#I just wanted to let it go from my drafts finally. because between all those posts I need to reblog and saved for future purposes.

[chayatorns]

NGERN ANUPART LUANGSODSAI AS ARTHIT IN FOUREVER YOU เพราะรักนำทาง (2024)

[linoxpudding]

Inches In Between Us

summary: moment where you and him are caught too close for comfort… or maybe just close enough, tension simmers

pairing: skz x gn!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff, forced proximity trope

a/n: this one’s been sitting in my drafts forever (based on this request) I took my time crafting each moment to really bring the tension and emotion to life! comment below and let me know which scene had your heart doing somersaults ♡

Masterlist

~°~

Bang Chan (established relationship)

You flew across two countries just to see him.

You told yourself it was worth it—the late-night packing, the long airport waits, the time off you had to beg your manager for. You missed him. You missed you and him, and those Facetimes squeezed between rehearsals weren’t enough.

But now, sitting stiffly on the plush leather seat of the tour bus, knees locked together and jaw tight with frustration, you weren’t sure why you bothered.

You had claimed the wide back row—meant to seat four or five—but you sat all the way in the corner, facing the window, hoping to be left alone.

Chan’s voice had barely left your ears since the fight earlier—sharp words you both didn’t mean, silence that hurt more than shouting. He’d said he needed space.

So, you decided to give it to him.

Now that the schedule was over, the members and staff had scattered across the bus, most of them slouched in the two-seaters lining either side of the aisle. Some had earbuds in, some quietly scrolled their phones, but no one said a word about the tension radiating from the very back.

Chan climbed in last.

For a second, you thought—hoped—he’d take one of the many empty two-seaters. Maybe even sit with Minho or Changbin, who were already half-asleep a few rows ahead.

But no. He walked straight to the back and slid into the long seat. Not just the seat—but right next to you. Right up against you.

You blinked at him. “Seriously?”

In response, he just leaned back with a soft exhale, gaze forward.

Annoyed, you got up and moved to a two-seater near the middle of the bus. You didn’t look at him.

Seconds later, the seat dipped beside you again.

You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. The quiet, stubborn presence. That familiar scent. The way your thigh brushed against his because the seat was narrow and neither of you budged.

You huffed, loud enough for only him to hear, but said nothing. You didn’t want to draw attention. Not to the fight. Not to how your heart still sped up when he was near—even now.

His thigh pressed against yours, his shoulder brushing yours. There wasn’t enough room not to touch unless you climbed out the window. You didn’t move. Neither did he.

You refused to look at him, eyes glued to the streetlights racing by outside. Still, you felt him— his quiet sigh, his fidgeting fingers. The way he turned his body toward you, even if he didn’t say a word.

"You’re really not gonna say anything?" he finally whispered, voice low enough that no one in front could hear.

You shrugged.

"You were the one who said you needed space," you murmured bitterly, still not looking.

He was silent for a long second, then said, "Yeah. I was wrong."

"You can’t just say stuff like that and expect it to go away, Chan."

"I know," he said. "That’s why I’m here. In your space. Because I don’t want it. I want you."

“You told me to fly out. You wanted me here. And then you barely looked at me all day.”

Chan’s jaw tensed. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You think that makes it better?” Your voice cracked. “I cleared my schedule, booked time off, flew across countries just to watch you pull away from me every second. I know what dating an idol means, Chan, but this—this felt different.”

He looked like he’d been punched. “I know. I messed up.”

He reached for your hand, tentative. You let him, but didn’t squeeze back yet.

“I thought if I focused on the tour stuff first, I could make time for you later. But I just pushed you away, I’m sorry, baby.”

You turned to the window again, biting your lip.

“I was just excited to see you,” you whispered. “And you made me feel like an afterthought.”

Chan exhaled shakily. “You’re not. You’re the only part of this I don’t want to mess up.”

His voice was rough, edged with guilt.

“For the rest of today, I’m yours,” he said, gently pulling your intertwined hands to his chest. “No staff. No members. Just us. And I swear, I won’t let you feel like this again. Let me fix it.”

You hesitated. But you looked at him and there it was again: that open, vulnerable gaze only you ever got. He was looking at you— eyes glassy, sincere, scared.

So you nodded.

He leaned in, his voice even quieter.

"You can keep being mad at me. I’ll sit here the whole ride, touching your knee like a loser, until you’re ready to forgive me. I just… I don’t want this silence anymore."

Your anger crumbled a little at the edges. He was ridiculous. Dramatic. Stubborn. And yours.

You huffed, barely hiding the smile tugging at your lips. "You’re squishing me."

"Good," he said, bumping your shoulder gently. "I missed you."

You let your head drop onto his shoulder, just for a second. “You’re lucky we’re in public.”

He smirked. “Trust me. I know.”

Lee Know (frenemies)

It was supposed to be a relaxing weekend. A break from the city, from work, from stress.

A weekend camping trip with all your friends consisting of a bonfire, setting up tents, good food, and no cell service— sure, it sounded cute on paper. Until you found out Lee Minho was coming too.

Minho. The eye-roll king. Your arch nemesis in every group chat and game night. The one who always had something smug to say, who knew exactly how to push your buttons and enjoyed doing it.

So, here you were, standing in the middle of a forest clearing with an uneven patch of dirt under your shoes, mosquitoes humming in your ears, and Minho—a.k.a. your personal plague—stretching beside you like he owned the woods.

You didn’t even want to make eye contact.

“Alright!” Chan clapped his hands. “Everyone gets paired up in tents—but, to make things fun, we’re drawing sticks.”

Groans went up immediately, mostly from you and Jeongin.

“What is this? Summer camp?” you muttered.

“Exactly,” Felix grinned, holding out the small bundle of color-coded sticks. “Pick your destiny!”

One by one, your friends picked sticks, with excitement and curiosity filling the air.

You pulled yours last. It was red.

And then your heart sank.

“Red too,” Minho called casually, holding his up and locking eyes with you.

You blinked. “No. Nope. Pick again.”

He smirked. “Aw, are you scared of sharing a tent with me?”

“More like scared for my sanity.”

You whipped around to Han. “Please, just switch with me. I’ll give you my hoodie—the one you love. Or that extra brownie from earlier!”

Jisung burst out laughing, already dragging his guitar to a fancy-looking tent. “Can’t switch! I got the one with the LED light strip and padded floor. I’m not giving THAT up for your romantic tension!”

“There is no tension,” you barked. “Only rage!”

Minho was already walking toward your sad, lopsided tent, humming like he was enjoying every second of your meltdown. You shot pleading eyes at Chan, at Hyunjin, at anyone—but they were all pretending to be busy adjusting gear or unrolling mats.

Betrayal. Pure betrayal.

Sighing dramatically, you picked up your bag and trudged after Minho, muttering curses under your breath. Grumbling and defeated, you stomped into the tent, tossing your bag to the far corner. The inside was cozier than you expected, but that didn’t mean you were happy about it. 

“Okay but seriously,” you said, peering into the tent, “why is there only one camping mattress?”

Minho, behind you, tsked. “You lost. I shouldn’t have to suffer.”

“You think I didn’t suffer the moment I saw your face and ‘red stick’ in the same moment?”

He didn’t answer, just ducked inside and threw his sleeping bag onto the narrow mattress—if you could even call it that. It was barely wider than your body, lumpy, and definitely not meant for two.

“Oh, hell no,” you snapped, following him in. “That’s not just yours.”

Minho raised an eyebrow as he flopped down and smirked. “You wanna sleep on the floor then?”

“No. You sleep on the floor.”

“I got here first.”

You both stared at each other for a moment. The unspoken war was real. 

“Fine. I’m not giving it up,” you stubbornly said and climbed in.

There was maybe—maybe—three inches of space between your bodies. Arms touching. Legs bumping. Shoulders pressed awkwardly side-by-side.

This was not ideal.

“Stop moving,” you hissed as he adjusted.

“You’re poking me with your elbow!”

“You’re hogging the blanket!”

“Your knee is in my spine!”

A moment passed.

Silence.

Then, somehow—inevitably—you both stilled. The night was quiet outside the tent, filled only with the distant crackling fire and soft murmurs from the others. Inside, the air was warm. Heavy.

You could feel the rise and fall of his chest. Every little breath.

His eyes met yours. And you didn’t look away.

The bickering faded. The closeness became unbearable in a different way. His face was inches from yours, eyes flickering from your mouth to your gaze and back again.

Your heart pounded. Loud. Messy. Dangerous.

“Don’t snore,” you broke the silence.

“I don’t snore,” Minho piped up, rolling his eyes. “But I do talk in my sleep. Usually insults.”

“You’re really annoying,” you whispered.

“So are you,” he replied quietly.

But he didn’t move away. And neither did you. His hand brushed yours under the blanket. Barely touching. But enough to make your breath hitch.

You both leaned in—slow, tentative, until your noses almost touched—

“Yah! Who stole the marshmallows?!”

Han’s voice rang outside the tent and you both jerked away like you’d been electrocuted.

Minho cleared his throat, turning stiffly onto his side. “Sleep. Now.”

You swallowed hard, heart racing, facing the opposite direction.

But long after the outside voices faded, you stayed awake, replaying that moment—one breath away from disaster.

*************************************

The sun had barely risen over the quiet campsite, dew still clinging to the grass and birds chirping in the distance. Most tents were still zipped up, the fire pit long gone cold.

Han yawned dramatically as he and Hyunjin wandered toward your tent, both of them tasked with rounding people up for breakfast duty. "Let’s just yell and run," Han muttered. "Classic wake-up strategy."

Hyunjin shushed him. “No, I want to see their faces. Especially those two.”

Han smirked. “Ohhh right. Mortal enemies sharing a tent. Bet they killed each other in their sleep.”

They unzipped the tent slowly, careful not to wake any potential dragons.

But what they did see stopped them in their tracks.

Inside, the two of you were a complete mess of limbs—your arm flopped across Minho’s chest, his hand loosely resting on your waist, legs tangled beneath the thin blanket. One of his knees was even wedged between your thighs, and your face was tucked into the crook of his neck.

Utterly relaxed. Peaceful. Intimate.

Hyunjin let out a quiet gasp. “Oh my God.”

Han clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Dude. What… the hell?”

Hyunjin grinned. “So the tension finally melted.”

Han whispered, “Yeah. Into a puddle of cuddles and potential kisses? Do you think they kissed?”

Hyunjin smirked, “It might’ve happened.”

They slipped away without waking either of you—though Han did snap a silent photo on his phone, “just for documentation.”

However, the quiet rustling outside was just enough to stir you.

You blinked, stretching a little—only to freeze the second you realized something was very wrong.

Your cheek wasn’t against your pillow.

It was on someone's chest.

Warm. Steady. Rising and falling slowly beneath you.

You shifted just a little—and then you noticed it. Minho’s arm around your waist. One of your legs slung over his. His hand resting lightly on your back.

You nearly stopped breathing.

And just then, he stirred too—brow furrowing, eyes fluttering open. He blinked once. Twice. Then looked down.

Right at you.

There was a beat of silent realization. Eyes locking. Tension crackling in the small, stuffy tent.

Your breath caught. His hand twitched on your back.

“…You—”

“This isn’t—” you both started at once.

You scrambled back in a panic, elbowing the tent wall as you untangled your legs and rolled toward the exit. “I—I didn’t mean to—!”

“You’re the one who shoved me over in your sleep!” he whisper-hissed, equally flustered, hair a mess and voice rough from sleep.

You yanked the zipper open and practically ran out, heart pounding, cheeks burning.

The morning air slapped your face as you stumbled into the open, hoping no one saw. (Too late.)

From the campfire pit, Han and Hyunjin exchanged a look—and then burst into laughter.

Inside the tent, Minho sat up, running a hand through his hair and muttering to himself.

“…So dramatic.”

But even as he said it, a faint, undeniable smile pulled at his lips.

Because your warmth still lingered on his skin.

And that moment—however brief—was now burned into him.

*************************************

Back at the communal camp kitchen, Han was making scrambled eggs while Hyunjin cut fruit, both humming softly. Minho emerged from the trees a while later, hair a bit messy, lips pressed in a line as he poured water into the kettle like nothing happened.

“You sleep okay?” Han asked innocently.

Minho side-eyed him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Han shrugged. “You know. Considering the person you used to say you’d rather fight a bear than share a tent with.”

Minho didn’t look up. “Shut up. There’s nothing between us.”

But then he hesitated. Almost like something tugged at him.

And when he glanced over his shoulder, there you were—laughing at something Felix said, your cheeks squished adorably in the cool air, your hair a mess from sleep. You tossed your head back as you laughed, eyes sparkling while Minho was watching. And he smiled softly. Almost in a daze, like it bloomed out of his chest before he even knew it was there.

Han caught it, catching the way Minho lingered just a second too long before turning back around.

He didn’t say anything.

He just smiled too—watching his best friend quietly fall.

Seo Changbin (friends to lovers)

Changbin’s apartment smelled like buttered popcorn and clean laundry.

It was your favorite place to be lately—low lights, cozy blanket, a ridiculous action movie playing on the screen, and him beside you, warm and familiar. Your legs were tangled casually over his, a bowl of popcorn between you, laughter spilling out as some over-the-top fight scene played.

"This is the dumbest movie you’ve made me watch," you grinned, tossing a popcorn kernel at him.

Changbin caught it in his mouth effortlessly and winked. "Admit it. You love it."

"I love mocking it," you teased, nudging his thigh with your foot.

He caught your ankle before you could pull back, grinning wickedly. “You sure you want to start something?”

You wiggled your toes defiantly. “What, you’re gonna fight me?”

“I could win.”

“You wish, Seo Changbin.”

That’s all it took.

Suddenly, the popcorn bowl was tossed aside, and you were squealing, squirming, as Changbin tackled you onto the couch in a flurry of limbs and laughter.

It wasn’t serious—just a mess of soft slaps, blocked pokes, mock grunts. You wrestled, pushing at his shoulders, but he was strong and quick, playful growls leaving his throat as he countered every move with ease.

“Okay, okay, I take it back!” you laughed breathlessly, trying to twist away.

He caught your wrists.

One smooth motion, and you were pinned flat against the couch cushions, Changbin hovering above you—knees on either side of your hips, hands holding yours gently but firmly down beside your head.

The laughter stopped. Well everything… stopped.

His chest was rising and falling, breath just a little uneven. Your wrists burned under his fingers, not from pressure but from presence. The movie still played in the background, but it was a muffled hum now—nothing compared to the thunder of your heart.

He was close. Too close.

His face hovered just above yours, eyes flickering over every part of your expression—your parted lips, your wide eyes, the heat that was now unmistakably there in both of your gazes.

Neither of you moved.

You swallowed hard. “Are you gonna let me up?”

He didn’t blink. “Do you want me to?”

You couldn’t answer.

Because maybe you didn’t want him to.

Your silence stretched. His grip loosened ever so slightly, just enough that your hands could move if you wanted—but you didn’t pull away. Not yet.

Your fingers curled around his wrists instead, and his breath caught audibly.

“You’re dangerous,” you whispered.

He leaned a little closer, voice low. “You bring it out in me.”

For a second—just a second—he dipped his head, your noses brushing, lips almost meeting. Almost.

But he hesitated. Like he needed permission. Like he didn’t want to cross a line unless you asked him to.

“Binnie…” you breathed, and that was all it took.

His forehead touched yours. Not a kiss, not yet—but his weight above you, his warmth, the want in his eyes was enough to melt you.

“You’re more than just a friend to me,” he murmured. “I’ve been trying to hide it for so long, but when you look at me like that—”

You surged up just enough to press your lips to his.

Soft. Careful. But charged like fire.

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting forever.

Changbin’s lips lingered on yours like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

You watched him in that small, quiet moment—his lashes brushing his cheeks, his hands still cradling your wrists. He looked… vulnerable. Not like the loud, confident Changbin who barked laughs and flexed his arms to annoy you. This was different.

He finally opened his eyes and met your gaze—softer now. Nervous, even.

“So…” he said, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. “Now what?”

Your heart flipped.

You smiled shyly and tugged your hands free, only to lace your fingers with his. “Now,” you whispered, “you help me up, because you’re crushing me.”

A breathless laugh escaped him, and he immediately rolled off to the side, reaching down to help you sit up. “Sorry,” he said, a little flushed. “Didn’t mean to KO you on the first date.”

You both paused.

You tilted your head. “So this is a date now?”

He looked a little caught, but the smile never left his face. “I mean… if you want it to be.”

You nudged his knee with yours. “Only if it ends with another kiss.”

Changbin turned bright red, chuckled, and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re gonna make fun of me forever for this, aren’t you?”

You leaned in, close enough that your noses touched again, your voice barely a breath. “Probably.”

He kissed you again—quick, sweet, like he couldn’t help himself.

Then he got up, held out his hand, and pulled you to your feet. Still holding on. Still close.

“So,” he said again, this time with a grin, “sleepover rules still apply. I’m making ramen. You’re picking the next movie. And maybe later, we kiss again.”

You smirked, tugging him toward the kitchen. “We’ll see if you earn it.”

“Hey!” he whined playfully. “I pinned you! That’s gotta count for something!”

“It counts as me letting you win, obviously.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

And just like that, you were back to bickering—but now, between the sarcasm and the teasing, were shy glances, soft smiles, and the kind of tension that didn’t need words anymore.

You’d always been close. Now, you were closer than ever.

Hwang Hyunjin (crushing on seonbae)

It was your second week as a trainee for a new girl group under JYP Entertainment, and you had already learned that the training schedule was intense. You were still trying to find your rhythm in a world filled with highly talented idols, and it felt like everything was moving too fast. You spent most of your time in the practice rooms, working on vocal exercises, choreography, and dance routines.

One day, after a particularly long session, you found yourself taking a quick break to catch your breath. You'd never thought you'd meet Hyunjin from Stray Kids during your training, but here you were, sitting in the corner of the studio, trying to recover from a grueling dance practice. He was in the middle of a solo routine, and you couldn’t help but watch, captivated by his flawless movements. The way he danced was mesmerizing, and for a moment, you forgot everything around you. You did harbour a huge secret crush on him. 

When his practice ended, he caught you staring, a playful smirk appearing on his face. “Like what you see?” he asked with a teasing tone.

Caught off guard, you blushed, quickly looking away. “Oh! Uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No need to apologize,” he interrupted, walking over to where you were sitting. “I saw you struggling with your choreography earlier. Need some help?”

You blinked, surprised by his offer. You had only been a trainee for a short time, and the idea of dancing with someone like Hyunjin made you nervous. But his smile was disarming, and you could tell he genuinely wanted to help.

"Actually, yes," you admitted, standing up. "I can't quite get the moves down for our routine. Maybe you could show me some tips?"

Hyunjin grinned, taking his place in front of you. "No problem. I'll teach you the basics, and we'll see if we can make it a little more fun."

He started by showing you the footwork, his body moving effortlessly to the beat. You mimicked his movements, but the steps felt awkward under your feet. Hyunjin noticed immediately and gave a little chuckle.

“You’re overthinking it,” he said, gently placing his hands on your shoulders. “Relax. You’re supposed to feel the music, not stress about the steps.”

His hands lingered just a second too long, and you felt a heat rush to your cheeks. You took a deep breath, nodding. “I’ll try again.”

You continued practicing, and as the movements started to feel more natural, Hyunjin encouraged you with small comments here and there. The choreography was getting better, but you were still a little offbeat.

"Okay, how about this," Hyunjin suggested. "Let’s do the next part together. I'll guide you."

Before you could say anything, he stood close behind you, his hand lightly resting on your waist to help guide your movements. His proximity caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. The way his body was pressed against yours, his warmth radiating onto you, was almost overwhelming. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he leaned in to correct your posture.

“Here, just like this,” he said, adjusting your hips with his hands. The touch was gentle, but the closeness made it impossible to ignore the sudden tension in the air. You could feel your body growing tense, unsure of how to act with him so near.

His grip shifted slightly, and you found yourself in an almost perfect mirror of his stance. "See?" Hyunjin smiled, his voice low. "Much better."

The way his eyes locked onto yours made your breath catch in your throat. The dance had become less about learning the moves and more about the unspoken connection forming between you two in the space. His hands were still guiding you, his touch firm but soft, and every movement seemed to bring you closer together.

You both continued practicing, but it wasn’t long before the movements became more fluid, and you realized that it wasn’t just the choreography that was making you feel this way. Hyunjin’s presence, his proximity, was stirring something in you. Every time he adjusted your form, his hand would brush against your skin, sending a shiver through your body. Your heart beat faster, and the air between you felt heavier, charged with an unspoken tension.

At one point, you made a small mistake and spun the wrong way, causing your bodies to collide. For a brief second, you both froze, trapped in a moment of unintended intimacy. Hyunjin’s chest was pressed against your back, his arms still holding you in place as you both tried to steady yourselves. His breath hitched slightly, and you could feel his heartbeat racing against your skin.

You locked eyes, and for a second, everything else faded. The studio, the other trainees, the music—it was just the two of you, caught in this unexpectedly close moment. The space between you was nonexistent. The gentle brush of his fingers on your arm sent a jolt of electricity through you.

“Well,” Hyunjin said, his voice now husky, as he reluctantly stepped back, breaking the tension. “I guess we got a little… carried away.”

You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. “I—I didn’t expect that,” you murmured.

He smiled, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, me neither. But hey, at least the moves are starting to look good, right?"

You nodded, though your thoughts were still a little scattered from the closeness you’d just shared. You both stood there for a moment, the silence between you filled with the lingering tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

“Well, if you ever need more help," Hyunjin said, his voice returning to its usual playful tone, "I’m just a call away.”

You gave a small, nervous smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As he left the practice room, you stayed behind for a few moments longer, your heart still racing from the unexpected intimacy of the dance. There was a mix of excitement and confusion swirling inside you. What was that? Was it just the dance, or was there something more there?

You didn’t have time to answer your own questions because, as a trainee, there was always another routine to learn, another move to perfect. But as you left the studio later that day, your mind kept returning to the way Hyunjin had touched you, the way he’d held you close, and how in that one moment, you couldn’t tell if it was just dance… or something more.

Han Jisung (secretly dating)

It was game night, a regular gathering with the boys at their dorm, where laughter and playful competition filled the air. You'd been looking forward to this night, to unwind and enjoy their company, especially Han Jisung's. You were secretly dating him, keeping it low-key for the time being, but lately, it felt like a secret you wanted to shout from the rooftops. There was just one problem—you didn’t know how to tell the others without making things awkward.

