#I dunno how therapy works

[whos-the-seme]

"You promised!" Shang Qinghua, despite his efforts, couldn't stop the gasping sobs. "You said you wouldn't leave me behind again! And then you died then and you're dying now and you promised!"

Shen Yuan reached for the other, fighting through the darkness and blurriness encroaching his vision. He managed to grasp his best friend's cheek, weak fingers brushing away the falling tears. "I'm sorry--"

"No! You don't get to be sorry," Shang Qinghua tried to sneer but his face crumpled instead. He didn't shake off Shen Yuan's hand. "This is the second time you're leaving. That's all you know how to do, isn't it? All you do is run away!"

"Qinghua--" Shen Yuan tried to say, but began to cough, hand falling away. The pain was unbearable and it was making it difficult to take in air. Shang Qinghua immediately reached out to steady him as Shen Yuan hacked out his lungs. In between each new flare of pain that swam along with every cough, Shen Yuan could make out the mumbles of his best friend.

"I didn't mean it, please, I didn't mean it, please not now, I didn't mean to say that, I'm sorry, please, please..."

This was familiar. The pain, the loss of breath, even his best friend beside him, keeping him upright. All that was missing was the hospital bed and the frantic beeping of machines. No nurses coming to save his ass now in this forest.

Shen Yuan briefly lost consciousness and when he came back to himself, vision clearing a little, he found Shang Qinghua holding his wrist, pouring more qi into him. As if they hadn't already discovered that qi transfers didn't work when the thing taking all of his was the poison of a Soul-Sucking Bewildered-beest. Shang Qinghua could've tried to get him back to the sect but Shen Qingqiu would have been long drained of qi and, most importantly, dead by then. He couldn't fly and transfer qi at the same time.

It only prolonged the inevitable.

"S-stop," he said, weakly pushing at Shang Qinghua's hand. The other ignored him. "You're gonna d-drain yourself. And then you won't be able to get back at all."

"I don't care," Shang Qinghua said. Shen Yuan wondered how long he had lost consciousness for, as the tear tracks on Shang Qinghua's face were now mostly dry. "You promised."

"I know," Shen Yuan didn't apologize again. "But you know it's not gonna work. And I'd rather you return, at least." He could feel his eyelids getting heavy.

Shang Qinghua let go of him only to throw up his hands in anger. Fresh tears were starting to spill down his cheeks again. "So what? I just leave you here to die without even trying?" He balled up his fists. "Typical. You always think that your actions won't affect other people."

Shen Yuan got the sense that Shang Qinghua was referring to something else, but his mind was starting to get too muddy to think of what. Breathing was getting a little harder. A lot harder.

"Qinghua. A-Hua, please listen to me. C-could you come kneel down next to me? Right here." He waited until Shang Qinghua lowered himself a bit, still frowning, before gently placing his forehead against the other peak lord's. "Listen to me, okay? I know I broke my promise again. But you've found me before and I trust you'll find me again." He said between gasps of air.

"A-Yuan--"

"We've met again and again... and we'll keep meeting. I k-know it." Gasp. Cough. "Beyond all ideas of... right and wrong, there's a field." Vision dimming. Grasp slackening. "I'll be... waiting for you... there."

"A-Yuan?"

"..."

"A-Yuan!?"

"..."

A wail broke through the serenity of the forest.

[mars-ipan]

interesting to me how when i turned 19 i was kinda terrified bc i was like “oh shit this is my last year as a teenager….. i won’t be a teenager after that… i wanted to be a teenager for all of my childhood and now that part’s almost Over. aaaaugh” and now approx. 9 months later i cannot fucking WAIT to stop being a teenager oh my god i am ready to move on. 20s please i would like to be in them. i am done being 19 thank you !!!

[m0rbidways]

just reached out to a new therapist who can manage my mental health meds

it's been 9 years at the other place and they just left me drowning this time SO i am seeking hopefully better help elsewhere

if you won't take care of your clients, what good are ya?

[asteralpine]

I sent my tattoo artist a pretty basic thank-you email in response to his (likely auto-generated by his scheduling software) thank-you email to me after my tattoo last week. I gushed a little bit over his artwork (it's fucking stunning and this tattoo keeps making me all giddy with happiness that it's finally in my skin but also already it feels like it's just always been a part of me?) and then I wished him a lovely day/week/month idk and said that I hoped his future clients treated him like the treasure that he is (because I adore this kid).

And in a follow-up email he said that my previous email was still making him happy and brightening his days? Like? Baby-love, it wasn't anything that wasn't true?

And lately I'm trying to fight my brain's natural instinct to downplay the nice things that people say about/to me but also I legitimately and sincerely believe that my email was just something pretty basic and obvious.

Are this guy's clients just taking him for granted and not showering him with the praise his work deserves, or is he just a lil over-the-top in his gratitude because it keeps clients coming back for more?

[tokyoteddywolf]

22 isn't very much at all, I think.

[akchually]

.

[regular-lord-reckoner]

well, after a lot of crying and procrastinating and getting my anxiety ramped all the way up i finally emailed a potential therapist so that’s at least one thing i can check off my list :’)

[wollfling]

Tomorrow will be one year since my dog passed away I've been weeping on and off about it. Tomorrow an interview about my illustration work i did with a new online magazine will be published. I'm drawing a bit again slowly but I am. Mostly feeling strange these days, healing but I'm still sad most of the time, it is what it is

[toastspirit]

this is going to sound incredibly whiny but. thinking back on it i feel like.. my current issues with emotional regulation at least partially comes from how my parents reacted to my outbursts when i was younger?? when i was younger, when i was doing particularly badly that could manifest more.. angrily. or cold shoulder-y. and! when my parents punished me for stuff like that! they just saw it as disrespect which!! i understand makes sense!!! but i dunno i was arguing with you or asked you to wait or whatever because i was not doing well. not because i was a piece of shit that hated you or didn't respect your authority or whatever!!!! or i was angry because i didn't understand why you were forcing me to do something and you refused to explain because i was a kid, so i should just mindlessly obey!!!!! not to say that i was a perfect kid (always struggled to follow orders if i did not understand them. although i think everyone deserves explanation but whatever!) but i was usually desperate to please them. these outbursts of anger were kind of infrequent because!! i tried to appease them until i couldn't handle it anymore!!!

so like. not saying that they were completely wrong or whatever, but it would've been nice!! if they cared about the root cause of my behavior at all!!! before i learned to direct all my anger inwards!!!! it did make me less of an annoyance, and it probably made me more tolerable to be around, but it made me incredibly miserable!!!! i can't live like that forever!!!! my life would be quite short if i tried to do that for several more years!!!! also now they expect me to openly tell them about my emotions which is very funny. you don't overwrite years of being an unpredictable source of support (or a nonexistent one entirely) with a couple words!!!! that window of opportunity is long gone! and whenever i start thinking that i can trust them, it blows up in my face again! :D so i've learned! to never trust them with anything more emotionally tumultuous than "my classes are stressing me out :/" but it also sucks because when i'm doing horribly i can't just tell them. they don't understand at all, so they think that im brushing them off because im lazy or whatever. oh well! they can't handle emotional discussions without thinking something is wrong with me (which is kind of right but i dont like how they act on it), blaming me, or blaming themselves and claiming that they're awful parents ^w^ so i just! won't say anything!!

[nie7027]

Depression... is setting in.... ughhhhhh

Maybe Its that I don't have anything I'm supposed to do anymore...(but I do... I should be working on the paper)

Or maybe it's just the weight of all the past weeks crashing down... maybe I just need to rest/survive another week....

Ughhhh

[scribeofmorpheus]

yeah my gripe with the "roleplay" elements of veilguard is that veilguard is "plot" oriented--and i don't mean like... oh here's a story, it has plot. I mean in the context of game creation. roleplay is where "your choices shape the narrative and set the path from which the plot can/should/would unfold, classically diverging from: 'there is only the highway'" plot, on the other hand, is: "there is only the highway--stop the vehicle, change the vehicle, customise the driver--you arrive at the same destination, regardless". sure, veilguard has "consequences" but not true to a story-driven RPG narrative. they're more like highway turn-off's that miraculously turn into a single lane roundabout that feeds back into the highway. again. with this analogy, the reason rook doesn't feel like MY character (no matter how much i customise or change their factions or the pitch and tone of their voice) is because they are in service to the plot. they're a vehicle. they're not even the driver--which is why interactions feel surface level, minute and somewhat lacking in depth. rook is literally being driven along, us along with them, and we have little control over them as they have control over the plot. if this makes sense. veilguard is good at giving the illusion of choice, but ultimately both rook and us (the player) are grossly limited in how we affect the world outside of set-dressing like treviso and dock town choices. veilguard cosplays at roleplay basically.

i think about "we didn't want to force roleplaying [in our roleplaying game]" at least three times a day

[the-thing-withfeathers]

for the better

a/n: this is part 2 to know your worth. i’m sorry this took a bit of time but i just wanted to get some requests done before fully getting into this buttt i hope y’all like it.

read part 1!

this one is for @dandelions4us specifically 🫵🏼🫵🏼

pairing: billie eilish x reader

warning: bold-italics are flashbacks. ex-toxic relationship, mention of therapy, toxic coping mechanisms, trauma.

summary: billie tumbles while you thrive. can you manage to find each other again through this all?

