Paige freeze, Azzi in the middle of handing her jacket off to Paige. 

“I was fifteen,” Azzi splutters, blood rushing to her face. She feels hotter now than she ever did with the jacket on.

Paige places the hanger with Azzi’s jacket into the closet, her voice seemingly casual, but Azzi can hear the glimmer of laughter underneath her words. “Oh, really? What happened?”

“What didn’t?” Geno sighs dramatically, leading them into the kitchen where Jayden is seated at the stools lining the kitchen island, slicing up cucumbers for the salad. “Never said thank you or please, stared at the wall the entire night. She wouldn’t have brought flowers. Actually, I think she stole my vase.”

“She did not,” Azzi says, and then pauses. “She probably didn't.” She amends.

“Do you see?” Geno says, and Paige nods. Azzi takes the opportunity the instant the older man turns her back to elbow Paige, returning the favour from earlier with a bright smile on her face as she drives her elbow into Paige’s stomach. 

Paige wheezes and manages to disguise it as a cough when Geno turns back around. The wide table is already set, and the four of them start to settle around it, Jayden bringing over the salad, surprisingly quiet. 

They manage to make it to the end of dessert without incident.

“It’s alright,” Geno is saying graciously, now empty bowls sitting in front of them. “Now is the time to make mistakes. Around your age, I got engaged to this lovely young woman. Turned out, she was already married.”

  Paige gasps and Azzi thinks about banging her head on the table. 

“Not this story again,” Jayden says glumly. “Please.”

“She was married,” Geno says, and pauses for dramatic effect. “To an Earl. In England.”

Jayden and Azzi groan in unison. Paige, damn her, seems genuinely interested, her mouth dropping.

“No,” she says, hushed. “And you had no idea?”

“None,” Geno says, puffed up with the pleasure of a willing listener. Both Jayden and Azzi exchange long-suffering looks over the dinner table, and for a moment it feels normal, for the two of them to be complaining light-heartedly as the old man relays a story both have already heard too many times. Then Jayden’s eyes cut to the side, where Azzi’s hand is resting next to Paige’s on the dinner table, their pinkies interlocked. His expression hardens, leaving Azzi blinking. 

“So, how did you two meet?” He asks loudly, cutting off a question Paige had been asking. Geno frowns at the interruption, but also turns to the two of them, looking between expectantly. 

“We skate at the same rink,” Azzi says, taking a careful sip of water. “We ran into each other all the time. Practice times overlapped sometimes.”

“Ah, go on,” Geno says, looking unfortunately engrossed. “Tell us the details.”

Azzi forces a little laugh, her hand on the glass tightening. She’s talking to Geno but she can feel Jayden’s eyes on her, stinging wherever they reach.

“It’s nothing interesting,” she says. “We got along, I asked her out, we went to dinner.” 

“Ah,” Geno says, lying back in his chair a little. “How unromantic.”

“It’s still pretty new,” Azzi says. She thinks she might be starting to sweat.

As if on cue, Paige’s hand wraps around her fully, squeezing a little before letting go. 

“Azzi is answering all the questions,” Jayden says, a sharp smile directed at the two of them. “We could at least let the paige talk a little.”

Azzi thinks about propelling herself over the table, and slamming her fist into that smug little face. It’s a comforting image, if nothing else.

“Hm?” Geno says, looking between them. “How did you meet Azzi, Paige? What did you think?”

“I don’t-” Azzi starts, her voice a little high with nerves, but Paige just squeezes her wrist again, gently. 

“I thought she was beautiful,” Paige says, before Azzi can start to panic. She smiles at Azzi and adds, “And very talented, of course. Maybe a little sharp around the edges, but it was part of the appeal. And I knew I had to talk to her that day, or I’d regret it forever.”

Azzi’s face feels burning hot. She thinks it’s probably a good thing Paige isn’t holding her hand anymore, because her palms feel clammy.

“What?” She asks and her voice sounds shaky in her ears. 

“That’s romantic,” Geno says, nodding. She says something else and Azzi can hear Jayden’s voice, but it’s all faded a little to background noise, as she stares full-on at Paige’s profile, turned away from to address a comment Geno made, and Azzi feels like her heart is going burst entirely out of her chest.

“I’m going to go take a breath,” she says abruptly, standing up. “Outside. Be right back.”

She can feel everyone staring at her, but at this point, she’s pretty sure her face can’t get any more red than it already is. 

She steps out into the night, the glow of the porch light dancing across the wooden slats at her feet. It’s happening again, she thinks, where just as soon as she’s starting to feel like she’s got everything under control, scheduled neatly into her calendar, Paige comes along with that honest little smile and her dimples flashing and Azzi starts to feel like she’s swirling apart again. 

Footsteps sound behind her, and Azzi turns, mostly expecting to see Paige or maybe Geno, come out to fetch her again.

“Hey,” Jayden says, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He looks uncomfortable, standing just outside the door, shorter than Azzi remembers him being. 

He doesn’t say anything at all, just raises an eyebrow, leaning back to brace his elbows on the porch fence behind him. 

“You guys make a good couple,” Jayden says finally. 

Something flutters in Azzi’s chest. “What?”

“You look right together,” she says, and motions with hi hands. “You fit.”

Azzi can’t think of anything to say. Oh God, it’s over, she thinks, with a burst of relief. And then again, with an overwhelming panic. It’s over. 

“I-” Jayden rubs at the back of his neck, and Azzi just stares. “I’ve been a little overbearing, I guess.”

“Overbearing?” Azzi repeats scathingly. “You mean the blackmailing me into hanging out with you?”

Jayden seems like he’s trying to put on a good show of repentance. “I just, I didn’t want to lose, so I kept pushing.” 

Azzi tilts her head back and stares at the sky. A month and a half of effort, gone in two minutes. What, her mind whispers to her, do we do now? A bright star twinkles down at her unhelpfully.

“Whatever,” she mumbles out loud and pushes her way past Jayden back into the house. 

Azzi returns to the dining room and starts clearing the table without being asked. She stands in the kitchen and doesn’t wash a single plate, just stares at the delicate china Geno had brought out specially for meeting Azzi’s girlfriend and thinks about how unfair and awful life is. Bitterness is creeping up her throat, long tendrils threatening to choke her out entirely.

Paige comes to meet her in the kitchen after a few minutes, her arms wrapping around Azzi, enfolding her entirely as her chin comes to rest over Azzi’s shoulder. 

“Hi,” she says.

It’s always been in Azzi’s nature to poke at barely formed scabs, ripping her cuts open before they’ve had a chance to heal. She doesn’t pull away from Paige’s arms. 

“Hi,” Azzi whispers, turning her head to plant a small, clumsy kiss to her forehead. 

Paige pulls away, and stands beside Azzi instead, her back leaning against the edge of the counter. “You good?”

Azzi grins, and swallows down the acrid taste at the back of her tongue. “Are you? I thought you were a bad liar, what was all of that back there?”

Paige flushes slightly, red creeping up her neck. Her eyes leave Azzi’s to look at the plate in her hands instead. “All that hanging out with you has made me a worse person, probably.”