Tonight, everyone was hyped up and playing a board game, the atmosphere light and buzzing with friendly rivalry. The stakes had gotten higher as the rounds went on, and the trash talk was flying. You and Felix had become a bit of an invincible duo—strategizing, making each other laugh, and working seamlessly together. 

But as Hyunjin leaned back in his chair with a smirk and exclaimed, “Oh my god, Felix and Y/N, you guys are totally an unbeatable duo!” the comment seemed to hit differently. Jisung, who had been quiet for a while, stiffened beside you, his eyes momentarily narrowing as he watched you laugh along with Felix.

You noticed the subtle change in his demeanor. A quiet jealousy simmered beneath his usual playful and easy-going attitude. You felt your stomach tighten with an instinctive pull toward him. Felix, oblivious to the shift, was still bantering with Hyunjin.

But Jisung was different. He was unusually quiet, and the energy in the room had shifted in a way that only you could sense. You could feel his gaze lingering on you for a little too long, and it made your heart race—nervous, excited. The tension between you two was palpable, something you both tried to keep under wraps.

As the game continued, you couldn't help but glance over at Jisung. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His playful vibe had shifted into something more guarded. It wasn’t like him to stay quiet for so long, and it made you feel uneasy, like you had inadvertently caused the shift in the air.

Felix was deep in conversation with Hyunjin, while the others were absorbed in the game, but you couldn’t focus anymore. You excused yourself from the table, slipping into the hallway in an attempt to get some space. You figured you could give Jisung a moment to cool down or maybe even talk about whatever had been bothering him.

But before you could walk further, Jisung was there. You didn’t even hear him approach, but suddenly his hand was on your wrist, and he was gently tugging you toward the hallway leading to his room. “Hey, where are you going?” you asked, trying to keep the casual tone.

He didn’t respond right away, his grip firm but gentle. There was a certain intensity to his gaze now—his eyes darkened slightly, and his usual teasing smile was replaced with something more serious. “I need to talk to you,” he muttered, his voice low.

You didn’t say anything. You knew this wasn’t just about the game anymore.

When you reached his room, Jisung quickly closed the door behind you, his hand resting on the handle for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. The two of you stood in the middle of the room for a few seconds, the air thick with unspoken words.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t like the way you two were... getting so close. Felix and you, laughing together like that.” His eyes were intense, full of something you hadn’t seen before—something raw. “It’s not like you’ve done anything wrong, but… it makes me feel something I don’t know how to handle.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You stepped closer to him, instinctively. “Hannie…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“I want to tell them, baby. I want to tell everyone we’re together,” he said, his hand gripping yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles gently, though his voice was firm. “I’m tired of pretending like we’re just friends.” He took a step closer, his face inches from yours now. His breath was warm against your skin, and you could feel his heart racing in his chest, matching yours.

The proximity was overwhelming, intoxicating, and for a moment, you forgot everything around you—the noise of the game, the others in the house. It was just him, and the desire in his eyes. You couldn’t lie to yourself any longer; you felt the same way. You had been trying to ignore it, keeping your relationship under wraps for the sake of the group, but in that moment, it all felt like too much to keep inside.

You swallowed, struggling to find the right words. “I want to tell them too, baby. I really do. But…” you hesitated. “Do you think they’ll understand?”

Jisung’s eyes softened, and he gently cupped your cheek with his free hand. “It’s not about them understanding,” he said, his voice tender now, the tension easing from his shoulders. “It’s about us. I want to be open with everyone, especially with you. You mean so much to me.”

The words hung in the air, a promise wrapped in vulnerability. You were quiet for a beat, the intensity of the moment consuming you. Slowly, you nodded. “Okay. Let’s tell them. Together.”

He smiled, the usual playful glint returning to his eyes, but there was still an undercurrent of sincerity. Without another word, he closed the gap between you two and kissed you, soft and slow, as if savoring the moment that had been a long time coming. The kiss deepened, both of you letting go of the tension and unspoken feelings you’d been holding onto.

When you pulled away, your foreheads touched, breaths mingling. He whispered, “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

You smiled, your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “Me too,” you said softly.

From that moment on, there was no more hiding. You were his, and he was yours, and that was all that mattered.

Lee Felix (colleagues to lovers)

The music video shoot had gone longer than expected, and most of the staff had either stepped out for a break or were busy resetting lights outside. The trailer where touch-ups usually happened—the one usually buzzing with stylists, cords, and brushes—was now completely empty.

You were the only one there, you were sitting on the couch scrolling through your phone when Felix popped in, flashing that signature grin and muttering, “Hyung said I need my hair re-gelled. Sorry,” like he was inconveniencing you, even though it was literally your job.

“Sit,” you said, trying to sound normal. Professional.

But nothing about Felix ever let you stay fully calm. Not the way he tugged off his jacket with one hand and tossed it lazily on the couch. Not the way his damp dark hair curled against his forehead, making him look more boyish, more human, than the stage idol version everyone else saw.

You stood behind him, gently combing through his roots. The gel hadn’t fully set, and you needed to rework it from the front.

"Can you tilt your head back?" you asked.

He did, but the angle was awkward. He sat too low in the chair, so you had to lean forward, your hips brushing the armrest. When you reached to push his fringe back, your chest nearly grazed his shoulder.

He stilled. You froze.

Then, in one ungraceful second, your foot slipped against the leg of the chair. Your balance tipped forward—too fast to catch. A small gasp escaped you as your knees bumped the edge, and suddenly you were no longer standing.

You landed on him.

Your hands flew to his shoulders to steady yourself, but it was too late—your body was already pressed against his, knees planted on either side of his lap, your faces just inches apart.

His breath ghosted across your cheek. Warm. Shaky.

Neither of you moved.

“Sorry—” you whispered, trying to push yourself back up.

But his hands had found your waist. Not tight, not holding, just there. Warm, grounding. And when your eyes met, something shifted.

“No—” he breathed, voice quieter than you’d ever heard. “Don’t move.”

Your breath caught.

“Felix—”

“I didn’t mind… I mean, it’s okay. I just…” His stammered.

You blinked at him, heart hammering, heat blooming across your chest and neck. You’d danced around this for weeks—maybe months.

The lingering stares, the way his smile always stretched wider when you were near. But this…

His hands were still on your waist. And for a moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was the low hum of a distant monitor and your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

Then, slowly, his fingers reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch barely grazing your skin. The motion was so gentle, so intimate, that it made your breath hitch. And the moment his hand dropped, his eyes widened—like he hadn’t realized what he was doing until it was already done.

“I—I didn’t mean to—sorry, that was—” he breathed, voice shaky.

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. His cologne wrapped around you like a net, grounding and dizzying all at once.

“I just—” he went on, swallowing, “God, I’m sorry.”

You stared down at him.

His face was already flushed pink, his eyes still locked on yours like he wasn’t sure if he should let go or pull you closer.

“I didn’t mind,” you said quietly.

He blinked.

“What?”

Your voice came out softer this time, more vulnerable. “I didn’t mind. That you touched my hair.”

“Really?” he asked.

You nodded.

He exhaled through a breathless laugh, like disbelief. “Because I’ve been trying not to do anything like that since you started.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you,” he said instantly. No hesitation. Just the truth.

“And I didn’t want to make things weird. But God, you’re always so close, and you’re so gentle, and I’m pretty sure I’ve started dreaming about the way you touch my hair—”

You kissed him.

Quick. Certain. Nothing intense, just a quiet yes to everything he’d just admitted.

His hands tightened on your hips, grounding himself. “Okay,” he whispered against your lips, dazed. “Yeah. That just happened.”

You laughed softly and brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. “It did.”

“I still need to finish your look,” you teased.

He grinned, pulling you even closer. “I think you just did.”

The silence was comforting this time. Not awkward but intimate.

Kim Seungmin (sunshine x grumpy)

When Chan invited you for a quiet weekend at his countryside farmhouse, you didn’t hesitate. It had been months since you last saw your best friend—too many midnight voice notes, too many “I miss you’s” with a sad emoji tacked on at the end. So you packed a bag and drove up that Friday evening, not even bothering to ask who else would be there. 

Chan had welcomed you in with the warmest hug and whispered, “Seungmin’s here. Try not to combust.”

You elbowed him, cheeks warm. “I don’t like him.”

“Sure,” he smirked.

Of course Seungmin was here. Still just as grumpy, still refusing to smile at your stupid jokes, still never calling you by your name—just “you” or “Chan’s friend.”

And yet, somehow, you still looked for him in every room.

By Saturday night, you were full of barbecue, three glasses into a fruity drink, and cozy in an oversized hoodie. Laughter buzzed through the warm-lit living room. Chan had pulled out board games and card decks, and Hyunjin tossed on a playlist. You and Seungmin had exchanged exactly four words since arriving: “Morning,” “Move” and “No, thanks”

After too many rounds of Mario Kart, Chan flopped onto the massive couch and clapped his hands. “Okay, new game. Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“Are we in high-school?” you and Seungmin said in perfect sync from opposite ends of the couch.

Everyone laughed, but Chan just wiggled his eyebrows. “Come on, you’re all cowards. It’ll be fun.”

Chan started spinning a bottle, and before you could sneak away, your name was called—followed by Seungmin’s.

The room howled.

You whipped around to Chan, whispering furiously, “You rigged that!”

“Did not,” he said with a very smug expression. “Enjoy.”

The closet—tucked in the corner of the master bedroom—was dim, a little too warm, and far too tight for two people. The door shut behind you with a soft click.

“I hate them,” Seungmin muttered, already looking up at the ceiling like it might offer a hatch out.

You nervously glanced around in the little space. You took a breath. “Wow. Cozy.”

“Not really,” he said flatly.

You smiled anyway. “I forgot how much fun you are at parties.”

His lips twitched. The smallest, smallest smirk.

Minutes passed. Maybe only one. Maybe ten. You didn’t know. The quiet between you felt heavier than the night sky outside.

Then—he spoke.

“You flew all this way just to see Chan?” he asked.

Your brows rose. “Yeah, why?”

“No reason,” he said immediately, then hesitated. “Just… wondering.”

You took a step closer, trying to read him. “Why do you always look at me like I annoy you, but then keep showing up in every room I’m in?”

His jaw flexed. “You don’t annoy me.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He pushed off the wall now, standing straighter, closer. “You’re… too much sometimes.”

You blinked. “Too much?”

“Too much sunshine. Too much sweetness. It gets under my skin.”

You smirked. “Good.”

He gave you a flat look. “This is ridiculous.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not.”

You grinned. “You are. It’s kind of cute.”

He glanced away, jaw tightening, but the pink in his cheeks betrayed him.

You leaned in just a little. “What’s wrong, Seungmin? Closet too small? Or is it just me that’s making you all flustered?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“You wound me,” you gasped, hand over your chest. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Yeah, well… maybe tone it down a little.”

You tilted your head. “But I thought I was ‘too much sweetness’ and ‘gets under your skin’—don’t tell me I’m growing on you.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I’m stuck in a closet with my longtime crush.”

Seungmin froze.

Your eyes widened. Crap. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

“…What?” he said after a beat, voice lower.

You scrambled. “I mean—not crush crush. I mean like, maybe. Possibly. Okay, definitely. For a long time. Like years-long. But you were always so—”

He took a step forward. You stopped babbling.

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you for a moment, then leaned in slightly, voice dry. “Chan told me you’d be here.”

“…Okay?”

“I’ve been trying to act normal since yesterday.”

“That was you acting normal?”

He smirked, just a little. “I don’t flirt like you do.”

“I don’t flirt—”

“Really?” he stepped closer, close enough that your breath caught. “Then what would you call this?”

You were backed against the shelf, heart in your throat, eyes flicking between his and his mouth. He braced one arm beside your head, gaze sharp.

“…Trouble,” you whispered.

He smirked again—wider this time. “Yeah. You’re trouble.”

And then, just before the timer outside buzzed, he kissed you.

Slow, deliberate, and nothing like the annoyed boy who always pretended you were too much.

When he pulled back, lips barely grazing yours, he whispered, “Next time, we skip the game.”

And when the door finally swung open to the cheering crowd, neither of you said a word—but the heat in your face said everything.

Yang Jeongin (brother's best friend)

You hadn’t seen Jeongin properly in almost a year—well you really haven’t seen him much since he’d debuted and got busy with his idol life. But when your brother casually mentioned, “Jeongin’s having a little dinner thing at his place. Just a few of us. You should come—it’s been forever.”  something fluttered in your chest that you tried very hard to ignore.

You’d crushed on him since you were probably twelve, back when he was just your brother’s slightly awkward best friend who always let you have the last slice of pizza. And now? Now he was I.N—idol, heartthrob, and the same boy who still texted your brother dumb memes at 2am.

You didn’t expect much when you arrived—just polite greetings, awkward small talk, maybe a few inside jokes that would go over your head. But when Jeongin opened the door…

Your heart did that stupid thing again.

He looked tired but beautiful, hoodie sleeves pushed up, the kind of soft glow that came from being around people he trusted. He looked mature now—fame-polished, confident, sharper around the edges—but you still saw glimpses of the boy who used to chase your brother through your backyard, who used to steal popsicles from your freezer and grin like he won the lottery.

“Hey,” he smiled, eyes flickering over your face for a second too long. “Didn’t know you were coming.”

“My brother dragged me,” you said lightly.

Jeongin tilted his head, still holding the door open. “Good. I’m glad you’re here.”

The dinner was casual, cozy. Laughter echoed through the apartment, plates clinked, and stories flowed like old times. But something about the way Jeongin kept glancing at you when your brother wasn’t looking—when he refilled your drink before anyone else’s, when your knees accidentally touched under the table and he didn’t move away—it felt like you weren’t imagining it anymore.

It wasn’t until later—when everyone was a little too full and a little too tipsy and began playing loud music—that you slipped away to find some quiet. 

The bathroom was unlocked, thankfully, and you slipped in, locking the door behind you. Only to turn around and freeze.

“Oh?” you exhaled.

Jeongin stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed, he was startled to see you too.

You nodded, suddenly too aware of the small space, the way the air felt heavier between you two. You both stood there in silence, not quite looking at each other. You should leave, your mind said. Step out, apologise, pretend this didn’t feel like something.

But for some reason… you stayed.

His gaze flicked to you, then away. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just… needed a break from all the noise,” you said softly. “Didn’t think I’d find you here too.”

He gave a half-smile. “Yeah, well. Guess we’re still in sync.” Then he shifted. “I didn’t think you’d actually come tonight.”

You shrugged, trying to ignore the way your hands felt clammy. “Yeah, well. My brother can be pretty persuasive.”

Jeongin smiled, then glanced down, almost bashful. For a second, he looked like the boy you remembered—the one who got flustered when you caught him singing in your garage.

You stepped back, “I’ll find somewhere else—”

You were about to step toward the door when he suddenly reached out and caught your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned, startled by the contact. His hand was warm around your wrist, gentle but firm enough to make you pause.

His voice was quiet. Earnest. “How long are we gonna pretend we’re not dying to be with each other?”

Your stomach flipped.

You looked away, jaw tight. “My brother would never agree.”

He chuckled—soft, humorless. “Your brother doesn’t get to decide who I want.”

“Innie,” you warned.

He locked the door behind him.

“Innie?” he echoed, teasing. “You haven’t called me that in a while.”

You froze. “Jeongin—”

“I know. Your brother would kill me.” His voice was lower now, almost a whisper. “But it’s driving me insane, pretending I don’t feel something every time you walk into a room.”

He stepped in. Close. Too close.

“I thought I was imagining it,” he said, finally looking at you. “But the way you look at me sometimes... it doesn’t feel one-sided.”

“It’s not,” you whispered.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, voice rough.

He pinned you to the counter so easily you couldn’t think straight.

He stepped even more closer before saying quietly. “If I kissed you right now, would you push me away?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you closed the space between you, barely a breath apart. And whispered, “I should.”

“But you won’t,” he said, voice hoarse.

“No,” you breathed, “I won’t.”

And then he kissed you—soft, hesitant at first, like he knew the line he was crossing. But when your fingers curled into his hoodie and he pulled you closer, you both forgot everything but the feeling of finally, finally not pretending.

----------------

Permanent Taglist:

@kaiyaba @lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @notmedina127 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @beabidoobee @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346

Forced Proximity Trope Taglist:

@4ng3l-ch1ld @dolphin-scream-s

[writethrough]

I Know Better

(Billy Hargrove x Female Reader)

Synopsis: You've heard every rumor about Billy Hargrove—from the girls, the guys, the teachers, the parents—it never interested you all that much. Until one of those pesky rumors involved you.

Warnings: Language, slut-shaming

Word Count: 1396

A/N: This is the first stop on the apology tour for everyone who's sent me in a request. It's been a year for some of you, and I'm so sorry and grateful for your patience.

I had a really hard time starting this in the sense that I had so many ideas, but none of them fit with this prompt. So, it took me a while to settle on the story I wanted to tell. I had to stop thinking about this as a “Billy is mean to everyone” fic, and start considering it a “You are Billy’s soft spot” fic. It had to be a “How is he different because of you?” And then it sort of clicked.  

This is a sort of soft-launch to a larger something. I'm not sure if it will turn into a full multi-part fic or just spontaneous additions in this little fanfic universe.

And to the anon who requested this, Tumblr ate your request when I tried saving it to my drafts, so I really, really hope you come across it.

I hope you enjoy!

Anon Request: “Another Billy request idea is “he’s mean as fuck to everyone but me

"Like??? Maybe I need to go to therapy but the hard as stone exterior on that boy and the thought of him being sweet as pie to his girl makes me mush” 

Moodboard by @saradika

Billy Hargrove never scared you. 

Not even in high school when all you heard about was his bark and bite and overall terrible attitude. 

You didn’t cross paths often, surprisingly so with how small Hawkins was, but sometimes you’d get glimpses of him against his locker or waiting by his car. 

You still remembered the time he pulled in beside you as you were shutting your door. 

Max had waved at you before rushing off to the middle school. Then, Billy had slowly risen, lighting a cigarette in the process, and locked eyes with you. 

He greeted you by name, a lazy smile spreading across his lips, and sauntered away. 

You had replayed that morning for the next two weeks, stunned that he knew your name let alone gave you the time of day. 

It was a month or two afterward when you actually witnessed Billy at his worst. 

You weren’t there for the start, but you had turned a corner in the halls and were met with other students gawking at a fight. 

You shoved your way between teenagers, intent to get to your class before the bell rang when that mullet stopped you. 

Billy had been looming over Roger, the school’s very own sleazy douchebag. 

In your mind, whatever that prick had said or done, he absolutely deserved the consequences Billy was doling out. 

You were about to continue walking when Billy leaned in closer to him with a tilt of his head. And until that point, you didn’t know that gesture could be so menacing. 

“Wanna say that again?” 

Your brows pulled in confusion. 

What could Roger have said that made Billy so furious? 

It must have been some insult, something that cut right to whatever insecurities Billy hid from the world. You really couldn’t imagine what he’d be self-conscious about. To you, Billy was the epitome of confidence. 

Billy’s eyes caught your shoes, and you swore his shoulders tensed. He trailed up your body and met your gaze, grinding his teeth. 

He slowly straightened, and without another word, stormed out of the building. 

Mrs. Click finally arrived and disbanded everyone and helped Roger to the nurse’s office. 

Your last class was full of whispered theories and passing notes. 

I heard he keyed Billy’s car. 

No, Billy definitely slept with the chick Roger was eyeing up. 

Could’ve sworn I heard Roger call some girl a slut-in-the-making. 

The day couldn’t have been over soon enough. 

At least it was the weekend, and in a month, you’d be graduating. 

You were walking to your car, sun in your eyes, and didn’t see Billy leaning against it until you were too close to pretend you forgot something to head back inside. 

“Hey,” he said, putting out his cigarette. 

“Hi,” you said slowly, gripping your backpack strap. 

“You okay?” His hands slipped in his pockets. 

Your furrowed your brow. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” 

He chuckled. “Fair enough.” 

He pushed off your car and took a few steps toward you. 

It was really the first chance you had to take in how blue his eyes were. And while normally you’d look away as you held each other's gaze, something planted you where you stood. 

He had the barest of smirks, so slight that you’d dare call it a smile. 

“If I said I wasn’t alright, would you agree to hang out tomorrow?” he asked. 

You let out a surprised laugh and glanced down. This was the first conversation you’d ever had with Billy, and he was asking you out. 

This was probably how he operated. He’d set his sights on some girl, give them that eat-you-alive smirk, and you’d wake up alone Sunday morning without even a note saying “bye.” 

But even with all that, your curiosity won out. So you made a deal. 

“Tell me what that was all about, and I’ll be there.” 

There was a flash of anger, but you didn’t think it was toward you. Leftover feelings for whatever happened no doubt. Then, he softened in a way you had never seen before. 

“I’ll pick you up at six,” he said, beginning to walk away. He turned around before he could get too far. “Don’t bring a jacket.” 

“Why?” You couldn’t help your smile. 

“You’ll have mine.” 

The cocky grin would’ve been irritating with anyone else, but Billy’s was endearing. 

You drove home with a stupid smile plastered on your face, and you stayed that way until Billy rapped on your door. 

— 

That Saturday night, he tried to breeze past his altercation. Until you leveled him with a sincere look and said his name. 

He had leaned back in the booth, ripping his remaining fries in pieces to distract himself. 

“He pissed me off,” Billy said, still maintaining his gruffness. 

“I figured as much,” you said gently. You knew if he sensed anything else, you wouldn’t get any answers. 

He huffed, glancing at you before returning to his basket of food. 

“The prick said somethin’ he shouldn’t have.” He shrugged. “I told him as much.” 

You nodded slowly, narrowing your eyes in thought. Billy wasn’t know to beat around the bush. He said what he thought, and you kind of admired that about him. Even if that got him in trouble. But the way he wasn’t maintaining eye contact when that was his favorite way to throw someone off guard was suspicious. He was hiding something, of course, but it felt more than hiding something from you alone. 

You took a shot in the dark. 

“Are you…Are you not telling me what he said because it was about me?” 

His jaw clenched and hands stopped. 

So, that was it. Roger had said something nasty about you, and for whatever reason, Billy took it upon himself to…defend your honor? 

But why? 

And what could it have been to make Billy react like that? You hardly knew each other. 

You inhaled deeply. “Okay. Tell me what he said.” 

“You don’t need to hear his bullshit.” He met your gaze, steady and stern. You wanted to slap your chest to keep your heart from skipping. 

“Billy,” you started, “I promise whatever he said isn’t going to affect me. I just want to know why you had him on the ground.” 

At this point, you had dissociated from high school and the people in it. All that mattered was graduation. 