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

tick, tock. tick, tock. tick, tock.

the dreadful noise of the second hand going on a full rotation was filling billie’s ears. she was overwhelmed and she didn’t want to be here.

“you mentioned last time that you had a partner…” the woman sat on a leather chair started. she was older and was graying, she wore glasses that were too small for her face. “a partner that you had let down.”

“yeah… i really fucked up there.” billie chuckled dryly. “i was horrible during the end of that relationship. it was amazing at first but after touring, i… i became horrible.”

“why do you think you became horrible?” the woman asked.

billie didn’t want to start therapy but her brother had convinced her to do it. she hated talking things out with a total stranger. but she knew she had to take a step towards getting better one way or another.

“i… i don’t know.” billie sighed in defeat.

“do you think it had something to do with your job?” the woman asked again. this was getting ridiculous. billie felt like the woman knew all the answers but was just trying to get billie to say them, she felt like she was back in school.

“maybe?” billie asked herself. “i think when i got back from touring, i realised how serious things were getting— not just with my relationship but with everything around me. i think i just wanted to be less serious? but i didn’t go about it very well. i royally fucked up. i should have been honest— i think things would have gone so much better.”

“it seems like you have a pretty good idea about what you need to work on.” the woman pointed out, impressed. “it was a lot better than our past sessions where you were lost. it seems like you’re starting to get a better grip on yourself.” she nodded in approval.

“i dunno, i think the break i took from working has been really good to me.” billie smiled a bit, she had decided to stop making music for the time being. it wasn’t forever but it was just to give her time to recover.

“do you want to get back together?” the therapist asked, tilting her head.

“yes. more than anything.” billie nodded. “i miss the love that i used to come home to everyday.”

“you could always call.” the therapist suggested.

“i don’t think i’d get an answer.” she huffed.

“you never know if you don’t try.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

that’s how billie ended up at a cafe with her leg shaking under the table, waiting for you.

she hasn’t seen you in months. she heard about you from her friends, she tried not to ask but sometimes it would slip out. your friends reluctantly answered out of pity.

you walked into the cafe. her jaw nearly dropped at the sight of you. a smile tugged at her lips. you had cut your hair and your fashion sense had changed, you cleaned up well.

your eyes scanned the room for billie, a small smile forming when you saw her. she looked almost the same, except she dyed her hair.

you were hesitant to come today, but you had done enough self-growth that you were confident enough to face her again.

you made a beeline for her table, sitting down across from her.

billie thought she knew what to say but she was mesmerised by you. you looked good and healthy, and even more beautiful than she anticipated. she wasn’t prepared to have her breath taken away by you.

“hey.” you said, settling down and flashing a smile at her.

“hi.” she responded, clearing her throat.

“um… hey.” you chuckled, raising your eyebrows. “it’s good to see you.”

“yeah, you look good.” she said as the waiter brought her order over. you ordered something for yourself as well while she was there.

the way your eyes twinkled when talking to someone else, that was never there before. you were always more introverted but suddenly it was like you had all the confidence in the world.

she fell in love with you all over again.

you turned back to look at her after ordering, crossing your legs one over the other. you smiled at the look on her face.

“you look surprised.” you pointed out.

“i mean… a little? you’ve changed… in a good way.” she said, sipping at her coffee. “you seem… um… more—“

“out there?” you completed her thought. “well, yes. i kind of put myself to the test. i finally used my savings to travel over the past few months. i kind of had to fend for myself— that involved putting myself out there.” you explained what you had been up to. “all those work hours finally did me good.”

“that’s… that’s really nice.” she said, staring at her coffee on the table. “where did you go?”

“german, greece, rome—“

“rome? you’ve always wanted to go.”

“mmhm. and i finally did. and i finished up my trip in london. i saw some of our friends that we made when i visited you on tour.” you said, scooting over to make room for the waitress putting your order down.

“that’s good, i know they would have been glad to see you.”

you let silence fall over the table for a second as you took a bite of the biscuit at the side of your plate.

“why’d you call?” you asked, cutting to the chase. you thought that there was no point in the small talk when there was clearly something looming over billie.

“oh!” she didn’t expect you to ask so quickly.

“sorry, it just seems like there’s something you’re wanting to say.”

“yeah… i’m uh, i’m in therapy.” she said, leaning back in her seat. “and i just… we’ve been working on how i can explain myself to you. i feel like you deserve that.”

“i would be lying if i said i wasn’t curious, billie. about our relationship ending…” you said, sighing. “feels like i never got closure.”

“that’s fair! and i guess that’s what i wanted to give you.” she said. “i don’t know why i did what i did exactly, because i could have handled it so much better.”

you nodded in anticipation.

“i felt old.” billie sighed out.

you almost let out a laugh but instead let out a stifled chuckle.

“old?”

“old… yeah, it sounds so silly.”

“billie, you’re not even 25.” you scoffed a little bit in disbelief.

“i know! which is why it’s silly.” she said, a little bit defeated. “it was all too much for me when tour ended. i realised how much i had missed with everyone back home. everyone was going to parties and i was stuck working in the studio all the time. i think our relationship took the brunt of it, it was all getting so serious so i took it out on you.”

you furrowed your eyebrows. “serious?”

“yeah… i used to think our relationship getting more serious and committed meant i had to settle down and grow up. i wasn’t ready for that. but i realised i was wrong. our relationship was my safe place to land, coming home to you was the best part of my day.”

“i didn’t realise you felt that way. i wish you told me.” you huffed a little, crossing your arms. “i would have helped you… whatever it took.”

“i know, and that’s why i regret it so much.”

“i kept replaying that fight in my head when it was all so fresh… i just felt like i was fighting with a stranger.” you felt your heart ache upon reliving those memories. “i had some hope that maybe you’d come to your senses that day, that maybe me saying something would be enough for you.”

“i’m sorry that i didn’t. i was so stupid—“

“the worst part is that i never fell out of love with you for a second.” you confessed.

“what?” she asked, making sure she heard you right.

“i tried. i tried to hate you… believe me, i did. but i couldn’t.” you shook your head, finishing your coffee off.

“could we ever try again?” billie popped the question. she didn’t know what answer to expect from you. sure, you still loved her, but could you put yourself in that position again?

“i don’t know.” you said, truthfully. “it’s taking everything in me not to say yes, but i don’t know if i can do that to myself again. i think i’ve come too far.”

“then let me catch up to you.”

there she was. your billie.

you couldn’t hold back a laugh when you heard her say that.

“oh, billie. it’s good to have you back. it’s for the better.” you sighed through the smile that was plastered on your face. “well, how about this then?”

you took her phone that was sitting down on the table. she had reached out through a mutual friend but you didn’t have any other contact information.

“i’ll give you my number.”

thump. thump. thump

billie could hear her own heartbeat in her ears.

“i’ll give you my number.” you said. billie had just met you that night but she was captivated by you.

you had gotten a job working tech at her release party. she saw you backstage and couldn’t take her eyes off you for a second. the way you tried to make sure that everything was perfect for her.

you were a face in the background and yet you were at the forefront of her mind the entire night.

“and you can call me and tell me where to be.”

“and you can call me and tell me where to be.” you giggled, teasing her a little bit. you found it amusing that one of the biggest figures in the world was chasing after you after the show.

she was panting a little bit, she definitely ran after you. her hands were on her knees for just a second while she introduced herself, trying to catch her breath.

you were on your way to your car, your bag already on your shoulder. she couldn’t let you leave without shooting her shot.

you handed her phone back to her.

you handed her phone back to her. she took it back in her hand and immediately pressed dial, you were still in front of her.

she pressed dial.

you rolled your eyes and picked up the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“tomorrow. dinner… at my place?” she said with a cheeky smile on her face.

“tomorrow. dinner… at my place?”

“sure. i’ll be there.”