Azzi sets the plate down and pretends to swoon dramatically into Paige’s chest, who rolls her eyes, but grabs her arms anyway, steadying her.

“Oh no,” she warbles piteously, fluttering her eyelashes. “What will your teammates think of me, now that I’ve tarnished their precious golden girl?”

Paige reaches up and pinches Azzi’s nose. “Gold doesn’t tarnish,” she says, ignoring Azzi’s nasally protests.

Azzi pulls away and pouts, rubbing at her nose. “I’m just a special influence, Paige.”

“You’re a special something, for sure,” Paige says dryly.

Azzi makes a face at her, and turns back to the dirty dishes, still waiting for her.

“Are you alright?” Paige’s voice asks again from behind her. “I saw Jayden follow you out. I didn’t want to step in. What did he say?”

“Oh, you know,” Azzi says feebly. She gives up, and turns on the warm water, starts scrubbing the dishes. “I’ll tell you later,” she says to Paige. 

She wonders, not for the first time, if Paige’s got a superpower that lets her know how far Azzi can be pushed at any particular moment, because she doesn’t say anything else. She just nudges Azzi a little to the side with one heavy hip, until both of them are standing side by side, washing dishes in the silent kitchen. 

A clock in Azzi’s head is keeping time in the car ride home, tick-tick-ticking away the moments before they’re back and Azzi has to confess. It’s over, she thinks again. It was always going to be over, she reminds herself, but it doesn’t help. Even if she keeps this quiet, the two months will pass.

Azzi’s dreams have always been so huge but recently they’ve started to seem so small. Not the far away pressure of a medal around her neck, only the image of a kitchen in the early afternoon, warm hands around her waist, gentle lips on her. A breakfast set out for two. She isn’t sure what she’ll do if that slips away again.

“Paige,” she says when the car finally stops in front of her apartment. “Guess what?”

There’s a terrible sort of lingering stillness in the car, like Paige can sense that something is wrong.

“Jayden said we were a cute couple,” Azzi says, as casually as she can manage. She’s watching Paige’s face carefully, searching for a reaction, but she can’t tell if her expression really changes or if Azzi’s just seeing what she wants to see. “I think she’s going to back off. So we’re good now.” 

“Oh.” Paige says. And that’s that. 

She expects, despite herself, for Paige to follow her out of the car, maybe just to talk, maybe to say a goodbye. 

She hasn’t even made it into the building before she hears the car start to move, driving off. 

Sure enough, when she turns around, the street is empty.

Because the world is conspiring against her, the elevator is out of service.

 Azzi climbs up five flights of stairs slowly, thinking about what she’s going to do now. The stairwell is abandoned this late at night, everybody else in the building already asleep. 

She had known this was going to happen. She had planned for this happening. Their relationship had come with a deadline and she had known it was eventually going to run out. She had made a plan, and the plan was fucked now because Paige had said not a single thing when Azzi had told her they could end their fake relationship, hadn’t even stuck around to watch her leave.

“If she doesn’t even want to be friends,” she says to a bleary-eyed Kaitlyn, standing on her doormat. “What am I supposed to do then?” 

Kaitlyn isn’t wearing any pants, and her eyes are halfway to closing before Azzi’s even finished her sentence.

“Hang on,” she says, and turns her head to the side to yawn wide, jaw cracking. “Okay, come on.” Ushering Azzi back into her own apartment.

Inside her apartment, Kaitlyn hears her out, splayed out on Azzi’s floor, nodding sleepily as Azzi explains.

“This problem is stupid,” Kaitlyn says, like she always does. Azzi is lying on her couch, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling again. It really is such an ugly ceiling. 

“Tomorrow,” Kaitlyn is saying. “Just talk to her.”

“But-” Azzi starts and Kaitlyn cuts her off. 

“If she really doesn’t want to be friends at all, I’ll call all the magazines I can think of and tell them she’s really bad in bed or something.”

Azzi pauses and contemplates this. “Promise?” She asks eventually, and Kaitlyn groans where her face is half-mashed into the floor. 

“We can do it together,” she promises. 

“Ugh,” Azzi says, and rolls over on her couch and gives in to sleep. If she’s going to cry, she tells herself, might as well do it tomorrow.

When she wakes up, it’s not to the shrill piercing noise of her alarm, but to the equally shrill and piercing sound of her phone ringing. She’s still on her couch, and the apartment is still dark, the sun not yet risen. It could only have been a few hours since she got home. The ringing cuts off, and then starts up again.

“Azzi,” Kaitlyn says warningly, her eyes still closed, her face still buried in Azzi’s carpet. “Either you pick up that fucking phone, or I’m going to shove it so far up your ass, you’ll feel it ringing in your throat.”

Azzi leans off the couch to pick up the phone, rubbing the sleep crust out of her eyes.

“Hello?” she says into the phone, not bothering to check the caller ID, more irritable than normal.

“Azzi?” Paige’s voice says over the phone, and it’s so unexpected that Azzi almost misses that she’d said her first name.

“Paige?” She asks, wide-awake now.

“Can you let me in?” Paige asks. “To the apartment building, I need to-”

“Yeah,” Azzi says, stumbling over to where the buzzer sits. She presses. “What are you- Paige?” The line’s gone dead. 

“Oh my God,” Azzi says, staring at the phone in her hands. Her phone log is open in front of her, confirming that it hadn’t been some kind of longing-induced dream. “Oh my God,” she repeats.

“What’s happening?” Kaitlyn asks from behind her. She hasn’t moved at all, as far as Azzi can tell. If she wasn’t speaking, Azzi would worry that she was dead.

“You need to get out,” Azzi says, still staring at her phone in disbelief. She looks over and Kaitlyn is still unmoving. “You have to get out,” she says again, running over to pull Kaitlyn up and out of her carpet.

“You are-” Kaitlyn scowls as Azzi tries to push her out the door with both hands at her back. “You are ungrateful, that’s what.”

“I’ll buy you dinner,” Azzi says desperately. “Anything, seriously, but you have to get out.”

“Hm,” Kaitlyn says, ignoring Azzi’s attempts to throw her bodily at the door. “Alright. If you insist.”

Just before the door closes behind Kaitlyn, Azzi hears her whistle. “Hey Paige,” she hears Kaitlyn call cheerfully, just outside her door and before Azzi’s had the time to process what that means, someone is knocking at her door. 

When she opens it to see Paige, she starts to wish that she had spent her time brushing her hair instead of kicking Kaitlyn out. Or maybe her teeth. 

Her only consolation is that Paige looks equally haggard, hair even messier than usual, her eyes looking wild as she takes Azzi in, her chest heaving with exertion.

“One more date,” Paige says. She’s breathing hard. “Rule number four. You still- We still have one more.”

Azzi’s eyes couldn’t open any wider if they tried. A painful hope is springing up in her chest, pushing against her ribcage until it aches. “Did you run all the way up here?” She manages to ask, her head still in a daze.

“Your- fuck-” Paige is still panting, bracing her hand against the doorframe, but she laughs, breathless and a little nervous. “Your elevator was broken.”

