#Ngl I find it funny how that’s too far | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pbaz7 · 2 days ago

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ONE SHOT: IN HER ORBIT

paige x azzk

warnings: drinking, sexual content, cheating

word count: 14.9k

A/N: Alright this combined like a hundred prompts ngl 😭 so i’m so sorry if it’s a little all over the place but I think it’s pretty ok. It’s definitely not as toxic as some of you wanted but it’s still there 🫣. Let me know what you think and leave like reacts if you can! Happy game day!!

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Azzi hadn’t thought much about how far she and Amber had drifted until recently. They’d been together since her junior year of high school, the perfect couple that everyone envied. Amber was there for every game, every late-night phone call about college recruitment, and every post-game celebratory hug. When they both got into UConn, and Amber told Azzi she was going to go with her, Azzi thought it was a sign—proof that they were meant to keep building their lives together.

But somewhere along the way, things started to change. Amber was preoccupied with her own career goals, diving headfirst into internships, networking events, and her demanding course load. What used to be excitement about Azzi’s basketball career had faded into indifference and a lot of times, criticism.

“You’re stressing too much over practice,” Amber had said a few weeks ago when Azzi mentioned staying late to work on her shot. “It’s just basketball. A literal game. You’re already starting anyway, just come help me study.”

It was little comments like that, each one slicing a bit deeper than the last, that made Azzi feel like Amber didn’t really understand what this meant to her. What this meant for her career. Basketball wasn’t just a sport or a game, it was Azzi’s entire livelihood, her entire future.

That’s when Paige came into the picture.

Azzi didn’t expect to find comfort in Paige—at least not at first. Paige was composed in a way that made her seem untouchable, like she had the entire world figured out. As the face of the team, Paige carried herself with a quiet confidence that made her magnetic, always pulling people into her orbit naturally, whether she was in the locker room, on the court, or just walking across campus. People noticed her and they wanted to be noticed by her.

But Paige wasn’t just a star. She noticed things, little things, like how Azzi’s shooting percentages dipped slightly during stressful weeks or how her shoulders would slump after a particularly bad day. Paige stepped in without making a big show of it, offering help that felt more like a genuine friendship than obligation.

“You good, freshie?” Paige would always ask after practice, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she lingered by Azzi’s side. The question was always casual, but her tone portrayed something genuine—something that told Azzi she didn’t have to be fine if she wasn’t because Paige was genuinely asking about her well being.

It started with extra shooting sessions after practice. Paige would stay behind, helping Azzi find her rhythm again when her mechanics felt off.

“Don’t force it,” Paige would say, gently adjusting Azzi’s elbow. “You’re one of the best shooters in the world. You know the motion. Just let it flow naturally.”

Azzi felt like she could let her guard down around Paige. There was never any judgment, no criticism—just unwavering support. And when practice was over and the rest of the team had left, Paige didn’t rush off either.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Paige asked one day after they’d spent an hour running through plays together.

Azzi hesitated, but Paige’s smile was disarming. “My treat. Call it payment for all the extra work I’ve been putting you through.”

They ended up at a nearby diner, talking about everything from basketball to their childhood and dreams. Paige was funny and unfiltered in a way that made Azzi laugh harder than she had in her entire life.

…

What started as casual basketball texts here and there quickly turned into long, rambling late-night conversations. Paige had a way of keeping Azzi on her phone for hours, their texts bouncing from lighthearted banter to deeply personal confessions every night.

11:34 PM

Freshie: I swear Geno’s trying to kill me with all these plays. My brain is mush

Paige: Mush isn’t good. Should I start bringing you flashcards?

Freshie: Flashcards? Really?

Paige: I’m trying to be supportive here Azzi. Don’t knock it till you try it

Freshie: Fine. But if I mess up this week, it’s on you

Paige: Deal. But you won’t

12:52 AM

Freshie: Okay, real question this time. Did you always know basketball would be your life?

Paige: I pretty much knew the moment I picked up a ball. Why?

Freshie: I don’t know. Lately, I feel like I’m just losing myself in it. Like… is this all I’m good for? Dribbling an orange ball lol.

Paige: You’re not just “good” for it. You’re great at it. But you know you’re more than that too. You just have too much going on to see it right now.

2:14 AM

Freshie: Do you ever feel like you’re failing at everything outside of basketball?

Paige: Lol every day.

Freshie: How do you deal with it?

Paige: I remind myself why I started. And then I text you and distract myself with your constant overthinking or rambling

Freshie: So I’m a distraction now?

Paige: Yeah, but a cute one so it’s ok

Azzi stared at the text longer than she should have, biting her lip before replying. Whenever Paige flirted it was always subtle, just enough to make Azzi’s heart pick up, but not so much that she couldn’t dismiss them as harmless jokes.

By the time Azzi finally fell asleep, her phone still clutched in her hand, Paige’s words about basketball echoing in her mind.

…

The first time Azzi showed up at Paige’s dorm late at night, it wasn’t planned. She and Amber had just had one of their worst arguments yet—Amber accusing Azzi of putting a “stupid game” above their relationship, and Azzi firing back that Amber didn’t even try to understand what she was going through before it ended in a shouting match and Azzi leaving her own room.

Paige opened the door in sweats and a hoodie, her hair still wet from the shower she just took.

“You okay?” Paige asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Azzi nodded, even though her red-rimmed eyes told a different story. She dropped onto Paige’s bed without waiting for an invitation, staring at the ceiling.

Paige didn’t press much. Just handed Azzi a bottle of water and laid beside her, their shoulders almost touching.

“Girl troubles?” Paige finally asked.

Azzi sighed, covering her face with her hands. “She just… doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me anymore. It’s tiring”

Paige hesitated, then looked over at Azzi saying. “For what it’s worth, I get you. And there’s these ten other girls known as our teammates that get you. So I promise you’re not as alone as you think.”

The words hung in the air for some time, heavy with something Azzi couldn’t name but felt deep in her chest as she laid there with Paige.

After some time passed, Paige, wanting to cheer Azzi up, let out a dramatic grumble as she sat up. “Alright, fine. We can watch Frozen,” she said.

Azzi laughed instantly as she grabbed a nearby pillow and tossed it at Paige.

Paige caught the pillow midair with ease, narrowing her eyes playfully as she held it up. “Don’t be rude,” she deadpanned, throwing the pillow back on the bed before turning toward the dresser for the remote.

When she turned back around, she caught Azzi pouting, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically. Paige froze for a second before shaking her head, chuckling softly. “You’re annoying,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Azzi’s pout turned into a grin as Paige climbed back into bed, remote in hand. Their shoulders brushed as Paige settled beside her, pretending to scroll through the streaming options with exaggerated effort. “Happy now?” Paige asked.

“Very,” Azzi said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side, her smile lingering as she watched Paige pretend to grumble under her breath.

…

This became a pattern. The more drifted from Amber, the more they argued and Amber hurled insults at Azzi. The closer she found herself to Paige. They started spending more time together outside of practice whenever they could. Paige would go to Azzi’s room to watch movies, always teasing her about her terrible taste in romcoms. Azzi would show up at Paige’s room whenever she wanted, sinking into Paige’s beanbag chair as they talked endlessly.

There was a lightness to being with Paige that Azzi hadn’t felt in a long time. Amber always seemed to expect something from her—more time, more effort, more of herself. But Paige just… let her be.

…

For Paige, the shift came suddenly and without warning. She didn’t realize how deep her feelings ran until one night when Azzi showed up at her door after another fight with Amber.

Azzi’s eyes were puffy, her hair a mess, but Paige thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“What happened?” Paige asked, ushering her in.

Azzi shook her head, collapsing onto the bed. “It’s the same thing. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me.”

Paige sat beside her, not saying anything at first. She just listened as Azzi vented, her words tumbling out in frustration.

“You’re amazing, Azzi,” Paige said softly when she finished. “If Amber can’t see that… it’s her loss.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Paige could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the air between them heavy with something unspoken.

That night, as Azzi curled up in Paige’s bed and drifted off to sleep, Paige lay awake, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the truth: she was in love with Azzi.

…

For Azzi, the realization crept in slowly but hit her all at once. It wasn’t until she caught Paige looking at her during practice—really looking at her, with those dark, intent eyes—that she felt it.

Paige wanted her.

And the moment Azzi’s brain registered that, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting Paige too. It wasn’t just the way Paige made her feel seen, or the way her presence steadied Azzi in a way Amber never could. It was everything about her—the quiet strength, the soft encouragement, the way her lips curled into a knowing smile whenever Azzi said something sarcastic.

But she was still with Amber.

The guilt gnawed at her, but it didn’t stop her from staying up late to text Paige, or from seeking her out after practice, or from craving the way Paige made her feel. It was wrong, and messy, and complicated, but Azzi couldn’t help herself.

And the more Paige let her feelings slip—through lingering touches, teasing words, and the way her eyes softened whenever they were alone—the harder it was for Azzi to pull away.

The First Slip Up

It was supposed to be a fun, carefree night—a random house party off campus that some of the team decided to attend. Azzi hadn’t been in the mood to go, not really, but Amber insisted. She liked these kinds of things, the big crowds, the chance to “network” with people Azzi didn’t care to meet. And maybe Azzi would’ve said no, but Amber had a way of making her feel guilty for turning things down.

“Bruh come on, Azzi,” Amber said with a heavy sigh as they were getting ready. “You literally never wanna do anything I wanna do. You can’t just be about basketball all the time.”

So Azzi went, pulling on a long-sleeve shirt she hoped would keep her warm in the brisk Connecticut air as Amber rushed her out of the door.

By the time they approached the house, the coldness of the evening had already sunk into her bones. Azzi hugged her arms tightly against herself, glancing sideways at Amber who had on two sweaters.

“I’m freezing,” Azzi said, hoping Amber might offer a solution.

Amber glanced at her briefly, shrugging. “You should’ve brought a jacket.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. It was dismissive, like the problem was Azzi’s and not something Amber needed to worry about.

Azzi’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t push the issue, not wanting to argue anymore tonight. They stepped inside and the music was loud and the air was warmer than outside. Before Azzi could say anything, Amber spotted a group of girls she knew and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a glance.

Azzi exhaled and scanned the room looking for the team knowing at least one of them would stand out.

When she spotted Paige near the kitchen, surrounded by a few of their teammates, something in her chest loosened. Paige stood out in any room she was in, tall and composed, carrying herself with a natural ease that made people gravitate toward her. When Azzi made her way over, Paige looked up immediately, her eyes lighting up in a way that made Azzi feel like the only person in the room.

“Heyy, there’s the freshie,” Paige teased, her smile widening as Azzi came closer. But then her expression changed, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head. “You cold?”

Azzi blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’re shivering like crazy,” Paige said simply.

“No, I’ll be fine soon,” Azzi protested quickly, though her body betrayed her as another shiver ran through her.

Paige didn’t argue. She just pulled off her jacket—a soft, worn-in zip up that smelled like her soap and shampoo—and handed it to Azzi.

“Here,” Paige said, holding it out.

“Paige, you don’t have to—”

“Azzi,” Paige interrupted, “just take it.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before reluctantly slipping it on. It was warm, the sleeves long enough to cover her hands that were still freezing, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Paige grinned, satisfied.

But even with the jacket, the chill didn’t seem to fully leave Azzi’s body yet. Paige must’ve noticed, because before Azzi could protest, Paige stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her.

The hug was casual enough on the surface—just a friend warming up another friend—but it felt like more. Paige’s hands rubbed slow circles on Azzi’s back and Azzi felt herself relax against her. Her head tipped slightly, resting on Paige’s shoulder, and for a moment, the noise and chaos of the party faded into the background.

“You’re freezing. You need to put on a jacket next time,” Paige murmured, her breath warm against Azzi’s hair.

“Amber was rushing me so I couldn’t,” Azzi said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Paige stiffened slightly but didn’t say anything. Her hands kept moving, rubbing against Azzi’s back to warm her up, and after a moment, she spoke.

“Well,” Paige said, her voice soft but edged with something Azzi couldn’t quite place, “you have mine now so you’ll be fine.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Paige, and the way Paige was looking at her—it made Azzi’s breath catch. There was something unspoken in Paige’s gaze, something Azzi wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered

Paige smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course.”

The moment passed quickly—someone yelling Paige’s name from across the room, and she stepped away, though not before giving Azzi’s arm a quick squeeze and saying “I’ll find you later.”

Azzi wasn’t much of a drinker. She didn’t like how it dulled her mind or left her body sluggish, but tonight, after Amber’s repeated dismissals and her own growing frustration, she’d let herself indulge a little. Just enough to take the edge off.

Amber hadn’t noticed.

Azzi sighed again, watching as Amber laughed with a group of girls across the room. She had tried to hang around her girlfriend, to ease the tension that had settled between them for a while. Slipping her hand into Amber’s or leaning close during the conversation. But each time, Amber had pulled away or brushed her off.

“Azzi, not right now,” Amber said at one point with an edge of annoyance in her voice. “I’m trying to talk to them. You’re clingy when you’re drunk.”

The words stung more than Azzi cared to admit, and she found herself retreating, stepping back as Amber turned her attention fully to her friends.

She sighed again, deciding to walk away. But the house was packed, bodies pressed together in every corner, and Azzi quickly found herself a little stuck, barely able to navigate through the crowded room.

That’s when she felt a steady, warm hand resting lightly on her back.

“You good?” Paige’s familiar voice cut through the loud noise.

Azzi turned her head slightly, relief flooding through her as she saw Paige beside her. She nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment.

“Come on,” Paige said simply. As she guided Azzi with ease, her hand never left Azzi’s back as they weaved through the chaos. Paige moved like she was born to lead, her presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly, and Azzi found herself leaning into it, letting Paige take control.

When they finally emerged into a quieter corner of the house, Paige spotted an open spot on the couch and steered them toward it. They sank into the cushions together, and Azzi felt her shoulders relax for the first time all night.

“You good?” Paige asked again, her eyes scanning Azzi’s face.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for... that. It was getting a little overwhelming in there.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Paige said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You looked like you were about to elbow somebody out of the way.”

Azzi laughed softly. “I was definitely close,” she admitted.

They settled into their usual rhythm easily, the conversation flowing like it always did. They talked about everything and nothing. Azzi found herself laughing more than she had all night, the tension in her chest easing with every word. Paige had a way of making her forget everything else going on in her head, of making her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

At one point, someone came over to talk to Paige, pulling her attention away for a moment. Azzi instinctively shifted, as she was about to get up to give Paige space and go talk to the rest of the team, but Paige’s arm shot out, draping casually over the back of the couch, her hand resting near Azzi’s shoulder.

“Stay,” Paige said, glancing at her. The word wasn’t a command, but it held weight, a quiet reassurance that Paige didn’t want her to go anywhere.

Azzi froze for a moment, the warmth of Paige’s arm so close making her chest tighten. She nodded, staying right where she was, even as Paige turned to answer the person who’d approached.

When the conversation ended, Paige turned back to Azzi, a small grin on her face. “You need anything? Water? Soda? Something stronger?”

Azzi hesitated for a second before shrugging. “Water’s fine,” she said, grateful Paige even thought to ask.

“I’ll be right back,” Paige said, standing and weaving her way through the room towards the kitchen.

Azzi watched her go, the space beside her feeling oddly empty without Paige there. She fiddled with the hem of Paige’s sweater, her mind wandering back to Amber—wherever she was in this house—and the sharp contrast between her and Paige.

When Paige came back, she handed Azzi a bottle of water before settling back on the couch, her body angled slightly toward Azzi.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, cracking the bottle open and taking a sip.

“No problem.” Paige studied her for a moment before tilting her head slightly. “You look like you’re over this party.”

Azzi chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. “It’s not really my scene honestly,” she admitted. “Too loud. Too crowded. I don’t know half the people here, and the one person I came with...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Paige frowned slightly but didn’t press her for more. Instead, she just sat there as she thought for a moment. Then, as if deciding something, she turned back to Azzi and reached out her hand.

“Come on,” Paige said.

Azzi blinked, looking down at Paige’s outstretched hand. “What?”

“Let’s go,” Paige said simply, her fingers wiggling slightly as if to prompt Azzi to take her hand.

Azzi hesitated for a moment longer before setting the water bottle down on the floor and slipping her hand into Paige’s. Paige’s fingers interlaced with hers immediately, her grip warm as she tugged Azzi up from the couch.

“Where are we going?” Azzi asked.

Paige glanced at her with a small smile, her hand still holding Azzi’s tightly. “Somewhere better,” she said.