“sure. i’ll be there.”

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

a/n: heyyy y’all i hope the switching between flashbacks & current time wasn’t too confusing. but i hope u enjoyed part 2 <33 much love mwah mwah

[asksonicverse]

You dont need to answer but I just wanted to tell you I adore Paradox being like "I hate all of them except" and then listing everyone except like 2 guys, honey you don't hate *all* of them you expressly don't hate *most of them*

Extremely charming characterization i adore it

[Creator Special number 2!]

So glad someone noticed that, I was originally going to have him name EVERYONE except Boost but then I was like “nah, Mania is just too annoying for Paradox to tolerate him”

And thanks! I’m trying to be… consistent with my characterization of each of them and stay in line with canon but like… URGH sometimes I want to deviate so bad just to indulge but I resist!

Needless to say tho, prism is probably going to get more affectionate later on. Rewatched Sonic Prime again and bro is a cutie patootie!

Headcanons… headcanons… hmm

Well, starting with the obvious, Paradox goes to therapy as I’ve mentioned which I think is hilarious. He and Lance are the only Shadows who really have their shit together which is why I think Sonadow works well for them? (we stan healthy relationships guys)

I do head canon that Eight doesn’t like being touched really at all anymore. After the metal virus, he grew so used to the fact that he couldn’t touch anyone that it sorta just stuck. He does it to save people, but not anything more. :(

And while I’m a sucker for the Trans Sonic HC I decided not to implement it in this particular AU!

I really want to include Captain Sonic and Shadow, but I haven’t played nor watched a serious play through of the game. (I’ve only really listened to a bit of the Snapcube dub..)

can someone tell me if Shadow is a Barista or a Mechanic in that game btw?? I google it, nothing pops up. I could’ve sworn there was something about a mechanic.

Uhh I LOVE Sonic Frontiers, fire game. If I include that one, it’ll ALSO be Sonamy since I’m pretty sure that game takes place before SA2 in canon?

I’m trying to keep the Sonics and Shadows balanced but I’d love to add Generations Shadow and Sonic. Just thinking of names already I get “Doom” for Shadow and “Emerald” for Sonic. (Referencing the fake emerald from their interaction in the shadow story)

Unfortunately I haven’t seen the Archie comics or Sonic Underground so I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

Someone also asked about if I’d ever include different AU’s: maybe if those AU creators gave me permission I’d be down to do a collab for a few asks or something!

Nope!

I dunno I just..! … how do I do? I’m fast. And you’re slow. That’s how I did it. /ref

Ahahah just kidding! But I am very fast. A few years ago I convinced myself I was a “slow drawer” because I was in a discord server with someone I looked up to (and holy cheese they could draw out fully articulate sketches in like 30 seconds!)

So I got insecure and taught myself to draw really fast. So now I just.. zoom! This does have a terrible draw back where I will very frequently forget smaller details.

Like if you look at half the posts, Shadow is missing his eyeliner and other markings frequently.

THIS IS JUST HILARIOUS TO ME YOU GUYS. PLEASE—

I’ve gotten SO many asks in my box about using Maria to calm the Shadows down or trying to give Shadows “Maria plushies”

Imagine you’re having a bad day and you get a plushie of your dead sibling thrown at you??? LMFAOOOO

I CANT I CANT I CANT PUT THEM THROUGH THAT 💔 Also I see every single ask.

“Do you all like Latinas” and “sonic which shadow is the hottest/shadow which sonic is the hottest” have all been engraved in my brain

Was joking with a friend on how that second question would come out LMFAOO

Previous | Next

[your-nanas-house]

"Mr. Coleman said that..."

◇ Pairing: stepdad!Austin Butler X stepdaughter!Reader

◇ Warnings: kind of dark, SMUT, sessions, therapy (invented by me, dunno if it exists), pervy, stepdad x stepdaughter dynamic.

◇ Summary: Austin gets bit lost in the feelings that the "bond" therapy gifted him.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. It took me so long, thanks for the kind anon that reminded me what Austin fic I wanted to publish. I think it's the very first Austin fic that I wrote... 🫣. For other fics like this.

A small click and the front door of his attic was open, allowing him to enter and finally drop down the bag he carried all day around... plus the new script.

Austin had been out all day and he honestly felt all those hours on his shoulders other than his mood. He really was tired but happy, since he was about to see his little princess.

As his feet lead him to the open kitchen he could already hear her soft humming, which informed him that she was busy entertain herself with something

"Hi stepdaddy, how was your day?" Her sweet voice beamed after his footsteps popped her little bubble of calm. She didn't look upset or annoyed when seeing him... which was a good thing since they had some issues when her mom left them both.

Issues that with a bit of father and daughter therapy should had quickly disappear... or so the man, who was following the process, had told them the first meeting.

"Bit tiring but... it was good. How about yours? What did you do while I was out?" Austin's low raspy voice asked as his hand removed carefully his AirPods before his coat so that he could focus his attention on her completely.

She was still in her cute pajamas, a silly one that she had begged him to buy her as soon as she finished watching one of the latest movies of his... 'Elvis' 2022. Reason because her pants were of a baby pink filled with pictures of the king, matched by a baggy shirt with the quote 'Keep Calm and Love Elvis Presley'.

"Bit boring, studied a bit... and nothing much, I cleaned the house though" Y/n informed him after taking a big sip of her tea, humming softly when the older man's arms wrapped around her torso.. hugging her close to himself.

"So sweet of you" he murmured in her ear, tickling her with his short beard as his face snuggled in the crock of her neck more so to make her chuckle before pressing his lips against hers for a quick 'hello' kiss.

His head now resting on top of hers calmly.

"Also!.. I need your help" Y/n hummed out, putting down her cup as her heart beat faster in her chest.. butterflies forming in her stomach at her stepdad's cuddles.

She could already feel his chest vibrating softly as he replied with his voice which became even more lower that it used to be due to the time and work.

"With what, kid?" His big hand ruffled her hair playfully while his body moved to rest against the table of the kitchen so that his beautiful eyes could stare at her as she talked.

She really was so cute like that, her hair bit messy because of him and the glasses she put on just when she used her laptop so to protect them. It seemed quite domestic... bit too domestic since his body started to react a bit, aroused by the innocent scenario.

And the cute mad face she made every time he would tease or annoy her, was so cute but also such a strong turn on for him... expecially those pouty pretty lips, now covered by a watermelon lip gloss.

"Do you remember what Mr. Coleman suggested?" Y/n asked casually, glancing at him with the face he grow to know as 'the testing face'; a serious but funny expression that she always used when she wanted to see if he remembered something or if he forgot about it.

"Of what, sweetheart?" Austin replied with her same tone as he put down the script, pouring himself a glass of water before sitting on the counter to look in her direction. She was giving him her back but he could already see the pouty face accompanied by a small snort of disappointment since he didn't remember.

"The bonding exercises, Baba!" She whined out, looking at him while scoffing softly at his amused expression. He really knew her too well.

"Of course I remember, baby" Austin lied as he placed his glass on the surface so he wouldn't look her in the eyes without distractions

"He said at least once a week, two is better though..." she repeated what their therapist said to them some weeks ago, her eyes looking at him lazily bit tired of her lonesome day. Even too tired to notice his stare taking her whole in shamefully.

"You know that I'm always free to spend some quality time with you, baby" he rasped out before clearing his throat and finish his water, his body warming up at the mere view of her cute behaviour.

"That's a lie but anyway... Let's start it, hm" the young woman murmured, pecking back as soon as he leaned down to steal a bit of love while picking her up easily and move them on the sofa in the living room where there was more space.

"What were the exercises again?" Austin asked, his hands rubbing soft circles on her hips while his eyes pierced intensely in hers the whole time she explained to him "The 5 senses exercises to feel more connected. Touch.. with the yoga, hearing.. by listening and talking, taste.. by eating together, and.. view.. the stare".

Those were all topics they had to go through in their therapist's opinion.. a way to bond with each other better and share some quality moments as father... even though he wasn't her real dad, and daughter.

"I remember perfectly now... and what was the last one?" He asked while playing with a lock of her hair, smiling slightly when her index finger pressed against his nose while talking "It's the smell... we have to take in our scent... and that should be all. So!... where do we start?" The young woman beamed, getting up from his lap.

The older man really enjoyed seeing her so full of energy and joy, it was addicting.

"Okay, little one, let's start. You can choose with which one we begin".

.

Her choose was quickly and he found himself warming slightly up to start the first step. The Touch.. aka Yoga exercises.

Simple but helpful positions they had to do together to feel the struggles and the moving of their bodies.