“What does it matter?” His tone came out more harsh than you anticipated, but the way his face pinched told you he didn’t mean for it to happen. 

You leaned on the table. “Because I’ve had a really nice time so far. And as much as I appreciate you standing up for me. If you wanna continue this,” you gestured between you both, “you can’t beat the shit outta people.” 

“You wanna go out again?” His eyebrows rose slightly, and your cheeks warmed. 

Of course, that was what he took away. 

“Billy,” you warned playfully. 

“Alright,” he sighed. “He caught me starin’ at you a few times. Said your legs were locked shut, but I could probably get them open.” 

You scrunched up your nose. You knew Roger had to have said something vulgar, but you were more surprised it was about you then the actual content. 

“Okay. Was that all?” Sure, it was gross, but that didn’t seem like something Billy would lose his shit over. 

“That happened last week,” he admitted. “Told him to shut the hell up, and I thought that was that.” He shifted in his seat. “Guess he saw you lookin’ at me and he started callin’ you names. And then I hit’im.” 

Names.  

You could hazard a guess what names he called you. Probably the same ones he called every other female who didn’t wanna sleep with him. Ones that would describe him more than you. 

You reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. 

“Thank you for telling me,” you said. “And I need you to know, I don’t give a single fuck what that dipshit thinks.” 

He chuckled, putting his hand on top of yours. 

“So, that mean a second date is in the books?” he asked. 

“Like I said, only if you don’t punch someone when they say something you don’t like,” you said, hoping your face conveyed how serious you were. 

He leaned his elbows on the table. 

“I was thinkin’ a movie for next time.” 

Taglist: @bookshelf-dust, @steph-speaks, @nix-rose, @ballerina-orchid, @realmermaidariel

If you’d like to be added to any taglists, please comment or message me with the character you’d like updates on. 

[bu3ck3r]

tied together – part 2

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 7k

a/n: okay part 2 is finally here! thank you for all the kind words about part 1 i love yall fr. after you read spam my inbox and tell me how was it and what you want to see next in this series because that would help me finish writing it faster🩵

tied together – masterlist

paige’s pov:

there were three different air vents in the ceiling above paige’s bed, and she’d been staring at them long enough to map out their pattern in her head. she could hear the soft hum of the central air unit kicking on and off, a quiet rhythm that should’ve been comforting. should’ve put her to sleep. but it didn’t.

nika was snoring lightly in the other bed. arm slung over her stomach. unaware that her friend was drowning in a mess of memories, nerves, and someone she couldn’t stop thinking about.

paige rolled over again. the clock on the nightstand glared at her in burning red: 3:05 am.

she wanted to scream.

instead, she pressed her face into the pillow, muffling a frustrated groan. her legs tangled in the hotel sheets, which had somehow gotten too hot despite the air conditioning. she threw them off and sat up, scrubbing her hands over her face. her chest was tight again.

not the post-game adrenaline. not soreness.

azzi.

always azzi.

her name had been playing on a loop in paige’s mind since the final buzzer. since that short conversation they shared just off the court—tense and quiet and loaded with everything paige had been trying to suppress since their last goodbye. since the last time she kissed her in the backseat of her car with trembling hands and didn’t say anything afterward. since she found out azzi committed to south carolina in a headline instead of a phone call.

what azzi had said to her after the game kept echoing in her head:

“i don’t know if it’s too late.”

it felt like it might be. felt like they’d crossed whatever line you don’t come back from. not because of the game. not even because of the school decisions. it was everything in between. the silence. the missed chances. the way they’d let pride fill the space where honesty should’ve lived.

she ran her hands down her face, frustrated. it wasn’t supposed to go like this.

they were supposed to rise together. be legendary together. win together. lose together.

instead? they had become a story people whispered about. “paige and azzi would’ve been inseparable if they played together.”

now they were rivals.

she should’ve said more. in the tunnel. when azzi stood there looking torn between biting her head off and reaching out. paige had seen it—the war behind her eyes. she could read azzi like a damn book. could always tell when she was bluffing. when she was hurt.

tonight, azzi had been both.

and paige had let her walk away.

again.

and now here she was—three in the morning, sitting in a hotel bed , not an ounce of sleep in her body, and one very real urge building like wildfire in her chest.

she reached over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone, squinting against the light as she unlocked it.

her thumb hovered over azzi’s name.

they hadn’t texted in months. not since before azzi announced she was going to sc. not since paige stopped replying altogether. there were so many almost-messages saved in the drafts: little check-ins, late-night thoughts, deleted love letters.

she hovered her fingers over the keyboard. started typing. deleted. tried again.

are you still awake?

she stared at it.

didn’t send it.

she started typing again, like she had a thousand times.

i miss you.

just those three words.

she stared at them. read them over. read them again. her heart thumped like it was trying to break out of her chest.

then, like always, she deleted it.

she couldn’t do this through a screen.

not anymore.

she was out of bed five minutes later.

slipping her phone into the hoodie pocket. moving slow to not wake nika. she slid on her uconn slides and crept into the hallway with her hoodie pulled tight around her, the strings bouncing against her chest.

the hallway was dim and silent, except for the low sound of vending machines and the soft, faraway sound of an elevator ding.

paige walked past room after room, carpet muffling her footsteps.

room 350.

she remembered the number because she’d seen it on a clipboard earlier that day when the teams checked in. she was signing some form in the hotel lobby and caught the room assignments. her eyes had skimmed the page, heart skipping when she saw bueckers – 250 right above fudd – 350.

she told herself it was coincidence she saw it. she told herself she wasn’t trying to remember.

but here she was.

standing in front of it.

she hesitated, staring at the door like they held the answer to smthing she didn’t know how to ask.

paige closed her eyes for a second. her hand trembled as she raised it. she knocked.

the door opened fast—like azzi had been standing right behind it.

maybe she had.

and there she was.

azzi.

hair messy. hoodie oversized. barefoot.

she froze when she saw paige.

neither of them said anything for a second.

then azzi leaned against the doorframe, blinking like she wasn’t sure if this was real or just something her brain had conjured up from exhaustion.

azzi’s pov:

the room was too cold, but azzi refused to get under the covers. she’d been sitting alone upright in bed for nearly an hour, hoodie on, legs crossed, just… thinking.

not about the game.

about her.

about the way paige had looked when their eyes met across the court again. like she hadn’t aged a day and yet somehow carried years in her expression. about the way her voice cracked when she said, “i don’t know if it’s too late.”

that moment replayed in her mind over and over, like a skipped record.

azzi had pretended to be fine all day. laughed with her teammates, took pictures with fans, smiled for the cameras. but she hadn’t been fine in months.

not since that night paige stopped answering.

not since she chose herself and sc and left paige behind—and paige didn’t fight for her.

azzi had her phone in her lap, paige’s contact open on the screen, but her fingers refused to move. her pride refused to reach out first. again.

she was just about to shut it off when the knock came.

it wasn’t loud. but she knew. somehow, before she even looked through the peephole. she knew.

she pulled open the door fast, heart already thudding in her chest.

and there she was.

paige.

hair messy. eyes tired. mouth parted like she didn’t know what to say.

azzi stepped aside without a word.

paige stood just inside the doorway, her hand still curled around the strap of her hoodie like she wasn’t sure she was staying. her eyes swept the room—messy bed,few azzi’s tshirts hanging halfway off the chair—but she didn’t comment. she just looked… tired. unsteady. like showing up at 3am hadn’t been impulsive at all, but something she’d been fighting herself over all night.

paige swallowed. “hey.”

azzi’s voice was a whisper. “paige it’s 3 a.m.”

“i know.”

another pause.

azzi tilted her head slightly. “you came all the way up here just to stare at me?”

“i wasn’t done,” paige said, her voice low. “back there. in the tunnel.”

azzi looked away. “you were right not to be.”

there was a beat. a breath.

then paige stepped forward.

“look, i don’t know what the hell we’re doing anymore. but i’m tired of pretending like this doesn’t still mess me up.”

azzi didn’t say anything, but her eyes softened. just a little.

paige kept going.

“i messed up. i didn’t call when i should’ve. i didn’t fight for us when i should’ve. and maybe that’s on me. but i need you to know…” she trailed off, swallowing hard. “it wasn’t because i stopped caring.”

azzi blinked slowly, her arms folding tighter across her chest. “it felt like it.”

“i know.”

more silence.

the hallway was still. the only sound was paige’s heartbeat thudding against her ribs.

then azzi stepped aside, just enough for paige to walk past her.

just enough to let her in.

and paige did.

she doesn’t say anything when paige steps inside. the door closes with a soft click, like the quiet has finally wrapped around them and won’t let go.

azzi leans back against it, watching as paige walks a few steps into the room—like she’s unsure whether she’s allowed to belong here.

the space between them is maybe five feet, but it feels like ten miles.

“nice room,” paige says, her voice low, teasing by instinct but without bite.

azzi doesn’t laugh. just gives her a slow once-over. hair tousled. hoodie sleeves tugged over her hands. eyes tired but too alive for this hour.

“you’re bold,” azzi finally says. “for showing up here.”

paige shrugs. “you didn’t slam the door.”

“didn’t mean i was ready to talk.”

“you didn’t look ready to not talk either.”

silence again.

the adrenaline from the game, the tunnel, paige’s sudden appearance—it’s all still buzzing under azzi’s skin.

“you want to sit?” azzi asked quietly, voice low so it didn’t carry down the hallway. “or…?”

“yeah.” paige exhaled. “yeah, i just—couldn’t sleep.”

azzi moved toward the bed and sat cross-legged near the top, motioning for her to sit. paige took the far edge, careful like she was afraid to sink too far into the mattress. the air between them stretched, tight and quiet.

she doesn’t know what she wants more: to scream at her, or to lie next to her and pretend nothing ever changed.

“you really think showing up like this fixes it?” azzi asks quietly.

paige doesn’t answer right away.

“no,” she says. “but i think it’s a start.”

“i kept thinking about what you said,” paige said after a beat. “or what you didn’t say.”

azzi swallowed. “in the tunnel?”

paige nodded.

“it’s not that simple,” azzi said. “it never was.”

“i didn’t ask for simple.” paige’s voice was soft, but not weak. “i just want to know if it’s too late.”

azzi looked at her. really looked. the same loose blonde hair, the same tired eyes, the same little freckle under her lip she used to stare at when paige would lean in close and pretend they were “just friends.”

“it felt like you gave up,” azzi whispered.

paige flinched. “you left.”

“you ghosted me.”

“you didn’t call.”

azzi laughed, bitter. “you think committing to south carolina was about you?”

paige blinked. “wasn’t it?”

azzi’s breath caught. she turned away, stared at the lamp on the desk. “i couldn’t be in your shadow, paige. not forever. not when i was trying to figure out who i even was.”

“i never wanted you in my shadow.”

“you didn’t have to want it. it just happened.”

silence again.

paige shifted on the bed. “so we just… stop talking? after everything?”

azzi didn’t answer.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

azzi hasn’t moved since she sat down. paige doesn’t know what to do with her hands. her mouth. her entire body.

“you looked good out there,” she says, trying to break the silence again. “you always do, but… tonight especially.”

azzi looks up at her with a dry, unimpressed expression. “compliments now?”

“too soon?”

“try ‘not helpful.’”

paige nods, tries to laugh it off, but it dies quickly.

“i miss you,” she blurts, before she can stop herself.

azzi freezes.

the air shifts.

“you don’t get to say that like it’s easy,” azzi says slowly.

“i’m not trying to make it easy. i’m trying to be honest.”

“where was that honesty few months ago?” her voice is sharp, but not loud. controlled. the way azzi always was—even when she was breaking.

paige doesn’t flinch. “i was scared.”

“of what? me?”

“of choosing you and losing the rest.”

azzi stands up suddenly. “so you didn’t choose me, and you lost me anyway.”

the words hang in the air like smoke from a slow fire. dangerous. choking.

paige walks closer. not enough to touch. just enough to be in range.

“i didn’t know what i was doing. i thought we’d have more time.”

azzi shakes her head. “we had the time. you just… didn’t show up.”

paige leaned back on her hands, voice lighter, more teasing now: “we were definitely more than friends. i still remember the backseat of my car in december.”

azzi raised an eyebrow. “we were cold.”

“oh, right. that’s why your hands were under my shirt.”

“you weren’t complaining.”

paige smirked. “i’m not now.”

and just like that, the air changed again. warmer. more dangerous.

azzi looked at her, studying the soft curve of her mouth, the way her eyes held hers like a dare. like she was testing how far she could push before something cracked.

“you always did this,” azzi said. “made it a joke before it got too real.”

paige’s expression faltered. “it was real.”

“then why didn’t you fight for me?”

azzi didn’t mean to say it like that. but it was too late to take it back.

“i wanted you to fight,” she added, quieter now. “to come after me. even just once.”

paige stared at her. “you think i didn’t want to?”

“you didn’t.”

“i was hurt.”

“so was i.”

paige looked down at her lap, fingers twisting together. “we were scared.”

azzi nodded. “we still are.”

neither of them moved for a long time.

then paige looked up, slow, like the weight of every memory was pulling her gaze. “i missed you,” she whispered.

azzi swallowed hard. “i missed you too.”

there was a pull. invisible, magnetic. paige inched closer, her knees brushing azzi’s now. her eyes were soft, unreadable. but azzi knew that look. that was the look that used to undo her in long car rides and quiet corners at tournaments where no one was looking.

she should’ve looked away.

but she didn’t.

and paige leaned in.

just close enough that azzi could feel her breath.

“i shouldn’t,” azzi said.

“you don’t want to?”

paige’s voice was quiet, but it wasn’t a question. not really.

azzi’s heart beat too loud in her chest. “that’s not the same thing.”

usa basketball u16 women’s national team

it was after curfew one night during fiba women’s americas championship in argentina. they were buzzing on adrenaline and the quiet hush of a hotel where everyone else was asleep.

paige had crept into azzi’s room, just like this. hoodie half-zipped, socks mismatched. she had laid down beside her on the bed like it was the most natural thing in the world.

they talked for hours. about fear, pressure and carrying the weight of a country on their shoulders. paige had this soft way of looking at her—like she saw the good parts azzi tried to hide under perfection.

then paige reached out and touched her hand, so gentle. their fingers curled together. and azzi had leaned in first that night.

their first kiss was quiet. unpracticed. but it burned in azzi’s memory like scripture.

the next morning, they never talked about it. but everything changed.

paige nodded slowly. “it was real, though. right? we weren’t just friends.”

azzi huffed a soft laugh. “friends don’t make out in hotel elevators.”

“or in the back of your mom’s car.”

“or sneak into each other’s rooms during usa basketball.”

they looked at each other.

and smiled. the kind of smile that held too much weight behind it.

october 2021

they were on the rooftop of some building, sneakers kicked off, music low. the stars were hiding behind a thick gray haze, but they didn’t care.

azzi was leaning against her shoulder, paige’s hoodie pulled over both of them like a tent.

“you ever think we’ll get sick of each other?” azzi asked.

paige laughed. “you’d miss me in, like, two days.”

“two hours,” azzi corrected with a smile.

there had been no doubt back then. just this quiet, loud certainty. the way you just knew when you were with the right person—even if the world didn’t make space for it.

azzi traced circles on paige’s hand. “don’t leave.”

“i won’t.”

both of them did.

paige leaned back against the headboard. “you remember the night when we went out on the roof?” she asked, voice low.

“oh my god,” azzi laughed. “you had me wrapped in your hoodie like that was gonna make us invisible.”

“you were cold,” paige said with a shrug. “and also… you looked cute in it.”

azzi turned to her, eyes playful. “so you admit it. you were down bad.”

“yeah whatever, but you know what else i remember,” paige said, voice soft. “usa basketball u16. you kissed me and then you wouldn’t look at me the next day.”

azzi laughed under her breath. “i was freaking out.”

“you still do that, kiss me and then disappear.”

azzi bit her lip. “and you still let me.”

paige turned her body slightly, resting her weight on one elbow.

they were quiet again. but not the heavy kind. this was lighter. fragile.

“i kissed you first that night,” azzi said. “and i kept waiting for you to say something after. like, ‘tell me what it meant’. but you didn’t.”

paige looked away, shame crawling up her spine. “i didn’t know how. i was scared.”

“of what?”

“that if i said i loved you, you wouldn’t say it back.”

azzi was quiet.

and then she said, “i would’ve.”

the words hung in the room like a heartbeat.

azzi’s hands are clenched at her sides, and she can feel the war happening in her chest—part of her wants to yell, part of her wants to cry, and part of her just wants to fall into paige’s hoodie and pretend nothing changed.

“you broke my heart,” azzi says. quiet. not accusing. not soft. just true.

“i know.”

“and you waited until you lost to come here and say it?”

“i didn’t come because we lost.” paige looks right at her. “i came because i couldn’t leave town knowing i hadn’t looked you in the eye and told you everything i never said.”

azzi’s eyes start to sting. she blinks hard.

“i was angry,” she says. “for a long time.”

“you should’ve been.”

“and i hated you for a little while.”

paige doesn’t flinch.

“but mostly,” azzi says, her voice almost breaking, “i just missed you.”

they’re lying on the bed now, not touching, but close enough that their pinkies brush every time one of them breathes too deep.

it’s quiet.

their voices are tired. their eyes are heavier.

“i used to rehearse it,” paige says softly. “what i’d say to you if i got the chance.”

“yeah?”

“it never went like this.”

azzi smiles, faintly. “same.”

azzi looked over at paige, really looked at her. blonde hair messy, eyes bloodshot but glowing in the low light, hoodie drowning her frame.

she looked tired, but beautiful.

azzi shifted. “what do we do now?”

paige looked up. “what do you want to do?”

azzi hesitated.

paige’s eyes softened, and then she said it—just barely louder than a whisper.

“come here.”

the kiss came slow.

no rush. no adrenaline.

azzi leaned forward first, hands trembling just a little, and paige met her halfway. their mouths pressed together in something warm, something real. it was a kiss built on months of silence, years of closeness, and all the things they never said.

when they pulled apart, neither of them moved. they stayed forehead-to-forehead, breathing the same breath.

“i can’t do this if we’re gonna pretend it’s nothing again,” paige whispered.

azzi nodded. “me neither.”

“then let’s figure out how to be something. just… not tonight.”

“tonight,” azzi murmured, “i just want you to stay right here.”

another long silence. but this one isn’t heavy. not quite. it’s almost… suspended. like the night hasn’t decided whether it’s heartbreak or healing.

paige finally turns toward her. “do you think we could start over?”

azzi doesn’t answer right away.

instead, she reaches up and gently tucks a loose curl behind paige’s ear. her fingers linger, and for a second—just one—paige leans into the touch.

“i don’t want to start over,” azzi says. “i want us to keep going.”

“but we’re not the same.”

“no,” azzi agrees. “but maybe that’s not the worst thing.”

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

they’d moved under the covers at some point. not touching. not kissing. just talking.

about everything.

about how paige felt like the injury had turned her into a ghost and how she didn’t want azzi to see her fading.

about how azzi cried on the plane to south carolina, because she realized she didn’t know how to build a life without paige in it.

4:45 a.m.

they’re still awake when the first light slips through the blinds.

azzi’s head is on paige’s shoulder now. paige’s fingers trace lazy patterns on her wrist.

they haven’t said the word love all night.

but it’s everywhere.

in the silences. in the unfinished sentences. in the way neither of them asked the other to leave.

they don’t know what tomorrow looks like. whether anything really got solved. whether this is just nostalgia wearing a disguise.

but for now—for this hour—it’s enough.

just them.

just paige and azzi.

and the space between them finally closing.

6.00 a.m.

paige doesn’t remember falling asleep. she only remembers the feeling of azzi’s breath warm against her neck, her name spoken softly in the dark, like an invitation and a promise all at once.

now, it’s morning.

the harsh kind. not soft and easy like in movies, where the light’s always golden and perfect. it’s gray, a little cold, and the sheets are tangled at their feet. her mouth is dry, her heart full of things she can’t quite articulate. she’s lying there in azzi’s bed, still wearing her hoodie from the night. everything about the situation feels like a careful balance, and paige isn’t sure how to breathe without making the whole thing fall apart.

azzi’s still asleep next to her, tucked against her side like a piece of her is trying to anchor itself in the moment. her hand is draped over paige’s ribcage, fingers just barely brushing the fabric of the hoodie, but the touch feels intimate, grounding.

it’s too early. too much. too real. paige doesn’t know how to walk this line between regret and longing.

she turns her head slightly, watching azzi’s face. the peacefulness there is so different from what’s been between them for years. paige doesn’t know what to do with the softness.

“i could stay here forever”, she thinks, but the world won’t let her.

azzi stirs beside her, shifts in the bed. the blanket moves slightly, and for a second, paige thinks she might slip into sleep again. but then azzi opens her eyes, blinking slowly as if she doesn’t quite understand where she is.

when their gazes meet, there’s something fragile there, something unspoken. but neither of them says a word.

the tension between them isn’t angry or distant—it’s something else. something too fragile to touch, but impossible to ignore.

azzi finally clears her throat. “you steal the covers even in your sleep.”

paige chuckles softly, though it’s awkward. “you drool on your pillow.”

azzi’s lips twitch, but it’s a strained smile. “good to know you’re paying attention.”

paige’s heart beats a little faster, but she can’t tell if it’s from the teasing or the something heavy still hanging in the air. she shifts slightly, her arm brushing against azzi’s. neither of them pulls away.

they’re caught in this moment—too close to run, too far to hide. but neither of them wants to break it just yet.

the silence between them stretches on, and this time, it doesn’t feel as comfortable. the clock is ticking. the day is waiting, and paige doesn’t know how to start the conversation. how to untangle everything they’ve left unsaid.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

azzi pokes at her fruit, trying to ignore the strange sense of familiarity she’s feeling in this moment. she doesn’t want to feel comfortable. not yet. she doesn’t want to admit that the night before—whatever it was—mattered.

paige is sitting across from her, picking at a muffin like she’s doing her best to pretend this isn’t an awkward situation. but the air between them feels too soft for the usual easy banter they’re used to.

azzi stirs her coffee with more force than necessary, watching paige out of the corner of her eye. it’s too early for this, too raw. she doesn’t want to say anything that could make this harder than it already is.

but paige’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “i think that dude’s trying to figure out if i’m kidnapping you or something.”

azzi raises an eyebrow, glancing toward the table where one of the south carolina coaching staff is watching them. “you’re not that charming.”

“you let me walk you down here,” paige says, her voice quieter now.

azzi takes a deep breath, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. “that was pity.”