Azzi can’t tell if she wants to laugh with her or cry. “I live on the fifth floor,” she says, instead of doing either.

“I just needed to tell you,” Paige says, straightening up fully and Azzi thinks that she looks dazed too. “I had to tell you-”

It’s all Azzi can take, all she needs to hear, her heart hammering in her chest. “Wait, stop!”

Paige is staring at her, and it’s an awful expression on her face, one that Azzi’s never wanted to see, like something is falling apart in front of her. 

Azzi doesn’t bother trying to explain any further. Azzi grabs Paige’s face and brings their lips together, so hard it hurts. 

Paige makes a sound against Azzi’s lips as their teeth knock together, her pointy canines digging into Azzi’s lower lip.

“Okay,” she says, pulling back. She’s laughing again, the soft puff of air hitting Azzi’s skin. “Okay.”

She cups Azzi’s face in one hand, hardened calluses meeting soft skin and gently, so gently, tugs her back in, smiling against Azzi’s mouth. 

This kiss is easier, in that it tastes less like blood. Paige’s lips are sweet, soft and plump and red, and she’s hesitant in a way Azzi’s never known her to be before, as she licks over her bottom lip, pulls Azzi even closer with a hand on her waist. Until they’re pressed up tight together, one of Azzi’s hands bruising her shoulder, the other tight on the back of her neck. Until Azzi’s tongue is in her mouth, tasting coffee and mint, feeling Paige’s body shudder against her, her hand opening and then closing tight around Azzi’s waist.

When they pull away, Azzi keeps one hand on her sleeve.

“I like you,” she says defensively, and Paige looks like the breath in her lungs has left her all at once. “I like your face. I like your arms. I like it when you wake up before me and you get ready without turning the lights on so you don’t wake me up. I like it when you carry my bags without me asking even though I’m a professional athlete and carrying heavy things is like, 45% of my life. I like the way you put your hand on my thigh when you’re driving. I like that you have piles of tickets in your car and I like that you call your mom every Sunday-”

“I get it.” Paige says, looking mortified. 

“Do you?” Azzi says. “Because, just so you know, you are completely ruining my six year plan.” 

“Okay,” Paige says, her voice muffled from where she’s covered her face with her hands. “Maybe I don’t get it.” 

“My six year plan,” Azzi wails. “You aren’t supposed to confess until the second year.”

Paige’s hands lower as she considers this. It’s a testament to how well Paige knows her, maybe, that she manages to piece together what’s happening, regardless of how objectively batshit it is.

“Do you want me to wait a year?” She asks, grinning again. Her ears are bright red.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Azzi says, “You are ruining my life. Just- hang on. I need to show you something.”

Azzi’s got one hand on Paige’s wrist, leading her into her apartment, and Paige comes easily, like she has nowhere else to be. Azzi swallows down the lump in her throat, and takes them both to her bedroom, opening up drawers until she finds the notebook she’s looking for, passing it over to Paige who takes it, confused.

Those furrowed lines between her eyebrows only deepen as she opens the book, scanning down a long page covered in Azzi’s handwriting.

“Every time you did something that made me think I loved you, I wrote it down,” Azzi says, her eyes burning holes in her stupid worn out carpet. “So I wouldn’t say it out loud.”

Silence settles over the two of them like a heavy blanket, stifling and hot. Azzi lets it sit, doesn’t dare to move, holds her breath, until she can’t take it anymore and looks up. 

“Are you crying? ” She asks, her eyes widening. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Paige snaps, not even bothering to wipe away the tears resting in the corners of her eyes, poised to fall. She’s still looking through the second page. “Why would you- why wouldn’t you say any of this before?”

“I don’t know!” Azzi says, slightly alarmed by the tears that are now fully rolling down Paige’s cheekbones. “Please don’t cry. It makes me feel icky.”

“You stupid- God, I don’t even have a word for you right now,” Paige tells her. “There are- you’ve written pages in here.”

“I only started writing in it about a few weeks ago,” Azzi says helpfully. “Otherwise I would have more.”

“At no point,” Paige asks incredulously, “did it occur to you that maybe it would be easier if you just said these things to me?”

Azzi frowns. “I didn’t know if you- you know. Are you?”

“Obviously I’m in love with you,” Paige says, and Azzi feels like all the strings holding her up have been cut at once. “Who would agree to this whole fake-dating thing if they weren’t?”

Azzi thinks that that is almost insulting, but she doesn’t have it in her to feel offended, just feels a bone-melting relief, sagging against her bedroom wall. “You said you couldn’t think of a better solution.”

“There is always a better solution,” Paige tells her, and she’s laughing as she says it, finally wiping her wet eyes, which makes Azzi laugh with her. 

“Sorry,” Azzi says, and because she’s pretty sure she’s allowed to, she presses her hands to Paige’s cheeks, and kisses the divot right between her eyebrows. “Sorry,” she repeats. 

Paige puts her hands up to Azzi’s face, and they must look ridiculous, both of them holding the other’s face between their palms, grinning like children.

“Azzi,” Paige says, very seriously. “Do you want to be my-”

“Agh!” Azzi cries, and tackles Paige onto her bed. Paige groans as she falls heavily onto Azzi’s covers, her hands flying up to Azzi’s wrists, Azzi’s hands on her chest, Azzi’s knees digging into the mattress on either side of her thighs. 

“You already ruined my six-year plan,” Azzi says, pressing down on Paige’s chest. She pretends that she is not effectively groping Paige’s tits right now, but she’s not sure if she’s fooling anyone. “Just let me do the asking.”

 Paige’s hands move from Azzi’s wrists to her shoulders, and she pulls Azzi down towards her, rolling them both over, a hand cradling the back of Azzi’s head. She looks down at Azzi from where she’s straddling her thighs and grins at the flustered expression on Azzi’s face.

“You asked for the fake relationship,” she reminds Azzi. “It’s my turn.”

“It’s not a competition,” Azzi lies. “And fake isn’t equal to real. That was more like a business pitch.” 

Paige only smiles at her, sharp and knowing, and that wasn’t what Azzi had wanted at all because she can feel her slick stir at the sight. 

“It was all business to you?” Paige asks, bending over Azzi, a mocking tilt to her lips, to the arch of her eyebrow. “Really?”

Azzi opens her mouth to respond, but Paige’s already got her mouth on Azzi’s skin, her tongue darting out at the sensitive spot under Azzi’s ear until she’s got Azzi arching up underneath her with a strangled cry, grinding against Paige’s thigh to try to get some friction. Paige’s hands are pushing her shirt up, fingers rough against her abdomen, a sharp contrast to the soft kisses she’s leaving down Azzi’s neck.

Azzi has the sudden, vivid thought that if she comes just from this, she’ll never forgive herself. 

Then Paige’s mouth is at the creases of her thighs, teeth digging in just a little into where the flesh is softest, and Azzi stops thinking all together. 

Once the sweat and cum are drying on their stomachs, Paige looks up at her, and Azzi thinks that she’s lost the battle and the war. 

She moves in for a kiss, but Azzi pushes her face away with one hand, the other draped over her eyes, too jittery for her own good. 

“I’m not going to lick my own cum out of your mouth.”