"Need to change! Mr. Coleman said that we have to be as bare as possible for this one." The young woman reminded the older man from the other room, busy changing into something to start the exercise and have yoga behind so they could relax.

He said that?, Austin questioned in his mind and raised his eyebrows... he really didn't listen so much when that man spoke with them. He clearly needed to stay more focused in the next sessions.

"You need to change as well!" Her sweet voice urged him as she was now standing in front of him in the set of underwear he gifted her that Christmas. Matching bra and panties which colors were identical to her favourite bun that she had used to tie her hair up.

"Sweet baby Jesus above, you are stunning" he commented, holding himself from just cursing in front of her since he scolded her more than once when some bad words left her pretty mouth. It had became a game of theirs just saying some silly things instead of vulgar language.

"It's the set you gave me!" She informed him with a smile, her hands busy fixing her hair happy and warm to start

"I know, little one" the actor murmured while still staring, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the lump in his throat.

His body was reacting bit too much for his liking and he started to sweat a bit so he decided to get quickly ready and just move his hands to pull off his shirt and threw it away, exposing his built body to the air so that they could begin with the yoga.

Y/n was the first to lead and help, her smaller frame kept doing her best to keep up and help Austin while ending up most of the time just clinging on him like a koala or bouncing to reach his hands.. way too high for her reach.

It was funny, adorable and relaxing... till the sensations changed when he was the one leading the exercise.

"Baba! You have to follow my body" Y/n explained in a whiny playful voice as her young body bent down in front of him, her ass brushing against his crotch and then pressing lovingly when he moved on her, hugging her hips with his strong arms.

Fucking hot, he thought now that his cock overpowered his brain.

His breath became bit heavier while his hands massaged her flesh, he could have stayed like that all day... with his boner pressed between her firm and round ass cheeks still barely covered by those damn panties.

"Ready for the rhythm? Remember sync to let our bodies connect" she parrot what Mr. Coleman told them, making Austin curse internally since he had forgot about the movements... not that he minded though, since his worries disappeared as soon as her ass hit his half-hard dick.

His hips started to follow, taking the lead unconsciously, grinding his clothed cock against her soft flesh shamelessly.

"You got your phone in your pocket, Baba?" Y/n asked after a while, glancing behind to check on him, yelping softly when he moves her head easily by her chin. Making her look back ahead.

"Mhhm... focus, little one. Sync, remember?" Austin rasped out as his hips increased their rhythm, making her loose the balance she had and end up flat against the floor with him on top.

Her heart was beating fast and she couldn't deny that her panties were getting wet by his movements... she wasn't sure it was part of the exercises but who was her to correct her stepdad.

"You're doing so good, baby. So good" his low voice praised, making her maintain the rhythm and match his when his hips increased the tempo as his big hand, which was on her tummy, helped her continue it.

It was starting to get tired, her breath becoming breathless as she heard him grunting next to her ear.

"Austin, I'm not sure this is part of Mr. Coleman's exercises—" Y/n weakly spoke, letting a broken whine escape her mouth when his little finger pressed roughly against her clothed clit

"It's all part of Mr. Coleman's exercises to bond, baby. And call me like he said you should.. don't you want to make the sessions pay off?" Austin murmured huskily, inhaling deeply while lowering quickly his sweatpants and press his bare, rock-hard angry cock against her ass again, pulling the fabric of her panties so that it was stuck between her ass cheeks like his lenght.

"I said call me like Mr. Coleman said, little one" his tone became more stern as his hand spanked her soft flesh making her jolt

"Sorry, daddy! Sorry" she whined out, moving her ass up so to allow him to continue without interruptions... just like a good girl.

It was twisted but felt so good, so... damn good, with the soft skin of his cock caressing her inner thighs as he made sure to keep them closed so that he could fuck them. Hitting her clit with each thrust.

Her stepdad was dry humping her and she was loving it as much as he was... and she could tell that he was enjoying himself pretty much due to all the noises and praises that escaped his lips.

"Such a good girl! Fuck— fuck, fuck. Little one!" His horsed voice growled in her ear as his body shook against hers before something started to wet her thighs and panties. The young woman didn't had time to check before her own orgasm hit her whole and her back arched, a soft curse, which earned her a harsh spank, escaped her innocent sweet mouth.

"Language, baby... now how about we move to the food now, hm?" Austin suggested while massaging her warm flesh, moving his softening cock away from her shaking thighs.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER SIX ━━ A Little Too Much

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 6.2K

❀ ━ warnings: like maybe an allusion to sex???

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: paige bro lock in

PAIGE SINKS deeper into the couch, the familiarity of the apartment wrapping around her like a hug. It’s nice being back, the familiar scent of vanilla (Jo’s candles) filling the space. The TV is tuned to some random college football game—an SEC game that Paige really couldn’t care less about.

Aubrey’s sitting at the other end of the couch, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle, her arm resting on the back cushion. A bag of chips is balanced precariously on her knee as she scrolls through her phone, glancing up at the screen every now and then to half heartedly comment on a play.

“Nah, ain’t no way Tennessee gets this one,” Aubrey says, tossing a chip into her mouth. “Georgia, no debate.”

Paige snorts, squinting at the game for a moment. “Ion know, the Vols are up.”

“They won’t be,” Aubrey insists, waving the bag of chips for emphasis.

Paige hadn’t realized how much she missed all of this until now. She’s spent the last month in LA, focusing on her rehab at a state-of-the-art facility her team insisted on. The work has been grueling—hours of physical therapy every day, pushing her body to its limits, trying to rebuild what she’s lost.

But being away from her teammates has been harder.

It’s the first week of October now and she hadn’t seen any of them since early September, right before she flew out. Sure, there were texts and FaceTimes—especially with Jo, who’s practically made it her mission to keep Paige from feeling too disconnected. But it isn’t the same as this: sitting on the couch, arguing over nothing, being in one of her best friend’s presence.

“You said Jo was working out with Yanna and Caroline, right?” Paige asks, glancing over at Aubrey. She’d be lying if she said she isn’t anxiously waiting for Jo to get her ass home.

“Yeah, they been at it all day. Jo’s on this whole new grind—something about gettin’ faster footwork or whatever. I dunno, think she just wants to be really prepared for the season, cause—” Aubrey nods to Paige’s knee and Paige nods—Jo is certainly gonna have a huge role for the team this season.

After a moment, though, Aubrey sends her a look, asking, “Why, though? You impatient?”

Paige just rolls her eyes, saying, “It’s just been a minute.”

Aubrey hums, though she doesn’t sound entirely too convinced.

Paige doesn’t much care. She cares more about the fact that she has to sit through nearly the entirety of this football game before she hears the door click open, her head snapping up instinctively. She can hear Jo before she sees her—her sneakers squeaking against the floor, her laugh that’s as bright and familiar as sunlight as she mutters something to—presumably—Ayanna or Caroline, who must still be in the hallway. For a second, everything else washes away—the announcers on the TV, Aubrey scrolling lazily on her phone. Paige’s focus narrows completely, landing squarely on the figure stepping into the apartment.

When Jo finally comes into view, it’s like Paige can breathe again. Except, maybe not, because Jo looks exactly the same and yet somehow better then Paige remembers. Her ponytail is a little messy, strands clinging to her forehead, and her tank top is soaked through with sweat, outlining the lean strength of her frame. Her cheeks are flushed pink and her eyes are sparkling with that post-workout adrenaline.

Paige feels her stomach plummet, a sudden, unwelcome realization inching into her mind. She thinks Jo looks beautiful like this.

“Oh my God, you’re here!” Jo’s voice breaks through Paige’s thoughts, light and high-pitched with excitement. Her smile is wide, open, and utterly disarming, like she’s been waiting for this moment for weeks. She drops her gym bag onto the floor without a second thought and breaks into a jog toward Paige, her arms already outstretched.

Paige stands automatically, her body moving before her brain catches up. And then Jo is there, colliding into her with so much force that Paige actually stumbles back half a step. Jo’s arms wrap around her shoulders, strong and unhesitating, and before Paige even knows what’s happening, she’s being pulling into the kind of hug that makes her feel like melting.

Jo smells like strawberry shampoo and a hint of sweat, a mix that should probably be unappealing but isn’t. Paige’s face ends up pressed against the side of Jo’s neck, and, for a moment, she lets herself completely sink into the embrace. Jo is warm and solid and so full of life, and Paige feels herself relax in a way she didn’t even realize she needed.