Azzi followed her without question, though her mind buzzed with curiosity. Paige led her through the crowded house, their intertwined hands drawing a few curious glances but nothing that lingered for two long. They climbed a narrow staircase, Azzi stumbling slightly on the last step, but Paige steadied her with a soft laugh, her hand tightening around Azzi’s.

When they reached the top, Paige guided her down a hallway and pushed open a door. Azzi blinked in surprise as the cool night air hit her face. They were on a small outdoor balcony, completely empty and tucked away from the noise and chaos of the party below. String lights hung lazily along the edge of the railing, casting a warm glow over the space.

Azzi let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The air was crisp but refreshing, and she was still warm from the drinks and the faint buzz of Paige’s presence. Paige’s jacket hung loosely around her shoulders, and though the cold nipped at her face, she didn’t mind.

Paige let go of her hand but didn’t step far, turning to lean her back against the railing and taking in the view. “Better, right?” she asked softly, her voice almost swallowed by the hum of the party below.

Azzi nodded, moving to the railing and resting her forearms on it. “Yeah. Way better,” she murmured, looking out at the dark yard below. She felt Paige’s eyes on her but didn’t turn, letting the comfortable silence settle between them for a moment.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Paige said after a beat.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You noticed?”

Paige scoffed softly, shifting to face her fully. “Of course I noticed, I’m me. Plus you’re not exactly the type to fade into the background but it feels like you kinda just been drifting tonight. Not as confident as usual.”

Azzi chuckled, her fingers playing with the hem of the jacket. “I don’t know. I guess... this just isn’t my scene,” she admitted. “I came because Amber wanted to….” She trailed off, shrugging slightly.

Paige’s gaze hardened a little, her jaw tightening at the mention of Amber, but she pushed the feeling aside. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” Paige said.

Azzi finally turned to look at her, her eyes searching Paige’s face. There was something about the way Paige was looking at her—intense but soft, like she was seeing every piece of her. It made Azzi’s stomach flip in a way she wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You are?” Azzi asked, her voice quiet but tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Paige said, stepping closer now. Her voice dropped slightly.. “You’re the only one worth talking to here.”

Azzi’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she swallowed hard, glancing away briefly to compose herself. When she looked back, Paige had moved closer, so close that Azzi could feel the faint warmth radiating from her despite the cool night air.

Azzi leaned back against the railing, her hands gripping the edge lightly as she tilted her head to look at Paige. “You’re really sweet, you know that?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes giving away something deeper.

Paige arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Me? Sweet? Who would’ve guessed.”

Azzi smiled, her confidence sparking to life in the safety of their banter. “You make everything seem so effortless,” she said, her voice dipping slightly.

Paige let out a soft laugh, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I could say the same about you,” she murmured, her tone quieter now..

The space between them felt incredibly small, and Azzi wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or the way Paige was looking at her, but she felt a pull, an ache between her legs that was as exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Paige leaned in slightly, her hands coming to rest on the railing on both sides of Azzi, effectively boxing her in. She wasn’t touching her, not quite, but the proximity sent a shiver through Azzi’s body.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, her breath catching slightly. “Yeah. Your jacket’s helping,” she said, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly.

Paige’s eyes flicked down to the movement, then back up to Azzi’s face. “Good,” she said, her voice a little rougher now, her gaze holding Azzi’s.

For a moment, the noise of the party below faded completely, and it was just them, the night air, and the soft glow of the lights. Azzi felt her resolve slipping, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t fully control.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her face inches from Azzi’s now. “You’ve got that look again,” Paige said softly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“What look?” Azzi asked, her voice barely audible.

“The one that says you’re overthinking,” Paige teased.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Maybe I am,” she admitted.

Paige’s smile softened, and she reached up, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Azzi’s face. “Don’t,” she said simply.

Azzi didn’t know how to respond or how to react, so she didn’t. She just held Paige’s gaze, the space between them filled with an unspoken tension. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the soft hum of the night enveloping them.

Finally, Azzi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Paige’s brow furrowed slightly, and she smiled softly. “For what?”

Azzi hesitated for a second, her eyes flickering down to the jacket she was still wearing, then back to Paige’s face. “For everything,” she said simply, her tone almost vulnerable.

Paige’s expression softened even further, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Don’t mention it.”

She raised her red cup to her lips, intending to finish off the rest of the drink, but before she could finish it completely, Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Can I have some?”

Paige blinked, then grinned, holding the cup out toward her. “You can kill the rest,” she said casually, her fingers brushing Azzi’s as she handed it over.

Azzi took the cup, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she tipped it back, finishing the drink in a few quick swallows. The warmth from the alcohol spread through her chest, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as the warmth radiating from Paige, who stood just inches away. Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing behind her.

Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface before she turned back to face Paige. She hadn’t realized how close Paige had gotten, her arms still braced on either side of the railing.

“You look good in my jacket,” Paige said, the compliment coming out smoothly. Her eyes scanned Azzi, lingering for just a second longer than they probably should have as she took her in.

Azzi felt a blush creep up her neck, but she masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah? Guess I’m doing you a favor, making it look better.”

Paige smirked, her hand sliding casually to rest on Azzi’s hip, her touch light but deliberate. “Exactly,” she murmured, tilting her head as her gaze locked on Azzi’s. “You make it look better.”

Azzi’s breath caught for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of Paige’s hand on her or the way Paige was looking at her, like she was undressing her with her eyes. “You’re bold tonight,” she managed, her voice softer than she intended.

Paige’s smirk deepened, her thumb brushing over the fabric of the jacket. “Just telling the truth,” she said. “You look... really pretty tonight, Az.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Paige’s tone. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her pretty, but the way Paige said it made her feel different. “You’ve had a few drinks,” Azzi said lightly, trying to deflect.

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it gorgeous.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She should’ve stepped back, should’ve said something to lighten the moment, but instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, her body betraying her. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige chuckled softly, her hand still resting on Azzi’s hip as her gaze flickered down to Azzi’s lips for the briefest of moments before returning to her eyes. “Only if you want me to be,” she replied.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly. “You’re too good for that,” she said softly.

Paige leaned in just a little closer, her voice barely a whisper as she teased, “What do you mean?”

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, trying to brush it off, but the moment felt too heavy to laugh it off. “You’re a good person Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softening at the admission.

Paige smiled, a slow, satisfied grin pulling at her lips. “I am,” she said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, her heart beating just a little faster as she glanced at Paige, the warmth from their closeness making her skin tingle. “So you’re not going to let me cheat tonight,” Azzi murmured, a little unsure why the words slipped out.

Paige didn’t pull away, though. Her hand remained on Azzi’s hip, her body still close enough that Azzi could feel the heat radiating between them. She just looked at Azzi for a beat too long, her eyes locked onto hers, saying nothing.

For a second, everything hung in the balance. Azzi felt herself holding her breath, her body unsure of what to do next. But before she could make up her mind, a voice interrupted the moment.

“Ahem.”

The sound was unmistakable—clear, direct, and too familiar. Azzi’s stomach dropped as she turned her head slightly, glancing over Paige’s shoulder.

Amber stood a few feet away, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. The discomfort was clear, but at that moment, Azzi didn’t jerk away. She didn’t pull back.

Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, holding Paige’s gaze. For a heartbeat, she let herself savor the closeness, the pull of something real between her and Paige. Then, she finally glanced back at Amber—seeing the look on her face—and it hit Azzi with a quiet, unsettling clarity.

This was probably when Azzi should’ve ended things with Amber. The realization hit her harder than she expected, but it didn’t feel like a mistake—it felt like the truth.

Azzi didn’t break the moment quickly, though. Instead, she smiled softly at Paige, a small, genuine smile that conveyed more than words ever could. Paige’s expression softened in response, her eyes warm with something almost like understanding, even though she said nothing.

Azzi pushed gently against Paige’s waist, a quiet movement that separated them just enough to give her space to breathe. “I should go,” Azzi said, her voice soft but steady, as she stepped away from the railing.

Paige smiled at her, a gentle, almost wistful curve of her lips. “Get home safe, Azzi,” she said, her voice carrying an underlying warmth.

Azzi returned the smile. “I’ll text you,” she murmured, before turning toward the hallway. She couldn’t quite look back, not with that lingering tension between them.

As Azzi made her way down the stairs, she noticed Amber already ahead of her, walking with purpose, the distance between them increasing by the second. Azzi’s steps purposely slowed, her mind still racing with everything that had just happened—what she had almost let happen.

When they finally stepped outside, the crisp night air hit her, making her pull Paige’s jacket closer around herself. Amber, who had been silent up until now, suddenly stopped walking and turned sharply to face Azzi, her jaw set.

“What the hell was that?” Amber’s voice was low but heated, frustration clear in every word.

Azzi blinked at her, not breaking her stride as she pulled the zipper on the jacket higher, securing it snugly against the cold. “Nothing,” she said flatly, keeping her tone calm.

Amber’s eyes flicked down to the jacket, her brow furrowing as if noticing it for the first time. “Whose jacket is that?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi replied, her eyes focused ahead as she kept walking.

“It does matter,” Amber shot back, quickening her steps to keep up with her. “You’ve got some random person’s jacket on like it’s normal or something.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, the sound humorless. She finally glanced at Amber, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s literally a jacket, Amber. You’re being childish.”

Amber stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists at her sides as she stared after Azzi. “Childish?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “You’re walking around in someone else’s clothes, and I’m supposed to just ignore that?!”

Azzi sighed, exasperated, as she turned around to face her. “It’s really not that deep. I was cold and you wouldn’t give me yours so…”

Amber’s face twisted in disbelief, her frustration clear, but Azzi didn’t wait for her to say anything else. She turned back around, her hands burying themselves in the jacket’s pockets, and started walking toward the dorms again, leaving Amber standing there in silence.

The Second Slip Up

The night at Ted’s was supposed to be a break—a chance for everyone to unwind after a long stretch of games and practice. The team had been looking forward to it all week, and Azzi, too, had been excited to just let loose for a while. But everything had been sour before she even left. Her argument with Amber had been heated—one that nearly turned into a screaming match—but it was the same pattern as always. Amber had wanted Azzi to drop everything and come to the DMV for a week, something about an interview, but Azzi told her she couldn’t just throw her responsibilities aside. She had two games, practices, and meetings. Amber didn’t understand, once again insulting Azzi and it led to another fight.

Still, despite the tension, Azzi wanted to go out. Amber, always aggressive when she didn’t get her way, was all over Azzi the moment they walked into Ted’s even though Azzi wasn’t interested. She tried to pull Azzi into a dance, dragging her by the hand, her lips kissing at Azzi’s neck, whispering promises Azzi wasn’t sure she could still believe in.

Paige, on the other hand, was across the room, surrounded by a few of the girls from the team, laughing and “dancing” with a random girl who was at the bar. Azzi tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest when her eyes found Paige's across the crowded room. She couldn’t help herself—there was something magnetic about her, something that called to Azzi even from a distance.

The moment they locked eyes, Azzi felt everything inside her still. Amber’s hand was on her waist, pulling her into the chaotic rhythm of the music, but Azzi wasn’t moving, she couldn’t focus on anything except the way Paige was looking at her. Her usually bright blue eyes were darker than usual, her gaze intense as she sipped her drink, not blinking, as if she were daring Azzi to look away first. And for a moment, Azzi forgot how to breathe.

The world seemed to slow down. Amber was still murmuring into Azzi's ear, but Azzi couldn’t hear her. Her words were drowned out by the music and the rapid beat of her heart. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Paige. It felt like a secret shared between them, even though they hadn’t said a word.

Paige’s gaze never wavered, and Azzi could feel everything between them, like the entire room had been reduced to just the two of them. Amber, oblivious to the tension building, continued to cling to Azzi, her whispers falling on deaf ears. Azzi barely even registered what Amber was saying.

Azzi’s chest tightened as the girl dancing on Paige didn’t back off. Instead, she leaned in closer, her body grinding against Paige's as she ran her acrylics slowly down Paige's jaw, tracing the curve of her face and lips. Azzi watched the movement, her stomach twisting as Paige barely reacted. Her eyes were locked on Azzi, unmoving, unblinking, as if nothing else in the room mattered, not even the girl trying to press herself closer to Paige.

Azzi could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the possessiveness bubbling inside her, even though she had no right to feel it. Amber's hand was still on Azzi's waist, trying to pull her into the rhythm of the music, but Azzi couldn’t bring herself to care. Not while Paige’s gaze was still locked on her.

The girl on Paige’s body kept dancing, but Paige’s focus was unwavering. Paige smirked slightly as the girl's hands ran over her neck, as if she knew Azzi wouldn’t like it. Still, her eyes never leave Azzi’s.

It was like a silent challenge, a dare to Azzi to make a move, to step in and claim what could be hers, but Azzi was frozen. She was stuck, caught between the familiarity of Amber and the pull she felt toward Paige, the way Paige's eyes seemed to tug at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

Amber, noticing Azzi's lingering stare, tugged her closer, leaning into her ear. “Babyyy, you’re not even paying attention,” she said, but Azzi still barely heard her. All she could focus on was the way Paige’s gaze had deepened, how there was something raw and magnetic about the way she looked at her.

As Paige slowly took another sip from her drink, Azzi noticed how the girl's hand slid down Paige's side to her hips, and for a brief moment, Azzi wanted to rip her hand off. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was still stuck in Amber’s grip, still trying to hold onto something that was slipping through her fingers.

"Who are you looking at like that?" Amber's voice cut through the haze, and Azzi blinked, tearing her eyes away from Paige to look at Amber, but the heat between her and Paige still lingered, like a flame Azzi couldn’t put out.

…

Azzi hadn’t planned on doing anything that night. She was determined to be respectful, to keep her distance from Paige and stay respectful to her relationship, like she always had. She’d made up her mind to stay out of the way, to avoid any of the tension that had been building between her and Paige. She thought if she could just make it through tonight without any issues, everything would be fine. But then after a few drinks Amber had to go and make everything complicated.

Amber wasn’t just rude that night. She was worse—she was dismissive, condescending, and cruel in a way Azzi hadn’t seen in a long time. It was though all the frustrations Amber had been bottling up for weeks finally exploded, and Azzi was the target. Amber fully snapped at Azzi when she pushed her off gently and tried to suggest they grab a drink instead of dancing. She accused Azzi of ignoring her all night, accused her of being self-absorbed, accusing her of not wasting her time playing a game rather than trying to better their relationship and so much more.. Each comment felt like a jab, cutting deeper than the last.

Azzi tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the alcohol or a bad mood, but it didn’t stop. Amber’s insults, her passive-aggressive remarks, and the way she treated Azzi like she was nothing more than an accessory to her life—it all piled up.

The quiet argument had escalated quickly, spiraling out of control before Azzi even had a chance to process it. “Call me when you’re done being so fucking self-centered,” Amber spat. She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and storming out of Ted’s.

Azzi stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind Amber. A sigh left her lips, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it, she honestly didn’t feel bad about it. The tension in her chest loosened as she turned back to the team, who, like her, were already a few drinks in, their mood carefree and light. It was easy to slip back into their energy, letting the music and laughter fill the space Amber had left.

The drinks flowed freely, and with each one, Azzi felt herself relax more. She didn’t have to force anything; the team’s energy was infectious, and before long, she found herself genuinely enjoying everything. Paige was initially on the other side of the room, laughing with Evina and Olivia, but like a magnet, they naturally drifted toward each other. Neither of them said anything as their proximity closed; it was unspoken, almost instinctual, like gravity pulling them together.

Paige didn’t even realize how close she had gotten until Azzi reached out, her hand finding Paige’s wrist and gently tugging her closer. The tug wasn’t rushed or eager—it was simple and confident, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige felt her pulse quicken, but she didn’t hesitate. She let herself fall into the moment, her hands sliding around Azzi’s waist as the music guided them.

They started swaying to the beat, bodies pressed together as neither one of them said anything. Paige’s arms tightened slightly around Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer. Their movements grew more fluid as Azzi wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulder, her hands coming together to rest on her head. Neither spoke a word, but their silence was filled with a quiet understanding, the tension between them growing.

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s lips, and Paige caught the movement, making her instinctually lick them. The air between them continues to grow heavier, their gazes dancing between each other’s lips and eyes, silently asking questions neither of them said out loud.

Azzi, trying her best to keep her composure, let her head dip down, resting lightly on Paige’s shoulder. Her breath fanning across Paige’s neck, the simple warmth of it making Paige clench her jaw. Azzi’s lips hovered tantalizingly close to Paige’s skin, not quite touching but close enough that Paige could feel the ghost of them. Paige’s fingers tightened slightly on Azzi’s waist, her own breaths shallow as she tried to steady herself.

Their dancing grew needier, the space between them nonexistent. It wasn’t just the physical closeness; it was the way they seemed to be silently communicating through every glance, every brush of skin. Paige closed her eyes for a brief moment, soaking in the sensation, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Azzi could hear it.