She can feel Paige twitch against Azzi’s thigh at that and Azzi lifts her arm to squint at her, levels her with the best unimpressed glare that she can manage with her body still feeling so jelly-like and her heart still beating so fast. “Really?”

Paige just laughs, and pulls Azzi’s hands away and to the side, so she can look her straight in the face, can see her own expression reflected back in Azzi’s eyes- a little nervous, but grinning so wide her cheeks hurt. She places a gentle kiss on the soft skin of Azzi’s cheek.

“Go on, then,” Azzi says, the glumness in her voice offset by the brightness of her eyes as she looks up at Paige. “I know when I’m beaten.”

“Azzi,” Paige starts. She stops, and tries again. “Azzi.”

The Azzi in question groans at the sound of her name, and Paige keeps her hands around her wrists.

“Azzi, I love you,” she says, and Azzi huffs, the warm air hitting Paige’s chin. “I’ve loved you for a while now, I think.”

She lets go of Azzi’s wrists, moves her hands to cradle Azzi’s face instead. Azzi knows how she must be feeling, because she’s feeling it too. Her throat feels scratchy, the culmination of so much longing suddenly real and staring her dead in the eyes, her eyelashes casting a shadow over her cheeks. It’s almost overwhelming. 

“Be my real girlfriend, okay?” Paige finishes lamely, sweeping Azzi’s hair out of her face, the tips of her ears burning hot.

“That was terrible,” Azzi says, but her voice sounds suspiciously wet. “Go brush your teeth so we can kiss properly.”

Azzi makes them both breakfast, and burns the toast when Paige distracts her halfway through. She doesn’t mind, the blackened bits can be scraped off, and the eggs still taste good. 

She’s expecting the doorbell, when it comes. Honestly, she’s impressed they managed to hold off so long. 

“How’s it going?” Kaitlyn says in Azzi’s doorway, attempting to sound casual, while leaning around Azzi’s body to get a glimpse inside. 

“Kind of early for a visit,” Azzi says, but Caroline is already pressing her way inside, curiosity blatantly etched on her features. 

“It’s fine,” Kaitlyn says, also stepping inside. Azzi sighs and moves to the side. 

“So, why don’t you want to real-date Azzi, huh?” Caroline is asking, clearly trying to loom intimidatingly over Paige. The effect is damaged by the flowery embroidered shirt she’s wearing, short at the ruffled cuffs, cropped to her midriff.

“Stop-” Azzi starts to say, trying to pull Paige away from the two of them. 

“She has good bone structure,” Kaitlyn interrupts, her hands reaching up from behind Azzi to grab her face, smushing it between her palms. “Have you seen her bone structure?”

“You guysh are th’ worsht,” Azzi says, her face still clutched in Kaitlyn’s iron grip. She pulls, until Kaitlyn releases her, and rubs her now sore cheeks, scowling. “We already- we fixed it. Jesus.”

“We could try a shovel talk,” Kaitlyn mutters to Caroline, both of them looking slightly disappointed, and Azzi scowls harder. 

“Get out already!”

“I have actual shovels,” Caroline tells Paige as a parting statement.

“Okay?” Paige says, bewildered. She turns to Azzi once the two of them have left. “Why was she telling me about her shovels?” 

“It was probably meant to be ominous,” Azzi sighs. “Caroline is terrible at ominous.” 

“It came across a little more like she was bragging about her shovels,” Paige says.

Azzi watches Paige- her girlfriend, her mind supplies, thrilled- get her stuff together, searching for keys in the pockets of pants that had been discarded. They’ve still got practice, Azzi thinks, a little loopy. After all that, and they’ve still got practice. Azzi will show up to the rink in the evening, and see a crowd of hockey players taking up space on the rink- always too slow to clean up- and one of them will be Paige. It seems too much to process. The sun has risen outside, painting Azzi’s apartment in golden light, her ugly ceiling and her cheap carpet, and the girl in the center of it. Azzi wonders if she should tell her her shirt is inside out. 

Paige looks up to see her staring, her eyes even more blue under this lighting, and that animated flash when she smiles- bright and bold, like she's just seen something good.  

[uyuforu]

MC in Hehe (200002) Persona Chart

©uyuforu All Rights Reserved; Do not copy work.

Pictures found on Pinterest, Dividers from Tumblr; Credits go to owners.

୨ৎ How your marriage is seen by others *.ﾟ

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-` If you have a 0°, just ignore it, it doesn't mean anything in the degree theory. Moreover, it can just add more intensity to the Sign and House placement. ´-

���.ᐟ By Signs & Degrees

⋆.˚✿˖° Aries, 1°, 13°, 25° ⋆˚✿˖°.

People could see your marriage as a rushed one, they could also think that you got married to the one, in a sense they can have a feeling you dated one person and married them. They could also feel like you and your Spouse make one, you are the same person and it makes sense you married each other. But they could see this relationship as intense, passionate, full of fire, but also they could think it's full of love but also arguments. You could have a very strong link, but they could also think despite all the struggles you could have with your partner, you do not give up on each other.

⋆˚✿˖° Taurus, 2°, 14°, 26° ⋆˚✿˖°

Your Marriage could be seen by others as a very stable one, people could think you married someone who is a stable partner, someone you'll be able to build a life with. They can also think that you either married for money, or you will gain more money or status thanks to your partner. People will think your marriage can be materialistic, the kind of couple that always have to have new things to show off. They can think that you care a lot about money and possessions. They could also think you are the kind of couple who love eating or cooking, so some people may be worried of you two gaining weight together. But overall, people cannot really say anything, except your couple and marriage seem cozy, and you guys seem comfortable with each other.

⋆˚✿˖° Gemini, 3°, 15°, 27° ⋆˚✿˖°

People could see your Marriage as a relationship where two best friend marry each other. They could think also that you get along so much, you laugh together, you talk about many things, and they can think you guys have a lot in common, the kind of couples who share the same hobbies. People can gossip a lot about your relationship, they can also have a feeling you are a couple who argue often but always stay together no matter what. People could so gossip a lot about what is going on in your relationship, and they can also try to understand whenever you have a conflict going on.

⋆˚✿˖° Cancer, 4°, 16°, 28° ⋆˚✿˖°

Your Marriage can be seen by others as very comfortable, people can think you married someone very nice, sweet, and they could think you also married a "home" person. You could have a marriage that people think seems comfortable, and they could feel like it is obvious you'll have children together. They can see you as a gentle couple, a couple who loves to stay at home, or a couple who always got someone to visit them in their home because they make everyone feel comfortable. People could see your marriage as something innocent, they could actually see your marriage in a very good light, thinking you got lucky when you married your Spouse. They can also often think your relationship means no harm, and people could often see it as "perfect", not seeing any flaw (not meaning it is perfect, but people can portray it this way).