But there’s something else, too: a tangle of emotions she can’t—or maybe just doesn’t want—to name. Paige’s hands settle on Jo’s waist, and she pulls her closer, tighter, without even thinking. Her heartbeat picks up, thudding erratically in her chest. She tells herself it’s just the adrenaline of being nearly barreled into.

But then Jo’s laugh bubbles out, muffled against Paige’s shoulder, and Paige feels a little breathless.

“I missed you so much!” Jo squeals, her arms tightening around Paige like she’s never letting go.

Paige smiles, closing her eyes for just a second as her nose nudges Jo’s ponytail. “I missed you too,” she murmurs, and there’s a softness in her voice that surprises even her.

The warmth of Jo’s hug, the way her fingers curl slightly against Paige’s back, makes something twist low in Paige’s stomach. It’s almost too much, but at the same time, not enough. Paige doesn’t want to let go, doesn’t want to think about why this feels different than hugging Aubrey or Azzi earlier.

From behind them, Paige hears Aubrey mutter, “Yeah, maybe a little too much.”

Paige’s eyes snap open, heat rushing to her face. She freezes, her arms going stiff for just a second, but Jo doesn’t seem to notice. Paige’s heart pounds as she wills herself to stay calm, to keep her expression neutral as she pulls back, not too abruptly but enough to put some space between them.

Jo beams, her hands lingering on Paige’s shoulders as she grins up at her. Paige feels like she might die under the weight of it.

“Shit,” Jo says suddenly with realization, stepping back and gesturing to herself. “I’m disgusting right now. I should’ve warned you before jumping on you like that.”

“You’re fine,” Paige says quickly, and then, because she feels like she should say something normal, she adds, “I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen you sweaty before.”

Jo laughs, the sound bubbling up effortlessly. “Still. Let me shower, and then we’re hanging out. No excuses. I missed you!”

Paige can’t help but smile back, even as her thoughts churn. Jo is grinning at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters, and Paige feels something warm and unsteady settle in her chest. She watches as Jo grabs her bag and heads toward the bathroom.

Once she’s out of view, Paige sits back down on the couch with a huff. She hates that her heart is still beating too fast.

Next to her, Aubrey hasn’t moved, one arm draped lazily over the back of the couch as she watches Paige with a look that makes the blonde shift a little. The football game continues on, the last few minutes of the fourth quarter blaring, but Aubrey doesn’t seem the least bit interested in it anymore.

Paige finally breaks the silence, blurting out as she turns to Aubrey, “What did you mean by that?”

Aubrey raises an eyebrow. “By what?”

Paige frowns. “That comment you made. About me missin’ her too much.”

Aubrey doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she leans forward, grabbing the remote and lowering the volume on the TV. When she settles back into her seat, she gives Paige a look—a knowing look that immediately puts Paige on edge.

“She has a boyfriend, bro,” Aubrey says simply, as if that explains everything.

“I know that,” Paige snaps, the words leaving her mouth too quickly. She feels a flush creeping up her neck and shifts in her position, trying to look casual, unbothered. “Obviously I know that.”

Aubrey’s gaze doesn’t waver. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Paige says, her voice sharper now. She crosses her arms over her chest, defensive without meaning to be. “’Course I do. What’s your point?”

Aubrey tilts her head, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s holding back a smirk. “My point is,” she says slowly, “you look at her like she’s the sun or sum. And don’t act like you don’t, ’cause I just saw it.”

Paige scoffs, but it’s weak, almost half-hearted. “That’s fuckin’ ridiculous,” she says, though her tone wavers. “She’s, like, my best friend. I’m just—” She falters, trying to find the right words “I’m just happy to see her. It’s been a month, bro. I’d be like that with anyone.”

“Really?” Aubrey asks, raising her eyebrows. “Uh, you didn’t act like that when I picked you up from the airport. Or when Az came by earlier.”

“That’s different,” Paige says defensively. “You and Azzi—she’s—” She stumbles over the words, annoyed that she can’t articulate why it is different without making it sound worse.

Aubrey doesn’t look convinced. In fact, she looks entirely unimpressed. “Uh-huh,” she says, drawing the syllables out. “P, I warned you about this when you two first moved in together.”

Paige remembers. She remembers when they were moving her bed during the summer and Aubrey had told her seriously, “You cannot fuck Jo Jacobson.”

At the time, Paige had laughed it off. The idea seemed absurd then. Sure, Jo was beautiful, but she was also a freshman and just getting her feet wet here, and Paige would never do that. She would never do that. She still would never do that. But then, Paige hadn’t ever thought of her in that way.

Now—

“I don’t like her like that,” Paige says, her voice firmer than she feels. “I don’t.”

“Uh-huh,” Aubrey says again, in the same tone as before. “Look, I’m not saying you’re doing it on purpose. But, bro, if you do have feelings for her—and I’m not saying you do—don’t let ’em mess with your head. Or the team.”

Paige bristles at that. “I don’t have feelings for her,” she insists. “And even if I did—which I don’t—it wouldn’t affect the team. I’m not that stupid.”

Aubrey shrugs, unfazed. “I’m just saying. Jo’s solid with Asher. Like, really solid. You don’t wanna go down that road.”

Paige feels her chest tighten, and she doesn’t know if it’s because she hates how Aubrey is talking to her or because some small, traitorous part of her knows Aubrey might be right.

“I’m not goin’ down any road,” Paige says, forcing her voice to stay even. “You’re reading too much into this. I’m just happy to see my best friend again. That’s it.”

Aubrey doesn’t press further, but her silence is heavy, loaded with unspoken skepticism. Paige tries to focus on the last few minutes of the football game, but the TV screen practically blurs in her vision as her thoughts spiral.

She tells herself Aubrey’s wrong. That her excitement to see Jo is completely normal. That the way her heart has leapt when Jo walked in the door was nothing more than relief after a long time apart.

But deep down, she can’t shake the way her stomach had flipped when Jo smiled at her. Or the way her chest felt too tight when Jo hugged her, like her ribs were trying to contain something that didn’t want to be contained.

Paige doesn’t know what to call it. She doesn’t want to know.

JO’S EYES remain glued to the screen, but she doesn’t even notice what’s happening in the episode anymore. She missed this—missed the nights spent lying next to Paige, the “sleepovers” which are really just code for one of them being too lazy to walk back into their own rooms and crawl into their own beds.

Jo’s massaging Paige’s knee, the rhythm comforting and almost mechanical now. It’s just what they do; she’s done it a thousand times over since her surgery, though it’s been a month since she’s done it now. She knows how much it helps Paige, and it’s not like it’s anything weird—just a friend doing something nice for another friend, a friend that’s gone through this same thing before and knows what can help.

She’s not thinking about the way Paige’s leg feels under her palm, how soft the skin is, how warm. She’s not. She’s not thinking about how close they are, how the smooth skin of Paige’s thigh rests under her cheek, or how the way Paige moves so naturally beside her makes her chest feel tight in a way that doesn’t make sense.

Paige lets out a soft sigh, and Jo doesn’t quite know why it sends a little flutter through her. She shakes it off quickly, adjusting her position to be more comfortable, still massaging her knee.

They’re almost at the end of first season of The Vampire Diaries now, and Jo’s surprised that Paige has stuck with it. She thought, with all the complaining, that Paige would have tapped out after a few episodes, but here they are, still going strong. Jo knows her well enough that she can tell that Paige has actually started to get into it. Maybe not as much as Jo, but enough to make comments and roll her eyes at the sometimes ridiculous drama.

“You can’t actually be Team Damon, P,” Jo says, shaking her head against Paige’s thigh, letting her fingers glide over the tender muscle beneath Paige’s knee. “Like, come on, girl. Stefan is clearly the better choice.”

Paige shifts slightly, and Jo glances up to see the blonde smirking down at her. Her cheeks are a little flushed and Jo can understand why—it’s hot in here. Maybe they should turn the heat down. “Ion know, JoJo. Damon’s a lot more interesting.”

Jo huffs, “Yeah, well, interesting isn’t always the best option. You need someone who’s steady, who’s good for you.”

“Who’s ‘boring,’ you mean?” Paige’s voice is light, a teasing edge to it.

Jo shakes her head again, laughing a little. As she does so, her lips lightly graze the top of Paige’s thigh. She doesn’t think anything of it. But then she feels Paige’s leg tense up. Jo stills her hand on her knee, thinking she might’ve done something wrong. But then, maybe a second later, Paige is relaxed again, and she doesn’t say anything, so Jo cautiously resumes the massage.

“Yeah, boring’s fine. It’s good. It’s better than all the shit Damon brings,” Jo says.