Without warning, Azzi crossed the line between hovering and touching.

Her lips ghosted over Paige’s neck, softly. It wasn’t aggressive or rushed—just featherlight kisses that sent sparks racing through Paige’s veins. Paige sighed audibly, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her composure. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s hips reflexively, grounding herself so she didn’t lose it entirely in the middle of the bar.

Azzi noticed the way Paige’s body tensed under her touch, and it only fueled her. As she let her lips linger a moment longer, the pressure slightly firmer now in a few spots, before pulling back just enough to murmur into Paige’s ear.

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

Paige’s eyes opened, her grip on Azzi’s waist faltering as her heart raced. Before she could respond, Azzi was already stepping back, her touch slipping away like sand through Paige’s fingers.

Azzi didn’t look back as she walked toward the bathroom. Paige stood there for a moment, frozen, the ghost of Azzi’s touch and the warmth of her lips still lingering on her skin.

The music continued around her, the chatter and laughter of the team and other patrons filling the space, but it all felt distant now. Paige’s focus was entirely on the retreating figure of Azzi, her heart pounding as she weighed her next move.

Her lips curved into a subtle, almost involuntary smirk as she exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. There was no real decision to make—her body had already made it for her. With one last glance around the bar, Paige slipped through the crowd, following the same path Azzi had taken moments earlier.

When Paige stepped into the dimly lit bathroom, her gaze locked onto Azzi, who was leaning casually against the sink. Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet Paige’s, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Paige didn’t say a word as she turned and locked the door behind her with a click, the sound echoing in the space. Her hand lingered on the lock for a second longer than necessary, steadying herself as she exhaled, before slowly facing Azzi again.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them thick. Azzi’s smirk faltered slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she studied Paige’s expression. It wasn’t playful or hesitant—Paige’s eyes burned with something Azzi couldn’t place, her chest rising and falling as though she was barely holding herself back.

The silence was broken when Azzi took two quick steps forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Without warning, her hands gripped the front of Paige’s shirt, pushing her back until Paige’s shoulders hit the cool wall with a thud. Azzi’s lips were on hers immediately, the kiss urgent and messy, tongues battling one another as they fought for control.

Paige’s hands instinctively went to Azzi’s waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as she pulled her even closer. Azzi pressed against her fully, her grip tightening on Paige’s shirt, but it was clear neither one of them was willing to give up control.

Then, in a quick movement that left Azzi momentarily stunned, Paige flipped their positions, slamming Azzi’s back against the wall with a force that made her gasp. Azzi’s head tilted back slightly from the impact, her lips parting in surprise, but her body instantly responded to the dominance radiating from Paige.

The heat coursed through Azzi, her breath hitching as she met Paige’s gaze. No one had ever handled her like this before—there was a certainty, a confidence in Paige’s actions that excited Azzi.

Paige didn’t give her much time to process, her lips crashing back onto Azzi’s with the same fervor as before. Her hands slid down Azzi’s sides, gripping her hips firmly as she pressed her body against Azzi’s, pinning her to the wall. Azzi let out a soft moan against Paige’s lips, her own hands tangling in Paige’s hair as she pulled her even closer, the world outside that bathroom disappearing entirely.

The two of them stayed locked in that rhythm, bodies pressed impossibly close, lips and hands moving with an urgency that neither seemed able—or willing—to control. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s hips remained firm, holding her in place every time Azzi tried to shift, a silent but undeniable reflection of her dominance.

As their kisses deepened, Paige’s lips began trailing down Azzi’s jaw. She kissed and sucked softly along the curve, her movements careful not to leave any marks. Azzi’s head tilted instinctively, giving Paige better access even as her mind began to catch up to her body.

The thought of Paige leaving marks on her skin—of something so visible, so undeniably real—triggered a sudden flicker of realization. Azzi’s heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow as she tried to fight the pull of Paige’s lips, her touch, her everything.

“Paige…” Azzi’s voice came out barely above a whisper, shaky and uncertain, her resolve faltering even as the word left her lips. Paige didn’t seem to hear her—or maybe she did and thought Azzi was whispering her name for other reasons—because she continued, her lips sucking against the sensitive spot just below Azzi’s ear, drawing a sharp inhale from her.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut, pulling every ounce of willpower she could muster. This time, she took a deep, steadying breath and whispered more firmly, “Paige stop.” She gently pushed at Paige’s shoulders, just enough to create a space between them.

Paige stilled immediately, her hands falling away from Azzi’s hips, her hazy eyes snapping up to meet Azzi’s. The awe and unfiltered admiration written across Paige’s face made Azzi’s chest ache, her throat tightening painfully as she tried to find the right words.

“We can’t,” Azzi said softly, the words catching in her throat as her hands lingered on Paige’s shoulders, not wanting to completely let go yet.

Pain flickered in Paige’s eyes briefly but she quickly masked it as she reached out, her hand gently cupping Azzi’s cheek slowly. “It’s okay,” she said softly, forcing her voice to sound understanding.

“I…Um... I should go,” Azzi said quietly, her voice barely audible over the thundering in her chest. She turned to leave, but Paige’s voice stopped her.

“Get home safe Az,” Paige said softly.

Azzi didn’t turn back as she walked out, her mind a storm of emotions, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her chest. She couldn’t look at Paige again. Not right now.

…

Later that night Azzi finally mustered the courage to go talk to Paige. She needed to explain, or at least some kind of resolution to everything swirling between them. The night’s events—especially the kiss in the bathroom—kept replaying in her mind, and she couldn't get rid of the knot in her stomach. She knew she couldn’t just let things sit unresolved between them. But she didn’t know what to expect when she knocked on Paige’s dorm door.

As she walked down the hall toward Paige’s room, Azzi felt her heart pound in her chest. Her hand hovered over the door, and for a moment, she paused, wondering if this was the right thing to do. But before she could knock, she heard something from inside Paige’s room—a sound that made her blood run cold.

“Paige! Oh my god, Fuck Paige.” A girl’s voice, excited and a little too loud for the quiet of the dorms.

Azzi’s stomach dropped. She froze, her hand still in the air. The sound of the girl calling Paige’s name echoed in her ears, and Azzi could feel a wave of nausea rise in her throat. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her chest.

It hurt, even though Azzi couldn’t explain why. She wanted to shake it off, to remind herself that she wasn’t with Paige and that she had no claim on her, but the sting wouldn’t go away.

She stood there for a long moment, paralyzed by the sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even bring herself to knock on the door anymore. Instead, she backed away, feeling like she couldn’t catch her breath. The feeling of walking into Paige’s room and finding that girl with her—that girl whose name she didn’t even know but who had already made Azzi feel small—was too much.

Azzi turned and walked quickly down the hallway, away from Paige’s room, her heart racing in her chest.

…

For the next few weeks, Paige and Azzi kept things friendly, almost as if that night at Ted's had never happened. They didn’t bring it up once—no awkward glances, no mention of the kiss. They were good at pretending. To anyone else, they were just two friends hanging out, enjoying the occasional late-night talk, laughing at inside jokes, and sharing glances across the room. And for a while, that worked. They kept it light and uncomplicated. But Azzi knew, deep down, that something had changed.

It wasn’t until they found themselves at another party that the cracks started to show again. Clearly alcohol was their biggest enemy. This time, it was more of a low-key kickback in someone’s suite—still loud and filled with the hum of music and chatter, but less crowded than a full on party. Azzi was grateful for that; she didn’t want to deal with the crowds of people that had made everything feel so messy the last time.

Amber hadn’t so much as glanced at her all night, spending the majority of her time with some girl from her law class who kept trailing after her, whispering in her ear, and laughing like they were in their own little world. Azzi didn’t mind. In fact, it was a relief. She didn’t want to deal with Amber tonight. She just wanted to get through the evening without any drama—something she knew she was starting to crave, especially when it came to Paige.

Paige was there too, of course, as she always was. She wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but she was still fun to be around. Her usual carefree energy, though, was tempered by something tonight. Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in the way Paige held herself, the way she lingered a little too long in Azzi’s space when they shared a laugh, or the way their hands brushed as they passed each other in the small crowd.

For a while, Azzi managed to focus on other things—laughing at jokes, chatting with some of their teammates, and even dancing a little. But it wasn’t long before Paige’s presence became undeniable again. Every time she looked in Paige’s direction, there was something magnetic about her. She found herself gravitating back toward her, unable to resist the pull.

And then, of course, the alcohol kicked in. The drinks kept flowing, and just like the last time, the line between friendly and something more began to blur. Azzi caught herself looking at Paige longer than necessary, noticing the way the light hit her face or how her lips curled into a smile when she said something funny. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, responding to the subtle cues, the closeness they shared.

The night seemed to slip into a haze after a few too many drinks. The music was louder, the air warmer with the scent of alcohol and bodies pressed together. Azzi, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, found herself near Paige again. Azzi tried to focus on something else—anything else—so her eyes flickered back to Amber, still deep in conversation with the same girl from her law class.

Azzi wasn’t even upset, she was just curious about the situation, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Paige followed her line of sight, eyes narrowing slightly as she saw the same thing Azzi did. Amber was leaning in, her lips too close to the other girl’s ear, her body language clearly more than friendly. For a moment, Paige didn’t know what came over her, but she felt a spark of something, something protective that pushed her forward. Before she had a chance to second-guess it, she stood from her spot and pulled Azzi gently but firmly onto her lap on the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist.

The sudden proximity caught Azzi off guard. She could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her back, the warmth of her body pressing against hers, and the weight of Paige’s arms as they tightened around her. Azzi tensed slightly, not sure how to react to the intensity of the moment. But then Paige’s voice, soft and soothing, brushed against her ear.

“Just relax,” Paige whispered, her breath warm on Azzi’s skin. It was as if the simple words unlocked something inside Azzi. She felt her body hum, a subtle tension easing as Paige’s words settled in her mind. She leaned back slightly, her head resting against Paige’s chest, the solid thump of her heartbeat grounding her.

Paige’s voice was soft against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, "You know you're much prettier than whoever she's talking to." Azzi couldn’t help the hum that escaped her lips, the sound almost a mixture of appreciation and something else.

Paige’s voice dipped lower. “I would never do you like that.”

Azzi stayed still for a moment, leaning comfortably against Paige’s chest, but her words came out without hesitation. “You did.”

Paige froze for a second, confused, her arms tightening around Azzi instinctively. "Whatchu mean?"

Azzi let out a breath, her heart racing with the weight of the conversation, and she turned her head just enough to rest her cheek against Paige’s chest. “That night after Ted’s… I came to talk to you.”

Paige stiffened, her jaw clenching slightly. She didn’t need to hear more. She already knew exactly what Azzi was talking about. The air between them shifted, the lightness of their previous banter now replaced by an unspoken tension.

She tightened her grip around Azzi, not out of force but to keep her close, to prevent the moment from slipping out of her control. "I was drunk," Paige said quietly, though her tone betrayed a hint of guilt.

Azzi didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her chest felt tight, not just from the closeness, but from Paige’s words. She didn’t know why it hurt more to hear that it had been a moment of drunken weakness than if Paige had just admitted it had been something more. But she swallowed hard, pushing the sting of it down.

“Yeah, well.” Azzi finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, as cutting as the silence that followed.

Paige let out a frustrated breath, but instead of getting defensive, she spoke with more restraint. “You wanna know something?” Her voice was quieter now.

Azzi nodded her head gently against Paige’s chest, her heart pounding in anticipation. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Paige just yet, not wanting to see what might be written on her face.

Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s ear as she spoke, lowering her voice even more, making Azzi shiver. “Your name slipped out.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at that, her body instinctively turning, as if the words had unlocked something inside her. She was trying to turn to face Paige, to process what had just been said, but Paige’s grip on her tightened, keeping her in place, pressing her body flush against hers.

“Don’t. Just listen,” Paige murmured. Azzi felt the heat of Paige’s breath against her neck, and despite the knot in her stomach, she couldn’t pull away. Paige’s arms were like anchors, steadying her in the midst of the storm inside her.

Amber’s gaze shifted across the room, her eyes narrowing when she spotted the two of them. She had been too distracted by the girl from her law class, but now that she was looking, it was impossible to ignore the way Azzi and Paige were practically wrapped around each other. Paige’s arm was snugly around Azzi’s waist, their heads tilted toward each other, too close. Amber felt a surge of anger rise within her as she watched Paige’s lips move near Azzi’s ear, whispering something she couldn’t hear but could certainly imagine as Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed and she crossed her legs.

Amber’s grip on her drink tightened, and her pulse quickened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Azzi was lost in the moment, but then, out of the corner of her eye she felt Amber’s gaze. The air seemed to thicken, and Azzi could feel the tension spike instantly, even before Paige noticed.

Amber’s eyes were locked on her and Paige, and the fury in her gaze was clear. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her posture was rigid. Azzi knew Amber well enough to see the storm brewing in her eyes, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was directed solely at Azzi. It was as if Amber was furious with Paige too.

Paige, however, seemed to enjoy the spectacle once she noticed. Her smirk widening as she notices Amber staring at them. She didn’t break eye contact with Amber. Instead, she leaned in closer to Azzi, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper that sent an involuntary shiver through her.

"You want me to let go?"

Azzi’s eyes flickered toward Amber, still standing across the room, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Azzi paused, her heart racing as she considered Paige’s question.

She knew Amber was watching. And yet, as her mind spun with uncertainty, her body couldn’t help but answer for her. She shook her head softly, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, "No."

Paige’s smile was slow and full of satisfaction, a gleam of triumph in her eyes as she tightened her hold on Azzi, pulling her impossibly closer. Azzi felt the pressure of Paige’s arms wrapping around her, keeping her in place as Paige’s lips descended on her neck, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against the sensitive skin there.

Azzi's breath caught in her throat, her body trembling slightly from the gentle caress as she bit her lip. Paige made sure to angle her head just enough so that Amber could see every move, every touch. The kiss lingered for a moment longer than necessary, the intimacy of it undeniable.

Paige pulled away just slightly, her gaze flicking over to Amber, locking eyes with her again in an almost mocking way. She knew Amber was furious, but it seemed like the moment only fueled Paige’s smirk, her confidence growing as she deliberately pressed closer to Azzi, the whole scene laid out in front of Amber’s watchful eyes.

Azzi, still caught in the feeling of Paige’s touch, swallowed hard, trying to focus on the situation at hand. But Paige had effectively shifted the focus back to Amber, making sure that whatever was happening—whatever was about to happen—Amber couldn’t look away.

Paige kissed Azzi’s neck a few more times, each press of her lips making Azzi’s pulse quicken.

The soft, lingering touches felt like they were meant for no one but her, and for a moment, everything else faded. Azzi’s breath became shallow, her body leaning into Paige’s embrace, her mind clouded completely by the heat of the moment.

But then, the spell was broken.

Amber, whose eyes blazing with a mix of rage and intoxication, stormed across the room. Her movements were unsteady. Without hesitation, Amber yanked Azzi off of Paige, the movement more forceful than necessary.

Azzi stumbled slightly, the abruptness of the action catching her off guard, but before she could even regain her balance, Paige was standing up quickly, her posture stiff, her jaw clenching with anger. She stepped in front of Azzi, putting herself between them, her eyes flashing as she looked Amber up and down.

“Don’t fucking touch her like that,” Paige’s voice was low but still controlled enough.

Amber, still fuming, sneered at Paige.. “I can touch her however the fuck I want to,” she spat, her voice slurred just enough to reflect how drunk she was. She took a step toward Azzi, her hand reaching out again as if to make her point as she tried to grab Azzit.

Paige stepped between them before she could get any closer. “Yo, you needa chill,” Paige said.

Amber ignored her and reached for Azzi again, but Paige’s hand shot out, stopping her in her tracks. “Bro, she’s not going with you. You’re crashing out,” Paige said. Her eyes locked on Amber’s with a mix of warning and restraint.

Amber let out a bitter chuckle, her drunkenness masking the anger simmering beneath. “I promise you haven’t seen that yet,” she snapped.

Paige didn’t flinch. She didn’t step back. Instead, she moved closer, her jaw clenching even tighter. The air between them was thick and for a moment, it felt like the room had gone silent, everyone holding their breath to see what would happen next.

Just as the situation was about to tip over the edge, Evina appeared out of nowhere, throwing her arm around Paige’s shoulders casually.. “Yo, you good, P?” she asked, her voice light but carrying enough weight to cut through the tension.

Paige didn’t take her eyes off Amber, their gaze still locked. “Yeah, I’m good E.”