⋆˚✿˖° Leo, 5°, 17°, 29° ⋆˚✿˖°

Your Marriage can be seen by others as perfect, people can often see your Marriage as a very envious one, the kind of marriage people think is the perfect one. Of course, this is how people see it, nothing is perfect. But there could be a lot of envy and jealousy towards it. People could think you got so lucky when marrying your partner, and some others will think you got more status or more money, more luck or more abundance after marriage. People can see your marriage as two people getting rich together, or two people gaining more abundance or more fame/ popularity after marriage. There can also be a lot of jealousy, and your marriage can be considered popular, people can really talk about it a lot, perhaps gossips too. It has a lot of attention, and you may not enjoy it or understand why. Moreover, this can also be a marriage that has a strong reputation, and people can often focus on it too much.

⋆˚✿˖° Virgo, 6°, 18° ⋆˚✿˖°

People could think your Marriage is something that will work out on the long term, a serious marriage, faithful, they think you got marry for good. They could see your marriage as a very normal one, some may think it is boring, or with a big routine, but others will think it looks comfortable and stable. People could often see your marriage as a relationship that holds on despite anything, two people working hard to maintain the link between each other. Some people could think you got healthier after marriage, or that you also look healthier, some others will think it shows you work harder after getting married. You could also be seen as someone who is more serious in their life after marrying your Spouse.

⋆˚✿˖° Libra, 7°, 19° ⋆˚✿˖°

People could think your Marriage is a very beautiful one. They could first think that you have a very dreamy marriage, perhaps a perfect one, thinking you and your Spouse found each other as Soulmates. They can have a very pink colored glasses point of view about your marriage. Moreover people can think you got more pretty, handsome, gorgeous after marrying your Spouse, such as getting a glow up perhaps as well. Your Marriage is seen as fair, where two people work hard to get things right, and resolving conflicts in a fair way. But people can also think your marriage is fake, superficial, a relationship where two people only like each other for their physical or just based on romance and nothing else. People can also see your marriage as a serious commitment, a relationship where both people are serious about each other. They think you seem very nice and fair to each other, and people could also think you are very romantic couple.

⋆˚✿˖° Scorpio, 8°, 20° ⋆˚✿˖°

Your Marriage could be seen by others as pretty private, people could not know what is going on truly behind close door, but they could actually want to know. They could feel curious to know, and in some extreme cases they could even be obsessed about your relationship. Your marriage could be seen as toxic for some. This could often mean people could be scared your relationship is not healthy for you, or that when you are together it seems rocky. But people could just not be truly happy for you when they say that. In fact, some people could think this way because this could be a very intense and passionate relationship. The kind of relationship that is so intense that only you two understand what it is like. People could think this is the kind of marriage that looks like you'll be intimate all the time, looking at each other as if you'll do it right now ...

⋆˚.✿˖° Sagittarius, 9°, 21° ⋆˚✿˖°

Your Marriage can be seen as a relationship where two people share ideas and share opinions in a free way. They can think you are a smart couple, a couple who respect each other's opinions and ideas, loving to talk to each other and discuss many things. People can also think you looks very different fro each other, perhaps you are a foreigner couple, or there is something that makes you stand out from each other. They could think you are the kind of couple that looks very open in general, very spontaneous, but they could also think there is something unstable about you two. You could be the kind of couple who do things differently, not perhaps wanting traditional things in your relationship. People also think you are the kind of couple who loves to learn, who loves to surprise others, and who loves to travel together.

⋆˚✿˖° Capricorn, 10°, 22° ⋆˚✿˖°

People could think your Marriage is something very serious, they could also think that your Marriage is very loyal, almost as if since day one of you two dating it was obvious you would marry. Any people who had this placement met at work. So people could see you as coworkers, or people who work together. People could so see you two as also people who work well together, who work hard for your marriage. They could think you are willing to grow together, but also they could think you are handling things together very well. Moreover, they could think you are a couple that it's easy to admire, people could think you are a role model when it comes to your marriage.

⋆˚✿˖° Aquarius 11°, 23° ⋆˚✿˖°

People could think your Marriage is based on friendship. People could see your marriage as two friends being married, you could have started as friends, but in anyway this is a relationship where the closeness from your connection has stayed. People see you as very close, they could even think you are a little strange or unique together but you understand each other the most. People could also see your relationship as unique, this could be you two not "fitting" each other at first glance, or just you look very different, or come from different backgrounds. People could also think you are a very fun couple, a couple that is so nice and friendly when you are with them. A couple that do not put you apart when you hang out with them.

⋆˚✿˖° Pisces, 12°, 24° ⋆˚✿˖°

People could think your Marriage is something very private, def does not know much about it, but that could be because you intend to make it private. People think you do not like to talk about your marriage with others, but also they could think you do not even show off about your marriage. They could also not know much about your marriage, love story, etc. You def do not talk about it. Otherwise, there could be a feeling for people that your marriage is quite sweet, romantic, they could have an idea and view of your marriage that is very romantic, almost meant to be, soulmate vibe here. They could also only see what you want to show them. This means the sweet and kind couple.

⭑.ᐟ By Rulers in Houses

-` Rulers ´- ✿ Sun: Leo ✿ Moon: Cancer ✿ Mercury: Gemini & Virgo ✿ Venus: Taurus & Libra ✿ Mars: Aries ✿ Jupiter: Sagittarius ✿ Saturn: Capricorn ✿ Uranus: Aquarius ✿ Neptune: Pisces ✿ Pluto: Scorpio

⭑.ᐟ Example: If you have MC Sagittarius, check in which house your Jupiter is in your Hehe Persona Chart.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 1H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could see your Marriage as very physical, perhaps they could also think you guys are very physical together, passionate, intense, etc. But they could also see you as a very noticeable couple. They could also think you are a very expressive couple, but some could think there could be some toxic issues in your marriage. They could also think you got together just because of each other's look. Like a superficial marriage.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 2H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could see your Marriage as a long lasting and secure one. They could think it is quite a simple relationship but also one when you could be loyal and serious. Some could envy or be jealous of it, but also they could see you as materialistic, or a couple that is together because there is a profit.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 3H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could see your Marriage as a very unique and different couple, they could think that you are a very smart and funny couple, a couple that is very interesting to hang out with. But they could think you are a very extroverted couple.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 4H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could see your Marriage is private, you guys don't show much about your love. But they have a feeling that you guys have a very sweet connection. They are not worried about the privacy here, they could think you are very sweet together. You also could look like a family type of couple, also a couple that makes people feel like it's romantic and sweet behind doors.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 5H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could see your Marriage as very fun, also you could show more about your marriage to others. Meaning people could see you as a couple who aren't so private, often could show off even about your marriage. But they could also think you are a very eccentric couple too.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 6H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could see your Marriage as one that will work well with time, a long term commitment. They gonna think you are a busy couple, but also one who has a routine, manyyy things to do. Thought they think you are building a life together.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 7H ⋆˚✿˖°

People can see your Marriage is based on romance, love, and perhaps also passion, they gonna think it is good, but they can also wonder if it's gonna last or not. They can think it is obvious you love each other, but is love enough for a Marriage to last?

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 8H ⋆˚✿˖°

People will think your Marriage is quite private, they could really not know what is going on. They could also be quite obsessed about it. They could really want to know what is going on behind the closed doors. But they could also think often your relationship is toxic, or they could somehow think you are not meant to be together, jealousy could occur as well (please do not take it as a true statement as to your relationship, it just means people can just envy or be jealous of your relationship, or just mean people will want to destroy it).