She can feel the subtle shift in Paige’s posture—she’s looking at Jo, eyes soft, gaze steady—and Jo quickly glances back at the TV, avoiding it. She doesn’t know why. Because it’s because if she lets herself look at Paige for too long, she’ll start thinking about things she’s not supposed to.

“Whatever,” Paige says after a pause. “I still think Damon’s cooler.”

Jo just snorts as she finishes working on the blonde’s knee, feeling the tension slowly melt away as her fingers work the muscles. A final press of her thumb into the joint elicits a soft sigh from Paige, and Jo grins slightly, the satisfaction of helping her best friend making it worth it.

Her fingers ache slightly from the pressure, but it’s nothing really. She looks at Paige briefly before flopping down beside her, her legs splaying out on the bed as she turns onto her stomach. The weight of the day and the long workout is starting to press in on her, and the soft, quiet room feels soothing. “My turn,” she says with a little grin, throwing a look over at Paige as she gestures to her back. It’s a deal they became accustomed to before Paige went off to LA—Jo massages Paige’s knee, and Paige takes care of the horrendous knots in Jo’s back. Simple.

Paige stares at her for a moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, before moving over to straddle Jo’s hips and starting to knead into her back. Jo tries to relax, exhaling deeply as Paige’s hands work their way over her tense muscles. It’s familiar and comfortable, and God, is Jo glad Paige is back in Storrs.

Paige’s fingers press into a particularly stubborn knot, right between Jo’s shoulder blades, and Jo winces, just a little. It’s the one knot that never seems to go away, no matter how much she tries to stretch or work it out. It’s been there for years, a stubborn thing.

“Still there?” Paige’s voice is soft, but Jo can hear the hint of concern.

The younger girl nods into the pillows. “Mmm, yeah, it never goes away.”

Paige hums in acknowledgement, and Jo hears her shift slightly. For a moment, she wonders if Paige is just going to stay where she is and work the knot from the outside, but then, to her surprise, she feels Paige’s hands move to the bottom of her t-shirt, sliding under the fabric carefully.

“Lemme get in there,” Paige murmurs lowly.

The words and the cool air against her skin sends a shiver down Jo’s spine, but she doesn’t pull away. Paige’s touch is so familiar, so comforting, that even the shift in how they’ve positioned doesn’t feel strange—at least, it shouldn’t. She can feel Paige’s fingers move under the fabric, creeping up her spine near her shoulder blade, right where she can press deeper into the knot. The pressure is sudden but not unwelcome. It’s exactly what Jo needs.

“Mmm, that’s better,” Paige says softly, her voice closer now, almost against Jo’s back, as she works the knot precisely. Her fingertips press firmly into the spot, working the muscle, easing the tendon.

The warmth from Paige’s fingers against her skin sends a wave of heat through Jo’s body, and she lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The knot is finally loosening, and for a brief moment, she’s too focused on the sensation to even process anything else. Paige’s hands move with ease, like she’s done this a thousand times. And she has. Or, well, at least a few.

“You good?” Paige asks, voice soft but steady, like she’s concerned, and Jo feels a strange pull in her chest.

Jo hums in response, though it comes out softer than she intended. “Yeah, that feels perfect.”

For a moment, there’s silence between them, and all Jo can focus on is the steady rhythm of Paige’s hands as they move over her back, the weight of her stomach settling into Jo’s muscles. The room is even warmer now—they really should turn down the heat. Even if it’s Connecticut, it’s only October. That, or maybe it’s just the proximity, the closeness of Paige’s body to here. Jo doesn’t know what it is, but her heart’s not beating the way it usually does.

Paige’s hands slide back up, pressing into the tender spots along Jo’s shoulder blades, and Jo bites her lip, trying to ignore how good it feels.

And then, without thinking, Jo shifts slightly, a small motion that presses her chest just a little closer to the bed. With the movement, her body aligns a bit more with Paige’s, and suddenly the space between them feels too small, too close. She can feel Paige’s breath against her back, steady and warm, and Jo’s pulse quickens despite herself.

“God,” Jo mutters. “You’re good at this.”

Paige’s fingers stop their movements for a moment, as if processing the words. “It’s nothing,” she says, but there’s something different in her voice. Maybe it’s just how close they are, or maybe it’s the weight of the silence hanging between them, but Jo’s pretty sure she hears a shift in the way Paige speaks. A slight tension in her voice that Jo can’t explain.

Eventually, Paige finishes working the knot, her hands pulling away slowly. Jo almost feels a pang of disappointment, but she can’t place why. She’s just relaxing, just letting herself unwind. It’s nothing.

Paige lies back down next to her, the space between them still feeling a little smaller than it should be. Jo turns her head to meet Paige’s gaze, their faces just inches apart.

“Better?” Paige asks, her voice soft and almost too quiet. Her fingers trail lightly down Jo’s spine, slipping out from under her shirt with a gentle touch that sends a small shiver through Jo.

Jo smiles a little, nodding. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

Paige nods, her lips lifting at the corners a little before Jo turns her gaze back to the TV. She tucks her hands under her cheek as she lays on her side, eyes lazily watching the screen. Damon and Elena are fighting over something—per usual.

She doesn’t even notice at first when Paige shifts, her leg brushing against Jo’s under the covers. And then she slides a little closer, her shoulder brushing against Jo’s arm. Her face is even closer now, and Jo’s aware of that. She can feel her breath against her skin. It catches her a little off guard, but it’s not weird. It’s just how they always seem to end up—close.

“I missed you, Joey.” Paige’s voice, so soft, echoes through the room.

Jo glances up, meeting her gaze. It makes her smile. “I missed you too.”

And she did—she got so used to being so close to her that it was terrible when she was gone for so long. So bad it felt like Jo was going through withdrawal or something. And it only makes it worse that she’s flying back out in a couple days and Jo is going to have the apartment to herself again.

Paige’s face is still close, her eyes searching Jo’s for something. They’re so blue, even in the dim lighting of the room, and they feel like an ocean Jo could easily drown in.

She doesn’t know why she does it, but she presses herself closer still, their chests touching now, Jo’s nose brushing against Paige’s neck. Their legs tangle more under the sheets, and Jo feels Paige wrap her arm around her waist gently, letting it rest there. Jo doesn’t mind.

It’s just them. It’s just how they are.

PAIGE WAKES slowly, the soft morning light streaming through the slats of the blinds casting stripes across the bed. Her body feels heavy, warm, and there’s a comforting weight against her arm. Blinking her eyes open, she shifts her head on the pillow and glances down. Jo is still asleep beside her, her face soft in the pale light, her features slack with peace.

Jo looks… pretty, Paige thinks, her thoughts still hazy with sleep. Her hair is tousled, sticking up slightly at the crown from no doubt a restless turn in the night, but it only makes her look softer, less put together in a way that feels intimate. Paige is half aware of the fact that her own arm is tucked under Jo’s, her hand resting near Jo’s waist. Their legs are tangled together, too, her calf brushing Jo’s under the covers.

Paige doesn’t move immediately. She doesn’t want to. It’s warm like this, comfortable, and even though the logical part of her brain tells her to pull away, to avoid making it weird, she stays where she is.

Her gaze lingers on Jo’s face, on the slight curve of her lips, the freckles dusted across her nose that are barely visible. There’s something unguarded about Jo in the morning, something vulnerable and even sweeter than she is when she’s awake.

Last night drifts back to Paige’s mind. The massages, the feel of Jo’s hands on her knee, the feel of Jo’s back under her hands. The way Jo told her she missed her, too. Paige had meant it when she told her—she’d missed Jo more then she thought she would during her time in LA. But it’s not just that. There had been something else in the air last night.

Maybe it’s just the shift of being apart for a month, she tells herself. That’s all. It’s just the way things feel different when you come back to someone after being away. Things will settle back into place eventually. They always do.

Jo stirs slightly in her sleep, her brow twitching, and Paige instinctively stills, not wanting to wake her. The younger girl murmurs something unintelligible and shifts closer, her head tilting toward Paige’s shoulder, and Paige’s breath catches for half a second.

The buzz of a phone breaks the quiet, cutting through the gentle hum of the morning. Paige blinks, her thoughts scattering, and she glances toward the nightstand. The phone buzzes again. She assumes its hers—she gets texts at odd hours from basically everyone. Without thinking, she reaches out, fumbling for the phone blindly without lifting her head.

Her fingers close around the cool device, and she squints at the screen as she opens it, not wearing her glasses yet. By the lockscreen, she immediately can tell that this is not her phone, though—it’s Jo’s. She’s about to close it and put it back when the name at the top of the screen makes her freeze. Ash.