“that was longing, and you know it.”

azzi doesn’t laugh. just stares at paige, feeling that familiar tension—pulling her closer and pushing her away at the same time.

“can we just… not?” azzi says, her voice quieter, more serious than she intended. “we both know what’s happened. we can’t pretend it’ll be easy.”

“i’m not pretending,” paige says softly, her eyes not meeting azzi’s. “but it’s still real.”

azzi’s heart skips a beat. real. what does that even mean now?

she looks away, trying to steady herself. “we both have things we have to deal with,” azzi mutters.

there’s no more laughter between them, just the sound of soft clinking as they finish their meals, neither one willing to speak more than they already have.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

azzi has no reason to be back at the hotel.

she has practice soon. she’s supposed to be with her team. but something about the morning makes her feel restless—an itch she can’t scratch, a question she can’t answer.

she ends up in front of paige’s hotel room door, her hand poised to knock.

but before she can do anything, the door opens, and there’s paige—hair still damp from her shower.

azzi’s heart skips a beat. she doesn’t know why she’s here. she doesn’t even have a good reason for it. it’s just that this feels like the place she’s supposed to be.

“oh,” paige says, her voice startled. “i didn’t think i’d see you.”

azzi shrugs, playing it off. “just thought i’d stop by. no big deal.”

“right.” paige looks at her for a long moment, her gaze soft but unreadable. “are you sure you’re not just trying to make me lose my focus?”

azzi shrugs again, like it’s nothing. but something shifts between them, something unspoken and heavy. neither of them knows how to move past this, but neither of them wants to walk away either.

“i don’t know what you want from me, azzi,” paige finally says, her voice quieter now, like she’s afraid to speak louder and break whatever fragile hold they still have. “i never meant for any of this to get… so complicated.”

azzi’s eyes flicker, caught off guard by the raw honesty in paige’s voice. she’s not sure how to respond. what do you say when everything you’ve been holding in for so long suddenly threatens to pour out?

“i just thought…” azzi starts, her voice trailing off as she looks at paige, trying to find the right words. “i just thought we could pretend it didn’t happen.”

paige laughs softly, but there’s no humor in it. “i wish. i really do. but you can’t unfeel something like this.”

azzi steps into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. the air between them feels thick now, charged in a way that’s both terrifying and thrilling. she doesn’t know what she’s doing here, doesn’t know why she came, but she knows she doesn’t want to leave yet. not without saying something, anything, to ease the ache that’s settled in her chest.

“i didn’t come here to mess things up,” azzi says, a little too quickly. “i just… i just wanted to talk to you. to make sure you’re okay.”

paige stares at her for a long moment, like she’s trying to figure out if azzi’s telling the truth or just hiding behind words. finally, paige sighs, her shoulders sagging with a weariness azzi can feel in her own bones.

“i’m not okay,” paige admits quietly. “but i will be. i’ll figure it out.”

azzi watches her, heart aching. she takes a step forward, not sure what to say next, but she’s so close now that she can hear the unsteady rhythm of paige’s breath. she could kiss her again. she could lean in and make it all feel better, if only for a few seconds. but something tells her that would just make it worse.

“you can’t do this alone, you know,” azzi says, her voice soft but firm.

paige meets her gaze, and for a second, there’s a flicker of something—hope, maybe?—but it’s gone before azzi can name it.

“i know,” paige whispers. “but i have to figure it out on my own. i can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.”

azzi steps back, letting the silence fall between them again. she didn’t expect things to be easy, didn’t expect her to just open up and make it all okay. but she hadn’t expected this, either—the feeling of knowing the space between them is widening, and that there’s no easy way to bridge it.

for a moment, neither of them says anything.

“i should go,” azzi says finally, though her voice cracks a little.

paige doesn’t stop her, doesn’t say anything. she just watches her walk toward the door, her face unreadable.

when azzi reaches the door, she pauses, hand on the knob. “paige, whatever happens, don’t forget… i’m still here. even if you don’t want me to be.”

paige doesn’t respond. she just looks at her, and azzi can feel her heart breaking in the silence that stretches between them.

pov: paige

paige steps onto the uconn bus with a heavy heart, taking a seat by the window and staring out at the world as it blurs by. the morning still feels like a haze—azzi’s voice lingering in her mind, her smile, her words.

they’re gone now. she’s gone.

but the ache is still there.

as the bus rolls down the road, the last few hours replay in paige’s head: the kiss, the awkward breakfast, azzi standing in front of her hotel room, her soft admission that she wasn’t okay.

paige closes her eyes, trying to focus on something, anything, that isn’t the hole inside her chest where azzi used to be.

“i can’t keep doing this”, she thinks, but even as she tells herself that, she knows it’s not true. she’s already too far gone. and no matter how many times she tells herself to move on, to let it go, the feelings won’t fade. they never do.

she lets her phone buzz in her hand—another notification, another distraction. but when she looks at it, it’s just a text from ice:

you good?

paige doesn’t respond right away. she lets the silence fill her for a moment before tapping out a reply:

yeah, just thinking.

and she is. thinking about the kiss, about the unspoken words, about what it means to have something real slip through her fingers when she wasn’t ready to let it go.

paige stares out the window and lets the silence settle around her like armor.

there’s a text draft open on her phone.

i think i’ve always known it was you.

she doesn’t hit send.

but she doesn’t delete it either.

the bus ride back to the airport had been long, quiet, and almost suffocating. paige couldn’t stop replaying everything that had happened the night before, azzi’s words, the soft pressure of her lips—everything was too vivid, too sharp. it’s as if the whole world paused for a moment when they were together.

but then, in the quiet of the morning they said their goodbyes and azzi had left.

paige knows she has to focus. the team needs her. the game is over, but there’s still practice, still the road ahead, still the tournament. but right now, she doesn’t want to focus on any of it.

her phone buzzes, again,text from ice:

yo, did something happened? you seem a lil off.

paige sighs, her fingers hesitating over the keys before she replies:

just tired. we’ll talk later.

she’s not sure what to say. she can’t explain this thing with azzi, this thing that keeps eating at her, and she definitely can’t tell ice that she’s been up thinking about azzi. not without sounding like a mess.

she shoves the phone back into her bag and leans back against the window, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling crawling up her spine.

pov: azzi

azzi is late. she knows it. the rest of her team is already stretching, warming up, the air filled with the low hum of sneakers on hardwood and the sharp calls of coaches.

but azzi’s mind is elsewhere. she’s still tangled up in the early morning hours, the faint echo of paige’s voice ringing in her ears. she told herself she was fine, that she was going to move on, that this wasn’t going to disrupt her focus. but every step she takes toward the court, every drill she starts, the pull of her thoughts drags her back to that hotel room.

she hasn’t been able to shake the look in paige’s eyes when they said goodbye. she can’t pretend it wasn’t something more, something that meant more than it should.

that goodbye wasn’t enough for her, and azzi’s pretty sure it wasn’t enough for paige either.

the whistle blows, and azzi quickly snaps her focus back to the court. the next drill begins, but her body feels like it’s moving without her.

she catches a glimpse of bree, watching her from the corner of the court, and azzi wonders if she has noticed the shift in her energy. she’s been distant lately, quieter than usual. it’s hard to pretend everything is fine when it’s not.

aliyah boston calls out to her during a break. “hey, you good?”

azzi forces a smile, trying to brush it off. “yeah, just focused. lots on my mind.”

aliyah’s gaze is sharp, like she sees through the mask azzi is trying to wear. “whatever it is, we’ll get through it. you’re not in this alone.”

azzi nods, though the words don’t feel as reassuring as they should. she appreciates aliyah’s support, but there’s only so much that can be said. what she really wants to do is leave the gym, hop on a plane, and head to connecticut. to paige. her paige.

but she doesn’t. she stays, practices hard, and forces herself to focus.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

paige is finally in her dorm and flops down on her bed, the midday light creeping through the curtains in soft beams. her mind is still spinning, filled with a mix of exhaustion and something else—something a little more dangerous. she hasn’t stopped thinking about azzi, and it’s not just because of what happened the night before. it’s everything. the way they’re connected without meaning to be, the way azzi makes her feel things she’s not supposed to feel.

the door to her room creaks open, and her teammate, nika, steps inside, wearing an expression of concern that paige knows too well.

“you okay?” nika asks, her voice low, almost like she’s already figured out what’s going on.

paige doesn’t know how to explain herself, doesn’t know how to tell her friend that she can’t stop thinking about someone she should never even care about. she just shrugs. “yeah, just a little tired. a lot of stuff on my mind.”

nika looks at her for a beat, her eyes narrowing slightly. “i saw the way you were acting at breakfast this morning. you’ve been off for a while now. what’s going on with you and fudd?”

paige tenses. she didn’t think anyone had noticed—but of course nika would.

“it’s nothing. seriously. just… stuff with the game,” paige lies, her words not coming out as smoothly as she hoped.

nika doesn’t buy it. “uh-huh. i don’t know what happened, but you two have been different. don’t let this mess with your focus. we need you, paige. you know that, right?”

paige nods, but even as she says, “i know,” the words feel hollow.

what if this thing with azzi does mess with her focus? what if it messes with everything? she’s supposed to be a leader, supposed to lead her team to victory, but how can she do that when she’s losing herself in thoughts of azzi?

“thanks, nika,” paige says quietly, before turning away from her teammate. nika doesn’t say anything else. she just nods and walks out, leaving paige alone with the thoughts she doesn’t know how to sort through.

──────────── ౨ৎ ────────────

azzi can’t concentrate.

she’s in her dorm, getting ready for the team meeting before they head out for the next game. but all she can think about is the way they left things. how this—all of it—is too much.

“you’re letting this get in your head”, she tells herself, pacing back and forth. focus.

but focus doesn’t come. it never does when she’s thinking about paige.

the room feels too small, the walls too close. she feels like she can’t breathe, like the weight of this whole situation is bearing down on her chest.

there’s a knock at the door, and azzi pauses. “come in,” she calls.

the door opens, and aliyah steps inside, a knowing look on her face. “you’re still thinking about her, huh?”

azzi sighs, sitting down on the bed. “i don’t know how to stop.”

“you don’t have to stop. but you need to stop letting it take over your game,” aliyah says, her voice firm but not unkind.

“i know,” azzi mutters, running a hand through her hair. “but what happens when the feelings don’t go away?”

aliyah sits beside her, crossing her arms. “i can’t answer that for you. but i know this: you’re stronger than this. don’t let paige bueckers, or whatever’s going on between you two, take away your power.”

azzi glances at her friend. aliyah’s right, of course. but it doesn’t make it easier.

pov: paige

paige finally admits it to herself. the feelings are too strong to ignore. no matter how much she tries to bury them, no matter how much she wants to tell herself this was a one-time thing, something’s shifted.

she opens her phone, staring at azzi’s name on the screen. should i text her?

the words come too easily.

hey, i’ve been thinking a lot. maybe we could talk?

she hesitates before pressing send. it’s reckless. but the moment it leaves her hands, paige knows she can’t take it back. she’s already in too deep.

what do you want to see in part 3?

[sunday-bug]

Can you write more about congressman Bucky?? I’m so feral for that lol

Same 🥵 yes. I’m gonna go for it here and make this 18+ filth. Hope that’s cool. And let's make it from Bucky's POV because I'm a slut 😛

MDNI 18+ below

She'd been driving me up a wall all goddamned night. That dress. Those heels with her cute pink toenails peeking out. The way she brushed her hair over her shoulder and smiled at me with that gorgeous mouth.

"Bucky?"

"Huh?" I ask, not knowing what the hell she just asked me.

She giggles, "I asked if you wanted to get a drink."

We'd just finished going over a policy proposal at dinner, and I was wired. I could barely focus on anything except the way her hands wrapped around the stem of her wine glass, how she leaned over the table a bit to go over certain parts of the draft, and the way she'd offered me a bite of her meal from her fork.

"No," I say sternly. "Bars are crowded this time of night, anyway."

She nods, a small frown on her face, "Okay, then. I guess I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"Wait, no. Come home with me," I rasp, almost desperately.

She smiles at me shyly and whispers, "Lead the way."

We walk to my place, not far at all, but in this moment of anticipation it felt like half a world away. She brushes her hand against my flesh one, and I grab it, intertwining our fingers. Her hands are soft and warm. We walk up the few steps to my place and I fumble a bit with my keys before opening the door, and motioning her inside.

"Finally," I say as I swing the door shut behind me. She turns to me and takes off my jacket. That's all it takes before I feel the line I've been carefully toeing with her snap. I pick her up and she wraps her legs around me, kissing my lips and neck, unbuttoning my dress shirt and loosening my tie.

I walk us slowly up the stairs, careful with her in my arms. My hands travel from her ass to her waist and I groan. "You've been driving me crazy all damn night. Hell, since you walked into my office on the first day."

I lie her down on my bed and pull off her heels slowly, my fingers tracing up her calves. She sits up, unzipping her dress and yanking it down to reveal a black lace bra and...

"Fuck, no underwear?" I swallow, taking in her naked body in my bed. It feels like ever liter of blood in my body rushes to my cock.

She smiles shyly again, a rosy blush tinging her cheeks. I take off my shirt and tie, tossing them on the floor. She sits up on her knees in the bed and reaches for my belt buckle, unclasping it along with my pants, pulling them down.

"Can I?" She asks quietly, perfect hands on the waistband of my boxers.

"Please," I beg, running a hand through her hair.

She pulls my boxers down and my erection springs free.

"Oh," she whispers, looking up at me through her lashes.

"Oh?" I ask hungrily. "I think you can take it."

She lets out a little moan as I lay her back on the bed, my hand reaching for her waist, traveling further down to please her. So wet already.

"I need you," she whispers into my neck as she plays with my hair, giving me goosebumps. "Please."

That little please sends me over the edge, and I push her knees apart with my own, positioning myself between her legs. She bucks her hips into mine and I smile. "Eager, baby?"

"Mhmm," she whines, running her fingers down my arms.

I push the tip inside and watch her eyes light up, "Good?"

She nods, and I keep going, "Fuck... You feel so good."

Her breathing gets deeper as I push into her, motivating me. She's gripping at the back of my neck, tugging on the back of my hair, letting loose little moans.

“God damn, baby, move with me,” I rasp out, grabbing her hip and pumping in and out.

She reciprocates and I feel like I could cum right then and there.

"Bucky... God," she whines. "Fuck me." She closes her eyes and tilts her head back. I kiss and bite her neck, never stopping my pace, loving the way she feels wrapped around me.

She starts to tighten around my cock and I know she's close. I pick up one of her legs and put it on my shoulder, pressing even deeper into her and groaning.

"I'm... I'm gonna," she starts to say, her eyes opening to look into mine.

"I know, baby, I can feel it. Let go on me." As soon as I give her permission I feel her body shudder and she cries out again, fingernails leaving marks on my back.

"Just like that. Good girl," I praise her, putting her leg back down and picking up my pace, feeling my own release creeping up on me.

"I'm close, love," I warn her, feeling my legs start to tighten.

"Cum in me," she whispers and I groan again.

"Yeah? You want me to?" I clarify, knowing I'm almost there.

She nods and bites her lip seductively, and that's all it takes.

I grab her hips and press into her until I can't any more, feeling my own release, "Jesus Christ."

I pull out slowly and lay down next to her, catching my breath, and looking over at her.

"Stay there, doll, I'll get you cleaned up."

-the end-

this was just filth, but I kinda needed it haha

[theemporium]

hiiii!! could i please order a smutberry with prompts 32 and 40 with luke hughes?? 💕💕

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

40. “Go on. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

.

Luke Hughes never considered himself an overly cocky or arrogant guy.

Maybe it was down to the way he was raised growing up, or maybe it was more related to the fact that it just never really fit his personality. He was confident, no doubt. But it was never too in your face, never too over the top. It wasn’t his style. It wasn’t who he was. 

But sometimes—just sometimes—there were certain situations where Luke found himself acting a bit…douchey, for lack of a better word.

It was warranted. It was always warranted. And this time was no different as he stepped off the ice, buzzing on a high that the final game buzzer left ringing through his bones. He felt like he could jump over the fucking moon if someone gave him the chance. And the energy in the locker room was no different. 

It was no secret that there had been a lot of slack and doubt thrown at the Devils for drafting him. Most of them claimed he was only chosen for his name, for his brothers’ talents rather than his own skills. Most of them said he was a bust, a flop choice, and a variety of other names that left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

But he had been on fire for the last few games. Absolutely killing it. And it all lead to tonight’s game, a multi-point game that ended with Luke scoring the goal that secured the Devils the win to keep their streak going. 

And he was fucking buzzing out of his skin. 

The thrill of the win and satisfaction of proving those haters wrong morphed into something cockier, something that settled in the pit of his stomach and left him wanting more than slaps on his back or beers at a bar or praise from the media. 

He wanted something much more fulfilling than all of that.

“Fuck,” Luke groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as you sunk down onto his cock. “Atta girl, babe.” 

You let out a choked gasp as he bottomed out inside you, your chest heaving and your legs already shaking. You were straddling his lap, your legs spread and your wet thighs already exposing just how much he had been teasing you since he arrived home, since he practically ripped your clothes off and bent you over the back of the couch before devouring you from behind. 

He was on a high and he wanted to keep his good mood going. 

It just seemed that was at the expense of your brain because you were pretty sure he wasn’t stopping until he had fucked you dumb—not that you had any issues with that.

“Shitshitshitshit,” you whined, your nails digging into his shoulders and your head dropping to his chest. “Fuck, feel so big.” 

“Yeah?” You could hear the cockiness in his voice, his hands soothing up and down your thighs. “God, baby, look at you. Fucking wrecked and I’ve not even done anything.” 

“Luke,” you breathed out, your cheeks flushed and your eyes glossy as you looked up at him. “Please.” 

“Nuh uh, baby,” he cooed as his hands cupped your face, tucking your hair behind your ears. “I’m the man of the night. You said so yourself, said you wanted to reward me.”

You tucked your lip between your teeth, the memory of your messages to him after the game flashing to the front of your mind. 

“Go on. Fuck yourself on my cock,” Luke grinned, leaning back against the headboard and giving your ass an encouraging slap. “Wanna see my pretty girl bouncing on my dick, see you fuck yourself dumb until you’re begging me to take over.”

.

[mechncheese]

I’ve talked before about how awful Brainstorm was to design but he was not nearly as awful as Thundercracker’s process ! I’m very happy with Thundercracker’s design now, he’s definitely one of my favorites but getting there was so much trial and error.

Science AU Thundercracker Concept Art + yapping about my process Below

References ! Reference wise, I put together an inspiration board before starting with everything I really wanted to include on Science AU TC's design

I know Kyogre seems out of left field but it made more sense in my head, the hard part was trying to find a balance between everything. I knew for sure though that wanted TC's wings to split open to this scary electrical butterfly look

The Nightmare. The first Drafts

My wants - Initially I was very determined to get the visors to work with TC, I love his TFOne design and I wanted to incorporate that part of him specifically into my TC. I also wanted big wings and big shoulders for him but I don't remember why I made his shoulders the same color as his chest. TC was always intended to be the biggest and bulkiest seeker so I tried to lean into that.

My failures - It was not looking good at ALL. I hated it a lot. The wings were too blocky and he didn't look sleek at all. I hated the way the visor looked on him but I wanted it to work so bad, I didn't want to give up on this concept so I kept pushing.

Is there a light at the end of the tunnel? Second Draft.

My failures - Took the wings out of the picture entirely to focus on his main body because I thought that might be the issue. Didn't really help though </3 He just looks naked and weird. Idk why I was so insistent on the big ass shoulders when they clearly weren't working OR THE VISORS WHICH WERE ALSO NOT WORKING OUT AUGH !!

What I learned - I had to let the visors go and I had to let the big shoulders go. I was going back to the drawing board to start from scratch and move onto my third draft

It clicked in my head. Final Draft.

I wish I could tell you what was going through my head at this point but I don't remember. Somehow something clicked in my head and I knew this one was going to be the one. After several drafts and losing my mind, I finally found my Science AU TC

my wins - No more visor, replaced it with a shadowed expression and a hollow sadness. Perfect. Got rid of those big shoulders and kept him relatively proportional, I sharpened his blocky wings and though he doesn't look that much like a jet, his wings at least look sleek and he looks like he can fly now ! I'm very happy with him now !

What did I learn - Letting go of ideas or concepts you wanted so badly to work </3 we can't all be winners. Also if you're not happy with something, start over and work small. Rough drafts are my best friend

[zaunian-lesbian-daddy]

WW2 lesbian love story!!!!

MINORS/MEN DNI!!!!

Hey everyone! If this does well I'm going to turn this into a full short story! I want to see who would be interested in that. This short story is going to be based on the myth that “the face you wear in this life is the face you loved most in your last”. It's going to be a tragic love story with smut mixed in! I left the smut out for verious reasons but it will be in the short story! I promise lots of happy things will happen too! Let me know what you think and prepare for a lesbian love story that transcends lifetimes!

WARNINGS: lesbian content, fluff, mentions of war, sexual content, historical dates, WW2 content, soulmates, multiple deaths, mention of suicide, mention of birth, some swearing. (that's all I can think of right now)

3.2K words

It was June 27th 1940 when I bumped into her in the dairy aisle of the grocery store. I was 18 at the time and she was 19, the wedding ring on her finger glinted in the fluorescent lights when she brushed back her long brown sugar colored hair with her hand. Her warm chocolate brown eyes landed on me, and I felt like I was frozen to the spot, she was so beautiful. I soaked in every tiny detail I could of her; the light brown freckles painting her face and her pink pouty lips. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I'm so in my head I don't see the people around me,” when she spoke it sounded like warm honey.

Being gay was almost unheard of at the time, I knew I liked women, but those words would never leave my mouth. 

“I was the one who bumped into you, I should be the one apologizing,” I laugh a little trying to keep my composure. I keep the conversation going so she doesn't walk away, “My name is Evelyn, what's yours?” I hold my hand out to shake hers, it's as soft as satin. She takes my hand “Rose,” her lips forming into a beautiful smile. 

We talked for a while and ended up doing some shopping together that day. When we went our separate ways, we made sure we could reach each other through the operators who worked the phones back then. 

The next few months were filled with long conversations over the phone, her voice lighting a fire deep within my core. Dinners at her and her husband John’s house, where growing feelings on my end makes the word desire sound pitiful. Little did I know at the time, she felt the same way as I did. 

War was spreading through the European countries, we caught wind of what was happening in Germany here and there. That didn't burst our bubble though, months turned into a year. Tensions were rising and there was talk of a draft for all able bodied men between 18 to 35 years old to join the war. We were in her kitchen late one night, crickets were chirping as we spoke about the news. 