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 9H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could think your Marriage is very different from others, they could also think it is quite a "new" marriage. There could be something that makes people think you stand out from your relationship. But they could also think you are a wise couple, a couple that will probably last.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 10H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could think your Marriage is very serious, very loyal and you could also make people have the impression this is forever between you too. You could make people jealous or envy your relationship, but you could also have a strong reputation. People could often admire your relationship or your marriage, thinking it is the ideal one.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 11H ⋆˚✿˖°

People could think your Marriage is based on a true connection, and that you seem to be spouses that are also friends, they can see it in a good way. They can think you are a friendly couple as well, a couple that loves to meet new people, who are open minded and a couple who has a strong connection.

⋆˚✿˖° Ruler in the 12H ⋆˚✿˖°

This one is similar to in the 8H, people could think your Marriage will not last, or they could also think it will end in a divorce. But it can be caused to people not knowing much about your relationship. People could also realize they know nothing about your marriage, you guys can be pretty private about it. You could also make people have a hard time to know much about it because it can be a spiritual connection as well, and not everyone can get it.

Thank you for reading!

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©uyuforu All Rights Reserved; Do not copy work.

[scarletwinterxx]

family beach day - dad jeno scenario

hiiii ~ got a few request for a new jeno fic so here you gooo 😊

For the other dad jeno fic, check it out here

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The ocean stretches out before you, an endless canvas of blue meeting the sky at the horizon. The sun is warm on your skin, the breeze salty and fresh, carrying the sound of crashing waves and distant laughter. Geonu clings to Jeno’s neck, his tiny fingers gripping tightly as the three of you step onto the sand for the first time.

“Look, baby! The beach!” you coo, brushing his soft, dark hair away from his forehead. His big, round eyes dart between you and Jeno before peeking down at the sand beneath him.

Your little boy is dressed for the perfect beach day. His light blue bucket hat sits snugly atop his head, shading his round cheeks, though they’re already beginning to turn a soft pink from the warmth. His tiny striped shorts match Jeno’s, the two of them unintentionally twinning like they always seem to do.

Jeno crouches, adjusting his hold on Geonu. “Do you wanna stand, buddy?”

Geonu hums, uncertain. His little nose scrunches up as he stares at the shifting grains below. When Jeno gently lowers him, his feet barely touch the surface before he lifts them again with a whimper.

“Oh no,” you giggle, watching as your son tucks his legs up, wrapping them around Jeno’s waist like a koala. “Not a fan?”

Jeno chuckles, bouncing Geonu in his arms. “It’s okay, baby. It’s just sand. See?” He reaches down, grabbing a handful and letting it slip through his fingers. Geonu watches, intrigued but still wary.

You kneel beside them, pressing your hand into the warm sand. “See? Mama likes it. It’s soft! You can make castles, and dig, and—” You pause, grabbing a small amount and sifting it through Geonu’s tiny fingers. His lips part slightly as he studies it, brows furrowed.

Jeno grins. “Wanna try again?”

This time, when he lowers Geonu again, one foot tentatively presses into the sand… then the other. He wobbles, glancing between the two of you for reassurance.

“You’re doing so good, baby!” you praise, heart melting as he takes a few unsure steps. His toes curl and uncurl, testing the sensation, before he looks up and beams.

Jeno grins, ruffling Geonu’s hair. “See? Not so bad, huh?”

Geonu giggles and claps his hands. “More!”

You and Jeno laugh, watching as your son begins to toddle across the sand, leaving tiny footprints behind.

Soon, his curiosity gets the best of him, and he crouches, poking at the sand with a chubby finger. A small gust of wind sends grains flying, and he blinks in surprise before looking up at you, lips forming a small “o.”

“Windy,” he announces in his tiny voice, making you and Jeno chuckle.

“Yes, baby, it’s windy,” you say, brushing some sand off his knee.

Jeno sits beside him, digging his fingers into the warm surface. “Wanna help Dada make a sandcastle?”

Geonu claps excitedly. “Yes!”

You smile as Jeno begins to shape the sand, guiding Geonu’s little hands to help. His laughter rings out as the two of them get to work, Jeno showing him how to pat the sand into towers. You snap a quick picture, unable to resist capturing the sight of your husband and son in matching shorts, both with sun-kissed cheeks, completely absorbed in their little project.

After a while, Geonu grows restless with the sandcastle, his attention caught by something much more exciting, the waves. He toddles toward the shoreline, his little bucket hat bobbing with each unsteady step. You and Jeno exchange a knowing look before following close behind, ready to scoop him up if needed.

The water rushes forward, white foam curling at the edges, and for a second, Geonu hesitates. His toes dig into the damp sand as he watches the wave creep closer. Then… 

Splash!

A tiny ripple of water washes over his feet, cool against his sun-warmed skin. Geonu lets out a delighted squeal, stumbling backward with wide eyes before bursting into giggles.

“Dada! Mama! Water!” he announces, clapping his hands as if you both hadn’t been watching him the whole time.

Jeno laughs. “Yeah, buddy, that’s the ocean.”

Geonu barely hears him. As soon as the wave retreats, he chases after it on wobbly legs, his laughter ringing through the air. But just as he gets close, another wave rushes in, and he shrieks in excitement, spinning on his heel and sprinting back toward you. His tiny arms flail, his little feet kicking up wet sand as he races into your waiting arms.

You scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his chubby, sun-kissed cheek. “You’re so fast, baby! The waves can’t catch you.”

Geonu wiggles excitedly, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Again!”

Jeno steps closer, a playful smirk on his lips. “Alright, but this time, let’s see if you can outrun Dada too.”

Geonu’s eyes go round as Jeno crouches, ready to chase. With another giggle, he wriggles out of your arms and takes off toward the water again, his little legs pumping as fast as they can go.

Jeno gives him a head start before darting after him, pretending to almost catch him before letting him escape each time. “Oh no, I’m gonna get you!” he teases.

Geonu shrieks with glee, making a mad dash back to you, his safe place. He nearly trips, but you kneel down just in time for him to crash into you, his arms wrapping around your neck.

“Safe!” he declares breathlessly, his tiny chest rising and falling.

You pepper kisses all over his chubby cheeks, making him giggle even more. “Yes, my love, you’re safe.”

Jeno plops down beside the two of you, his arms wrapping around both of you as he presses a kiss to Geonu’s head, then one to your temple. “I think this little guy is having the best day ever.”

Geonu nods enthusiastically, his bucket hat slightly askew. “More?” he asks, pointing toward the waves again.

You and Jeno laugh, sharing a fond look before standing up. “Alright, baby, one more round,” you say, taking his tiny hand in yours.

The sun hangs lower in the sky now, painting everything in warm golden hues. A gentle breeze sweeps across the beach, cooling the lingering heat on your skin. You sit under the big striped umbrella, the shade offering a much-needed break from the sun.