Her stomach twists. She knows that name and she knows it well. Asher. Jo’s boyfriend.

Maybe she doesn’t mean to look, maybe she does. Either way, the messages are right there, impossible to ignore.

Ash 💓

Hi baby I know it’s early

Just wanted to say I miss you

and love you

And I can’t wait to see the media day flicks you better send me them all

Paige stares at the screen for a long moment, her chest tightening in a way she doesn’t—but also might—understand. She knows she should stop looking, that this is a complete violation of Jo’s privacy, but her eyes tracy the words again. Baby. I miss you. I love you. They feel like a slap.

She exhales sharply, locking the phone and setting it back on the nightstand. Her case flicks back to Jo, still fast asleep. Her face is serene and peaceful and Paige feels an overwhelming rush of emotions. It’s not jealousy. It’s not. She’s not jealous. She has no right to be jealous of two high school sweethearts that literally grew up next door together that are probably soulmates and are someday going to get married and have babies.

She’s not jealous of that.

But, nonetheless, the knot in her stomach doesn’t go away.

She unentangles herself carefully, shifting her leg and arm away from Jo’s, mindful not to wake her. Jo murmurs something again, soft and sleepy, and Paige pauses for a second before slipping off the bed entirely. She needs space. Air.

She pads to the bathroom, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for a moment. Her hands grip the edge of the sink, and she stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair is a mess, her face slightly puffy from sleep.

She shakes her head, turning on the faucet to splash cold water on her face. It doesn’t help much.

Paige forces herself to focus, to push away the strange feelings clawing at her. Jo is her roommate, her freshie, and, yeah, basically her best friend now. And that’s all this is. That’s all it will ever be. She needs to stop overthinking. She needs to get ready for the day.

But even as she brushes her teeth and begins to brush through her hair, her thoughts keep circling back to those texts. To Asher. To Jo. And to the way Jo’s body had felt so warm and close and right against hers just minutes ago.

PAIGE STANDS in front of the mirror in the locker room, adjusting her uniform and smoothing her jersey. The bold, navy #5 stitched on the front catches her eye, and for a moment, she lingers. It feels almost strange, wearing the jersey she won’t be able to play in this season.

Not that she hasn’t come to terms with it. Paige is good at keeping herself together now, even if the pang of frustration hasn’t entirely disappeared—and won’t, she knows, until she gets to play again. But she’s learned to deal with it, to channel her energy elsewhere. If she can’t be on the court, she can still be here—still lead, still help her team in every way she can.

Her hair is perfectly straightened, sleek and sharp, the way she likes it. Her makeup looks good, too—just enough to emphasize her sharp cheekbones and blue eyes, but nothing overdone. The uniform ties it all together, making her look just like the player she’s supposed to be, the one she still is even if she’s stuck on the sidelines.

She takes a couple mirror pics—her annual media day mirror pics. They come out well, and she posts them to Instagram with the caption “5’ll be back soon,” because it will. She will.

By the time the day is in full effect, Paige knows the drill: photos, videos, soundbites for promos. She takes a few solo shots first, her expression switching between serious and smiles for the camera. Then it’s duo photos—first with Azzi, then with Nika and Aaliyah, her classmates. They laugh and joke between snaps, Nika managing to pinch Paige and Aaliyah during one, probably getting a perfect reaction picture.

Whilst Jo is getting her photos done, Paige is off to the side, hyping her up. When she makes Jo laugh—loud and sudden, the kind that makes her throw her head back—Paige is the one who catches the photographer’s eye. He gestures for her to join Jo, saying how he likes their energy together. Paige does as he asks, coming into view of the camera.

They stand side by side, first posed with their arms crossed, meant to look tough and intimidating. Then, the photographer tells Jo to lean her arm casually on Paige’s shoulder. Jo does, and it feels so normal, so them, that Paige doesn’t even notice how close they are until the photos pop up on the photographer’s screen.

“Yo,” Paige says, leaning in closer to the preview image. “We look good.”

Jo grins, nudging the blonde with her elbow. “Yeah, we do.”

And they do. There’s something about the way they look together—Jo’s darker features contrasting with Paige’s lighter ones, their postures balanced between playful and powerful—that feels striking.

When the photographer tells them they’re done, Jo taps Paige on the back lightly, her touch lingering for a half-second too long. Paige pretends not to notice.

They continue on through a mix of photos, promo videos, and shorter interviews. Paige’s role as “Coach P,” as everyone’s begun calling her, doesn’t go unnoticed.

Nika, of course, has to chime in. “That girl ain’t my coach,” she mutters loud enough for everyone to hear, shaking her head while she stirs a few laughs from their teammates and some of the media coordinators.

Paige rolls her eyes but before she can respond, Jo cuts in, throwing her arms around Paige’s shoulders from behind and resting her chin right by Paige’s neck. “You’re right, Nik,” Jo says, her voice teasing as her arms tighten slightly around Paige. “She’s not your coach. She’s mine.”

Nika hisses at her in mock annoyance, making Jo laugh loudly as she lets go of Paige—though not before making sure to squeeze Paige’s shoulders fondly.

Paige hardly notices the way Nika flicks at Jo’s arm afterwards, or the way Jo sticks her tongue out at her. Instead, her brain replays the words—she’s mine.

Mine, mine, mine, mine.

It’s not like that, though. And, goddamn, she has to get herself together.

Luckily, she has an interview waiting for her, so she doesn’t have long to continue dwelling on it. Except, actually, she thinks she might be unlucky, because when she spots Celeste Sinclair waiting for her with that soft little smirk and a glint in her eyes, Paige almost groans aloud.

She supposes she did this to herself, though. It’s not like she didn’t know Celeste was one of their media girls when she started fucking her—it’s literally how they met.

As Paige approaches, Celeste’s eyes sweep over her, lingering just a fraction too long on the way her uniform fits. Paige notices it immediately, and begins to steel herself.

“Paige,” the redhead greets, her tone syrupy and professional, but there’s a flicker of something else underneath. Something Paige is very familiar with.

“Celeste,” Paige replies evenly, keeping her expression neutral. She folds her hands in front of her, trying not to let her irritation show. She doesn’t have time for this—doesn’t have the patience or willpower to handle another girl turned obsessed—but media day is about appearances, so she plasters on a polite smile and takes the mini mic Celeste offers her.

The questions start predictably enough. Celeste asks about her recovery, her plans for the future, how she’s adjusting. Paige answers each question with the kind of practiced ease she’s managed to master over the years. She talks about her rehab process, about staying focused, about how the comeback will be stronger than the setback. The words feel automatic now, almost rehearsed.

Still, it stings a little. Every time she’s reminded that she won’t touch the court this season, that she’ll have to watch from the bench while her teammates fight for another championship, there’s a flicker of frustration she can’t quite extinguish.

But she doesn’t let it show. Obviously.

Celeste presses on, asking something about how Paige is adapting to her new role as a leader from the bench, and Paige forces herself to smile through it. She talks about embracing the role of “Coach P,” about how it’s just as important to support the team off the court as it is on it. She doesn’t let her voice waver, doesn’t let any of the bitterness slip through.

When the interview finally wraps, Paige exhales quietly, ready to walk away—but Celeste steps closer, cutting her off.

“So,” Celeste says, her voice dropping just enough to make it clear this part isn’t for the cameras. “You’ve been busy out west, yeah? I—you haven’t been back at all lately.”

Paige sighs a little. “Yeah, well. Rehab and stuff. You know how it is.”

Celeste tilts her head. “I do. Still, I thought you might text or call or something. I left you a few messages, but you never answered.”

Paige resists the urge to roll her eyes. Celeste’s persistence is both flattering and annoying. Yeah, the sex had been good—but was it genuinely good enough for Celeste to continuously run after Paige when she’s made it more than obvious that she doesn’t really want her? Paige doesn’t think so.

But, then again, Paige is better with her tongue and fingers than Celeste is.

“Been busy,” Paige says again, brushing her off.

The red-haired girl doesn’t seem deterred, though. She leans in just slightly, murmuring, “Well, if you’re not too busy tonight or even later this week… ?”

Paige starts to shake her head, ready to shut it down. She has enough girls in her bed back in LA that she doesn’t need to make up for it here while she’s only back for a few days.

But then—her mind flashes to this morning. To Jo. To the messages from Asher. The pit that settles in her stomach when she saw the I love you and I miss you and the baby. Something about it still lingers, sharp and annoying, and Paige can’t quite shake it.

Before she really thinks about what she’s doing, she hears herself saying, “Actually, I am free tonight.”