Evina, still sensing the storm brewing, gently started nudging Paige back, her arm firm around her shoulders. “Alright, then. Let’s keep it that way,” she said, her tone calm as she tried to defuse the situation before it exploded.

Paige let it happen, allowing Evina to put some space between her and Amber, though her eyes never left Amber’s face. The message was clear.

Amber’s voice cut through the heavy silence.. “Azzi this is bullshit, let’s go.”.

Azzi didn’t move from her position near Paige, her body tense, clearly caught in an internal battle. Her eyes flicked between Amber and Paige, knowing her answer but unsure of what to say. How to say it.

Amber’s frustration turned to disbelief as she took a step forward, her movements aggressive. “Azzi, are you fucking serious right now?” she snapped, her voice rising. She tried to get closer to Azzi, but Paige was there again, stepping in and blocking her path.

“She clearly doesn’t wanna go with you, just let it go,” Paige said.

Amber scoffed, glaring at Paige like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She can speak for herself. She’s not a fucking toddler,” she shot back, her anger bubbling over.

The words seemed to snap Azzi out of her internal battle. She straightened her posture, inhaling deeply as she finally found her voice. “I’m just gonna stay with Paige tonight.”

Amber froze, her expression shifting from anger to shock as the weight of Azzi’s words sunk in. “What the fuck do you mean you’re staying with Paige tonight?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, the disbelief clear.

Azzi’s gaze didn’t falter as she replied, her voice a little firmer this time. “You can go be with whoever you want from law class and I’m going to stay with Paige.”

The room seemed to still, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Azzi didn’t need to elaborate further. The implication in her words was clear, and Amber understood exactly what she meant.

Amber let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked between Azzi and Paige. “Wow,” she muttered. “Almost three years of my life down the fucking drain.”

For a moment, Amber stood there, her chest rising and falling as if she wanted to say more, but no words came. With a sharp turn, she stormed toward the counter. Grabbing an empty glass, she poured herself a hefty drink, the sound of liquid hitting glass cutting through the tense silence.

Azzi exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping as the weight of the moment settled over her. She stared at the floor, processing everything, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Paige noticed. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Azzi’s back to draw her attention. Azzi glanced at her, her watery eyes betraying the calm facade she was trying to keep.

“You good?” Paige asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Azzi gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she murmured, but the slight tremor in her voice told another story.

Paige studied her carefully, reading every detail—the tenseness of her shoulders, the glossiness of her pretty brown eyes, the way her hands fidgeted. She saw it all: the hurt, the relief, and the overwhelming weight of the decision Azzi had just made.

After a moment, Paige leaned in slightly. “You wanna get outta here?”

Azzi blinked quickly, trying to chase away the tears that were trying to spill over. She looked at Paige, the question hanging in the air like an open door, a perfect escape that she desperately needed. With a small nod, she said.

“Yes. Please.”

Without another word, Paige slid her arm around Azzi’s shoulders and Azzi melted into her side, leaning her head slightly against Paige's as they made their way to the door.

Some people in the room seemed to register the moment. Heads turned the weight of their departure together a little more serious.

…

After that, it was like the universe conspired to give Azzi small, quiet signs the rest of the night, reassuring her that she’d made the right decision.

The first came in the form of Paige when they got back to the room. She didn’t push or pry for information or what this meant for them; she simply held Azzi, her arms wrapped securely around her while silent tears slipped down Azzi’s face. It wasn’t dramatic or loud—just a quiet release as Azzi processed the reality of what had happened. She wasn’t exactly sad, but the weight of ending a nearly three-year relationship pressed on her chest.

Paige didn’t say anything. She didn’t try to fill the silence with platitudes or ask if Azzi wanted to talk. She just stayed there, letting Azzi’s tears fall against her chest, dampening her chest.

That was the first sign—because Azzi didn’t know anyone else, besides sweet and gentle Paige, who would hold the girl they were in love with while she cried over her ex. It was a selfless love that Azzi hadn’t experienced before, the kind of quiet genuine love that didn’t demand gratitude or expect anything in return.

Eventually, the tears slowed, Azzi’s body growing heavier in Paige’s arms. Her breathing evened out, her exhaustion catching up to her.

Paige didn’t move, didn’t let go, even as Azzi drifted to sleep against her chest, her tears drying where they’d fallen.

The next moment the universe seemed to confirm Azzi had made the right choice came later that night. Paige hadn’t fully let herself fall asleep yet. She was hovering in that space between wakefulness and rest, a part of her instinctively still alert because she knew what might happen.

Hours later, Azzi began to stir, soft murmurs turning into restless movements as her breathing changed. The effects of a bad dream pulled her out of sleep, and she woke with a slight panic.

But Paige was there.

Within seconds, Paige tightened her arms around Azzi, pulling her back down to the mattress, whispering groggily, “It’s just a dream, Az.” Her voice was a little raspy from sleep, barely above a murmur, but it anchored Azzi.

Azzi stayed still, her breath shaky as she tried to gather herself. Paige, still half-asleep, spooned her tightly, her hold warm and reassuring, her presence a contrast for Azzi’s frayed nerves. They didn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch out between them as Paige’s coconut-and-vanilla scent surrounded Azzi.

Azzi lay there, her mind racing as she processed everything—where she finally was, who she was with, and how different it felt. Finally, she whispered, “Are you awake?”

Paige squeezed her tighter, pulling her closer into the spooning position, and hummed in response, the sound low in Azzi’s ear.

After a moment, Paige’s voice, still thick with sleep, asked, “You wanna talk about your dream?”

Azzi hesitated before asking, “How’d you know it was a bad dream?”

Even in the dark, Paige smiled, though Azzi couldn’t see it. “I noticed on a few road games,” she said softly, “you tend to have nightmares when you’ve had a lot of sugar that day.” Her voice carried a teasing warmth as she continued, “Almost like your mind needs to burn off all the extra energy or something.”

Azzi couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling lighter in a way she hadn’t expected. The way Paige noticed things like that—small, seemingly inconsequential details—made Azzi’s chest ache in the best way.

In that moment, Azzi allowed herself to fully confirm what she’d known for a while: Paige was the right one for her. She pressed herself further into Paige, her back snug against Paige’s chest, and interlaced their fingers, her palm pressing against the back of Paige’s hand.

Paige felt the shift and whispered, “You good?”

Azzi nodded, humming her confirmation, but Paige wasn’t fully convinced. “You can’t sleep anymore?” she asked gently, her thumb brushing over Azzi’s knuckles.

“No,” Azzi admitted quietly.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s hair as she murmured, “What do you need? I can make you some tea or something.”

Azzi hesitated, her mind swirling. The weight of the day, the relief of being held by Paige, and the pull of something deeper. Finally, after a long moment, she shifted closer to Paige—though there was hardly any space left between them—and guided Paige’s hand lower, resting over her waistband, silently telling her what she wanted.

Paige stilled for a moment, processing Azzi’s request. Then, her fingers tightened slightly around Azzi’s hand. “Are you sure?” Paige whispered, making sure Azzi was fully in control of what she wanted.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Paige’s in the faint light spilling in through the blinds. “Yeah,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her gaze.

Paige leaned forward, pressing a soft lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips. She then trailed a few more kisses down Azzi’s neck, her movements slow, giving Azzi time to change her mind if she wanted to. Paige’s breath brushed against Azzi’s ear as she murmured, “Are you sure, Azzi?”

She nodded softly against Paige, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes I’m sure,” she whispered.

Paige searched her face for another moment, wanting to be absolutely certain. When she found nothing but certainty in Azzi’s expression, she smiled back, her features softening. Her free hand brushed a strand of hair from Azzi’s face as she murmured, “Okay.”

She leaned in again, her lips trailing along Azzi’s jawline, her lips filled with nothing but care. Paige moved slowly, wanting to savor every moment and make sure Azzi felt safe after everything from earlier that night. After her lips have traced every part of Azzis neck, Paige softly grabs her jaw pulling her towards into a soft kiss. Their lips and tongues dance with one another perfectly as Paige leads them.

The kiss grew more urgent, both of them succumbing to the warmth spreading through their bodies and the slight alcohol still in their system. It was the kind of heat that made the air feel heavier, the kind that drew them closer despite the impossibleness of closing the already nonexistent gap between them.

Paige let out a low groan when Azzi nipped at her bottom lip, sending a shiver down her spine that she felt all the way to her toes. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips at the sound, emboldened by how easily she could unravel her.

Trying to turn in Paige’s arms to face her fully, Azzi shifted, but Paige tightened her hold, her hands firm as they kept Azzi in place. “Stay like this,” Paige murmured against her lips, her voice rough and breathless.

Azzi sighed softly at the words, her body relaxing into Paige’s as she allowed herself to be guided, her hands coming up to rest on top of Paige’s that were trailing up Azzi’s stomach to palm her breast under her sports bra. Making Azzi moan quietly.

Her head tilting slightly to give Paige more space, their lips meeting again in a kiss that was softer this time but no less consuming.

The world outside their little bubble ceased to exist. There was nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths and the muffled sounds of their kisses filling the 3 a.m. silence. Paige squeezed Azzi’s chest slightly, her palm warm as it anchored Azz here and there, Azzi couldn’t help the way her chest rose and fell a little quicker, her heart racing each time Paige palmed her breast or circling her fingers, as she surrendered to the moment.

The air between them is a little sticky with heat, the silence punctuated only by the occasional gasp or hum of pleasure as Paige's hand explores more boldly. Azzi's breath hitches when Paige's lips trail lower again, brushing against the soft skin of her neck, as she sucks softly here and there. A warmth spreads through Azzi and she tilts her head to give Paige more room, her body quickly reacting in ways she hadn't expected. It usually took her so much longer.

Paige is completely lost in the moment too, her fingers grazing over Azzi's skin, exploring the curves of her body with a gentle urgency.

She can feel the quick rhythm of Azzi's heartbeat beneath her touch and the slight tremor in her movements every time she takes a deep breath. It's a silent conversation between them, that speaks of trust and longing, of desires barely held in check.

Paige pauses just for a moment, her lips hovering over Azzi's skin. "Can I leave marks?" she whispers again, her voice still soft but filled with a hint of need. Azzi reaches back as her fingers curl into Paige's hair, tugging her down to meet her lips for a moment. "Just make sure it’s below my jersey," she murmurs.

Paige nods at this as she goes back to sucking on Azzi’s neck, only sucking harshly when she angled herself enough to be near her chest. This made Azzi hum quietly each time as she grew more needy.

The tension between them thickens as Azzi, unable to hold herself back, pushes herself back against Paige with more urgency.

Paige doesn't hesitate, sensing her need, and her hand slides into Azzi’s shorts down to where Azzi's body is calling out for more. The touch alone causes a soft whimper to escape Azzi’s as Paige drags her fingers through her wetness.

Azzi's whimpers, her body reacting immediately to the feeling. Paige smiles to herself, the sound of Azzi's breathless response sending a rush of heat through her.

"How do you like it, pretty girl?" Paige whispers, her voice low and teasing Azzi a little as she continues rubbing against her, brushing her lips along Azzi's neck.

Azzi barely manages to catch her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. It's almost too much for her to process, her body demanding more but her mind clouded with desire that she never wants to end. She struggles to find her voice, a soft tremble in her response. "I don’t know... I haven’t done a lot," she breathes, her words catching.

Paige chuckles softly, her lips gently tracing the outline of Azzi's jaw, coaxing her to speak. "You still gotta tell me what you want," she murmurs, her thumb brushing Azzi's lips.

Azzi, breath hitching, whines quietly in response, the word spilling out of her before she even fully realizes it. "Rough."

A slow hum escapes Paige at the confession. There's a slight pause, a moment where she evaluates, making sure Azzi is sure. "You wanna try it?" she asks.

Azzi nods, eyes half-lidded, her voice almost a whisper. "Just a little for now."

Paige nods with a small, satisfied smile.

"Mm. Okay." She adjusts so she can tangle her fingers in Azzi’s hair to tug slightly, pulling her head back just enough to expose more of her neck. Her other hand continues its journey, her movements deliberate as she works Azzi up, feeling Azzi's pulse quicken beneath her touch.

Azzi immediately gasps as Paige yanks her hair back again and inserts her fingers at the same time. Paige keeping Azzi close as she works her fingers in and out.

Azzi, who has always prided herself on her composure, found herself straining to stay silent. Every brush of Paige’s lips, every gentle tug of her hands in Azzi’s hair and the way she was moving in and out of her with ease, sent shockwaves through Azzi that begged for release in the form of a sound. But she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, refusing to let the smallest escape.

Their situation was far too complicated for anyone to find out like this, especially not their teammates. Azzi’s mind flickered briefly to how disastrous it would be if someone heard them, but even that thought wasn’t enough to fully pull her back from the haze of desire Paige had her in.

Paige noticed the tension in Azzi’s body and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she trailed kisses and bites along the column of Azzi’s neck, testing just how far she could push her.

“Struggling, huh?” Paige whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear.

Azzi shivered but didn’t respond, her nails digging slightly into Paige’s arm definitely leaving nail marks. She bit her lip harder, trying to focus on anything other than the way Paige’s mouth was wreaking havoc on her self-control.

Paige chuckled softly at her silence, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s skin and making it even harder for her to stay quiet. “Relax,” Paige murmured, her voice softer now, her lips pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s ear. “I’ll make sure you stay quiet.”

The reassurance helped, only a little, but it was still a battle for Azzi to keep her composure. Her heart raced as she nodded faintly, leaning back into Paige, trusting her to keep them both grounded.

They stayed just like that for some time. Paige whispering in Azzi’s ear as she worked in and out of her and Azzi biting her lip or pushing her face into the pillow to try to muffle some of the sounds slipping out of her.

Eventually Azzi starts pushing herself further into Paige trying to match her rhythm as Paige's grip tightens in Azzi's hair, pulling her head back just enough for her lips to brush against Azzi's ear. Her voice a little rough, full of her restrained desire as she mumbled, “You feel so fucking good.”

Azzi whimpered at the words, her breathing unsteady as she said, “It’s so hard to stay quiet.” Her voice cracked slightly, her desperation evident, and it made Paige’s chest tighten in the best way.

“I know,” Paige chuckled softly, her tone laced with amusement. “I can tell.” Her lips grazed Azzi’s jawline before she whispered, “You’re doing so good.”

The praise sent heat through Azzi’s legs, and before she could stop herself, she was desperately reaching back to grab Paige's head and pulling her into a desperate kiss. It was the only way she could think to quiet herself, to channel everything she was feeling without letting any more sounds escape.

Paige groaned softly into her kiss, her hands sinking deeper into Azzi, her other hand still tangled in her hair as she held her firmly in place. She met Azzi’s need with her own, kissing her deeply, almost possessively. Azzi whimpered again at the new angle, and Paige swallowed the sound, her lips and tongue moving against Azzi’s in a way that made the world around them disappear.

Azzi’s neediness grew, her hands clutching at Paige as if letting go would shatter her. The kiss deepened further, their breaths mingling as Azzi melted into Paige, unable to think of anything but the way her body responded to Paige as if it had never been touched before.

Paige pulled back just enough to murmur against Azzi’s lips, her voice breathless but teasing. “You still good on being quiet?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Not if you keep fucking me like this.”

Paige chuckles before leaning back down to pull Assi into a kiss as she continues working her fingers in and out of Azzi. She wants to do so much more to her but she’s taking it slow for Azzi who is less experienced. Not long after, Azzi's legs are squeezing around Paige's hand as she starts to chase her release.

Paige senses Azzi's growing struggle to stay quiet, knowing just how difficult it’s going to be. So she brings her free arm under Azzi, guiding her hand to Azzi’s lips. “Bite down,” Paige whispers, her voice low.

Azzi hesitates for a moment, confusion flashing across her face before the pressure builds as Paige starts curling her fingers perfectly as she adds her thumb to Azzi’s clit. Feeling overwhelmed by this she does exactly as Paige instructed. Her teeth sinking into Paige’s hand, a sharp, almost desperate grip as her body starts trembling. Her legs squeezing Paige’s hand impossibly tight as she finishes all over her hand.

The sensation sends a wave of heat through Paige, but the bite is harsh, almost painful, as Azzi fights to stay silent. Paige, feeling the intensity of the bite, clenches her jaw but when that's not enough she quickly presses her lips to Azzi's shoulder, the sting of her own discomfort igniting a need to counter it. Her teeth graze Azzi's skin, just enough to distract from the sharp bite, as both of them are caught in the tension of the moment as Paige coaxes Azzi through her release.

As Azzi’s breathing finally began to slow, still uneven but no longer shaky as Paige pressed soft kisses to her shoulder and the back of her neck. Grounding Azzi as she murmured against her skin, “You’re so beautiful... so perfect Azzi….” Her voice was a soothing balm, wrapping Azzi in warmth.