“Do you think John is going to be picked in the first draft?” I keep my voice low so he doesn't hear me over the radio he has turned on. Rose nods her head slowly but I don't see sadness in her eyes, which is strange, because doesn't she love him? “I have no doubt he will be one of the first men to be picked in the draft, it's a gut feeling,” her voice is just as soft as mine was. 

I debated on asking her why she doesn't seem sad about it. As soon as I went to ask, we heard John's footsteps approaching from the living room. We both look towards the door as he walks in. “I’m going to head to bed,” he speaks as he walks over to her. He places a soft kiss on her lips, I watch it happen, I always do. I think about how her lips would feel on mine. 

I snap out of my thoughts as John gives me a nod, I smile at him, then without a pause he leaves. I turn my attention back to Rose, she almost looks sick, her face is slightly pale. I study her for a second before speaking, “what's wrong?” I've known her for almost a year and a half. I can tell when she is thinking too hard about something. 

“I'm thinking about if he gets drafted, how will I support myself alone?” she finally looks at me. Before I can stop myself the words seem to fall out of my mouth, “You won't be alone.. I’ll always be here with you and we can figure it out together,” my mouth goes dry. She looks at me before offering me a sweet smile.

A long pause happens, we just sit and look at each other. It doesn't feel uncomfortable at all, more like something unspoken. She stands slowly while keeping her eyes on me. She rounds the table, my eyes trace every movement she makes. She is now standing next to me, I have to look up at her from my sitting position.

Her eyes are softer, her lips parted slightly. There is a charge in the air that I can't describe. She moves slowly, cradling my cheeks with her hands. My breathing hitches as I stare up at her, she breaks the silence with a soft whisper, “May I kiss you?” 

My mind goes blank, my eyes still locked on hers. I take a deep shaky breath before I end up nodding, she doesn't seem to hesitate once I give permission, she bends down pressing her lips against mine. I melt into her, our lips dancing together in a passionate kiss. When she finally pulls away, we are both breathless.

She giggles a little with a smile, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,”. I smile back at her, with a laugh of my own. “I’m glad you did it, because I've wanted it too,”. That night we experimented in her kitchen, exploring each other's bodies with our hands and mouths. Doing things God would surely send us to hell for. 

We talked about how we both knew we were attracted to women but it could never be something we did in public. We found solace in each other. Months of us exploring our sexuality, hidden behind closed doors, a dark, sinful, secret. The kisses and touches we shared were warm despite the incoming war. 

Between the passionate nights Rose and I shared, my family often pushed me to find a man who could take care of me and give me children. If they knew what I did behind closed doors I'm sure I would have been disowned and kicked out, since I still lived at home. I did as I was told, filling my days with dates with ugly men who promised me the world. After performing all day, I would go fill my nights with Rose’s sinful touches.

As time went on, talk of the draft became real. John got sent off to Germany, not long after the bombing of Pearl harbor. The dust hadn’t settled yet, when word broke of women entering the workforce to fill the spaces the men had left. Rose and I started doing factory work, producing munitions for the war. 

My family let me move in with her since we were so close and she needed help paying for the house while John wasn't there. I had to promise them to keep looking for a husband to do so.  With the war raging and so few men not fighting in the war it was easier to make excuses for why I remained single. 

It felt natural living and working with Rose, we decided that we could call ourselves a “couple” but it was only meant for behind closed doors. The nights were filled with long talks, making love to each other, and falling deeper in love with each other. I had to remind Rose several times to write to her husband, to keep the act up, so when he did come home he wouldn't think anything improper was happening.

About eight months after John deployed, soldiers showed up at the house, Rose was home and I had picked up an extra shift at the factory that day. They gave her the news that he had been KIA during the Dieppe Raid, he was one of three Americans who died that day. They offered a short, insincere, apology then left her standing there. When I came home that night she didn't say much, gave me a kiss, and handed me the letter. 

I read it over, then studied her closely. She didn't look like she had cried at all, she was acting normal. Over the next few days she seemed completely fine. Maybe it was because she never loved him or maybe it was the fact that we had been in a “relationship” for so long it didn't matter to her. Either way, I celebrated in my head because I knew there was nothing standing between us now. 

The war was making the days fly by, work at the factory was grueling. We even made a hook near the door where we would hang our carabiners that were full of tools we needed to use at our job. One night I was so tired I came home so tired I hooked them together by accident, it became our running joke. 

Rose would always find ways to make coming home interesting, meeting me in the nude, leaving notes telling me to find her and fuck her, or just loving on me. I did the same for her, at one point I left my belt on the counter with a note saying “find me, tie me up, use me however you want”. Life was good, no matter the war raging just outside our door.

I didn't really go see my family anymore, it wasn't important. Everytime I went to see them they would ask about me finding a husband. I couldn't imagine life without Rose in it, it's like God made us for one another in every lifetime.

In April of 1945 we got the news that Hitler had been killed, the entire United States was celebrating. The years of Rose and I being together had been magical. We met other like minded women through our job at the factory, there were other lesbians who we became friends with. Nights filled with gossip, wine, giggles and games. That's until Rose got sick.

The first time she collapsed was about a month after Hitler got killed. She became pale, got sick and collapsed on the floor. Luckily I was home, I rushed her to the hospital but they wouldn't allow me to stay with her because I wasn't family.

Months followed of them running as many tests as they could, multiple trips to the hospital, long nights staying awake to make sure nothing happened to her while I was sleeping. We got word of other women who were getting sick just like Rose was, they all had one thing in common, working in factories around TNT.

There were no answers and she was only getting worse, the life I once saw in her was fading away every single day. I prayed to the God who would surely damn Rose and I to hell for the kind of relationship we had. I hoped he would listen, maybe give the doctors answers so I wouldn't lose the person I've loved most.

I made her quit working when she got sick, whenever I got home, I would crawl into bed and stare at her. Take in her soft curves, the beauty in her face, the lines that formed over the years. I would hold back my tears till I was alone so I could remain strong for her. When I got home tonight I did the same as usual, she was awake this time.

Her warm brown eyes found me, she gave a half hearted smile. “I love you so much,” her voice seemed hollow, I couldn't help the tears welling in my eyes. “I love you more,” my voice cracks as I speak. She turns her body so we are laying face to face. We never had the death talk because it was never on the table, I couldn't lose her. 

“I will find you in every lifetime, my love. If I am a dog in my next life, I will find you and make you my owner. If I am an ant, I will find every drop of sugar in your house just to be close to you. Even if we are worlds apart I will find my way to you.” her smile is weak, tears are welling in her eyes too now. I can't help but stare at her, why does this sound like a goodbye?

“You aren't leaving me in this one by myself Rose..” I have no choice, tears pour out of my eyes as I pull her into me. Hugging her so tight I'm probably hurting her, but I can't let go, not now, what will I do without her? “I don't think we have a choice,” her voice is weak and muffled by my shoulder. 

We cry until we fall asleep in each other's arms. In the morning when I wake up, we are still in the same position. I pull back slowly and that's when I notice, she's gone. It was a goodbye last night, somehow she knew. I just stare at her for a while until I finally get up. I'm numb but I need to get the operator to send the police.

It happens so fast, they take her, and since I’m not family, I don't get to help plan her funeral. Her family takes over, the next week seems to come in a blur. I don't go to work, I sit in the house and look at the things we collected over the years. Our friends come over to help me, but when I see them together all it does is remind me of her. 

I go to the funeral, her family doesn't let me speak. What would I say anyway? How much I loved her? How lonely am I without her? I sit and stare at the coffin till it's over. 

When I get home the days seem to blur, I don't leave, I dont allow people in, I cant even eat. My family wants me to move back in with them but I don't, this is the only thing I have left of her, so I sit and exist in misery. Then I remember her words “I will find you in every lifetime,” I say outloud to myself, hardly recognizing my own voice. 

I stand up slowly and walk to grab a piece of paper and a pen to write my final note. It reads, “I don't know if anyone will care or read this note. This home was shared by my partner and I. Years of love, tenderness and laughs. I loved her more than life itself, that's why I'm saying goodbye too. To my friends I'm sure you'll understand and I'm sorry. To my family, I hope you forgive my sins. Sincerely, Evelyn.”

With that, I take the note and go to the garage. Our car sits there just like any normal day. I climb in and put the note on the dash, grabbing the keys, I start the car. “I hope you are right Rose, if you are, I look forward to meeting you again..” I roll down the window, relax into my seat and listen to the car's engine. My eyes close, my breathing slows, and then, all the pain stops.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I open my eyes again all I can do is cry, fluorescent lights burn my eyes. I can't speak and my body feels weird. I try to move but have no control over my movements. My limbs flail and I can feel tears streaking my face. Then I’m met with a warm body and a soothing voice, something familiar about it. Before I close my eyes again I hear a woman's voice say “Her name is Iris,” it's melodic enough to put me into a deep sleep.

Turns out, I was born again in 1998. Growing up my family didnt have alot but it was enough. I never went hungry, had toys I could play with. I learned to walk, talk, run, explore, build and destroy. My school years went smoothly, I was a solid student, B average. 

I had boyfriends, a girlfriend that my parents had no idea about. They never talked about being against the LGBT but they never mentioned being in support either, so I figured my safest bet was to keep the fact that I found women attractive, quiet.

The years passed, now I'm finding myself standing in front of the mirror looking at myself. Today is my birthday. I'm turning nineteen years old. The person I'm staring at in the mirror seems so familiar. Not just in the way that I know myself, but something more. Like I've seen her before somewhere, this face doesn't seem like mine. Maybe someone else? 

I touch my face, my eyes tracking the movements I make with my fingers. Chocolate brown eyes, my lips are pink, light brown freckles spread evenly over my nose and cheeks. My hair is long, a warm brown color to it. 

I snap out of my trance when my phone dings. I look down to see a message from my friend, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH!!!”. I can hear her voice through the message, I giggle then text back. “Thank you! Hope you can come to my party tonight!” I exit the bathroom to go sit on my bed as I send the message. 

While I wait for her to text back I open up instagram, the first post I see is a black background with white lettering that says “the face you wear during this life is the face of the person you loved the most in your last”. I pause on it, reading the words over and over, when my friend's text pops up, I ignore it, and head straight to google. 

I type in the words I saw on the post. It comes up as a Chinese myth, so I clicked on the first link. When I open it, my eyes scan over the words. Before I can finish reading the article something flashes in my brain. A memory? I'm looking into a woman's eyes, identical to mine. She looks sick and sad. Actually, her whole face looks identical to mine. “I will find you in every lifetime,” rings through my head.

I drop my phone on the floor, I barely hear the thud. I'm panting heavily as I stare at the article that's still open on my phone. “What the fuck was that?” I say out loud as if someone will give me the answer. 

I hope you enjoyed the story! Let me know if you want me to make this into a bigger story! I promise there will be smut, lesbian love, laughs, cries and so much more! Will Iris find her love again? Will Rose keep her promise? Will it be a lesbian happily ever after?? If you made it this far thank you for reading!

[hispg]

Just the tip

Pairings: R4! Leon X Fem! Reader

Summary: You asked him for just the tip, and that's exactly what he's going to give to you.

Wc: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, soft! Dom Leon, pet names, dirty talk, multiple orgasms.

An: I found this draft sitting here, so yeah, I'm posting it XD. My finals are next week, so I can't wait to be free and write more😭😭

"Just the tip, you say?" Leon asked quietly, not stopping shoving his fingers into your cunt for a second.

You were so wet, you'd even lost count of how many times he'd made you come that night. All he could hear from you were babbles that made no sense at all, or the whimpers you let out every time he viciously pulled your clit up.

"Mhm-mhm..." You murmured at his question, nodding.

You were so hot, so turned on. Your mind went wild with every touch, you felt like rolling your eyes every time he hit that weak spot of yours so easily.

All he did was frown at your response, using his free hand to lift your chin and make you look at him.

As always, he had that sideways smile on his face, that dirty look that never failed to make you wetter.

"Use your words, pretty thing." He purrs, taking the opportunity to give you a quick peck on the lips.

"Y-yes. Just the tip." You whisper embarrassedly, biting your lips to keep your moans from getting even louder.

You were without a condom, completely unprepared for this situation, not least because you didn't imagine the night would end like this.

So maybe if he fucked you with just the tip, there wouldn't be much of a problem, right?

The next thing you heard was a low chuckle, and he buried his fingers in you once again, making you see stars with the spots he was hitting. Or how deep he could reach, which you couldn't even dream of doing on your own.

He did everything calculated, moving in and out, letting your juices make a mess with every thrust of his fingers, the wet, dirty noise mixing with the heavy breathing coming out of you, which by the way were the only sounds present in that room.

"So sweet for me, mhmm... So beautiful." Another one of Leon's whispers in your ear, which made your walls unconsciously tighten around his fingers, your eyes rolling in their sockets just from hearing the little praise.

You knew you were going to fall apart in his fingers once again, but what could you do? His lips glued to your neck, his teeth lightly nibbling at your skin. By then you knew you'd be full of love bites the next day, you bet.

And as if he simply wanted to finish you off at that moment, he lay down a little behind you, spooning you. Your ass hitting his prominent erection, the warmth of his body mixing with yours.

A sign almost enough to make you go over the edge, however, those weren't Leon's plans now.

That's because he withdrew his fingers from you, making a point of using one of his hands to pull your ass against his crotch, shamelessly pressing his erection into you.

The dirty whimper that comes out of your mouth is more than enough to make him grunt in your ear, this time starting to use his free hand to grab your breasts, grasping and squeezing them.

"Sweetie, are you going to cum again?" He was just teasing you, you could tell by the way he was humping your ass.

His hips moved non-stop, and he did it just to see your eyes roll back, your lips parted as you moaned his name again and again.

"A-ah... mhmm— Please." You begged, rubbing your clit against his knee, which was already between your legs.

He could say what you wanted, but maybe he could play with you a little longer. You could feel his muscles flexing behind you.

Or the way the veins on his arm were so prominent as he flicked your nipples between his fingers, making a point of pulling and pinching your nipples gently, yet firmly enough for you to shudder underneath him.

At the same moment your nails sank into his forearm, so deep that you could already see the red marks forming on his skin, marks he wouldn't mind covering.

Your voice becomes even more whimpery when you hear the sound of him undoing his belt, the skillful hand that never took long to remove his clothes, and yours too.

Then you hear him taking off his pants and underwear, causing his cock to simply stick out.

And it was so hard, flushed and swollen, as well as the delicious trail of pre-cum dripping from the tip of it.

Soon his cock was in your pussy lips, getting dirty with your fluids, as he moved back and forth, humping against you like a dog in heat.

You were just whimpering at this point, clutching your pillow as Leon pounded you from behind, and he occasionally rubbed the tip of his cock against your clit, making you go to heaven and hell at the same time. His pre-cum leaving a sticky line on your clit, basically almost gluing the two of you together.

"You're so fucking hot, don't tell me you're going to cum with just that." And there you went, as if that was all you needed to hear to cream on his cock.

Fresh cream coating his entire length, making him growl in your ear once again. His fingers gripped your hips tightly, leaving his mark there, you could already feel it.

"Good girl." He compliments you, giving your ass a playful smack, slowing down his movements, letting it be something more gentle and soft, which wasn't unusual coming from him.

However, that night he wanted to make an exception to the rule, he was going to give you what you asked for, and you asked for the tip.

And have no doubt, because that's exactly what he's going to give you.

He turned your body a little, lowering your hips so that he could put one of his legs on top of you, basically mounting you, you could feel his chest on your back.

"I want to see you cum again, yeah? Can you do that for me?" Even though he knew the answer to that question, he wanted to hear your sweet, sly voice telling him that you could do whatever he wanted.

He didn't waste much time pushing into you, but just his girth, just a little. But it was enough to stretch you, to make your walls wrap around his shaft, which, by the way, was already satisfying you so much.

You moaned, arching your hips towards him, feeling his body on yours even more.

"Mhm- Leon..." You called softly, looking up at him slyly, only to see him smile once again.

He was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Fuck, you're so tight. I haven't even put half of it in." A grunt in your ear, he wasn't angry, quite the opposite.

The fact that your pussy was so tight for him was simply a blessing in his eyes. How did you manage to fit him so well? The only plausible answer was that you were made for him.

Soon he began to pound into you, shallowly and slowly, but you couldn't help but hear the erotic moans coming from his lips, or the way the wet noises of him fucking your cunt filled your ears.

It was so filthy, so impure, if he was being honest, nothing compared to fucking you without a condom, it was fucking good.

You weren't helping him either, honestly. You were so wet, moaning and shaking under his body, what could he do?

Your hips moved up and down with each light thrust, each time his girth moved in and out of you.

You could tell how much he was controlling himself, or how much he wanted to lift your ass up, bury your face in the pillow and fuck you from behind.

God, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to.

But fucking you like that, just with the tip, was just as good.

"Good? Mh?" He purrs, moving his lips down to meet your ears, licking and nibbling at the spot.

You just nod eagerly, biting your lip and looking at him with those sly eyes of yours, asking for the dirtiest things with just that innocent look.

"Look at you," He continues, his thumb finding your clit and then starting to make little circles. The firmness is more than enough to make you shiver and let out a loud squeal.

"Begging me to fuck you? Begging just like the needy little thing you are." He grunted loudly, thrusting deeper now, you could feel him in almost all at once.

All you did was whimper, clutching your pillow as he rammed into you relentlessly, and there was just a little bit left before he forgot to put in just the tip and started fucking you for real.

What could he do? You were pulling him in, your velvety walls inviting and nestling him so well, how could he say no?

"Leon—" You gasped, looking at him with glassy eyes, a sign that you were almost there once again.

Your hips bucking against his, without you even realizing it. Just as you didn't realize that you'd already creamed all over his cock, leaving no spot clean.

How dirty of you.

All he did was hold you down to prevent you from moving too much, he swears to God he couldn't hold his load if you kept squirming more than you already were.

And then you whimpered loudly, in an incredibly high-pitched way. And there you were again, wetting the sheets for who knows how many times.

White cream dripping off you, getting all over your thighs and Leon's cock in the process. He couldn't help himself, throwing his head back and grunting a loud 'fuck', eyes wide as he watched you cum for him.

And that, that was all it took for him to lose control.

"I'm going to give you what you want, sweetheart." Words that sounded so sweet, completely different from the action he was about to take.

Soon he was turning you over in bed, making you lie on your stomach, your face buried in the pillow as he lifted your hips, holding on tightly to your sides.

The image was so dirty, so impure. He could cum just looking at you.

Unkempt, messy, trembling and whimpering beneath him. Your needy little hole leaking all your fluids, making you even wetter, and that was so tempting.

"I'm going to fuck you the way you want, isn't that what you want, mh?" He asked softly, taking advantage of the moment to spread your ass cheeks with his broad palms, holding on with a firmness that made you almost go crazy.

In one swift movement he pressed into you, without any effort he was completely buried in you, cock buried so deep that you could feel every inch of it, every vein pulsing. Each and every centimeter.

The stretching he did on you that every time you couldn't help but roll your eyes and bite your lip to prevent a moan slipping out.

Once again he let his head fall back, his blond strands sticking to his forehead, his lips open wide, leaving room for the dirtiest, most erotic grunts to escape.

He was so comfortable, so nestled into you. And it only got better when he started slamming into you, hard and deep, you could feel his heavy balls slapping against you.

You were so wet, your cunt so wet and tight that he could hardly contain himself, you were simply juicing his cock with every sharp thrust he gave you, to the point where there was a white ring at the base of his cock.

His fingers sinking into your flesh, gripping your sides so tightly that you could feel the marks that would be left there. All you could do was clutch the covers with your trembling hands, muffling your sounds in your pillow.

It was so good, the feeling of fucking you raw like that was irresistible, feeling your pussy tightening and clenching around him, your warmth and the way you were so tight.

Or even your trembling moans, the way his name came out of your lips in such a sly, sloppy way, just to match the mess you were in.

And as soon as he started pounding into you even harder, he couldn't help himself, your body arching, your toes curling and the words disappearing from your mouth. You clenched tightly around him, all your fluids gushing out at once.

That was it, it was over for him right there, just watching you milk his cock right then was all he needed to come inside you.

"Fuck-fuck," was the loud grunt he let out, closing his eyes at the erotic image in front of him. One he wouldn't soon forget.

He didn't have time to pull out of you, your hot, tight pussy wouldn't let him go anywhere.

So that was it, he couldn't stop his hips before his cum spurted into you, he just gave up on anything else when he felt his hot liquid filling you.

Hot white cum leaking out of your dripping hole, your juices mixing with his. The curses coming out of his mouth as he watched the situation were nothing like the scene that was right in front of him.

That was the first time he came inside, but he can bet it won't be the last.

[foodfightnovelization]

ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight

Holy chips! It's an exciting time to be a Foodfight! fan, because ROTTEN: Behind The Foodfight is finally out! This really is THE definitive documentary on the insanity behind the movie, and it finally answers the question of just what was going on behind the scenes during production. Since I helped out with research (and I even get a short line of dialogue at 45:19) I've already seen everything that was shown off, but had to keep quiet until all the interviews were conducted and the documentary was finished. But now it's out and everything has been made public, the cat's out of the bag (the Fat Cat Burglar?) and I can talk about all the production material that's been shared.

Before I get into any of that though, I'd highly recommend you watch the documentary for yourself. It's insanely well researched and put together, and having worked together with Ziggy Cashmere (the documentary's creator) I know how hard he dedicated himself towards making this all possible. If it weren't for him, the most interesting Foodfight! discovery would've been finding the novelization, and we would have never gotten any real insight into how this movie came to be. It's also a documentary that really speaks for itself- I don't want to say too much about what it reveals since it's all expressed far better through its narrative and the interviews with people who actually worked on the project. My favorite is the interview with texture artist Mona Weiss- she tells such horrifying stories about how she was treated by Larry and other crewmembers, yet does it all with a sense of humor that makes it clear she's enjoying getting to talk about her crazy experiences. It's clear Foodfight! was an unmitigated disaster from start to finish, and there's nobody to blame for that but Larry Kasanoff himself. The movie was rotten from the top down and despite the countless talented animators and artists working on it, nothing could fix the fact that it was fundamentally mismanaged in the worst way possible. I think the quote from producer George Johnsen summarizes it best: "Foodfight! was a good idea that unfortunately lost its way during production. The technology, the art, and the direction were not in sync. Many very talented people gave their all to make the picture, but more understanding of process from the top was needed for it to succeed."