Nestled against you, Geonu sleeps soundly, his tiny chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His round cheek is squished against your collarbone, his mouth slightly open as he breathes softly. His bucket hat has slipped off, his damp hair curling slightly at the ends. One of his little hands clutches your shirt while the other rests limply by his side, his body completely relaxed in your arms.

You run your fingers through his hair gently, savoring the warmth of his small body against yours. Just moments ago, he had been full of energy, squealing at the waves, but now, exhausted from all the excitement, he had drifted off the moment you sat down.

A soft rustling catches your attention, and you look up to see Jeno approaching, two cold drinks in his hands. His eyes immediately soften at the sight before him.

He kneels beside you, setting the drinks down in the sand. “Knocked out already?” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from Geonu’s forehead.

You smile, shifting slightly to adjust Geonu’s weight. “He fought it for a while, but he lost in the end,” you say softly, your fingers still stroking through his dark hair.

Jeno watches the two of you for a moment, his gaze warm and adoring. “Want me to take him?” he offers, his voice gentle as he reaches out.

You shake your head, holding your son a little closer. “It’s okay. He’s comfortable.”

Jeno chuckles under his breath, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. “You’re comfortable, too.”

You hum in agreement, resting your cheek against the top of Geonu’s head. “This is nice,” you murmur, closing your eyes for a moment. The sound of the waves, the warmth of your baby in your arms, and the presence of your husband beside you—it’s perfect.

Jeno leans back on his hands, gazing at the ocean with a content smile. “Yeah, it really is.”

For a while, neither of you say anything, simply enjoying the quiet moment together. The beach, once filled with Geonu’s giggles and splashing feet, now feels peaceful.

Jeno eventually lifts one of the drinks, popping the lid open. “Guess I’ll drink yours too,” he teases playfully.

You open one eye to glare at him. “Don’t you dare, Lee Jeno.”

He grins, holding the cup out for you. “Here, babe.”

You accept it with a small smile, taking a careful sip before resting your head back against the chair. Jeno watches you for a moment before reaching out, his fingers brushing against your knee in a quiet, affectionate gesture.

You take another slow sip of your drink, letting the coolness refresh you before setting it down in the sand. With Geonu nestled securely against your chest, his soft little breaths tickling your skin, and Jeno sitting close beside you, fingers lazily tracing patterns against your knee, you feel nothing but peace.

A sigh escapes your lips, content and full. You shift slightly, adjusting Geonu’s weight, and murmur, “I love days like this.”

Jeno turns to look at you, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Yeah?”

You nod, brushing your fingers over Geonu’s tiny back. “Mm-hmm. Just us three. No stress, no rush. Just... this.” You glance out at the waves, shimmering under the golden light, before looking back at him. “It’s perfect.”

Jeno watches you for a moment, something warm flickering in his gaze. Then he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “I love days like this too.”

His voice is quiet, sincere, the kind of tone he only uses when he’s feeling extra soft. It makes your heart squeeze a little.

You turn your head slightly, meeting his eyes, and he grins—one of those boyish, heart-fluttering smiles that made you fall for him in the first place.

“We should have more days like this,” he adds, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Just us, making little memories.”

You hum in agreement, resting your head lightly against his shoulder. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Let’s have a million more.”

Jeno’s hand finds yours, fingers lacing together, and he gives it a small squeeze.

And as the sun dips lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the quiet beach, you know in your heart that this moment—this beautiful, simple moment—is one you’ll cherish forever.

[hiatus-xix]

does george on locked in mean a george..... locked in....... smut..........?

not watching inside unfortunately, but that doesnt mean i cant plant the idea of how + what id write for a g clarkey inside smut...:

the premise would be that the housemates are told that the cameras are shut off from 1am - 6am to give the housemates some peace of mind, as well as time for the editors to edit within being constantly fed new content.

that meant that the first few days - when everyone was filled with jittery excitement, all of the juicy conversations and silly shenanigans were contained within that 5 hour slot that the Sidemen had kingly given.

one of the first conversations had been whether everyone thought that the producers were actually just lying about the 5-hour-no-filming pledge, just to get everyone to spill their secrets during that time, and have some deep dark secrets to incorporate into their reality show storytelling.

nobody knew - and after the first night - nobody cared.

1am-6am became the time where everyone sat in a circle, said things that they didn't want anyone at home to know about, said things that were embarrassing - did things that were embarrassing...

after your first few days in the house - you and george adopted an... interesting relationship. like best mates, but riddled with inside jokes that were almost all layered flirty comments or dirty jokes - personal to one another that nobody else really understood other than the you two.

and as days turned into nights at the rest of the housemates adopted a normal(ish) sleep cycle - it seemed like only you and George were awake for the hours of fun between 1-6am

and after having your first kiss in the blind-spot-corridor where there was no camera where George almost backed you into the wall where the two of you would've been seen either by housemates or one of the cameras, followed by another passionate makeout session the next day in that exact same spot...

the end of the inside show was looming.

1am-6am - the hours of fun loomed with a more sort of sad feel, as it was once again just you and George sat in the living room with just the ambient lamps glowing to light up the room and each others silhouettes that you'd both felt over so passionately - and you'd both also miss the next day when you both separated and went back to your old, separate lives

"dyou reckon that they really dont record from 1 'til 6, or d'you think it was all just a lie from the production n we're gonna go on our phones tomorrow and be horrified seeing everything we said actually got aired?"

you laughed at george's proposal, but you couldn't help the emptiness that followed in your chest as you were reminded that tomorrow you wouldn't be so close with george anymore.

"i dont know george. but i dont think i'll regret it... i feel like it was worth it."

"yeah.." he trailed off in agreement, soaking in the peaceful silence and distant snore of a housemate. "how much do you not care?"

"what?"

"i mean, would you care if the two of us snogging was aired?"

"sorry?!"

"well, we've kissed in the house before... and they said they aren't recording us right now... we could kiss in the living room right now. hell, we could even fuck and the only person that would know would be a housemate if they woke up... as long as these cameras arent really recording."

you paused and thought about it.

"no way are you considering it." george let out a burst of laughter as he watched your face change, contemplating it. "i was joking-!"

"why would you suggest that if you were just joking?!" you responded with a groan, dropping your face into your hands, feeling exposed by your actual consideration. somehow you'd been made to feel stupid for even considering george would fuck you - especially when it might get aired out.

"i dunno, but youre tempting." george said all so simply that it made your breathing hitch, laughter cutting off.

you could feel his hand etching closer, across the tile floor and closer to your thigh before he planted his hand there, rubbing up and down your flesh and making your heartbeat prominent against your skin, gulping with anticipation as you looked up at him.