Azzi felt herself going limp against Paige, her body almost like dead weight, but Paige didn’t let go. She held her firmly.

After some time, Azzi shifted, turning to face Paige. Her brown eyes were hazy, her lips slightly parted as she tried to process the moment. Paige reached up, her wet fingers brushing Azzi’s lips gently.

“Open,” Paige whispered, her voice soft but commanding.

Still in a daze, Azzi obeyed without hesitation, parting her lips as Paige slid her fingers into Azzi’s mouth letting her taste herself. Azzi instinctively wrapped her lips around them, her eyes fluttering as she felt the intimacy of the gesture. Paige’s eyes softened, a quiet smile gracing her lips as she watched Azzi experience something new, her thumb of her free hand brushing over Azzi’s cheek.

Paige slowly withdrew her fingers, leaning in to kiss Azzi tenderly. Their lips met in a slow kiss that felt like a question and an answer all at once. When they finally broke apart, Paige cupped Azzi’s face, her thumb grazing her jawline.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s for any hint of hesitation or regret.

Azzi nodded, her eyes hooded, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Yeah... I’m more than okay.”

"Come here," Paige whispered softly, as she tugged Azzi closer. Azzi let herself be pulled, settling onto Paige’s chest with ease. Her head rested just over Paige’s heart, and the steady, rhythmic sound filled her ears. It wasn’t completely calm, though—it was hammering in her chest, quick and unsteady, a stark contrast to the soothing hand Paige had resting on her back.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, the vibrations against Azzi’s cheek. “Of course it is,” she admitted, but she didn’t offer any further explanation. She didn’t need to—Azzi already knew what it meant.

Azzi opened her mouth to say something, to ask if Paige was sure about all of this, but before she could, Paige leaned down and caught her lips in another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or full of heat like the others they’d shared tonight—it was grounding, a soft reassurance.

When they broke apart, Paige murmured, “Just relax Az. We can talk about it later.”

Azzi nodded, settling back into Paige’s chest as her breathing evened out. She reached down to intertwine their hands, wanting the simple connection, but she froze when her fingers brushed against Paige’s hand. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt the harsh indentations there.

She gasped softly. “Oh my God,” Azzi whispered, realizing she’d left marks.

Paige chuckled again, her tone more playful this time. “Yeah… I don’t know what the hell you’re going to do when I start doing everything else.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh as she tucked herself back against Paige’s chest. The teasing didn’t faze her at all because she knew it was lighthearted. Instead, she focused on the comforting rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat, the sound lulling her further into a state of peace she hasn’t felt in a while.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi allowed herself to sink into the moment fully. As she listened to Paige’s heartbeat, soothing her to sleep, the truth she’d been fighting hard to ignore surfaced in her mind. She was in love with Paige. Completely and irrevocably.

And for once, she didn’t feel the need to push it away as she kissed Paige’s neck softly before drifting in her arms.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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viaviavie · 1 month ago

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omg hiii !1!1!1! I saw your work for the first time about Perfect bargaining Jade and it was really silly and funny, the way you wrote it is omg— idk how to explain it but it’s really good !1!1!1

If so, since your requests are open. Can you do silver x reader ?1?1? AHHH— you don’t have do this of course, if so then I’ll really appreciate it…!!

For this one, erm… reader is trying to give hints to Silver who’s completely oblivious to it, and Lilia has to step in and help his oblivious son, maybe includes the animal too bc they love the sleepy knight 🤫🤫

Please also take care of yourself , author! Take as much time as you need :333

ngl, i saw this ask 5 minutes after it was sent and jumped for it— i am clearly in the mood for silver, and book 7 has me whipped so so bad AAAAA thank you for the lovely compliments! i hope i served this one well :)

in which the members of diasomnia bestow blessings upon the prefect who is desperately trying to convey feelings to an oblivious silver. PAIRINGS: silver x reader (ft. supportive diasomnia) WARNINGS: characters are depicted as 18+, suggestive content for the third blessing NOTES: i took a look at sleeping beauty for some inspiration. referencing the three gifts bestowed by the fairy godmothers, i thought it would be funny to cast our diasomnia members as wingmen for silver. i hope it's still just as enjoyable!

What was meant to be Lilia's business, eventually became Sebek's and Malleus's business too when the former beckoned them over to that small couch in the Diasomnia dorm. With your head buried into your hands, you hoped to conceal the light blush on your cheeks as you hoped to recant your most recent concern. Of course Lilia would ask the other two to come over, they were your friends too, after all. Luckily for you, your actual problem was likely asleep somewhere on the campus, far away from where you were now.

Lilia's lips were curled into a bat-like grin as he called your name. "What troubles you, my child?" He asks, as if he had forgotten about what you had told him the first time. Still burying your face in your hands, you resist the urge to whine in embarrassment. Sebek glares at you, arms crossed with such impatience. "Speak up, human! You should be grateful that Master Lilia and the Young Master have taken their time to graciously lend their aid in your concerns."

Snapping from your pitiful state, you bit back at Sebek with a weak glare of your own. "I like Silver, okay!" That definitely shuts the half-fae up when he freezes, taken aback by your sudden declaration. Malleus hums in amusement, smiling at your flustered expression. Lilia could only chuckle as he pats your back, sympathy evident in his smile. "There we go! That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You fall silent for a moment, giving Lilia a deadpanned stare.

"You knew the entire time, didn't you?"

"My child, do tell me who would go out of their way to spend time with Silver even with his sleeping conditions. You've spent almost an entire day with him while he was off in the land of dreams!"

Sebek chokes on air from the side, fingers gripping the edges of the couch to the point his face is beeting red. "You fancy Silver?!" You roll your eyes at his theatrics, drawing your attention to how peaceful Malleus appeared. The Briar Prince nods, his smiling growing with each thought processed through his mind. "I do think they make a very nice match. Wouldn't you say so, Lilia?"

"Indeed! The Prefect has been sweet to Silver, and such is the fruit of those affections." Lilia swooned, far too engrossed in his own joy to notice how you have slumped yourself over the couch. You let out a groan, shaking your head into hands. "I've been at it for weeks now, Lilia. There is never a right time to confess, and I can't even tell if he's interested back!"

A pair of gloved hands envelop yours, and Lilia pulls them down to flash his fangs into a grin. "Fret not, Prefect! There is a way to help Silver find some clarity in the matters of the heart!" He gushed excitedly, and it sends a shiver of concern down your spine. Surely, if Lilia's planning was just as eccentric as his cooking, something was bound to go wrong.

"Have you ever heard of the Great Three Patrons of True Love?" You furrow your brows at Lilia's question, shaking your head. "There's a Great Three Patrons of True Love?" You queried. Lilia throws his head back into laughter. "But of course! We have the Great Seven, but there are other legendary figures renown for blessing the world of romance." He sighs dreamily. Your face only further contorts into confusion, all the more puzzled by Lilia's scheming.

"How exactly are they going to help my feelings get through to Silver?"

"The Great Three Patrons? Not exactly,"

Lilia turns behind him, beckoning a hand in a gesturing motion. "Sebek! Malleus!" He enthused, mischief flashing behind his eyes. You could only gulp as Sebek prostrates himself, followed by Malleus's devilish smile.

"We have a job to do, boys!"

It is dusk when Sebek singlehandedly drags you to the woods behind the campus. You don't even get a response as he marches down the rock path, finally halting once you both stand at the boardwalk that stands before the mouth of a lagoon. "My gift shall be the gift of a romantic boat ride through a quiet stream!" You wince slightly at the volume of his tone, but the fish surrounding the area had seemingly swam away almost immediately at his booming voice.

"Sebek, are you sure this is gonna work?" You whispered, observing as the half-fae puffed up his chest with pride. "Of course! And we don't need to take your voice to make this plan work." You rub the back of your head, wondering where you have seen this scene before. "All you have to do, Prefect, is be yourself and let the ride take its course!" You stare at the boat, seemingly ignorant to the sound of clothes rustling beside you.

"Isn't this just a date?" You question, turning to Sebek for confirmation. Instead, your jaw drops with disbelief at the pile of clothes at your feet. Rather than his school uniform, the half-fae was dressed head-to-toe in scuba diving gear, followed by the wetsuit.

"Just a date? No, it is not just a date, Prefect." Sebek smirks at you, committed to his mission. "This shall be the most romantic venture of the decade!"

At the slight rustling of the grass coming from behind, Sebek immediately readies himself for a quick sprint. "Here he comes, Prefect! I will be lurking in the background for assistance!" Before you could even question the plan, he has scampered into a nearby bush with his clothes in tow. You barely get a moment to recompose yourself when you hear your name from a distance.

Turning around, your eyes land upon Silver who had paused at your side. He glances down at you with a gentle expression. "Prefect, you're here." He rubs the back of his head, tilting himself to the boat sitting in the water. "I was told that you needed to observe the wildlife here for an assignment from Professor Trein."

"I do?" Confusion contorts your expression, and you only grow more confused as you struggle to recall an assignment of sorts. Silver nods. "Yes. Sebek told me that he was supposed to help you across the lagoon, but he is currently occupied by his duties to Malleus." You take a quick look at the rustling bush below, only to give Silver an embarrassed smile. What kind of excuse is this, Sebek!?

"Right! I'm really sorry for dragging you out here. I'm sure you have other things to do." Silver shakes his head, his expression softening at your words. "No, it is my pleasure to accompany you, Prefect. I do like spending time with you." Even for such simple platonic words, your heartbeat quickens and you swallow to yourself with quiet laugher. "Can you row a boat?" You found yourself asking as Silver lowers himself onto the rowboat, reaching out his hand for you to take.

"I've learned how to row a boat while I lived in Briar Valley. Father would sometimes take me fishing as a form of enrichment, he says."

His grip is firm, yet gentle as you take an uncertain step into the wooden contraption. Both of you heave a sigh of relief as you are settled onto your seat, sharing smiles together.

You immediately take notice at the way Silver's muscles flex through his uniform as he took the oars and began pushing. He made it seem so easy, and the fact that he faced you— Shit, he's facing you! Once that realization hits you, your gaze is immediately shifting everywhere but his face. Through your peripherals, however, you swear that he is looking at you.

Your throat is as dry at the mermaid from the tale, and you are rendered speechless. By the time the sun has barely set, Silver hums to catch your attention. "It is a beautiful evening, don't you think so, Prefect?" By the light of the glowing firelies that had come to play, followed by the soft chatter of the freshwater residents in the lagoon, you take the time to marvel at the scenery. Perhaps Sebek's excuse does make sense, considering a lot of wildlife were active at this hour.

You want to say something, but you could only muster a shy nod as you finally brave yourself to look at the student across from you. He catches you into his stare, and now you were merely captive to his gaze. Just as difficult as it was to look at him, it was even harder to look away.

Silver had stopped rowing now, allowing the boat to float along the lagoon. Elbows resting on his knees, he is almost observing you like a specimen while you shift and squirm with that shy expression on your face.

And meanwhile, Sebek is cursing at you as he quietly surfaces from the water to breathe. The Prefect is never going to say a word at this rate! His eyes narrow with determination, his body barely floating among the water plants and the ducks as he takes a deep breath.

"There's your moment, floating in a blue lagoon..."

Both you and Silver pause, sharing the same confused look as the melodic timber bounces across the water. You certainly know what is causing that sound, but judging by the look on Silver's face, he was rather puzzled by its concise melody.

"Do you hear that?"

Before you could reply, a breeze hits your face and causes you to shiver from the cold. Curse your memory, you seemed to have forgotten your jacket at the dorm before Sebek had dragged you out for his escapade. Being the gentleman, Silver notices and he is suddenly alert as he shifts himself to the side. "You're cold, Prefect. Come and sit with me," He calls out gently, holding out his hand for you to take.

A sigh leaves your lips as you smile at him, taking his careful hand as he guided you to the space beside him. You do not miss the way his hand is wrapped against your waist, keeping you balanced and upright. Your eyes widened as he began to shimmy himself out of his jacket, and the protests ready on your lips die quickly as he places the garment over your shoulders. "I do not want you to catch a cold, Prefect."

He is close, and you can feel the warmth of his torso as he shifts closer to you now. You cannot hold back the satisfied sigh that leaves your lips, and you do not notice the way Silver smiles faintly at your peaceful expression.

"Boy, you better do it soon. No time would be better,"

Silver pauses slightly at the voice, but ignores it in favor of your attention. "The stars are bright tonight, Prefect. Would you like to watch them for a short while?" The suggestion takes you by surprise, and you barely catch Silver's face as he leans back, gesturing to a flat surface on the boat. Still, something urges you to lower yourself as he does, resting your head on his muscled forearm.

A surprised gasp leaves your lips as you stare at the sky, and Silver's breath is taken away by your awed expression. There is a certain content in his heart as he watches you stare, and you do not even notice the way he stares back at you.

"... won't say a word until you..."

It takes some time until you look back at Silver, once more held prisoner by his stare. He doesn't even realize that you have caught him staring this time, and continues to memorize your features and your soft smile. He should have questioned your silence a long time ago, but it is out of his mind as you relax onto his arm. Silver shifts closer, searching for something, whether it was warmth, or more of you.

"Come on and kiss the—!"

Alas, the moment is ruined when four teal arms loudly slammed against the boat.

Silver is immediately put on his guard, forcing himself up and gripping the oar as if it were a makeshift blade. His other arm is positioned across your figure, as if protecting you from whatever was in front of the boat. You are equally as startled, and the first sound you make this evening is a squeak. You stare in the darkness, immediately taking notice of two sets of mismatched eyes.

"Loooook, it's Shrimpy and Jellyfish!"

Almost flipping the boat over with his weight, Floyd surfaces from the water and waves at you with a toothy grin. His twin, on the other side, gives a cordial smile. "Jade! Floyd!" You cried out, flustered by their sudden appearance. "What in the world are you both doing here?" You asked in an exasperated tone, your hand clutching onto the other oar tightly.

Your frustration only serves to amuse the more composed twin. "Octanivelle students tend to come here for a swim. Floyd and I were here for a short exercise." The eel hummed, followed by the amused cackles of the other brother. "You should have told us you were both here! Jade and I would have been happy to propel you both to the other side!" The idea is unwelcomed as you and Silver immediately attempt to row the boat away.

"No thank you, we were just—" Your words were immediately cut off by the slightest sound of static coming from afar. All heads turn towards the direction of the noise, and you could only hide your face into your palms.

It is Sebek, dressed in the glory of his wetsuit, pointing his pen at the two eels. "AWAY RAPSCALLIONS!"

The threat is not lost on the two eels. "Ack, it's the Crocodile!" Floyd groans as Jade merely smiles, his attention caught by something else entirely. The twins splash back into the water to seemingly deal with the disturbance, and you could only stare at a confused Silver.

"We should start rowing." You murmur.

"Yes, we should." He replies with understanding.

It does not take long for you to be taken aside by Malleus this time. After that episode at the lagoon, you had heard that Sebek returned to Lilia bawling at his failure to fulfill his mission. He had even apologized to you himself for how poorly that plan went, and had spent the entire day moping over it. Needless to say, the mission to make Silver realize his feelings was a team effort to be shared.

And there you were, dressed in a fencing uniform from head to toe, your face obscured by a fencing mask that obscured your features. Malleus stands before you, arms crossed with a confident smirk on his face. "My gift shall be the gift of a dance. Such love may be realized through a mystery, just as a scullery maid found love at a ball she was never meant to attend."

But this was not a ball, by your understanding. You were heading out to spar with Silver after Lilia had claimed to have found a good partner to practice with. Rather, Silver does not know it would be you that he would be sparring with today.

You sheepishly rub the back of your head, averting your gaze from the fae. "I can duel, but I don't think my skills are enough to impress him." Malleus shakes his head in disagreement, taking upon the blade in your hands onto his own. "I do not think that would be the case, Child of Man. Your skills are adequate and for a time, I shall grant onto you this blessing."

With a swift movement, his arm dances across the blade. You watch in awe as the blade shimmers and glows for a slight moment before fading away. Malleus lets out a noise of satisfaction before returning the rapier to your hand. "This shall give you a bit of a... 'boost', as some people call it." A smile is brought across your lips as you playfully swing the sword at a fake opponent.

"Thank you, Malleus!"

"The blessing shall wear out, just as the maid's magic enchantments have faded away at midnight. Alas, she was still very much able to win over the prince's heart in that tale. I shall not have you wear a glass slipper, but the art of the sword shall suffice." Malleus smiles as your name is called out from afar, signaling your entrance to the courtyard nearby.