But if you saw the documentary, you already know all that, right? So instead, let's talk about the behind-the-scenes material that's finally been shared! You can find everything I'll talking about HERE on archive.org-

It's worth following the link and checking it out for yourself- there's so much it'd impossible to discuss everything. Artwork, storyboards, bloopers, models, a nude render of Lady X, an interview with Larry Kasanoff, the list goes on and it's still being updated! Despite the documentary already being out, people who worked on the movie are continuing to share new material! It's pretty incredible- for the past year I've ran this blog all I've really had to discuss are two tie-in books, and now there's so much Foodfight! material I can't even keep up with it.

I mean LOOK at all this, isn't it fantastic? The character art by Jim George showing off just how much better these designs originally were, the countless environments showing off just how stunning Marketropolis could've looked as well as the strength of the core idea "what if a supermarket came to life at night", and insanely detailed storyboards for a 7-minute pitch reel that was used to sell the movie to investors. Normally, I'd be ALL OVER this because it's all just incredible, but there's something far, FAR more fascinating than any of it.

There are even multiple drafts of the script (one from 2005 and one from 2007 respectively) and normally I'd be insanely fascinated by those too, making extremely detailed posts explaining the differences between the drafts and how they compare to the novelization, but there's something else that was found that blows ALL of this out of the water and is easily one of the most monumental lost media discoveries of ALL TIME.

That's right, a rough cut of the ENTIRE movie from 2005 has been found, containing nearly ALL the completed animation from earlier on in production. I mean, that's mindblowing right? We first got sent this around a month ago, a little while before the documentary came out, and I literally stopped everything I was doing at work to just sit and watch this. This is the closest we're ever going to get to the "original" version of Foodfight! after all- only 7 minutes of footage was ever actually made before they switched to mocap, made solely for the aforementioned pitch reel, and this workprint contains practically all of it! On top of that there are some great storyboards in here, as well as some truly hilarious ones cobbled together from 3D renders, and the plot is far better than what we ended up with, a lot of the more inappropriate jokes being absent. This rough cut is actually pretty similar to the novelization in that regard, and it also contains scenes that we'd previously only read about in there.

For example, in the novelization there's a snowmobile chase through the mountains, with Brand X soldiers on snowmobiles and a heavy avalanche close behind. This scene was completely left out of the movie itself, but in this workprint it's here! ALL the previously novelization-exclusive scenes are included, and this rough cut is seemingly based on an even earlier draft of the script than that- here Brand X are still defeated by a flood, whereas by the time of the novelization it'd been changed to a lightning storm. There are SO many exciting differences in this workprint, the snippets of original animation we get to see are SO good, and it's SO much better than the movie itself that I think it by far deserves the crown as the DEFINITIVE version of Foodfight! There's so much in it I want to discuss, that there's no way I can fit it all into this one post...so stay tuned, because in the next few days I'll be doing a FULL analysis of the 2005 workprint, pointing out all the extra brand mascots not in the finished film, and generally just gushing about how amazing it is.

I mean, this is it. Just take it all in for a second- the original footage was considered lost media for over a decade, and now it's practically been found in its entirety, embedded in an early cut of the whole movie...isn't that just phenomenal? All the mysteries have been unraveled, all the questions have been answered, and now we can relax, take a deep breath, and watch Foodfight!...the REAL Foodfight! Make sure to enjoy it, and join me next time for my analysis!

[igotanidea]

The talk : Dick Grayson X reader ( with Bruce Wayne)

A/n : it's a snippet, I might consider writing it fully

Warning: suggestive but not explicit

Summary: it's time for the bees and bird talk with Dick

***

Bruce walking in on a young adult! Dick and his girlfriend y/n getting cosy between the sheets.

Obviously, as a normally functioning adult and a father, even if just a foster one, the batman takes it upon himself to have a talk about bees and birds with his favourite son.

He got it all planned out, schemed, thought out to avoid surprises and misunderstandings.

He actually had the contingency plans from A to Z drafted for a while, only hoping that those would never come to use.

Unfortunately, seeing y/n, with her blouse undone, hair a mess and Dick's hands (and apparently more) on her, forces Bruce to retreat to hide the blush creeping on. The last piece of his dignity is gone and he is pretty sure there's no good way to recover from such a failure.

He had reached the ultimate botttom.

"Hey B, you good?" Hours later Dick found him in the batcave, engrossed in some feigned, quickly fixed work. It was too easy to figure he would hide there to avoid seeing or - god forbid - hear anything.

"Hm."

"You wanted to talk to me about something, didn't you?" He grinned, delighting in a way Bruce seemed to develop an eye twich.

"Hm".

"Great. I got some time before I get back to y/n, so?"

"Get back?" Bruce turned to face his son and immediately regretted it. He seriously wished to erase the sight of lipstick and love bites on his neck.

"Something wrong?" Once more dick flashed a smile, trying to force a reaction out of Bruce.

"hm."

"we're being safe"

"Amazing"

"and she's okay with it"

"Great"

"And I've studied female anatomy so I know a thing or two about --"

Oh dear lord...

"Dick." Bruce was an inch from having a spasm. How ironic it would turn out to be if gotham lost its protector because of certain golden boy growing up.

"hey did you know that --"

"Get out, Dick."

"But I thought you wanted to--"

"I said get out"

"-talk?"

"I believe you got it all wrong. It was Alfred. Yes. Alfred wanted to talk to you. Not me."

"You sure about it B? You want me to talk to Alfred about -"

"yes. Absolutely. Now go. I'm sure time is of essence"

"it is. Though Alfred took some time off, thanks to your generosity, Bruce. So I'll go, sure, but I've already got so many questions that I don't want to search online and--"

"Dick?" Y/n voice sounded dangerously close to the batcave entrance "Where are you? I'm gonna have to go soon and I need a proper goodbye --"

"coming!!!" Dick yelled rushing off the room " great talk, Bruce. We'll continue it later."

Dick left and Bruce was finally able to let out a groan. The masterplanner forgot to acknowledge the fact that sweet kids tend to turn into feral, hormonal young adults and require actual upbringing.

***

"you're so mean to him, you know that?" Y/m muttered, once again with his lips on hers

"mean? Who, me? Ouch! You're hurting my heart here princess."

"you are. He could easily be a DILF, yet is alone and you're tormenting him."

"but if you saw the look on his face --"

"you're only proving my point of you being mean".

"I'm sure he'll get some, some day--"

"but still- mmm!"

"I remind you that you enabled the plan baby.... Played quite an important part in it." Dick started kissing her a little harder, not even trying to hide where he was heading. "Wonder why that is..."

"cause you're also a -- ohh!"

"you were saying?" He smirked, looking up at her.

"-prick"

"Am I?" His hands moved where she liked it "what else?"

"liar..." She gasped. While it was true he didn't tell her why he invited her over and that his father was in, his movements were serving as a pretty good apology.

Even if knowing Dick it was obviously also a way to boost his ego and prove his point and complete his twisted and deranged plan.

"you know what, I've already had one talk, I don't really need another.... Rather keep my lips occupied with something else --"

***

Bruce came out of the batcave only after making sure it was safe.

Mentally cursing himself for having not one, but four boys under his care.

Which meant that this - whatever it was-- was about to happen again.

[yestrday]

: ̗̀➛  DRUNK ON ECSTASY ! ft. yan! venti, kaeya, diluc, albedo

In a last-ditch effort to subdue your fiery spirit and finally claim you as his, your dear yandere mixes a little something with your food. different emotions arise, but one thing is clear— you’re soooo much cuter when you’re pawing at his sleeves and crying for him.

+ whew finally got this one out of the drafts!! did this instead of the reflection paper lololol

( yandere behavior, drúgging, aphrodisíacs )

venti does it in a last-effort ditch to break down your walls. don’t blame him, okay! he’s been trying sooo hard these past few months to even put a dent in that thick wall you’ve put up between the two of you. he’s confident in his looks and his charm, and has been exploiting the utmost out of them just to seduce you! but you’re sooo hard-headed, and he’s growing really desperate!

he adores your modesty, really! but the shy and reserved smile you put on when he makes a move on you pains him both physically and mentally. he wants to see all of you, the good ones and the bad ones, and he wants to assure you that he’ll love you no matter what! he wants to see you needy and desperate just like he is, but it looks like you’re trying to control yourself. but no worry though, because venti will make it his mission to set you free of such bothersome restraints.

and well~ ♡ venti giggles as he swirls the pink liquid around its heart-shaped vial, brazenly playing with it with your back to your wine. he knows juuust the thing to get you to open up. don’t worry, don’t worry ♡ venti can’t seem to repress the wide grin as he drops just a teensy bit of the potion. this is what friends do, don’t they? help each other out?

and he’s helping you out alright. not like he has much of a choice when you cling and grasp at him so needily. he’s laughing all the time, even when you’re begging for some sort of release. his laughter, bordering on maniacal and full of lust, is muffled by the blood rushing to your head. he loves it— those desperate eyes, the whiny pleas… you’re everything he’s dreamed of and more. isn’t this wayyy better? to be true to yourself instead of hiding what you’re really like?

“venti venti ventiventiventi pleaseee~!” your whines sound absolutely delightful to his ears, and even more so when he watches you cling to him with hearts in your eyes. your hair’s a mess, your cheeks are bright red, and you smile at him like you’re drunk on the attention he’s giving you. “hmm, i don’t know…” venti feigns hesitance, even though he’s kicking his legs in delight. “it’s getting late now… don’t you need to go home at this time already?” you shake your head fervently, clutching even tighter onto him. you stare up at him so desperately and pleadingly that it’s hard to connect you to the straight-laced person you were before. “i– i don’t need to! i’ll stay here for you, venti! just pleasepleaseplease!” you nigh sob, embracing his side as try to indulge in every warmth and touch his body can offer. “please touch me already!” the giggle he lets out is almost maniacal, one that would scare you if you weren’t high on aphrodisiac. he takes a large swig from the wine bottle (more pink than the usual red) and brings your face closer to his. your breaths intermingle, smelling of sweet wine and laced with lust, as venti takes in the prize he’s been coveting for so long. “you’re so precious, my darling,” he whispers, and when he swoops in to kiss you, tongue wrapped around yours, you swear you’ve never been more contented in your entire life.

kaeya believes that he’s not the sort of person to resort to such… disgusting tactics. he tells himself that he can win you over by his charm and hard efforts alone, but the way you smile politely at him or when you take every opportunity to avoid him… it only digs deeper into his insecurities. every witty remark he has is met with an awkward laugh, every time he tries to close the distance, you shy away. it hurts him more than he wants it to. he knows he should be giving up but when he stares at the vial of aphrodisiac he’d unthinkingly buy, he knows he’s far too gone to give up.

he tries to forget about it, tries his best not to think about what horrible thoughts he’s been having of you. but every time you show him even the slightest affection, a genuine smile here or a comforting touch there, he starts caving. how happy he would be if you showed that to him every day! he’d return every affection you gave tenfold, you’d never be starved of it. he wants you so, so bad it’s maddening, and every night he sleeps in his bed alone, his mind becomes a little bit crazier.

but tonight, you were with another. he knows he’s just a friend, that you see them nothing more than a brother, but that’s not how the other party looks at you. yet you lean into their touch so willingly, laugh with them without any restraints, and smile at them so blindingly it stuns kaeya even from across the room. he grasps tightly the bulge in his pocket, heart-shaped and taunting, and bites his lip.

he wants you so, so badly. so when you approach him with your wine glass lifted, greeting him with a drunken smile, he tries to pretend that he is the subject of your affection. tonight, it can be all pretend, but when he refills your cup and watches the pink wisps drown in the red wine, he tells himself that it’ll all be real after this.

“i’ve got you, i’ve got you.” kaeya acts like he’s not the one who made you like this, swaying tipsily from the wine and the drug and clinging onto him for support. well, maybe more than support, because of the way you nuzzle into his side and breathe a sigh of relief, kaeya thinks that maybe you’re longing for something more. “hehe, have i ever told you how handsome you are, mister kaeya~?” you ask him, smiling wobbly up at him as you gaze into his one eye. he gasps in shock when he realizes that your noses are barely touching, and he leans away quickly to save his rapidly beating heart. he wasn’t like this with others, he swears, but something about you makes him so vulnerable and flustered that he doesn’t know what to do. your rented room is barely lit, the candlelights on the side of the wall somehow adding a sensual atmosphere as he guides you to your bed. the feeling of your skin against his is like fire to ice, and the little whimpers you give as the heat tortures you from within sets his head spinning. he can barely handle it, and with the way you’ve been eyeing him… surely it wouldn’t hurt to hope for more. he tries to set you on the bed, but you’re quick to push him down first and straddle him with a triumphant grin. he knows he’s the suspect behind your behavior, yet you’re the one pinning him down and he’s the one blushing and gasping like he’s been caught in your trap. “kaaaeeeyyaaaaa~ ♡” you drawl, nipping lovebites and staring at him with heart eyes and a flirty pout. “keep me company for the night?” his breath hitches in his throat as he takes in your draping clothes and feels the warmth of your body on top of him. mustering up enough bravado, he summons his confident grin to his smile as he wraps his arms around your neck. his heart is beating in his chest, and his eagerness drowns out whatever guilt he may have felt. “anything for you, love.”

when desperate, diluc might not make the most rational of decisions. he had bought the love potion off the black market in a fit of mania after you had once again run off and hurt yourself. his illogical logic reasoned that if you weren’t willing to be under his care, safe, and protected, he might as well force you to want it.

the morning after, diluc’s face contorted with disgust as he looked into the reflection of a man willing to force the person he’d been pining for into something they didn’t want. he locked the crystal bottle under lock and key, swearing that not once would he ever use it. he loved you too much, and admittedly too prideful to resort to such cheap tactics. he needed you to love him of your own volition.

but tonight was another one of those nights, news of another dangerous stunt of yours in dragonspine reaching his ears. you were driving him insane. what archon would care if he kept you under his protection, shackling you to his side even if it meant depriving you of your freedom to explore the world as you wished? hell, he might even get rewarded for it, because you were going to kill yourself at this rate!

there must have been a reason why he didn’t throw away that potion like he had ought to do, a malicious subconscious telling him that he would need it in the future. and it was right, the side of diluc that he had despised so much was right. as he swirls the ominous glowing pink in its bottle, he watches it drop into your wine with a face devoid of any emotion– too sick with love and paranoia to even feel anything for the crime that he was about to do.

the way you’re shivering and reaching for his touch is making him go crazy. he had never expected the potion to be this strong (though he did drop a few too much just to ensure the… effectiveness), so he received your weak embrace with both surprise and a dark delight. your current image was one he thought he despised— babbling incoherently, swaying tipsily, airy giggles, just like the drunks he tended to— but on you, it was nothing short of endearing. especially with the way you whimper at his every caress, shaking in flush pleasure as you lean in for more. you’re pliant on his bed with hazy eyes anticipating his every move, and he gently lifts parts of your clothes to observe the collection of scars you’ve collected. “d– diluc…” you whimper, weakly grabbing at his wrist as he traces another once more. you’re so… small, hands barely wrapping around the width of his wrist. “wha… what are you doing…?” “observing my mistakes,” he replies, pressing a chaste kiss on your temple that has you whining. he sees this with dark eyes but refuses to let go of the leash he’s put upon himself. “all these scars that litter you’re body, it was my mistake for even letting you go out there when you can’t even take care of yourself.” he thumbs another scar and you bite your lip. “now you won’t have to worry anymore. i’ll be the one taking care of you.” “take care of me…?” you’re silent for a few seconds as if the reality of the situation has finally dawned on you. diluc sits in silence too, waiting for you to start screaming and kicking and demanding before a wobbly grin spreads on your face. “take care of me? ♡ then…” wrapping your legs around his neck, you pull him in closer till his chin rests on your tummy, and you smile so lovingly at him that he could almost fool himself. “then take care of me lo~ots tonight, ‘kay? ♡”

albedo doesn’t even bother reserving a love potion for a last resort. he might be a patient man with most things, but he sometimes likes to indulge in his sadistic desires. and there’s no other person than you who seems to rile up those desires more than ever. to have you shivering and weak on his table, moaning weakly as you beg with a bright flush on your cheeks… albedo could not have made the potion any faster.

he’s always been… scientific? when it came to matters of the heart. he’s not the type to chalk the unexplainable thumping of his chest to a mere clash of chemical reactions in his brain. rather, he looks for the fastest and most efficient way to get him results. he could try and be content watching you from afar, dressed in your cute waitress getup as you tended to customers, but archons knew how much he was itching to have his hands on you.

every time you smiled at him from across the street, bounding from good hunter to the little alchemy stall with food that albedo had ordered with ill intentions… it festered something dark within him. albedo’s no idiot, he’s fully aware of what dangerous ideas his mind has been cooking up this entire time. you chat with him with wide and trusting eyes, unaware of how his gaze lingers on your lips and how he purposely brushes your hair back to let his touch linger. 

it drives him insane how naive you are, but it is an alchemist’s duty to break down things and build them up again to truly understand the way they are. and albedo is nothing but curious about you.

albedo is delighted at how much the potion seems to have an effect on you. you could barely think, head empty except for the constant need of albedo’s touch, and you beg for it so~o prettily too. he tucks a messy strand behind your ear, just as he always did, but instead of warm smiles and thank yous he’s met with whines and hazy eyes. “‘bedo, ‘bedo, pleeasseee~” you sob into his palm, hugging his arm in an attempt to keep more of his warmth to yourself. “wh- what’s going onnn? i’m sca-ared…” he shushes you, soft caresses tickling your neck as he presses a kiss on your temple. it’s exhilarating how much you shuddered from a mere peck and wondered that should he have made the effects stronger, it certainly would have sent you right over the edge. “sh sh shhh, it’s okay, darling. you’re fine. your body’s just reacting… accepting… let me indulge in this moment for a little bit longer, ‘kay? then i’ll relieve you of your pain.” you don’t process any of his words, just looking up at him with fearful yet trusting eyes. he chuckles when he sees this stupidly cute expression on you and helps himself to nip on your earlobe. “ngh, nha ♡ n- no! not the ear…! ‘bedo, ‘s too sensitive!” your toes curl at the onslaught of pleasure, and you can’t help but kick your legs as you’re overwhelmed. “y- you can’t…!” “oh dear,” he chuckles, pulling away from your lobe and watching as you lay on his lap, panting and twitching at the sensation of it all. “it’s just the ear, darling. surely, you can’t be that sensitive yet?” he eyes the cup of tea that he had brewed, suspiciously tinged with pink. “you haven’t finished your cup yet, you know.” “c… cup?” you slur, tongue feeling leaden. through half-lidded eyes, you can barely make out the sly smile on albedo’s lips. “wh… whaddya mean…?” huffing a fond laugh, albedo shakes his head and reaches out for the teacup, before tilting it into his mouth. his lips descend on yours, tongue swiping at your lips to be permitted entry. you part them, and the distinct taste of tea enters your mouth as he kisses you even deeper. “that’s what i mean,” he smiles, pulling away with naught but a string of saliva attached. now his cheeks glow pink, as he watches you with lustful eyes as pleasure and unbearable heat shake your body once again. “it’s time to fall even deeper, my love.”

[illbegottenfaith]

hey!! i loved ur handwritten fic with the notes it was absolutely amazing, do u think u could make a pt 2 of that or just another fic with that format? thank u!! <3

handwritten pt 2 - theo nott x reader

yours and theo's story as told through notes passed in class

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - thank you so much for this lovely!! it gave me the motivation I needed to clean up the dribs and drabs I had drafted out so here it is <3 I have plans/ideas for future chapters too (similar format but might not be restricted to just notes 👀) but I'm not sure how long of a series it'll actually end up being. enjoy!

tropes/warnings - fluff, a little more angst than the last chapter, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers

word count - 1.9k

Saturday, 9.48 pm, The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade

You okay?

Yeah, why?

You’re awfully quiet. And you’ve been staring into your empty butterbeer for the past ten minutes, so either it was terrible or you’re plotting something.

Ha-ha.

You hate this, don’t you?

They’re just not the kind of people I hang out with.

Let’s get out of here.

Are you kidding? This party is for you, Theo.

Look at them. They’re drunk off their tits. No one’s going to mind.

No, stay. I might call it a night soon, though.

Are you sure?

Yeah. Don't worry about me, I’m just not used to hanging out with these kinds of people.

What kind?

I don’t know. Quidditch players. Hooligans. It’s not really my scene.

I didn’t know you felt that way.

I didn’t want to spoil your night.

Listen, it’s getting late. I should probably head back.

Okay. Get your coat, I'll settle the bill.

No, it’s fine, I can pay for my drink. Besides, you should stay.

At least let me walk you back.

Stay. I mean it.

Fine, but I’m paying for your drink. And before you say anything, it’s one lousy butterbeer. Consider it compensation for ruining your evening.

You didn’t ruin my evening. I liked the part when we walked here together. I don’t mind this too much either - scribbling on napkins.

Let me walk you back. Please.

Saturday, 10.19 pm, Ravenclaw Dormitories, Hogwarts

What's with the notebook?

Sorry, Ivan's finally passed out and I don't want to wake him. He hasn't been able to sleep all week, can you imagine? It's that stupid Herbology project - y'know, the one that Katie's been simmering those mandrakes for - I swear, he's so tense in the shoulders. I finally got him to nod off after dinner and it just seems cruel to wake him up and make him go allll the way down to his dorm :(

Fine, but Merlin help you when Katie wakes up and finds him still here. I still can't wrap my head around how much he lets you baby him. He's a Slytherin, for God's sake.

Please, he knew what he was getting himself into. If anything, I think the babying might have been a motivating factor. Anyway, how was the party?

Okay, I think. I kissed him. On the cheek.

YOU'RE going to wake Ivan. Have some goddamn self-control.

OH I KNEW ITTT I knew it the moment he walked into Charms class and you looked up and your eyes met and you lost your tongue and when you looked back he had that shy sort of smile I just KNEW he was going to be so good for you. Because he is, Y/N. He might be the best thing that's happened to you.

Gosh, relax. It's not like it meant anything. What's a little friendly peck between friends here and there? I just did it so he wouldn't follow me back to the castle like a lost puppy. Besides, he's not that perfect.

A real human being with real human flaws? You don't say.

It's hard to explain. He's only being this nice because he knows what he's done.

What has he done?

Some pretty hard-to-forgive stuff. I don't want to get into it right now.

Have you?

Have I what?

Forgiven him.

I don't know. I mean, I see him trying to reach out, but every time, even now, with the party - something stops me from...fully connecting. Something holds me back.

I don't think I have.