"you wanna do somethin tonight?"

it was like a promise. and you couldn't even imagine saying no - swallowing the lump in your throat and nodding vigorously - the confidence you held in your previous makeout sessions wiped clean as you agreed to... something, the risk of the cameras recording you two ever present even as you felt george's grip tighten around your thigh, pulling you across the floor and closer to him so that he could press his lips to your neck

instinctively, your head raised - giving him full access to kiss wherever he wanted across your neck, his lips fluttering over your neck like a butterfly choosing where to land, peppering you with the lightest of kisses with wet lips that felt like they lusted every inch of skin they came across

your hands played subconsciously as you melted into george's touch, absorbing the way that george treated you as your hand met his jeans, palm flattening against the rough material and rubbing over the bulge in his boxers that made him let out a noise against your neck

"holy shit you might be the end of me y/n-"

a gasp left your throat as you felt the hand on your hip flip you - your body pressed flat against the floor with nothing but the pillow you sat on to cushion your body against the cold, hard tiles as you felt two sets of legs around your own hips, two hands scaling over your back and feeling their way lower until they stopped just before your ass

"d'you want this y/n? d'you wanna get fucked in the house? in the middle of the living room - anyone could come and see us - hell, your parents might even see this before they meet me, if this is getting recorded and it's aired... how much d'you care, y/n, 'cause i swear to fuck i'll make you limp all day tomorrow if you just say yes."

your heart beat against the floor, and you could feel your pulse quicken with his words.

of course you wanted him. you wanted him so stupendously bad and yet you didnt know whether you were willing to take that risk with three different cameras pointed down at you - "supposedly" off, and yet possibly not. your friends could see this, your parents, your co-workers, not to mention the whole wide world might watch you get ploughed down by Clarkey if you just said yes.

yet with the warmth of his kisses to your neck still lingering across your skin, his legs still brushing over your thighs and his hands now massaging the small of your back and inching millimetres closer to the fat of your ass...

you knew that you had priorities, and you couldn't stop yourself from whispering "please, fuck, yes george-"

[totalswag]

hear me out: singer!reader is hosting a party to celebrate the release of her new song and drew surprises her by singing in front of all of their friends

got me in love again ⎯ DREW STARKEY!

authors note this was a cute request to write 🥹. i can imagine him doing this in the shyest and cutest way ever. thank you for requesting. i’ve been listening to love again by dua lipa so that would be the song of singer!readers new single! feedback is always appreciated <3.

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary releasing your new single at your party and drew surprises you by singing your new single in front of everyone.

warning(s) cursing, singing, surprises, and whole lotta cuteness coming from drew.

Tonight is your party celebration for your new single⎯love again⎯you were so excited to release this new single because it’s about you falling in love again after your previous breakup.

Being with Drew has made you see the true meaning of love and devotion for someone. You two make each other better.

When you first enter your home, you will notice pastel gold, white, and black balloons hanging from the ceiling on white strings. Music is playing from the DJ in the other room, where the majority of people will be. Food and drinks are ready in the kitchen.

Everything was perfect.

Throughout the party, everyone came walking up expressing how excited they're to listen to your song for the first time. Drew was by your side the whole night⎯showering you with love in the most subtle yet meaningful ways.

"Truly Y/N, I cannot express how proud I am of you." As your best friend puts her arms around your side and gives you a side hug, she exclaims. 

Your face lights up as you say, "This is why you're my best friend!"

Shortly after, you walked towards the small stage to make a quick announcement before playing the song. You were filled with emotions.

"Hello everyone, just in a few moments, you all will listen to my newest single for the first time," you emphasize on the last two words. Everyone cheered. "This song means so much to me and I cannot wait for you all to listen..." Your expression says, "this is love again."

The chorus begins filling the room. Your eyes meet Drew's immediately. He pulls you into his embrace, keeping you secure. Using both hands to pull your hair behind your ears, staring at you before saying, "I don't know how I ever got so lucky to call you mine."

But goddmamn, you got me in love again.

Everyone's faces reflected their respect for the entire song as it played. Singing, dancing, and anything else. Tonight, you felt so valued. Drew had a surprise for you that you weren't prepared for. 

As you’re mid-laugh with a friend, the music suddenly shifts, and you hear the unmistakable opening notes of your song. Your eyebrows knit in confusion at first. That’s odd⎯you hadn’t planned on playing it again. But then you hear a familiar voice singing.

"Shut the fuck up" you exclaim, covering your mouth with your non-drinking hand. You turn to see Drew standing there, holding a microphone, inhaling deeply before he sings the opening line.

There he stood, singing your song you wrote about him. Hear Drew sing it? It is something else entirely. It's overwhelming, yet in the greatest manner conceivable.

You don't typically see Drew sing like this but it warms ur heart.

The room began to fill up everyone singing along⎯even though they didn't know the song word for word, they sang. You could feel tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Magical night.

"I'm at loss of words, I had no idea you were gonna do that. You never fail to impress me. Maybe you should sing more often with that voice of yours" you playfully smile to Drew as he stood in front of you.

"Yeah I know, I'm just that good," he says dramatically, "on a serious note, I love you so much, and that was an idea of mine because you mean so much to me"

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[akirathedramaqueen]

The Chandelier and Comfortable Lies

So, @tealvenetianmask and I started rewatching Helluva Boss not so long ago to refresh it in our minds and we occasionally find new layers to the narrative and subtexts and symbolism . . . and we thought we'd literally taken it apart frame by frame at this point.

Dudes. Chandelier. THE fucking chandelier.

Of course, there's an obvious parallel of them, mulled over millions of times:

The chandelier's all bright and shiny, they're both under it, laughing and having a good time.

The chandelier, covered by satin and turned off, separates them as they're breaking up.

But that's not what I came here to tell.

We're used to assosiating light and soft colours with something light-hearted and sincere, and dark, muted ones often suggest that ominous and villanous things are about to happen.

But what if I tell you it's the other way around? What if we flip the narrative, take the assumption that something bad happened the first time they were playing around the chandelier?

Here, look at this moment in The Circus, which follows right after the chandelier scene.

We're instantly getting reminded that Blitzø hadn't come to the palace with good intentions. In fact, he robs the place, dupes Stolas into the whole thievery thing, and makes him an unknowing accomplice.

Now, I'm not here to blame Blitzø. He, himself, was coerced by his father to do this, literally sold to royals as a fucking asset to entertain the Goetian prince for five bucks and a slim-fit condom.

Yet, the fact stays that Stolas's and his interactions were built on nothing but lies. They might have developed some warm feelings toward each other, but it's impossible to form anything meaningful, while the foundation is flimsy and built on force, power plays, and trickery.

Twenty five years later, Blitzø enters Stolas's life again, and the lie continues. This time, the decision to steal the book is in his full agency.

Long story short: he gets caught, he beguiles Stolas, spends a not-so-fast night with him, then finally steals the book. Stolas, in turn, pulls a royal demon card and suggests Blitzø gives something in return for the access to the grimoire. Hence, starting their strange transactional relationship.

Nothing more but a comfortable lie.

Later, Stolas, seeing the futility and unfairness of it, finds a way to end the deal and untether Blitzø. Comes clean about his feelings.

And it goes horribly wrong.

But, despite how rocky it went, it was the end of the age of lies and deception.

And that chandelier, now hidden and bleak, is a symbol of that.

Stolas ruined those little props built with mud and sticks, ripped the curtains down, and laid the stage bare. And while it certainly took time to recover and realize some thuths, the stage still stayed, for, hopefully, another play.

They try again. They start a new relationship, with sort of clean slate—after everything that happened, after they'd reunited. And now, it might grow stronger than ever before.