"Now, run along, Child of Man. I wish you great luck." You could only send a nod to Malleus followed by a quick thanks as you hurry yourself to the courtyard. Silver and Lilia are already there, and the student merely looks at you with respect.

As you approach, Silver holds out his hand as a greeting. You shake hands, and bow slightly. "Thank you for having me today." You nod in acknowledgement, glancing at Lilia to fill in the words for you. The bat-like fae chuckles, patting Silver's back. "Our fighter here is rather shy. I'm sure that translates to 'I hope we have a good match'!" Lilia snickers before he backs away, leaving you both to take your positions at the center of the courtyard.

You have dueled before, even joined Silver for some sparring lessons in the past. Even Sebek himself has admitted that you did surprisingly well for a human from such a normal background. Malleus had provided you confidence in that moment, and with this enchanted blade, you are certain that you can catch Silver's heart with the blade.

"Begin!"

You play the game as you would, waiting for your opponent to strike. You know Silver very well, especially after observing him for so long. He is not the type to strike first— that would certainly give an opponent the advantage to parry. And so, you do not make a move either, keeping a distance. Silver had to make the first move, and you must parry.

And as predicted, he makes the move with a swift swing of the sword that you block perfectly. However, it is easier to push back now rather than allow his weight to knock you back. The enchantments on the rapier allow you to push back with ease in spite of your physical abilities, forcing Silver to stagger. His eyes are narrowed with precise calculation as he swings again, to which you parry once more before swiping at him.

It is a dangerous dance, indeed. You respond to each swipe of the blade he sends you, dodging and lunging. Had it not been for the enchantment, you are certain that you would have collapsed onto the floor out of exhaustion. Silver is sweating, and it does not take long for him to lose his footing once you sweep you leg at his feet.

He falls, but he drags you down with him when his hand takes your sleeve and tugs you onto the grass. Before you knew it, the blade is out of your hands and you are suddenly trapped by the weight of the silver-haired boy on top of you. Silver straddles your hips, restraining your wrists above your head as you kick and squirm against his hold. Alas, you are weaponless and now, defenseless.

With a groan of defeat, you concede and cease your struggles. Silver pants and hums to himself, pleased with the outcome. He pulls away and returns to his feet, holding out his hand for you to take once more.

"Good work, Prefect."

You gasp out a sigh of relief as you tear away the fencing mask, revealing your face drenched with sweat. "Hey, Silver..." You smile tiredly as you take his welcome hand to pull yourself off the ground. "You played very well today." He acknowledged, lips quirked up slightly into a smile.

You beam at him with delight. "Thank you, Silver! Although, it was really just the rapier. Malleus blessed it early with his magic." You pause in your movements, looking at him with a surprised expression. "How'd you know it was me?" You stammered, and your heart skips another beat as Silver takes your wrist into his hand.

"You maneuver your wrist like this. Your grip tends to be loose, and your footing is always slightly shifted onto the right." You blink to yourself, amazed. You never did think that Silver had observed you enough to a point where he had grown familiar with your movements. Thankfully, you can blame the heat for your reddening cheeks. "Is that so?" You murmur in wonder, and your companion only nods.

Silver faces you, letting go of your wrist as it falls back to your side. He averts his gaze, almost shyly. "Would you like to spar with me again? I wouldn't want to keep you from any other obligations." Your heart melts at how quiet his tone was, as if he were hoping to keep a secret. You are glowing, and he carefully etches your beaming expression into his memory while you nod enthusastically.

"Of course! Let's go grab some water first!"

"I shall accompany you, Prefect."

Meanwhile, Malleus observes from behind a pillar in thought. "I see," He murmurs to himself, a content smile flashing across his features.

"I suppose the Prefect's skills were the glass shoes after all."

It was not an odd occurrence to trail after Silver at the end of the day. The act of walking your friend back to his dorm is unfortunately as platonic as it ever was. You swear it is to make sure he doesn't fall onto the floor if he decides to fall asleep mid-step, but really, you simply enjoy his company, as he does yours. Unfortunately for you, it's grown too difficult to tell whether Silver's feelings towards you are purely platonic or if there was something more than that.

You doubt you will find your answer today as Sebek drags the sleeping beauty to his dorm. You are collapsed onto the couch as you were a week prior when you came to Lilia seeking his guidance. Speak of the devil, the bat-like fae is blinking down at you with an eager grin.

"There is still one more blessing that we have yet to bestow upon you." You hope it is not a magic carpet ride. It would be really bad if Silver fell asleep in the middle of the air, and you are certain that a bat cannot outfly a magic carpet from Scarabia. You were rather unwilling to turn into a frog, and the last thing you wanted to do is be thrown into a war dressed like a soldier to gain Silver's affections. You were desperate, but not that desperate.

"You better have some grand master plan for this, Lilia." You uttered, sitting up from the couch. Lilia chuckles, and the sweet scent of cocoa hits your nose. "Nothing proactive, I assure you!"

That's odd. Delicious and Lilia are two words that one can never use in the same sentence.

Immediately, your face grows pale at the sight of a green mug in Lilia's hands. You immediately back yourself onto the couch, ready to bolt for the door at the slightest hint of food poisoning. "Lilia, what in the world did you put in this mug?" You ask a bit too hastily, and the older man only laughs at your reaction.

"Three tablespoons of Sam's Nocturne Chocolate delight and warm milk, my dear! I would have loved to add in some more ingredients to enhance its taste, but it seems that the dorm's pantry is empty once again."

The world takes a collective sigh of relief, and as do you as you gingerly take the mug into your hands. It is warm to the touch, but far from scalding. Lilia bows slightly, smiling at your relaxed figure. "My gift shall be the gift of the sweetest of dreams. It shall suffice for now."

He stays as he watches you take a hesitant sip, but to his delight, you immediately consume the drink in a few gulps. Returning the mug to his possession, you smile after wiping away at your lips with your sleeve. "Thanks, Lilia." Perhaps this was the right approach, and a good night's sleep could bring you some clarity on how to confess to Silver. Maybe you were just meant to confess to him yourself in the end, rather than wait for him to understand your feelings on his own.

Lilia pats your head with an assuring grin, but oddly enough, there is a hint of mischief behind his eyes that makes you feel a bit uneasy.

"Hurry back to your dorm, my dear! You'd best find a bed as it gets dark!"

It isn't ever so often that Silver sees himself in a dream. Most dreams that he slips into often concerned other people. He has seen Ace dream of a tyrannical Riddle chaining said student to his desk to finish his homework. There was an instance where Silver hid with Leona to escape the notorious hunter from Pomefiore. Silver has also spent a handful of dreams watching Jamil make a mockery out of poor Kalim in his power-driven fantasies. Maybe once, he has seen himself in a few dreams concerning his own dorm members, but this was the first time he had ever waltzed into yours.

He had followed your dream-like figure into the heart of the forest, stalking quietly within the shadows. A part of him knew that it was unnecessary to make such an effort to leave your dream undisturbed, considering that most people do not remember those dreams once they wake.

And yet, he cannot help but play the role of the knight tonight. Even when you are only dressed in your sleepwear, the light of the moon slipping through the trees tells of your beauty.

He wonders where you are going, what you sought in these woods. You appear secretive, constantly taking glances back as if you knew you were being followed. Hiding amongst the trees and the foliage, Silver maintains the secret unbeknownst to you. When you finally pause, the moonlight is cast over another figure now and Silver's eyes are wide with shock.

An imitation of him stands before you now, dressed in prince-like regalia. The fake smiles at you who merely croons at the touch of its hand against your cheek. "I'm not supposed to speak to strangers," You breath out and Silver is frozen behind the tree that hides his figure, unable to turn away as the imitation takes your hand, the other around your waist.

"—but we have met before." It murmured, commencing the start of the dance as he hums a tune native to Briar Valley.

Something stirs within Silver's chest as he watches you smile so endearingly at his imitation. If this was your dream, this manifestation of him was certainly your doing. Only then do the events of the recent week crash down on him like Deuce's pots, hammering each implication further down his throat at a time. Even beyond the strange doings of his dormmates, it answers enough of your own behaviors as well.

Had he really been that oblivious to his own heart as well?

And so, when the fake finally releases you into a spin, Silver takes no chances to leave the shadows and replace his fake who continues to hum from afar.

Your eyes were fluttered shut when you feel a set of hands intertwine with your own. A breath brushes against your ear, the faint scent of the briar roses flooding your senses. "Prefect," Your eyes snap awake from alarm, startled by the voice. Someone was still humming, and that prince-like version of Silver barely smiles at you before dissipating into the moonlight.

Still, there are a pair of hands clasping yours. You immediately turn, and your heart stops at the sight of Silver boring his eyes onto yours. "Ah—!" It is instinct to immediately pull away, but he doesn't let you. He holds onto an arm, and leans himself forward towards you with that soft gaze. He is nothing but soft with you, rather than stern and withdrawn as some others would describe him to be.

Silver is smiling at you, almost in an assuring manner. "I'm sorry, Prefect. I didn't mean to startle you." His words are just as honeyed as he was, and it threatens to reel you back into his chest. And you do, lulled in by the pale moonlight that emphasized his auroral gaze. You aren't shy as you were during the day, he notes to himself. There is still some hesitancy in your eyes as you are pressed against his chest, a hand trailing over his chest up to his clavicle.

He returns the gesture as he lowers his head to your ear. "Is it true, Prefect?" Silver murmured, and all it does it send shivers down your spine. "What is?" You seek for more, but he does not give it to you. You liken him to a true knight who had sworn oaths as he acts as your wall, for you to lean onto but to never cave in. You want him to cave, to collapse, to crumble onto you, and he knew it. "That you long for my heart," He breaths out, and you feel a hand snake up your back to play with the ends of your hair.

You peer up at him with glossy eyes, obscured by this dreamy-like haze. "And what if I do?" You whispered, oddly overcome by a sense of bravado. Silver continues to look down at you, allowing his free hand to cup your cheek.

"Then I would be the greatest fool to have never known to reciprocate them sooner." Your breath hitches as Silver stares you down, and you find your own hands gripping the collar of his dress shirt. "Forgive my obliviousness, Prefect. I will do anything to earn your heart properly." A true servant Silver was, even more so to the whims of his own heart.

Certainly, he felt even weaker when you tug him closer to you. "Anything?" In turn, he finds himself restraining his own hand from crashing your lips against his own. It was almost as if all tension that he hadn't noticed before had begun to pound at his brain. Certainly, this had to be vengeance for everything you had to put up with since you fell for him for the first time.

"Show me what you truly feel, Silver."

He wastes no time in pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. It is soft, gentle as he always was with you. With all the benevolence of a prince, Silver does not immediately pull away. With his eyes fluttered shut, he molds himself into your shape with the most careful of presses, taking in your bottom lip between his own.

If he remained there any longer, he is certain to entrap you. Silver knows himself well enough to know that he was far from a prince. He was weak, and knows that you can easily abuse that weaknesses with merely a glance. His silver eyes are trained onto yours, and eventually, remain fixated onto your now rosy lips. How he feels even weaker when your arms wrap his neck, pulling him down towards you again.

It takes a moment for him to realize that perhaps, you most definitely suited Night Raven College for how wicked you could be sometimes.

"Show me again, please."

And how could he ever say no to you?

Silver knows what you are looking for when you are the one to drag him close, to press yourself against him this time as if you were the one making a demonstration. That is not to say he dislikes it, not with the way he hungrily gasps into your mouth without any thought to leave.

"Silver," He whispers your name in return before he manages to find his way back to your lips, lost in the way your hands had entangled themselves into his hair. You tug even harder when he attempted to pull away for air, and he groans. In the short moment his eyes open, he finds himself challenged by the amount of force you are using on him. Finding enjoyment in this struggle of power, he flexes his muscles as he envelops you into his arms, pushing you again and again until he wrestled the control from your hands.

Backed against a tree, Silver continues to steal your breaths as he towers and gently prompts you downwards. He does not even realize that the first few buttons of his dress shirt have already been buttoned, and you had found yourself leeching onto his warmth by snaking your hand across his shoulders. The other is holding his own now, guiding it to your waist and you are on the verge of begging for more and more.

You cannot help but whine when he pulls away, breaking away from your greedy whims to keep him against your lips. The way his leg is wedged in between your own is calculated, and Silver smiles victoriously at your entrapment. Still, he is far from arrogant and he dares to press a sweet kiss against your cheek before he moves towards your ear.

"You know my heart, Prefect." He murmurs, his teeth barely brushing against the shell of your ear. "You know it, once upon a dream."

And it ends with a sharp ray of sunlight filtering in through the window, and the sound of Grim crying for you to awaken from slumber.

Your ears are still glowing red from the faint memory of last night's dream. You cannot exactly recall what brought about that fantasy, let alone how fresh the dream still burns into your mind. It lingers in your mind as you sit in Trein's class. It still lingers as you grovel through Crewel's potion demonstrations, and it definitely hasn't left after you find yourself lost in the forest behind the campus. You never truly registered that you missed a turn to head to Ramshackle, not while you attempt to recall the way Silver's breath felt down your neck.

Much to your sadness, it was only a dream to feed your delusions. This crush of yours was bound to drive you insane if you did not take care of it and confess to him soon.

That was if you ever got out of the forest. Grim just had to be stuffing himself full of tuna at the mess hall, but at least he wouldn't be making fun of you for being so absentminded.

You were probably going to make it out alive. There were more than enough people on campus who would easily find you. There was the beastmen and their keen noses, not to mention Rook who seemed to be scarily good at tracking down people. You sigh to yourself, running a hand through your hair.

It'd be nice if Silver was the one who rescued you instead.

"Prefect," Speaking of which, you could easily detect his voice among a crowd. Immediately washing off your flustered disposition, you turn around and grin at the silver-haired student who was making his way through a bush. "Silver!" Your voice is cheery, almost as if you weren't having a complete meltdown over a dream. "What brings you here?"

You immediately take notice of Silver's companions; a bird perched on his finger, followed by a squirrel, a skunk, and a young deer at his leg. "A few friends told me that a friend was in need of rescuing." You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your head. Suddenly, maybe being found by Rook was a lot better than dying of embarrassment in front of your crush. Nonetheless, spending time with Silver was always better than dying in a corner of your room just because your feelings refused to be known.

"I suppose I did get lost." You stammer before beaming at him, seemingly relieved by the prospect of being found. "—but you came to rescue me! My savior!" You comically gasp, feigning the appearance of a damsel in distress. Silver chuckles at your theatrics, allowing the animals to disperse into the forests before he stepped closer to you. "I'd rather it be me than anyone else, really." The implication is lost on you as you laughed nervously, lightly jabbing his arm in jest.

"Careful there, Silver. You're starting to sound like a prince from the tales."

You pause as Silver takes another step closer, almost tethering the borders of your own personal bubble. "There is a famous tale known in Briar Valley. Are you familiar with the Tale of the Sleeping Princess?" You look at him, perplexed by that little glint in his eye that reminds you of Lilia. "I've heard variations of it." You breathed out.

"You must be aware that she was cursed into a deep sleep. To break the curse, she must be given a kiss of true love." You should be nervous, but oddly enough, this sense of closeness felt natural. You nod in acknowledgement before shrugging in your confusion. "A prince woke her up, didn't he? But they have never met before, and she chose to wed him at the end of the story."

There is a knowing smile on Silver's face as he hummed in agreement. "I'd say that they had met before, just as we had."

Before you can even decide to die of embarrassment on the spot, he had already closed the gap as he did once before. Silver gentle hand had brushed against your cheek, and his long hair tickles your skin as he lowers himself to your ear.

"And you know my heart," He murmurs so quietly, but it sends flutters into your chest nonetheless. You croon into his palm, sighing softly before rising to your toes. "From where?" You ask him, and he swiftly leans downwards to lay upon a gentle kiss onto your lips for the first time.

"Once upon a dream."

#silver x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #silver #silver vanrouge #twst silver #twisted wonderland silver #viaviavie writes #chaaaaaaat pray for me bc i procrastinated on my paper for this boy #a decision i do not regret one bit

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kkayyerr · 2 months ago

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Ngl I kinda like the idea of mean!rafe pushing puppy!reader further into little space so he can get away with meaner teasing but then she gets all teary-eyed and he feels bad so let’s her cuddle with him xx

Teary eyes.

Summary: Mean!Rafe likes to tease little!puppy!reader, but sometimes he takes it too far.

Warnings: Age regression, none.

Rafe was always very mean to you. Every time you would come to visit Sarah, he would send you those snarky comments, which sometimes was really hurtful. Sarah knew that, so she would just try to hide you in her room, not giving her brother an opportunity to tease you. Everything became even worse when he found out about your regression. For him it was almost funny how vulnerable you were in that state.