Monday, 9.13 am, Charms

Did you get back alright?

Yup.

I wanted to come check, but the guys...

I told you they weren't going to let their guest of honour run off. So how was the rest of the night?

Middling. They started up a game of strip poker when we got back.

Oh.

Allegedly, normal poker was too ordinary for a night as special as that.

You're kidding, right?

Oh my fucking god, you gamble??

Who said the poker had anything to do with gambling?

So you don’t gamble?

I didn’t say that.

Theo.

OUCH enough with the pinching! I've already had ten years too many of it.

I can't help that it's the only way to get you to behave.

I don’t see what the problem is. It’s my money to use as I see fit. Plus, I'm very careful about the people I play with. Merlin knows we have too much anyway.

Unbelievable. Gambling, really? Why not just drop out of Hogwarts and live slot machine to slot machine, huh? Why don't you just set up shop at some casino in Las Vegas?

I'm very confused. Do you want to go to Vegas?

You have the attention span of a fruit fly.

Because that's not a half-bad idea. We could make a whole trip out of it over the summer.

Your friends need to introduce you to more legal forms of recreation. What are you doing Wednesday night?

Nothing yet.

Good. I'm teaching you Exploding Snap.

Isn't that a kid's game?

FUCK I'm SORRY but DO NOT pinch me in the same place twice.

Oh, quit whining. You'll live.

Barely. If you keep this up, I'm going to start sitting far far away from you and those PINCERS you call fingers.

Wednesday, 1.02 pm, Potions

I ran into Katie on the way here and Merlin, she was in hysterics. I'm out of the room for one night and I miss you making out with Loverboy in our dorm??? Geez, at least put a sock on the door.

We were not making out!!! Katie just walked in at an unfortunate time.

Uh-huh.

Look, he was the one who showed up at the window on his broom, drunk out of his mind.

Drunk??

I know! What was he thinking, risking his neck all the way up there at the Ravenclaw dorms?? It was like he didn't even notice too. I thought I was hallucinating at first, but then I opened the window and nope, that was him, and then I screamed and he nearly fell off his broom so I hauled him inside. He practically faceplanted on the floor. I was terrified - I thought he was poisoned or something, but then I tried to prop him up and he had this dopey look on his face and he reeked of firewhiskey. Ugh, it was so annoying. I don’t want to talk about it.

You know what he said to me? After all that?

I thought you didn’t want to talk about this?

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh?

Uh-oh. Like a goddamn Looney Tunes character.

Looney Tunes?

Never mind. He was all ‘uh-oh, you’re mad at me’ while I was trying to get him to drink some coffee and I was like yeah, no shit, you look like you’re seconds away from puking all over my dorm. And then he started…he started talking about the party, and me leaving, and how sorry he was he brought me in the first place.

Aww.

I know, right? I felt like crap. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal to him.

Of course it was a big deal. That was him introducing you to his new friends.

Exactly, new friends. What does he want with me?

Y/N, are you daft? Do you not see the way he looks at you? He so clearly cares what you think about his friends.

What on earth are you talking about?

Ivan's on the team so they hang out together sometimes and he says Theo's a lot different around you. He doesn't swear as much, he drops his voice a little and he's extra attentive. Hell, he nearly got into a fight with some dunce in our year over the way that guy was talking about you. Y/N, he obviously cares about you so, so much. Please tell me you didn’t say anything too harsh.

I called the whole lot of them hooligans.

NOOOOO

But t's true!! Have you seen their matches? How they don't rip each other to shreds is beyond me. But I didn't mean that he was like that. Theo could never be like them. He'd play a good, fair, clean game.

Yeah. Sure.

What's that supposed to mean?

You haven't watched a single one of his practices, have you?

No. Should I?

Never mind. What happened next?

That's when things started going downhill. He started trying to remove his shirt because it was so hot from Katie’s blasted simmering pot of mandrakes. I was trying to stop him, only he wasn’t listening, and apparently he gets rather clingy and touchy when he’s, y’know, tipsy, and then…Katie walked in.

Damn.

Of course that's when he decides to sober up, so I look like an idiot while everyone in the room - yes! even him!!! - wants to know what I’m doing in his lap. He was sooooo polite too, as if he hadn’t just rudely breaking-and-entering’d his way into my room. ‘Oh, hello, Y/N. What a tastefully decorated room you have, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re sitting so close, Y/N?’ As if I want to be sitting in his lap!

Right.

Because I don’t.

Okay.

‘Cause that would be so weird.

Mhm.

Like���ew.

Okay, okay. I get it. I believe you.

He wouldn’t even let me get up or anything. Just kept talking to Katie about the weather with his hand on my thigh, casual as ever. I swear, if that teammate of his - what's his name, Mattheo? - hadn't come looking for him, I don't know how I would have gotten him down to his dorm.

What a thriller of a story, from start to finish.

Yeah, well, I could do it with a little less thrill in my life.

Aw, I think it was sweet. That disaster of a party was clearly eating at him.

Yeah. I mean, we're friends. It should bother him if I've had a shitty night, right? But also...we're just friends.

For the record, you're a different person around him too.

Psh. Yeah right.

Different how?

Ivyyyy

Thursday, 3.07 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts

How’s your hand?

Doing very badly, thank you very much.

I have to say, I didn’t take you to be this sore of a loser.

My fingertips have been singed off. Forgive me if I seem a little sulky.

Aww. Was the kid's game a little too hard for the big, manly, Quidditch player?

You tricked me. You didn't even tell me all of the rules before we started playing.

Oh, come on. You knew enough to play.

But not to win!

Yes, well, I wasn't about to hand you a victory on a silver platter. I thought Slytherins were supposed to be clever, or something. Maybe you're the 'something.'

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We'll see who's laughing after next week's chess match.

Does it hurt a lot? Your fingers?

For a lesser man? Perhaps. I think I'm dealing with the pain quite well, actually.

So if we didn't have class, you'd be -?

Writhing on the floor of my dorm.

Ah, I see. Poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?

Promises, promises.

But you still had fun, didn’t you?

It is quite the adrenaline rush.

I knew it.

Alas, my fingertips…

Oh, sod off. You always were the biggest drama queen.

[lynnlovesthestars]

Why?

Pairing: Astarion x Reader. Genre: Hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. Warnings: mentions of past abuse, self-harm, astarion is a little bitch that can't accept someone can take care of him, blood sucking, lots of pulling and letting go i guess?, messy emotions for messy people, self doubt and insecurities. Anxiety, panic attacks, nudity but not sexual. (if i missed something, please let me know. Summary: night is that moment when you can take care of yourself, but what if you find someone that needs more care than you? WC: 4.4k

Author notes: omg i finally finished this one, i've been working on it for a while now and initially it was supposed to be published before i started getting requests, which by the way im loving and im diligently working on<3, anyways this was a small challenge for me, i've been trying to work with stuff i wasn't entirely comfortable with to push my boundaries and learn something new, and this came out.. I hope you'll enjoy this read while I work on the next draft<3 love you lots!

When the moon finally made its way in the sky, and dinner had been consumed, you knew you finally had some time for yourself.

You’d take that time to scrub away the blood that stuck to your skin and the filth of the day. Traveling along a river had it’s pros: you found a nice spot along the bed of the Chionthar that seemed perfect for a bath. 

That night the place was particularly silent, the wind was blowing between the leaves and it was the only sound that you could hear until you passed that  funny rock shaped like a bear.

Initially you thought it was an animal, or at worse a beast, but as you delved closer rhe sound became much clearer. 

Heavy breathing.

It was a sound you could recognize everywhere, because it was a sound you’d make on those nights when anxiety would take over and you felt helpless. Since you went through all the hardships of your life, you promised yourself you’d do your best to help people in need, and in that moment there was definitely someone that needed help.

Your stomach was churning as you followed the shallow breaths that reverberated in the silence of the undergrowth. It led to a small clearing where the moonlight was free to enlight as much as possible of your surroundings. On the opposite side from where you came from, someone was coiled on himself, exposing their bleeding back your way.

The slender fingers clawed at their own flesh leaving deep marks, but it was the whimpering that helped you recognize the person in front of you.

Astarion.

Astarion that was completely naked, his nails were digging into his shoulders, and trembling like a beaten puppy. His clothes were scattered around the clearing, they were ripped in the haste of the panic, you assumed.

You rushed to his side, dropping your bag next to him as you crouched and cradled him to you.

“‘Starion” You whispered as you scanned him, from the way he hid his face, to the red streaks along his chest, the pale skin stained with tears and his glassy, raw eyes.

His whole body was a trembling mess as he couldn’t hold back tears. The slow wails were filling you with anguish as you tried to calm him down just enough so he could make out a few words.

“Who did this to you?” You whispered softly, as you slowly dried his cheeks. The question awoke something in him, he slipped out of your arms before you could object and he tried to sit up.

His arms were shaking as he rested his palms on the leaves-covered soil. “No one.” He turned his head away, his eyes subsequently diverting from yours. “It doesn’t matter anyway.” He breathed out as he tried to stop his eyes from getting more and more teary, yet failing at each attempt.

“Yes, it does.” You insisted, raising your palm and reaching for his cheek. Gently you guided his eyes back to you making sure he knew you cared. Making sure that he knew you only wanted to help him.

The pit in your stomach felt like a dark hole in you, swallowing everything with it. You’ve never seen him like this since you two met, not even when you learned his vampirism while he was starving. 

Even when you learned small bits of his past, like how he got turned, he always kept composure, though you knew he was hurting. Now instead he was so vulnerable.

You felt a pang of guilt hit you, you were invading his personal space and he probably wanted to run away, yet he was growing on you, and if there was something about you, it was that no one hurt the people you cared for. 

“Who did this to you?” You repeated still gently yet firm. You caressed his cheek with your thumb, taking your time to wipe away the remnants of his previous tears.

For a moment he hesitated, he wanted to hold back, but then his body gave out, almost slumping on yours. His eyes were duller, his lips were quivering, and he wasn’t sure he could ever form a full sentence properly, but you were there and you were trying to help him. No one ever tried to help him.

For so long he wished someone would waltz in and come to his rescue. He desperately wished someone would shake him awake from his worn coffin to drag him out of those filthy kennels. He wished someone would dry his tears and heal his wounds, yet for 200 years he suffered alone.

Instead you did much more than what he expected: you insisted, you didn’t recoil disgusted or gave up. You sat there trying over and over to patch him up, to find answers, and to find who hurt him so deeply that he’d end up bleeding alone in a forest.

You knew, of course, that he didn’t tell you his whole story when he opened up, it would have been foolish of him to do so since you were a stranger. He didn’t mention the scars that covered his back, or the constant nightmares during his reverie, cause of course elves couldn’t live without over analyzing things, or the true extent of his master’s punishment. You couldn’t have known yet.

His voice was shaky, broken, a whisper as he muttered Cazador’s name, afraid that even saying his name out loud would be too much, like that would make the monster materialize in front of him, but once he muttered his name, he couldn’t stop his words from being vomited out of his throat like sharing all of this with you was a new compulsion bestowed upon him.

“I was meditating when my brain decided to gift me an old memory” He sighed shakily. “And of course the memory was related to whatever is carved in my back. The pain was so vivid it felt like I was back there, hunched as that bastard was having the time of his life.” His voice was feeble, broken, it was so raw you were not sure how to react.

“When I woke up I was covered in blood and everything was hurting.” His eyes widened for a moment like he could rewatch those images over and over again, right there in front of you.

“My body was clearly not mine anymore, I was taken over by this fear that you’d all hate me for whatever this is, so I ran looking for a spot to hide.” He lowered his gaze.

“I guess before I could look around me, I sank on my knees. I felt like I was suffocating, Tav.” He was trusting you with something that he was running away from, something that terrorized him, something that you knew went opposite of his survival instinct. It was something that made him so fragile that he had to run away from a place that he should have considered safe, your camp.

Despite the gushing wounds he still ran, and yet he allowed you to get a piece of his mind, he didn’t kick you away like he’d usually do.

“My clothes were too much, the pain was too much, everything was too much. I'm not gonna lie. I literally ripped everything off before I could even process what I was going to do to myself. The only thing I knew was that the old scars were open again and they were gushing. I could feel it, Tav. I could feel the blood dripping down my fucking back.” His eyes were brimmed again with tears that he couldn’t hold back even if he tried, it was such a haunting feeling he wished he could erase the memory. “I couldn’t stop.”

He looked at his hands, his fingers were covered in blood and specs of his skin were hidden under his fingers. He was so disgusted at the sight that another sob quivered from his lips.

“You’re safe, nothing can hurt you now.” You leaned forward wiping his cheeks with your palms. 

The remorse in his eyes was vivid, he just had trauma dumped on you and he knew you were going to hate him for it, but then you said his name so gently, so caring, that he allowed you to caress him.

You gave him time to ragain as much control as he could muster before you helped him up. He did look in need of a bath undoubtedly, and you had to go to the river anyways, so you asked him if he wanted to join you. You offered to clean his wounds so he could avoid infections, though you weren’t so sure vampires could get infected like that.

You both took your time standing up, his head was pounding so hard that his balance faltered. Your arms were there for him before he could hit the ground.

How was it possible that whenever he'd be deep in shit, you saved the fucking day? Just that day you did it twice and he would have sworn he didn't deserve any of it.

“I’ve got you” You made sure your arms were anchored on him, steadying his movements, and taking the opportunity to ask him if you could clean his wounds. He wanted so bad to refuse but his body felt so heavy, and his eyes pleaded for help no matter how much he’d try to hide it. Astrarion couldn’t recall a single person that cared for him so tenderly.In the past 200 years all he got was beatings, starvation, indifference, it was all so foreign to him, so much that the words you told him bounced in his head incessantly for days. “I know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.” I know you can handle it yourself, but it doesn’t mean you should have to do this on your own.” 

It was like a second nature to you, you could read his eyes like no one ever did. 

Yyu guided him towards the river, in that secluded spot you liked. 

You settled down your bag on a stump, and along with it Astarion’s clothes. You decided you were going to clean those after you were done with your baths, and afterward if your fingers didn’t feel too sore, you’d work on fixing the tear along the back of his blouse.

You picked up the small bunch of bottles, and one of the small towels you usually carried around to clean your wounds. 

Astarion let go of your hand only when you picked up those things, and even in that brief instant, his legs could barely hold him up. It was like he was dragged back in the kennels, like he had not fed in goddamned ages, and he lost too much blood to even breathe.

You didn’t notice it until you turned towards him, his body was quivering like a leaf in the middle of a tornado. 

Despite the tremor and the blood, there was still something about him that leaked confidence, like the hurt that was encompassing him was not making him look smaller, or weaker. It was.. real. 

If you thought you saw through astarion when you first met him, this was the moment you realized you were wrong. When you were slammed in front of this raw sight, you knew.

This was the closest you could get to the real Astarion, and it hurt. You didn’t understand why it hurt so much, but it was much worse than any other pain you could recall. It was a feeling that was eating you from the inside cause you knew his wounds were much deeper than what he shared with you so far.

Nevertheless, you didn’t hesitate to throw the bottles closer to the water and pass to astarion the towel, then before he could even understand what was going on, you whisked him up in your arms. 

He wanted to complain- he wanted to rely only on himself-, but his body didn’t agree. It was like it was screaming at him, screaming to tell him that he needed help and that even for a moment, it would have been okay to let someone patch him up.

You sat him right at the edge of the river, where a log was already propped nicely so travelers could clean themselves without the risks of the flowing water, then without thinking too much about it, you stripped off your own clothes, discarding them quickly. You weren’t embarrassed, or rather, you were, but he exposed so much of himself already, that you felt safe to do it as well.

You joined him, sitting yourself in a spot that allowed you to slip in the water effortlessly, while still being close to Astarion. 

The towel was the trick: you dipped the cloth in the water just enough that you could wipe away the blood without soaking the skin, then you’d gently run it down Astarion’s body to wipe it all.

You worked one small patch at a time, starting with his right shoulder and working your way through his scarred body.

His back was towards you, exposing the carving, which you identified as infernal runes. You cleaned him slowly and with a softness you didn’t know you had in you. 

Everytime you’d move away to dip the cloth in the water, his body would soften, even if for a moment, before the towel grazed again on his scars, and he couldn’t help but flinch ever so slightly.

“I’ve got you” You whispered under your breath as you pressed the cloth on his neck, causing a long shudder to run through Astarion’s back.

He wasn’t sure what if was anymore: whether it was the towel still startling him or your words that seemed to mend him like tiny plasters putting his wounds back together. What you were doing for him.. it was nice. You soothed his skin, while whispering supportive words as you took care of him.

“I won’t let him hurt you again” You whispered while taking a moment to squeeze the blood off the towel, before resuming your slow descent. 

As you worked on another patch of the runes, you couldn’t help but stare at the way the moonlight shone on his skin, it was a sight that otherwise you would never see.

Your eyes took in all his form as you cleaned and cleaned, and you could feel your heart running an extra mile.

The slow passing of time started to affect him after a while, his back slowly hunched under the heavy weight of his thoughts, his breath hitched as you diligently traced his back. No one was ever allowed to touch his back before you. He could feel the tears swelling again under his eyes.

You were so concentrated on cleaning that you didn’t notice until he was almost curled up again, and you helped him up. 

You kept your arm around his waist so he couldn’t fall prone as you started working on the wounds on his chest, and that’s when his eyes met yours, the crimson was shining as the tears piled and piled on them, the moon only served the purpose of highlighting them.

Then when you scooted him closer to you and allowed his back to rest against your chest, he was a crying mess again.

This time his lips were moving before his brain could process his thoughts, for a moment you could see his sanity slip away hidden in the drops of his tears. 

“Why?” He pleaded. “Why? Why? Why?” His voice rose between choked sobs.

“Why now?” The more he would ask, the more his voice would raise, until it finally broke in a whisper again.  “Why didn’t you show up earlier? I could have been plucked from...” His words felt like a stab right through your chest.

"Shh" You whispered as you left the bloodied rag on his thigh, and you wrapped your other hand around his waist. 

"I might have not made it in time, but I promise you I'm not leaving your side now" You pulled him on your lap, leaving a soft kiss on his temple. You knew that if he was still alive, you’d feel his chest pound incessantly as everything became overwhelming, but the only sound you could perceive was the rushing of the water. In any other occasion you would have hated the closeness of your naked bodies, you would have been weary of such intimacy, yet it felt different. It felt right.

“Why? Why are you doing this?” He asked when his breath finally set down again, and the only memory of it was the long streaks of tears still sulking his skin. 

“Cause you don't deserve this” You still held him close as you lowered your voice, making sure the sound of the water could shield you both if you needed it, like a bubble around you.

“Liar” His tone matched yours, but with much more spite. “I've done awful things” He shook his head, it was something that heavily plagued him, he’d often have flashes of some of the horrible things he did, and that moment was one of them: he could hear the echo of the screams of the poor victims he’d bring back to Cazador.

“That doesn’t mean you deserved torture.” You cooed. “You didn’t have a choice.” You traced small soothing circled on his hip as you still held him close.

He sighed deeply, he knew you were right as much as he wanted to say that he could have ran away. The memory of the darling boy and the consequence of his action were a fierce reminder of it, everyday of his life.

“You are a fool.” He sneered. “I have stabbed in the back everyone I got close to, and you are still doing…” He pointed at the two of you, at the position you are sharing, at the rag on his thigh, at your arms around him, and the words you just told him. “This.”

“I like taking risks.” You chuckled softly.

“This is not a risk, you are doomed to fail and you are a dimwit” He rolled his eyes, evidently it was obvious for him, unlike you that still believed fairytales.

“Am I?” You didn’t falter, in that moment you felt confident in your choice.

“Are you forgetting the knife I held at your throat darling? What makes you think I wouldn’t do it again?” He retorted trying to make you waver, it was his survival mechanism at the end of the day. If he was able to slither in just enough doubt, he wouldn't’-

Your words caught his attention again right away, as you started counting on your fingers. 

“The fact that we’ve been traveling together for 3 weeks, that I let you feed off me several times and you have not sucked me dry, the fact that you told me about your past, and that you allowed me to just wipe away blood from your back.” You stopped for a moment, building up tension and to perceive what went through his mind in that moment. “..and the fact that you are literally crying in my lap.” You finished.

“Okay what if i'm just manipulating you? How would you tell?” What was the game he was playing? 

“I don’t think that what i witnessed tonight could be faked, ‘Starion” You finally sighed, relaxing your shoulders. You didn’t even feel your body tense up, that’s how much you were absorbed by this conversation between you two, cause it was so confusing.

He didn’t answer anymore at your last remark, he just allowed you to finish your work diligently as he was lost in thought again. 

You made sure his wounds were clean before leaving the rest of his body up to him, and then you finally took your time to properly clean yourself as well as your clothes. 

Drying your skin was by far the hardest step since you carried only one big towel with you: you opted to pat your bodies dry before slipping in your clean clothes, then you’d give him the towel to cover himself, since his clothes were in heavy need of repair.

The walk back to camp was fairly silent, since Astarion was still affected by the blood loss and you were lost in your thoughts.

You left your wet clothes next to the fire where they could dry while you’d rest, and then you started to walk back to your tent.

When you were just a few steps away from your little nook, you remembered.

Instead of sneaking directly into your tent, you made a beeline towards Astarion’s. He was still outside, sorting a few empty containers he had around, while his frustration was palpable in the air.

“‘Starion” You called quietly, avoiding to wake up everyone else.

“What? Are you here to give me your pity?” He scoffed as he was still fixated on the conversation you just had.

“Actually, I was wondering if you needed to be fed.”Your voice betrayed your worry which was loud and clear. “Earlier I noticed you were struggling, and your eyes are.. dulled” You explained, you wanted to pat his shoulder but you stopped just a moment before you touched him.

“So? Are you going to make fun of me if I am?” His walls were back up, the vulnerable elf you saw earlier rushed away behind this mask he carefully handpicked to push you away.

“No, you can feed off me though” You suggested encouraging. “If you want of course, take 

your time, I’ll be in my tent” The last thing you hear was a muffled ‘thanks’ as you made your way to your tent again.

Astarion finally made up his mind, he strode quickly toward your canopy. “Darling?” He brought your attention to him. Your tent’s entrance was wide open, offering zero privacy to you as you were nose deep in some tome.

“Hey, come in.” You smiled, you were glad he was no longer avoiding you. “Can you please unhook the flap?” You asked while you moved the book away from the two of you. “I don’t wanna make you feel too exposed” You clarified.