Celeste’s face lights up, her smile widening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Paige echoes, her tone casual, like she isn’t committing to something she’s already dreading a little. “I fly back to LA in a couple days, so tonight works.”

Celeste doesn’t bother hiding her excitement. “Perfect. Come over later?”

Paige nods and Celeste looks almost giddy as she finally walks away.

As Paige rejoins her teammates, sitting next to Jo, the brunette smirks at her a little, judging her arm and asking, “Again?”

Paige feels heat rushing up her neck and into her cheeks. “Stop, it’s nothing,” she says quickly.

Jo doesn’t press or tease her much like anyone else would, just letting out a little laugh under her breath before getting up for one of her own interviews.

Paige can’t help but watch her during it. And think.

Jo, asleep in her bed this morning, soft and peaceful and pretty. Jo, laughing loudly during their photoshoot. Jo, whose phone had lit up with messages from a boyfriend that Paige can’t stand to think about.

Her jaw tightens slightly, and she shoves the thoughts aside. She’s going to Celeste’s tonight. At least she’ll be doing something.

[sergeantxrogers]

Can you please write something with the idea of y/n asking Bucky if she can tie a pink ribbon around his bicep? Thank you

Request: "Can you please write something with the idea of y/n asking Bucky if she can tie a pink ribbon around his bicep? Thank you"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: none, just fluff

Note: hooooly shit guys, i've been gone for way too long. hope you enjoy <3

_____

The jingle of keys in the doorknob had you lifting your eyes from your book, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing softly. The quiet whispers of a jacket being taken off, laces being untied, keys being set on the small table beside the door travelled through the apartment, meeting your ears and bringing a smile to your face.

Soft footsteps padded against the hardwood floor, careful to avoid any creaky spots.

"I'm awake, Buck," you called out softly from the comfort of your bed, and you heard him pause his movements. And then continue, a bit quicker than before.

Brown hair and blue eyes popped around the the edge of the door frame, brows furrowed. "It's midnight. Why are you still awake?"

You shrugged, sitting up in bed and setting your book aside. "Dunno, really. Got caught up reading."

Bucky frowned, and stepped into the room, walking over to the bed. "You can't sleep?"

It was a casual question, but you sensed the undertone of worry laced through it, and smiled to yourself.

"Actually, I spent most of the evening redecorating, so I'll probably start snoring as soon as the lights are off."

Bucky's hands reached for yours, grabbing them and bringing them up to his lips as he stood in front of you. One, two, three kisses along your knuckles. One hand, then the other.

"Redecorating?" he murmured against your skin, and you nodded slyly. His eyes narrowed, partially in amusement, partially in curiosity.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hands back, settling yourself back into the fluffy down of your pillows and blankets. "How was work today?"

At your question, Bucky's jaw ticked.

"It was fine."

You studied him for a few seconds, and cocked your head. "Just fine?"

He let out a heavy sigh, then collapsed atop the comforter at the foot of the bed. On nights like this, when he came home later than usual, the tension in his shoulders a bit more prominent than usual, the bags under his eyes a bit heavier, he found it hard to form sentences adequate enough to explain how he felt or what he needed.

Ever since the government cleared him of all charges and his mandated therapy ended, Bucky had taken up a job at the DCSA.

Defense Counterintelligence and Security Agency.

On paper, James Buchanan Barnes was an ordinary, ex-military security guard working for the Department of Defense and the United States.

In reality, the executive branch of the federal government reached out to him themselves and offered him a job doing what they claimed he did best: making people disappear, and making it seem like an accident. He was hesitant at first, unwilling to be the very thing he tried so hard to run away from being, but soon enough, they had made it very clear he had limited options: accept the position, or get thrown in prison for all the charges they claimed to have dropped.

So, for all his hesitating and hatred, Bucky Barnes was the United States government's own personal hitman, killing anybody who posed a threat to the life of the president, his family, or anybody in the Senate.

At least they paid better than HYDRA, Bucky had once joked. You could see, in his eyes, how much it pained him to revert back to his old ways, once again not having a choice.

Bucky cleared his throat, and glanced at you, blinking away the shadows behind his eyes.

"It's fine, sweetheart. I promise. It could have been worse."

Your heart cracked in your chest and you frowned, burying your cheek even deeper into your pillow as you looked at him. "If you say so."

Bucky pursed his lips to the side, then looked toward the door connecting your bedroom to the bathroom. Without a word, he got up, walking towards the bathroom and simultaneously pulling his shirt over his head. You smiled to yourself as you watched him disappear behind the door, flicking the lights on and letting the soft, yellow glow flood the floor of your room. You listened to him shuffle about, letting out a soft sigh as he unbuckled his belt.

His movements paused.

Your smile grew.

"Y/N?" he called out.

"Yes, babe?"

The door creaked open all the way, and behind it stood Bucky, holding his toothbrush in one hand, with a confused look on his face.

"Why is there a pink bow on my toothbrush?"

It took all your strength not to burst into a fit of giggles immediately as you schooled your face into one of nonchalance, and said, "I told you. I redecorated."

Bucky's bewildered eyes flickered from you, to the toothbrush, then back to you. Then he turned to look at the bathroom. And you saw the exact moment in which he realized there were pink bows everywhere. Big, small, light pink, dark pink, neon pink, cotton, silk, linen. A variety of ribbons tied in bows around everything you could think of: toothbrushes, toothpaste, shampoo bottles, the soap dispenser, the toilet brush, the towel rack, your skincare bottles, his deodorant and cologne.

"Y/N," Bucky said calmly.

"Yes?" you replied, batting your eyelashes innocently.

"Can you please tell me, why, exactly, you decided on redecorating with pink bows everywhere?"

You hummed, then shrugged. "You know, I'm not exactly sure. I just think they make pretty things look so much prettier. I may have gone a bit overboard, though."

"You think?"

You bit back a grin as you watched him shake his head, as if to snap him from his stupor of amusement, and bend over the sink to brush his teeth. You watched him brush his teeth, wash his face, change out of his jeans and into pajama pants. You tracked him as he turned the lights off and sighed, trudging over to the bed, exhaustion creeping into every one of his movements and pulling at him like gravity. You opened your arms wide, lifting the covers as you did so, and Bucky gladly crawled into them, nuzzling his head into your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist and back.

You placed a soft kiss to the crown of his head, and let your arms come loosely around his neck. Bucky said nothing, content to lay in silence and listen to the beat of your heart as it lulled him to sleep.

After a few minutes of you silently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered his name. "Bucky?"

He hummed in answer against your chest.

"You know how I said pink bows make pretty things even prettier?"

You felt, rather than saw, his body pause at the question, and then his head was up and his blue eyes were staring into yours with a puzzled expression. "Yes... why? What's that have to do with anything?"

"Well..."

You paused. All of a sudden, you felt stupid. Bucky's furrowed brows and sleepy eyes urged you to continue.

"I have a pink ribbon under the pillow, actually, and I was... I wanted to..."

"What, honey?"

"Well, I was wondering if I could tie it around your arm."

Bucky paused, blinking up at you slowly, as if he hadn't heard you.

"My arm?"

You nodded.

"Why?"

You shrugged. "Because it's already beautiful, and I want to make it even more so."

He laid there quiet for a moment, and you were about to tell him to forget about it, but then he unwrapped his arms from around you, letting you drop flat onto your back, and shoved a hand beneath your head. Beneath your pillow.

He emerged with a baby pink ribbon in his fingers, the material pliable and soft in his grip, as he handed it to you.

"Go ahead," he said simply.

You gave him a skeptical look. "Really?"

He shrugged with one shoulder. "Why not? Did you think I'd say no?"

You fell quiet, then let out a sigh through your nose, turning over slightly to better reach his arm. His left arm.

You wrapped the ribbon around his bicep, the vibranium cold and unyielding, a stark contrast to the warm pink silk in your fingers. You looped it through, pulling it taut, then let go. You stared at it for a second, then glanced up at Bucky. Leaning in, you pressed a light kiss to the exposed metal right above the bow.

Bucky let out a shuddering breath, then laid down again, this time face to face with you. His fingers traced soft, swirling patterns against the skin of your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you closed your eyes against the feeling.

"I love you so much," he muttered quietly. "You know that, right?"

You nodded, eyes closed and a smile playing at your lips. "I know. I love you, too. Every part of you."

Bucky loosed a breath that sounded somewhat like a disbelieving breath, and you felt him lean in and press a kiss to your temple.

You fell asleep without even realizing, lulled into dreams by the steady thrum of his heartbeat and his hand stroking your hair.