When you came over again, he didn’t miss an opportunity to get to you while Sarah was busy with some stupid stuff outside. He approached his sister’s room, smiling when he saw your innocent frame sitting on the bed with the lamb plushie in your hands. You were looking innocent and pure, and so easy for him to toy with. Rafe stood in the doorframe, leaning against it.

„Why are you here all by yourself, little one? Where is your babysitter?”

You flinched when his sharp words broke the silence. You immediately covered yourself with the blanket, hoping that he would go away if you hid good enough, just like a Boogeyman would. Your little action only made him laugh, though.

Rafe slowly approached you, grabbing that blanket with his hands and throwing it aside just so he could see your flustered face.

„Why are you hiding from me? Afraid?”

You nodded, silently answering his questions. He had always scared you with his unpredictable temper and that deathly stare that he had given you every time you would enter their house.

„Go away!”

You murmured, only making Rafe roll his eyes. You kicked your legs, trying to push him away, but he had caught your ankle in his hand, squeezing it with the full force. He leaned down closer, until he was almost pinning you down with his body. His intentions were playful, but you were way too deep in the littlespace right now to understand that.

„Never thought that Pogues were such little crybabies. How are you holding on without sucking on your thumbs right now, huh?”

His words were mean and snarky, and he was overpowering you completely just by his presence and the way he was making you feel so small. Your eyes almost teared up after he mocked you for your regression and the way you behaved, but you still held on, fighting the urge to cry.

„Are you going to cry? Like, for real?”

Rafe asked mockingly, but when he saw an actual tear in your eyes, his demeanor slightly changed. He let go of your ankle you and pulled away, looking you up and down. Your body was shaking, probably from the stress or just from him being that mean to you when you couldn’t do anything about it. He sighed loudly, trying to find words that might suit the situation, but he had no idea how to console you right now.

„Listen, I didn’t mean too!”

You clearly weren’t planning on listening to him. You just rolled over on the bed, hugging your plushie and hiding your face with it. He wasn’t the best at apologizing or taking care of someone, but he clearly knew that he wouldn’t leave you alone until you stopped crying.

„You want a hug or something?”

Rafe asked, hoping that it would actually help you to calm down. You took the plushie away from your face and saw him opening his arms, gesturing you for a hug. You hesitated for a moment before jumping into his arms like a stupid puppy. Your urge to be held won over all the other feelings and thoughts, and you were just happy to be in someone’s embrace.

Rafe chuckled, hugging you a little bit tighter.

„Meanie.”

You whispered, hiding your blushed face in his neck. He only laughed at that comment, adoring your childish mannerism and sweet voice. He knew that you needed that just as much as he. did.

Neither of you would’ve ever admitted that.

„Crybaby.”

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @aew-regression-cove @rafecameronsloverrrrr

#obx #rafe cameron x reader #age regression fic #little!reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #daddy!rafe cameron #daddy!rafe x little!reader #mean!rafe #puppy!reader #rafe cameron

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hxrukii · 5 months ago

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i love your fluttershy!reader omg!! do you think you could do lilia, idia, and ruggie with fluttershy!reader too?

❝Um, I was just wondering, if it's okay if I can hold you down against your will for a little bit?❞

╭・๑ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲︰ʚ Some of NRC with a Fluttershy!Reader.‧₊˚✦

‧₊˚↷ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬)┊❝ Lilia Vanrouge, Idia Shroud, Ruggie Bucchi. ❞ ⸜⸜*

↷︰ʚ 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ‧₊˚✦ Reader and Yuu are the same person and is a female. I'm so sorry anon! This took longer than I expected because I actually had no idea how to write this. (Which is why this is so short)

╰・𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) ‧₊˚꒰ None that I can think of. ɞ‧✦

Likes to tease Fluttershy!Reader. A lot.

He just can't help it, she's so easy to prank, and her reactions are always so funny.

Never goes to far, though.

He doesn't want to actually scare her away after all.

Would probably interested by the fact that Fluttershy!Reader once turned into a vampire fruit bat.

Ask a lot of questions like how did it happen, how did it feel like like, etc...

Finds it funny how she has wings but somehow fear heights.

Though, he would be happy to help her face her fears, if she wants to ofc, he wouldn't force her if she doesn't want to.

Likes to tease her animal friends a lot, especially her bunny. He finds his reaction to be almost as funny as Fluttershy!Reader's. Almost.

"Boo! Khee hee. Did I manage to scare you again? You're réactions will never cease to amuse me~!"

Probably the most introverted couple NRC has ever seen in it's hundred years of existence. Probably.

How do the both of them even interact when they're both too shy/nervous to speak to each other?

The fact that the both of them are even acquaintances is a miracle.

Though, Idia is probably the more social one out of the both of them, just because he actually speaks, when he's provoked.

Ortho is basically the one that drags both of them out to socialize, much to their dismay.

Idia is definitely more of a cat person (if it wasn't obvious), but probably still likes, or at least tolerates the animals that are often surrounding Fluttershy!Reader.

Would probably never make fun of Fluttershy!Reader for being afraid of heights while having wings, since he himself isn't doing any better with heights.

Will offer to make Fluttershy!Reader a floating tablet of her own, so that she doesn't need to interact with anyone.

"U-um... so. Would you like your have a tablet of your own?... Y'know... for socializing with other normies and stuff..."

Ngl, he probably took advantage of Fluttershy!Reader's kindness when he first met her, by making asking her to do some chores that he needed to do for Leona.

That was until he started to feel bad for her, especially when she actually seemed to care about him.

Suddenly become extremely protective of her.

Someone trying to take advantage of her, or make her uncomfortable? Suddenly, Ruggie is already there to Fluttershy!Reader's rescue.

Does he expect something in return? Probably, but nothing to bad, probably just a donut or two. Or maybe some head pats.

Since most of Savanaclaw or beast men, I feel like most of them tend to enjoy Fluttershy!Reader's company, more than they would like to admit that's for sure. Ruggie included.

Though Ruggie is definitely less muscular than your average Savanaclaw student, but it seems to work in his favor seems Fluttershy!Reader is definitely less scared and jumpy around him than the other guys.

"Heh~? The other Savanaclaw guys scares you you say? Don't worry! I will protect you! For a price, of course. Shishishi."

꒰ ◁ ꒱┊❝Back to Lilia, Idia, Ruggie's Masterlist❞

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst yuu #lilia vanrouge #idia shroud #ruggie bucchi #twst x reader #twst x yuu #lilia x yuu #lilia x reader #idia x yuu #idia x reader #ruggie x yuu #ruggie x reader

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anime-grimmy-art · 1 year ago

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People always be preaching bout snowleopard or avian Alhaitham, but WHERE is my BULL representation. Kaveh literally calls him bullheaded in so many fanfics Ive read, yet I barely see Alhaitham represent his darshan’s animal. But like, him being an aggressive herbivore that can literally bodycheck you so hard your bones shatter is such a fun concept ngl.

Even though I think giving human characters in genshin animal traits wouldn’t change much about them (I mean, Tighnari also only has like, better senses), I do have some funny headcanons about BullHaitham and LionKaveh.

I think while, as theyre mostly human, they dont often act on instinct, there’s still some things that makes em kick in.

I hc that Alhaitham and Kaveh’s first meeting was mostly the same, with Kaveh approaching Alhaitham, but instead of just chatting, Kaveh approached him from behind and Alhaitham’s damn tail just looks like the most enticing cat toy and Kaveh couldn’t help but pounce. He got it way more under control now, but it still sometimes happens.

Same with using Alhaitham’s horns as his cat tree. Those damn pointers just scratch the itch perfectly.

Sucks for Alhaitham even more, cos he hates when his horns are jostled, cos they’re one of the bigger sources for his headaches. He does use them sometimes to prod other ppl (mostly kaveh) when he gets impatient.

Despite Alhaitham being really calm, when he’s really relaxed or tired (ie in the morning) his ears and tail often wiggle or flick ever so often. (which, again, sucks for him cos it just makes Kaveh swat at his tail.)

Also, I did call Alhaitham a herbivore, but since he’s more human than animal, he does eat meat too. He finds it amusing how ppl always reacted so shocked when he does so.

I also find the thought funny of them using phrases that are kinda animal specific to them. Like Alhaitham saying “Kaveh, you’re waving the flag” when Kaveh’s pushing things to far, cos, ya know, bull fighting. or like Alhaitham calling Kaveh a housecat to tease him.

Thinking about bullfighting, I’d think he needs his headphones not only cos of his sensitive ears, but because they help him generally block out and ignore stuff, cos if he sees sth flap about too much, it gets him agitated rly fast. (ie, Kaveh’s pacing and flowy clothes bouncing about in his periphery is torture for him)

#genshin impact #alhaitham #kaveh #haikaveh #kavetham #fanart #headcanon #bull alhaitham #lion kaveh #silly things to get me to draw sth

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enden-agolor · 3 months ago

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Ngl i just realized, Lukas, in every au of yours is down BAD, freaky even. He'd literally love Jesse in every shape or form

This is true 👀

I've always liked to think canon Lukas found Jesse attractive early on in the games. He never realized it was romantic attraction until portal arc though. Like, he spends the Witherstorm arc warming up to Jesse, finding him kind of cute and funny, especially with those dorky suspenders. Then in portal arc, he's beginning to realize Jesse is a bit more than just cute. Spending this amount of time with him in a smaller group, he has more one-on-one time with him and he gets to see more of that herosim come to life in Jesse. Lukas is pretty into it. Starts writing about him and his feelings towards him. How much he looks up to Jesse and is beginning to really like and care for him. Then season 2, by this point Lukas acknowledges his crush on Jesse. They get together after season 2 in my canon.

But I like to take this attraction Lukas has towards Jesse into my au's, so he's more likely to fall first in these universes too. Even FDAU, Lukas has had a strange attraction with Jesse since very early on, but he isn't able to really see it because Lukas has never felt this way for another person. He can see the Admin is handsome, but he hasn't described him as such because Lukas still can't find the word for how he feels about him. "Pretty" is the furthest he's gotten so far. All these feelings, he's just mistaking them as this is what it's like to have a good happy and healthy friendship with someone. His attraction to him will get worse over time. That and uh. Yeah. He's freaky. Lukas is too kind and sweet not to be hiding some kind of freak deep down. I think he's funny (Jesse is in danger)

#ask

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infriga · 1 year ago

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Okay so I love Luffy being Latino of course, but I did think it was funny how he has the most white-ass grandpa on the planet, like Garp literally has a Scottish accent (which works really well for his character actually ngl). So I thought well maybe we can just assume that Luffy's mixed race from his biological mother's side then or something (it's not like we've seen her or learned a single thing about her in all these years so far) and Dragon will be white too but then no, apparently Dragon was cast already, and he ain't white either. So like, we can just assume Luffy is mixed race or something, or even that his dad just has darker skin, but that leaves Garp as the odd one out lmao

So now Garp's casting is extra funny because like sir, how? How'd you manage to be the only white guy in your family, who is also the only cop mind you, meanwhile your entire family is full of POC criminals who are all fighting the system and sticking it to the man while challenging the government and demolishing corrupt dictatorships? Is the live action show going to try to explain this or just rely on Luffy's absent grandmother to fill in the genetic gaps via audience imagination? Or is it going to be revealed some day that Dragon was adopted or something, because everyone is adopted in One Piece since it's found family propaganda incarnate? Or are they just going to ignore it completely because One Piece genetics are already completely bonkers anyway? Or maybe Garp is just that one white-passing family member with funny genetics who happens to look white lmfao

To be clear, this isn't a complaint, it's something I just find funny. Garp's real world ethnicity hasn't been brought up in any sbs answers I don't think, and the casting has been too perfect for me to have an issue with small things like "how come this Latino kid has a white Scottish grandpa?" if anything it heightens the experience and adds to the surprise of the reveal 😂

#One piece #one piece live action #Opla #OPLA spoilers #Sp #Tv show thoughts #To clarify I'm not saying I think Brazilians are all one colour #I know they're not #What's funny to me is the lack of a genetic explanation for the variation in colour here plus the differences in accent on top of that #Which isn't impossible but isn't something you see every day either

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ohsohoney · 6 months ago

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When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Five

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Five! Posting in honour of the face-off. It's a long one again, just started and couldn't stop ngl. But it's pretty fluff filled! Brief warning though, TWD is mentioned here, there aren't any real spoilers but if you're a fan then you'll get what's going on!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

I couldn’t quite help the way my mind wandered. Back to the diner. Back to Marcie’s words. Back to his smirk. Even as the conversation continued on in the car, Rosie laughing whilst she complained about the radio station that had been put on and Marshall flashing the pair of us funny looks in the rearview mirror.

Most reasoned that you could tell a lot about a man by how they treated the people around them, not just their kin or the ones they worked closely with. But all people. And somehow, Em kept on surprising me in that regard.

But maybe surprise wasn’t the best word to use, because it went without saying that his intentions were always pure. Even so, every time he did something I didn’t quite expect I found myself reeling a little further and watching him a whole lot more.

It hadn’t even been a full day and yet, I almost felt at home here in this city I hardly knew, with these people I’d only just recently met. And the entire concept left me waiting. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong. Because that was just the way I was wired.

“Sound good?”

I tuned back in at the sound of Marshall’s voice, snapping my gaze away from where it had been trailing out the back window and into the car. Rosie was smiling in the seat beside me, looking all excited, and so I blinked over towards the front seat to meet Marshall’s gaze in the tiny mirror.

“Sorry, I zoned out.” I apologised, blinking once more to try and push away my spiralling thoughts. “What did you say?”

Em took it in stride though, smirking at me before he eventually repeated himself, “Z reckons the park sounds like a good idea.”

Perking up at that, I could easily see why the girl had practically been bouncing in her seat, I peered between the two. “Has it got swings?”

Rosie nodded her head hastily in answer whilst her father just snorted, taking the next right at the end of the road instead of left. And that was that.

It felt strange to say, after having been in the states multiple times before, but everything I did I just kept on finding myself thinking about how it was my very first in America– as in, my first time in Detroit, my first time in a too big car, my first time at a diner. Now, it was my first time experiencing something as insignificant as a park.

It was a nice one though, just to drop that in there, not too shabby and practically empty aside from a far off dog walker in a bright yellow jacket and a couple of runners who were doing laps.

Em had pulled the car into some sandy lot lined with white lines not too long after the decision had been settled and told us to get out once he’d parked, messing about with the meter whilst Rosie had urged me on.

I let the girl guide us, trying to admire the green grass and the trees that were still slowly changing with the seasons, whilst Z talked a mile a minute about how her soccer team used to meet there. I cringed internally at the use of the American term and vowed that if she ever came to visit London then I would take her out to see just how real football was played.

Marshall managed to catch up to us not long after, though he’d still been muttering about damn machines and dodgy government schemes. Which had me snorting to myself as I’d continue to spin Rosie on the roundabout, jumping on and off its edge to make the thing shake every so often.

The kid seemed to love it though, content to just lie in the middle and watch the sky above fall and swirl. Marshall appeared humoured by the whole ordeal too and had even taken a turn at jumping, landing with just enough weight to produce a loud boom that had Rosie screaming. She’d laughed wildly afterwards, hand over her heart to keep it from beating its way out of her chest.

Em and I watched her spin around some more before it slowed enough so that she could just jump on off, wanting to try her luck at the monkeybars, or ‘jungle gym’ as she’d called it. I chuckled quietly to myself, kicking out a foot to catch the roundabout’s edge to try and stop it completely. Marshall stuck near, watching as it slowly began to steady once more.

“Used to drag motorbikes in here when I was a kid.” I found myself telling him, eyes still stuck on the dragging metal as a memory flashed to the forefront of my mind. I felt Em shift and then caught the way his head then turned towards me from out of the corner of my eye. He waited. I wet my lower lip and felt myself smile, “Would lay ‘em down flat at the very edge here then rev it just enough so that the back wheels would start to make it spin. We would all be crowded in the centre, seven or so of us, clinging to the rails for dear life and screaming bloody murder.”

I glanced over at him then by chance and grinned at the way his brows had since lifted, then huffed out another laugh.

“The thing would just keep spinning and spinning, until one of us found the courage to throw ourselves off. Or, you know, just yuck up.”

Marshall gave a short snort in return and shook his head with a wrinkled nose and pursed lips, “Fucking nasty. Don’t tell Rosie any of that.”

We shared a snickering laugh, me leaning into him on impulse and him holding me up for just that brief moment. I was quick to reassure, “Promise.”

And what was it with me today and making promises with the Mathers? I bit my tongue to dampen my grin and let the thought go.