“I appreciate it, but are you sure you want me to feed off you? I mean I know it’s not the first time, but it’s-” He hesitated, sure he wanted you to stay away, but at the same time that thought made him flinch away, like he should have felt differently.

“Yeah I’m sure” The apple of your cheeks warmed up at the nervousness, especially when you noticed he was fidgeting with his fingers. “You lost so much blood and the shock.. you definitely need to get your fill” 

“Thanks” He avoided your eyes before sitting next to you.

On the other hand you took your time readjusting your little reading corner, making sure it would comfortably hold both of you. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything” He finally gave you the closest thing to a smile after a whole evening of tears. His arms wrapped around your middle as he helped you to lay with him. His touch was impossibly gentle: he moved away your hair and tilted your head to expose your neck, but he didn’t bite right away.

His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as he held you to him, just like earlier you held him to you. He traveled down your neck with his lips, looking closely for your pulse, or so you assumed, then when he found a nice spot, he sunk his teeth in your flesh. Your body tensed for just one moment as you could feel his lips press around the wound, and your blood slowly leaking out.

Then you became putty in his hands, the dizzying sensation rocked you sweetly as you let it take over you.

He was slow, tender. 

He held your head gently and pulled you impossibly close, almost as he wanted to fuse your bodies.. His legs naturally tangled with yours while he sucked and sucked on your skin like his life depended on it.

It took everything of you to repress the whimpers that would build up in your throat, it was different from all the other times he drank from you: in the past you’d just be very tense, but in that moment you felt like air was directly pulled out of your lungs, like your body was being set on fire. 

He wasn’t in any different condition, he was barely  repressing the moans as your warm blood rushed against his tongue, and his breath was hardly regular. 

Even your blood tasted different, sweeter than before taking over all his senses. It was madness, it was like your blood suddenly turned into a drug he couldn’t resist, making his head spin.

He stopped only when he noticed you were starting to slump in his arms, a sign that you were getting too close to a no-going-back point.

He took time to lap away the blood that was still leaking from the pinpricks, sending jolts down your limbs, and stealing a sweet mewl from your lips. He didn’t concentrate on the sound he coaxed off your lips, cause he knew that if he did he’d probably spiral into insanity, so he focused on the wound he had inflicted, leaving a few kisses right where the pricks of his teeth made home, before reaching for your blanket and covering you with it. 

He didn’t let go of you, or move at all for what it mattered, he had to internalize all those feelings that were overwhelming him before he could walk out. He knew that if he didn’t stop there until he was back in himself, he would have felt dizzy as well, and he wasn’t fond of the idea of passing out on the floor.

Was he blood drunk? Whatever feeling was cursing through his body, he wasn’t sure he could identify it, but moving was not an option anymore when he noticed you were still nudged in his embrace. He tried to sneak away, but you were cradled on him, ‘peace’ crossed his mind before it got swept away by something you’d mumble, he had to wait for a bit to catch what you said since you murmured something he couldn’t quite comprehend, until your voice became clearer.

“I wish I could have saved you sooner” You murmured under your breath. “Stay, i’ll protect you.” Your arms around his waist pulled him closer to you, slotting your bodies together like pieces of a puzzle. Your warmth, your sweet flowery smell, your surprisingly gentle snore slowly lulled him in, closer and closer until he felt safe, and quietude took over him.

[bie-tch]

Very rough outline of my monstrosity au. I call it Odyssey!Kai. Yes it's an epic the musical pun. I'm very happy with it

Oooo been thinking about this for a hot minute. Was in my drafts for longer.

The imperium arc goes different too, Lloyd getting afraid at seeing Wyldfyre, her being fire adjacent and all, and thinking Kai is dead since she has his "fire" powers. After they get back to the Monastery, Zane actually becomes Wyldfyres mentor. The reason is that he finds her endearing and sees himself in her (not knowing who you are or where you came from). I have concept art rotting in my gallery, but it's not done yet sowy.

In this one, Kai doesn't find the bounty. Nya does. So she finds Lloyd first and traverses the merged lands for information. This, of course, creates irreparable damage to our boy. He does not go home early this time.

S2 has 4 major changes. Wyldfyre is slightly calmer, Lloyd has visions of both the bloodmoon and a mysterious figure cloaked in fur and blood (that he can't help but feel pain for, he doesn't know why), Nya learns dragon rising technique first, and Cole gets sacrificed instead of Kai. Besides that, mostly the same. Maybe they struggle a bit with the Ras showdown, but it ends the exact same way with Nokt free.

S2 p2 has the most differences. For one, Geo and the finders live with the ninja now. He feels guilty for letting Cole 'die' like that, so he's thrown himself into training. He's doing well, and the finders are having fun with arin, sora, and wyldfyre. The monastery is definitely more full, but the ninja still feel the absences of Kai, Cole, and Jay.

Next, Cole isn't doing that bad in the ns. He's got bonzle, he can use his powers to shape the space since it's technically rock, and enough stories to last a lifetime. He's fine.

Zane and Wyldfyre bond more. He tells her stories and videos about Kai and how they'd get along, and she is ecstatic. Another fire user, how exciting!

Arin and sora are still looking for his parents. Still find the matriarch dead.

Meanwhile, Kai has all but lost it. He isn't insane, but his morals have all but been destroyed. The only thing he cares about is getting back to his family and anything and anyone that has come in between that has now died or burned to death. The guardian dragon and fire knight mech are his permanent companions, and they respect his decision to change his values. One can not survive being in the land of the monsters without becoming one themselves, anyway.

The tournament of sources plays out the exact same. If you're wondering about frak, zane took up Cole's role in the og series. When Jay and Nya fight, he actually comes very close to winning. Nya can't bring herself to hurt him, since this time she doesn't have her brother to kinda fill his void. Jay is about to eliminate her until a fire ball the size of a car chucks Jay into the nearest wall.

Nya and the rest of the ninja are horrified because, duh, and she rushes to his side. Jay is unconscious, and she looks to where the fireball came from. Everyone is so in shock that they don't even recognize that it was a fire ball. Except Wyldfyre, then Zane. He tries to tell Lloyd, but there a crowd blocking his way.

All Nya sees are security bots wrangling a hooded figure, but they're being dismantled by the second in a flurry of slashes. Also, it doesn't help that there are two giants (mech and dragon) just looking down at him saying something she can't hear. She can only make out a subtle, "Do you want them to see you like this?" Before the stranger flinches and finally calms down. He allows himself to be arrested.

When the source dragons send out those little messages for each elemental master, Kai actually gets one since he hasn't encountered ras yet. The messenger dragon leads him out of the realm of monsters, but it's still pretty far. He gets there, but it takes a day or two. Or three. That's why he's late.

Roby comes forward, and he is just upset. Absolutely annoyed. He says something about wanting to see the face of the perpetrator, and that sends Kai into another frenzy. He doesn't want his family to him like that. He fails this time, though, and his hat and mask are pulled off.

You can guess what happens next.

Roby is actually happy with the change of events, calling it an epic plot-twist, but the ninja?

The reunion is short-lived, as he's wrung away for interfering with a match. The ninja tried to get to him, but doing so could get them disqualified, so they bite their lips and accept it unwillingly. Not knowing what to do with the mech and dragon, they just give it to the ninja. Both parties accept.

All I have so far wowowowowow

[alwaysmicado]

you’re safe with me

3.2k | 18+ MDNI | Steven Grant x f!reader

Warnings: D/s dynamic, Dom!reader/sub!Steven, soft domination, spanking, praise kink, body worship, handjob, so. much. love. Summary: After he’s had a bad day at work, you make sure to show Steven how loved and appreciated he is. A/N: My first Moon Knight fic! It’s been sitting in my drafts for half a year now (yeah, I know) and I’m finally ready to share it with you. It’s sweet and I’m so happy with how it turned out. Enjoy and let me know what you think! ♡ Dividers by the wonderful @cafekitsune.

The clattering of keys in the lock stirs you from your thoughts. Steven’s finally home.

The heavy sigh that follows the door creaking open tells you everything you need to know. You glance up from your book, your eyes meeting your boyfriend’s as he trudges into the apartment. His usually lively eyes are clouded, and the slumped shoulders reveal a weight that words alone can’t convey.

“Hey, love,” you greet him softly, setting your book aside. “Rough day?”

Steven drops his bag by the door and runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “You could say that, love,” he mutters, his accent thick with exhaustion. He plops down on the couch next to you, the cushion sinking under his weight. “Everything that could go wrong at the museum did. Everything. And Marc...well, Marc’s been particularly vocal today.”

You reach out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Not really, love. I just...need a moment to breathe. I’m sorry.”

You watch him for a moment, taking in the lines of stress etched on his face. It’s clear he’s had one of those days where nothing goes right. He looks vulnerable, worn out. Your heart aches to see the man you love like this.

You’re about to ask if he would like a piece of the chocolate cake you baked this morning when a thought crosses your mind, and you wonder if it might help.

“Steven,” you say softly, your voice a gentle caress. “Do you want to...play tonight?”

His eyes flutter open, and a hint of a smile tugs at his lips. “I’d like that,” he admits sheepishly, a spark of hope flickering in his tired eyes. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”

“Never,” you assure him with a bright smile. “It’s never too much trouble for you.” You rise from the couch, offering him your hand. “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.”

Steven takes your hand, allowing you to lead him. His hand in yours feels so right. 

The walk to the bedroom is silent, the air between you charged with anticipation. As you enter the room, you feel Steven’s grip tighten on your hand. You turn to him, noting the mixture of anxiety and excitement in his gaze.

“It’s okay, love,” you whisper, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. “You’re safe with me.”

He nods, a shiver running through him. You guide him to the bed, motioning for him to sit. He does so, looking up at you with those wide, earnest eyes that you adore so much.

“Strip,” you command softly, but firmly. “And kneel at the foot of the bed.”

Steven complies, his movements slow and deliberate. He undresses, folding his clothes neatly and placing them on the chair by the window. Then, he kneels, his posture straight but relaxed, awaiting your next instruction.

You walk around him, admiring the view. He’s beautiful, even when he’s feeling low. Especially when he’s feeling low, because it’s then that he trusts you the most. You run a hand through his hair, and he leans into your touch.

“You’ve had a hard day,” you say, your voice low and soothing. “Tell me what happened.”

He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling. “Everything went wrong at the museum. I dropped a display, messed up the paperwork, and Donna...she was relentless. Marc’s been arguing with me all day, and I just...I feel like such a failure and like I can’t do anything right.”

You kneel in front of him, taking his face in your hands. “Steven, look at me.” He does, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re the best. You hear me? You’re wonderful, and you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

He tries to look away, but you hold him firm. “But I messed up,” he protests weakly. “I’m just...”

“Don’t,” you cut him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You lean in, your soft lips brushing against his. “You’re so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

He swallows hard, nodding slightly. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you praise him, seeing the faint blush that colors his cheeks. “Now, I want you to remember that tonight is about you. About making you feel good. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

You stand, walking over to the dresser. From the top drawer, you pull out a silk scarf and a leather paddle. Steven’s eyes widen at the sight, but he doesn’t protest. He trusts you, and that trust is something you’d never ever take lightly.

You return to him, the scarf dangling from your fingers. “Hands behind your back.”

He obeys, and you expertly tie his wrists together, the silk smooth against his skin. “This is to remind you that you’re in my care,” you explain. “That you can let go.”

You trail the paddle lightly over his back, making him shiver. “And this is for when you forget how amazing you are. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” You walk around him, your fingers brushing over his shoulders, his neck. “Now, tell me again what happened at the museum.”

Steven takes a deep breath. “I...I dropped a display. It shattered into a million pieces, and everyone looked at me like I was an idiot. It was humiliating and I completely froze.”

You nod, absorbing his words. “And what did you think when that happened?”

“I...I thought I was useless,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

The paddle comes down lightly on his backside, the sound sharp in the quiet room. Steven gasps, his body tensing.

“What did I say about speaking badly about yourself?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” he breathes. “I’ll try to be better.”

You run a soothing hand over the spot you struck. “That’s all I ask, love.” You move in front of him again, lifting his chin so he meets your gaze. “You’re not useless, Steven. You’re human. We all make mistakes.”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him gently. “You’re welcome. Now, tell me more.”

Steven sighs deeply, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “The paperwork,” he begins, his voice hesitant. “I was supposed to catalog a new shipment of artifacts, but I got the dates wrong. Donna found out and she... she was furious. She called me a bumbling idiot and that hiring me was the worst mistake she’s ever made. And I...I think she might be right.”

He lowers his gaze to the floor, ashamed. Your gaze, on the other hand, is fixed on his face, watching every single expression. You’re fuming, gripping the handle of the paddle so hard your knuckles turn white.

Nothing makes you angrier than anyone daring to dull the bright light in Steven’s eyes.

You quickly collect yourself, pushing away your immediate thoughts of getting Donna fired. This isn’t about you or your anger right now.

You lift the paddle, bringing it down firmly on his other butt cheek. He flinches, the sting a sharp reminder of your words. You immediately soothe his hot skin with your hand, your touch gentle and reassuring. Moving in front of him again, you lift his chin, ensuring he meets your eyes.

“Steven,” you say calmly. “She had no right to disrespect you like that. None. It’s completely normal to get things wrong, especially with something as complex as artifact cataloging. I’ve never met anyone as passionate and dedicated to their work, and everyone at that museum is lucky that you’re granting them the gift of your precious time and talent.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “But I know I should’ve checked the dates twice and, and I didn’t…and now the museum has to pay an extra fee and it’s all because of me and–”

He can’t finish his sentence before you’ve struck the supple flesh of his perfect butt again, this time with vigor. The sharp crack of the paddle against his skin surprises you both. Steven gasps, his body jerking forward slightly, but his reaction is immediate and telling. A low moan escapes his lips, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as the sting spreads across his skin. His cock is hardening, the sight stirring up your own arousal.

You soothe the reddened area with a gentle hand, your voice firm but tender. “Baby, listen to me. Mistakes happen. You are not defined by them. The museum can handle an extra fee; no one died, it’s not the end of the world. What’s important is that you learn and move on.”

He shudders, nodding as he processes your words and the lingering sensation of the paddle. “Yes, Ma’am,” he breathes, his voice trembling with a mixture of arousal and gratitude.

“Good boy,” you praise, running your fingers through his hair. “Now, tell me about Marc. What did he do today?”

Steven takes a deep, steadying breath, trying to decide within seconds what to tell you. He can’t reveal the complete truth, not when it’s about…well, it’s about you. It’s about wanting to be with you forever. It’s about arguing over who will have the honor of asking you to marry them.

For weeks now, they’ve been debating the specifics of their proposal, your engagement ring patiently waiting, safely stashed behind a book on a shelf you can’t easily reach.

“He, uh,” Steven murmurs, “he’s been in my head all day, criticizing every little thing I do. I feel like he sometimes wishes he was alone, that he could be with you by himself, that he didn’t have to carry me around as well. And I...I don’t blame him”

You bring the paddle down with two firm strikes, and Steven’s moan is louder this time, filled with a mix of pain and pleasure. His body trembles with the intensity of his emotions, and you waste no time stepping in front of him, pulling his head towards your belly, and softly petting him.

“Steven,” you say, your voice gentle yet firm, “Marc is so grateful to have you. He tells me all the time. He knows how much I love you, and he would never want anything less for either of us. And Marc doesn’t carry you; you both support each other equally. You are kind, compassionate, and incredibly strong. Neither Marc nor I would want to be in this world without you.”

Steven’s breath hitches, his face pressed against your belly as he absorbs your words. You continue to stroke his hair, offering him the comfort and reassurance he needs. His body slowly relaxes, the tension easing as he lets your words sink in.

“I appreciate you so much, baby,” you continue, your hand never stopping its soothing motion. “You’re important, and you are loved.”

He nods, his voice a soft whisper against your shirt. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Good boy,” you coo, lifting his chin so he can see the sincerity in your eyes. “Now, tell me how that makes you feel.”

He swallows hard, his eyes glistening with emotion. “It makes me feel...valued. Loved. Like I’m not alone.”

“Good. ’Cause it’s all true,” you assure him, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on his warm lips. “Now, I think you deserve a reward. Would you like that, Steven?”

His eyes light up at that, a smile breaking through the remnants of his earlier gloom. “Yes, please,” he whispers. “Thank you, Ma’am.”

You caress his cheek and steal another kiss before smiling at him and straightening up.

“Kneel on the bed,” you say softly, walking to the end of the bed. “Get comfortable and face me.”

Steven complies, his movements fluid and trusting. He sits back on his heels in the middle of the bed, his eyes locked on yours, his cock twitching in anticipation.

Your eyes drop down to his cock, where a string of precum is currently making its way down onto the covers. You bite your lip at the sight.

“You’re leaking, baby.”

“Oh,” Steven murmurs as he looks down, his cheeks flushing. “I’m sorry.”

You sigh and roll your eyes demonstratively as you cross the room. “Don’t make me get the paddle again.”

Steven smirks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You drag your standing floor-length mirror to the foot of the bed so Steven can see his reflection. His eyes widen slightly, but he stays still, waiting for your next instruction.

You move behind him on the bed, your hands caressing his body. “Look at yourself, Steven,” you whisper, your breath hot against his ear. “Look and see what I see.”

Your hands slide over his shoulders, your fingers tracing the defined muscles. “These shoulders, so strong and capable. They bear so much weight, and yet they remain steady.”

Steven nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You move your hands down his arms, feeling the tension ease under your touch. “These arms, always ready to hold and protect. They’re beautiful, just like you.”

He swallows hard, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You press a kiss to the nape of his neck. “My good boy,” you praise him. “Keep looking.”

Your hands travel down his back, tracing the curve of his spine. “This back, it’s strong and supportive. It carries so much, but it never breaks.”

Steven shivers under your touch, his breath hitching. “Yes, Ma’am."

You continue your journey, your hands gliding over his sides to his hips. “These hips, so perfectly shaped. So graceful on the dance floor and always bringing me so much pleasure.”

His cock twitches at that image and a soft moan escapes his lips as he nods, his eyes never leaving the mirror. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Your hands move lower, caressing his thighs. “These legs, they’re powerful and sturdy. They carry you through every challenge with unwavering determination. I admire that.”

Steven’s voice is barely audible as he whispers, “Yes, Ma’am.”

You move up again and pause, your hands resting on his lower belly. “And this,” you murmur, your fingers brushing over his skin. “This is where you carry so much of your tension, but it’s also where your strength lies.”

He shudders, his body responding to your touch. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Your hand slides down to his erect cock, wrapping around it gently. He gasps, his body tensing.

“Look at yourself, Steven,” you command softly. “See how beautiful you are.”

He meets your eyes in the mirror, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You let go of his cock, and he can’t hold back a little whimper. Sensing his fear that you might not touch him again, you immediately lift your hand towards his mouth.

“Spit.”

Steven obeys without hesitation, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. A small bead of saliva drips from his lips onto your fingers, and you smile approvingly.

“Good boy,” you murmur, bringing your hand back to his cock. The added lubrication makes your touch smoother, more deliberate, and Steven shudders, his body responding to your control.

You start stroking him slowly from behind, your other hand caressing his shoulder blades. You kiss his shoulder, your lips brushing over his skin. “You are incredible, Steven,” you whisper in his ear. “So strong, so capable. I love you more than words can say.”

He moans softly, his body trembling. “Thank you,” he gasps. “I– I love you, too.”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to,” you murmur, your strokes maintaining a slow, torturous rhythm. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he breathes, his voice strained.

You continue to stroke him, your hand firm and steady. “Tell me how amazing you are, Steven,” you whisper in his ear.

“I’m amazing,” he gasps, his body arching into your touch.

“Again,” you command softly, your lips brushing against his ear. “But this time, be specific. Tell me one thing you like about yourself.”

“I...I have a kind heart,” he stammers, his breath hitching.

“Good boy,” you whisper, your strokes maintaining their steady rhythm. “What else?”

“My...my intelligence,” he gasps, his body trembling.

“Very good, Steven,” you murmur, kissing his neck. “Keep going.”

“I...I’m dedicated,” he breathes, his voice growing more confident.

“Yes, you are,” you agree, your hand moving faster. “Tell me more.”

“I’m compassionate,” he moans.

“Wonderful, Steven. You’re doing so well.”

He shudders, his body on the edge. “Please,” he whispers, his voice desperate.

“One more time”, you instruct, your hand never faltering.

“I’m strong,” he cries out, his voice filled with conviction.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “Now, you may come.”

Steven’s body tenses, every muscle tightening as he teeters on the edge of release. His breaths come in ragged gasps, and with one final, shuddering moan, he comes hard. Ropes of cum spurt onto the bed, each wave of his orgasm rippling through his body like a powerful tide. His moans grow louder, a raw, primal sound of release and relief, filling the room with his pleasure.

You hold him close from behind, feeling the tremors of his climax echoing through your own body. Your arms wrap around him securely, grounding him as he rides out the intense waves of his high. His body jerks with each pulse, his cock twitching as the last spurts of cum spill onto the bed.

“I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his sweat-dampened shoulder. “I love you, Steven.”

His body slowly begins to relax, the tension ebbing away as the overwhelming pleasure recedes. He slumps against you, utterly spent, his breaths coming in deep, steadying gulps.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispers, his voice filled with gratitude and lingering pleasure. “I love you, too.”

You hold him for a moment longer, letting him bask in the afterglow before pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck and pulling away. You untie his wrists, massaging the slight indents the scarf left on his skin.

“How do you feel?” you ask.

“Better,” he admits, a dopey smile on his lips. “Lighter.”

“That’s good to hear,” you say softly. “Now, how about you go take a shower while I warm up dinner, hm? And think about what movie you wanna watch.”

He nods, his eyes shining with affection. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You watch him as he heads to the bathroom, a small smile on your lips. Once he’s gone, you clean up the bed and head to the kitchen. You warm up the dinner you prepared earlier, the comforting aroma filling the apartment.

When Steven emerges from the shower, he looks refreshed, his earlier stress completely melted away. He joins you in the living room, and you hand him his plate. 

“Did you decide on a movie?” you ask, settling down next to him.

He smiles, a genuine, relaxed smile. “How about that creepy robot movie you’ve been wanting me to watch with you?”

You chuckle, very pleased with his choice. “Sounds perfect.”

You eat together in front of the TV, the movie playing in the background. After dinner, you cuddle on the couch, holding him close and scratching his scalp gently. He sighs contentedly, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmurs softly. “For everything.”

You press a kiss to his temple, your heart swelling with love. “Always, Steven. I love you.”

Thank you for reading!

Let me know your thoughts & if you have any ideas/wishes for future fics. I’d love to hear from you! ♡

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