The girl mentioned called for us then, having somehow managed to hang herself upside down from the metal bars, practically giving Marshall whiplash as his head spun back around twice just to be certain of what he’d seen. “Girl’s gone be the death of me.” He muttered but was already jogging over to where she was cackling away, hair swinging wildly in the wind.

I followed, albeit at a slower pace, hollowing my cheeks in hopes to hide my obvious amusement, especially when Marshall tried to figure out a way to get his daughter back on even ground. Rosie was far too entertained by the effort though, dodging the man’s attempts and swinging back, forth, left and right to avoid his hands.

Eventually, she did come down, much to Marshall’s evident relief, which was too easy to see even with the hard frown he’d since taken on. And so Rosie was quick to wave his worries away and hurry over to the next thing, throwing herself onto a swing and gesturing for me to join her. I did, but not before I tossed an impish smirk Marshall’s way as I went to settle in beside her.

It was Em’s turn to follow me then it seemed, he shook his head at the pair of us when he came to a pause by the swings edge and propped himself against a pole. “You gotta kick a little harder, Z.” He told Rosie after a moment.

“I am!” The girl laughed in retort, glancing my way to try and match my stride. “It’s not my fault she has longer legs!”

Marshall lifted a brow, arms crossed over his chest, “You can lap most kids on a field and almost give me a heart attack by hangin’ upside down like some sort of bat, but a swing is what stunts you?”

“Dad!” Rosie all but whined, although she was still giggling away. I tried to catch the chain of her swing as I slowed in hopes to pull her with me, but the angle was off and so the most it did was rattle her seat and send me swinging in the opposite direction.

My hand jumped to grip my own chain once more and I blew out a breathy laugh when the immediate danger of falling flat on my face diminished, but it left me just enough time to have caught the slight startle Marshall had made at the scare. I smirked over at him and raised my palms up so that I was barely holding on by the jut of my thumbs, “All good!”

The man clucked his tongue and looked away from me, almost as if to take a breath, before he was pushing away from the pole and marching over. Instead of stopping by our feet like expected though, Marshall slid behind the two of us and surprised me by grabbing the back of my seat. I jolted at the sudden pull as he lifted me higher, fingertips grazing the back of my jeans ever so before he let go completely.

I wasn’t ashamed in the least to say that I screamed, dropping so suddenly and from a height I hadn’t expected him to reach was jarring, but then I was laughing breathlessly again as the wind got caught up in my hair, allowing him to give me another hearty shove before he did the same thing to Rosie.

I don’t know how long we sat there swinging, Rosie daring her dad to run between us in between my attempts at trying to teach the girl how to kick her legs a little harder so that she’d be able to swing higher on her own, but we must’ve been at it for a while. At least long enough for the sky to have warmed overhead and then turned into a glazed pink full of bruising purples.

It was then that we decided to call it a day.

The trip to the playground seemed to have tired Rosie out some though by the time we returned to the car, because the girl slumped into my side not long after we’d set off. Still mostly awake though, she spoke in a soft murmur and pointed out the things that we passed by, her eyes growing heavier and heavier as each moment slipped by but continuing to explain.

Marshall kept the radio low throughout the drive and let her wear herself out, so much so that she was almost asleep by the time he pulled into the driveway.

“Hey, lovely, we’re here.” I whispered to her, lowering my head just enough so that my cheek pressed against her hair, and rubbed her arm like I would Lottie to coax her into moving, “Gotta head inside now.”

Rosie sniffed sleepily but blinked her bleary eyes open to undo her seatbelt, she smiled as she rubbed at her face then turned to look at me. “I like it when you call me that.” She let slip, leaving me to blink before I realised that she then looked a tad bit sheepish at the admission.

I squeezed her hand and smiled back, “What— lovely?”

She hummed around a tired nod and it was then that the engine and headlights switched off. I peered up in the sudden quiet to find Marshall attempting to appear busy, quietly collecting his keys and the wallet he’d left in his car’s cup holder whilst pretending he hadn’t heard, but I knew he had.

“Just like it.” Rosie murmured again and so I forced myself to glance back at her and her weary smile, she shrugged sleepily.

I couldn’t help the emotion that spread through me and warmed my chest, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to her temple as my hand came up to smooth the back of her hair. “I’ll keep it up then.” I told her in the hush that followed, “Thank you for today.”

Her smile, whilst exhausted, was wide enough to squint her eyes and dimple her chin. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

My nose tingled at the emotion that flooded through me at her heartfelt response and so I was quick to undo my own seatbelt, listening as Marshall’s door opened and the man slid from the car. A second passed, and then two, before there was an audible click and the low light of the driveway crept into the backseat. Rosie smiled up at her father warmly, who extended a hand to help her out whilst I waited, taking a moment to compose myself before I followed, slipping out of the opposite end.

Rosie leaned heavily into his side the whole walk up to the house, muttering about the dog treats she had to give Marcie and how she was looking forward to the coming days, which led to Em softly agreeing with her as he guided his daughter through the front door and gestured for her to head on up the stairs.

“Night, El.” She didn’t forget to say before she took that first step, kissing her dad’s cheek goodnight and gifting me a quick hug.

I breathed in sharply at the gesture and then smiled softly over at her.

“Goodnight, lovely.” It only proved to make her grin.

Then it was just him and I, left standing in the hallway, only spurred on by the gentle click of the door that sounded from upstairs. Marshall dragged his cap off and tossed it down onto the ornate cabinet sitting nearby, running a hand over the hair he always kept so short. I moved too, stepping over towards the coat closet door so that I could toe off my shoes and place them neatly inside.

Em followed and came up behind me a minute later to do the exact same thing, my mouth quirked as I turned towards him though, stealing the shoes out from his hand to set them down beside my own. He shook his head at the gesture but didn’t comment.

The house hummed around us as the door clicked shut, the lights up on the landing soft and yellow where Rosie had just disappeared but enough to stretch out and shine down on us. Marshall jutted his chin in the opposite direction of the kitchen after a minute and when he spoke it was in a low breath, “Don’t know how you’re feelin’ after today but imma watch some tv. If you wanna join.”

It was an offer I was all too appreciative of and so I gave him an eager nod in answer, “Jet lag has yet to hit so I figured I’d just be up unfolding my suitcase until I eventually passed out.”

His grin was small but indulgent, and he shook his head again as he dragged in a slow breath. “Get comfy and I’ll put it on.”

My head tilted on its own accord and I could only guess that the smile I gifted him then was sappy as fuck because he swatted playfully at my chin to turn my face away. I blew out an airy chuckle but kept on grinning, “I’ll be quick.”

Marshall hummed and then turned to walk away, it was only once I’d reached the staircase that he paused and looked back to ask, “Salted or sweet?”

I stopped short, foot dangling in the air just before it could settle on the next step. Pivoting, I shot him a smirk over my left shoulder, “Salted all day, everyday.”

He dipped his chin in a nod and his usual stoic expression melted into something just short of approval. I swallowed down another laugh behind my smile and hurried up the rest of the stairs, anxious to get out of my jeans and into anything else.

I made quick work of it, washing my face free of the makeup I’d put on that same morning and tucking my hair behind my ears. I did jump out of the denim too once I’d pulled a pair of shorts out of my suitcase, although I paused just before I could reach for the hem of the hoodie I still had on.

Peering down at it, I wondered if he would care if I wore it for a little longer and chewed on my lower lip. I realised all too quickly how much time I was wasting with the debate so I simply shrugged and just kept the thing on, slipping out of the tee I had on underneath before I was putting my phone on charge and heading back out the door.

Marshall, it seemed, had already settled in, the smell of popcorn and the light from the tele leading my way into the family room he’d shown me earlier on to find him already spread out on the sofa, arm thrown over its back whilst he scrolled aimlessly through a couple of films.

As I padded in, hands tucked into my pockets and chin ducked into the neck of my hood, he turned to greet me. I watched, rounding one end of the couch, as he raised a brow and let his eyes flicker down to the hoodie I still wore before they darted back up to my face. “I’m not gettin’ that back, am I?”

I snuffed out a short, airy chuckle and rolled my eyes at the idiot before I plopped down to sit on the other side of the popcorn bowl he’d brought in, gaze catching on the stash of drinks and chocolate he had on the coffee table too. “You will,” I assured him, rolling my head against the back of the sofa to look his way, “Just warm, is all.”

Em hummed sceptically, but let the matter drop– for now.

“What are we watching then?” I wondered, pulling my legs up so that I could better settle into the cushions.

He went down a couple slides on the browsing page before he switched from films over to tv shows, “Up to you.” I groaned, hating having to be the decider, and he laughed to himself because he knew it too. “Jus’ pick something, girl. Damn.”

Picking up a popcorn kernel, I tossed it at his head and smiled snarkily when he jolted back just a tad and peered down at the offending piece that had settled on his chest. He shot me a look that had me stifling yet another chuckle and then popped the thing into his mouth. I rolled my eyes once more and sighed.

“Um,” I drawled out in thought after a brief moment, eyes scanning the few series that were being advertised. I blinked when I spotted the ‘Because you watched..’ portion of the screen, “You’re a Walking Dead fan?”

Marshall glanced over at me, “Got addicted a while back, all I could fuckin’ watch for months.”

My eyes widened in sudden excitement and I felt the way my grin dimpled my cheeks. “Don’t. ‘Cause I was the same. I’m legit sitting on my hands waiting for the next season to come out.”

His brow pinched and he shifted in his seat. “Comes out Sunday, right?”

“Yeah, for you lot!” I immediately argued, straightening up in my chair as I turned to him again, “I have to wait ages for it to even premier back home, so I’ve resorted to using dodgy websites in an attempt to not get any spoilers.”

Em snorted and then tsked, “Oo, she’s bad.”

My eyes crinkled around my next laugh and I reached out to nudge his arm. “Why are you such a dick?” I tutted before I relaxed back into my seat again to chew on the corner of my mouth, wondering if I should even dare ask the next question that came to mind.

“‘Gotta keep up appearances, baby.” Marshall smirked as his gaze slid back on over towards the tv screen, unaware of how I had just gone and paused for a split second. “But see, this is just another reason why America wins.”

I instantly scoffed, “Wins what? Because I can start listing off a whole load of gross shit right now about all the fucked up shit you guys have done and do. Or,” I dragged out, feeling a little triumphant when he rolled his eyes at me, “We can just pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sniffed as he jutted out his chin, “Actin’ like your people didn’t come over and colonise this place.”

My head lazed back when I glanced towards the ceiling in hopes of finding the slim chance that there’d be some kind of peace waiting up there for me. But if there ever was such a thing, I knew it wouldn’t be hanging over my head.

“You have to have the final say, don’t you?” I ended up chuckling, before I let go of a sigh and turned to look back at him, only to find that he was already watching me.

He smirked. “Look, if you shut up we can rewatch this last season and maybe.. Maybe. I’ll think about lettin’ you watch it with me Sunday.”

My jaw snapped shut in my haste to agree to his terms, the clink of my teeth almost audible in the quiet room. Marshall let go of a low chuckle before he scrolled a little lower and clicked start on Season Four.

The prison.

I reached out and took a small handful of the popcorn as a pair of long legs came into view, the camera following them and winding its way lower and further out, I shifted so that I was sat with my feet tucked beneath me.

A couple minutes passed by with the pair of us entirely focused on the scene, and so it was surprising for Em to be the one who broke the silence, “Bet you right now, I can guess who your favourite is.”

Glancing over at him, I let him witness my sly smile, “Oh, we’re doing this then?”

He grunted a hum in response before his eyes flickered between me and the tv.

“That mean I can guess yours?” I wondered out loud and he thought it over before eventually giving a single shoulder shrug. I didn’t really need time to think about my guess, I could remember most of this season pretty well and I liked to think that I knew Em well enough too. “What do I win if I get it right?”

Marshall’s head lolled against the back of the chair to meet my questioning gaze, “The pleasure of my company.”

I tossed another kernel at him, pulling a face when he somehow managed to catch it in his mouth. “Do better,” I told him and picked up another piece to throw his way again, the pair of us making an odd game out of it. “Come on, what do I get?”

He sat up slightly and actually put some thought into it, “I don’t know,” He eventually muttered before his gaze met mine again, eyes roaming over my face. “You can keep the hoodie.”

I gawked a tad, “I don’t even wanna know how much this thing costs, so no.”

With a mirthful shake of his head, Em wet his lower lip and blew out a huffed breath, “It suits you better anyway. So you can keep it whether you get it right or not.”

I met his languid gaze with a look of my own. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you think I stink, aren’t you?”

It truly was utterly hilarious how fast and how wide his eyes then grew, and I got to watch it all happen, even the moment he spluttered over the handful of popcorn he’d just started to chew on. “The fuck?”

He coughed and laughter spilled from me, enough so that I was actually unable to breathe with how hard I was chuckling, hand on my chest to keep from wheezing. “You–” I snickered, unable to kill my laughter entirely, “You should– God, Marshall. You should’ve seen your face!”

He grabbed another large handful of popcorn and threw it straight at me. Even as I continued to laugh, I cowered away to shield myself from the attack, only dropping my hands down once the dull thuds stopped to find kernels littering the majority of the seat as well as my hair.

“Such a bitch.”

“Me?” I gaped around another chuckle, “You literally just shit yourself!”

Flipping me off, Marshall shook his head and moved to pick up the popcorn he’d just thrown, and so I did too, smiling all the while, even more so when he reached out to untangle a stray piece from the side of my hood.

It was quiet for a short while after that, us moving around one another to put the popcorn in the bin, the first episode of The Walking Dead continuing on without us. It was then that I finally decided to make my guess and paused an arms length away, “Hershel.”

Marshall’s head snapped up from where he was emptying his handful into the bin. He blinked, then stood to his full height. “How’d you guess?”

I grinned, or rather, positively beamed at his reply. “So I’m right?” I asked avidly, having stopped dead in my tracks. He reluctantly nodded, rolling his eyes at my obvious enthusiasm even though the smile he wore was almost fond. “I can’t believe it.”

He pushed out a disbelieving laugh and shook his head. “How?” He prompted again, leading me to shrug.

“Can’t explain it, just had a feeling.” I told him truthfully as he wandered back over towards the sofa, I straightened out the cushions and then sat down beside him. The popcorn bowl had been moved onto the coffee table after all the fuss, which meant we were a lot closer now, but neither one of us seemed to mind it.

“Nah,” Marshall said, knuckle knocking into my knee, “Really. What gave it away?”

I chuckled and waved the offending hand away, “Honest. I really don’t know, it just– It felt like the right answer. He’s sort of like you in a way actually.” Em gawked a tad at that but I just continued on, “He’s stubborn,” I listed with a rueful smile, “almost to a fault.” And as Marshall’s lips thinned, I carried on in my observing, “But he believes strongly in what he considers is right and loves his family to the bitter end. All of them.”

He mulled it over.

“Plus,” I couldn’t help but add, “He’s fucking tough. Just keeps on going, even with everything they throw at him. I mean, the leg. Come on!”

I was met by a surveying look before the man finally cracked a smile and hummed. The blue of his eyes were dimmed in the low light of the tv now but they flickered back and forth between my own, “Daryl.” He said softly in retort, to which I frowned.

Marshall just continued on though, smiling still as he relaxed back into his seat completely. “Your favourite. It’s Daryl.”

The corners of my mouth twitched and I watched him for a second before a gentle chuckle bypassed my lips, “Why?”

His head pressed further into the back of the couch and I found myself shuffling to join him, cushioning my cheek on my forearm. “Hearts of gold.” He murmured, voice deep and low whilst still also managing not to resonate off the surrounding walls, his words meant only for me to hear. “Selfless, too. You’re a fighter and your silence speaks volumes.”

He paused, watching again, waiting. “There’s just more to you than what first meets the eye, you know?”

I didn’t really know. Didn’t know how to respond to that either and so I just smiled, reaching up to tilt his chin away from me so that I wouldn’t be stuck under that hypnotising gaze of his. He huffed a chuckle, the sound of it warm enough to hollow out a small part of me.

It was then that we both chose to move, I shifted just as his arm came up to rest on the back of the sofa, tipping the cushion beneath me a tad so that I was pressing further into his side. He didn’t complain though, merely draped the arm over my shoulders instead and focused back on the tv screen; Rick crouched in the grass, his eyes glossy as he contemplated the decisions people made in a world like his.

“I forgot to thank you, by the way.” Marshall mentioned after a while in not quite a whisper.

The skin between my brow wrinkled, “What for?”

Rick stood, eyes stuck on the burlap sack. Then, almost as if it pained him, he started to walk away, away from the couple, their decisions, their desperation, and back into the woods.

“Today.” Marshall murmured quietly, before he then added, “Rosie.”

I shook my head as best as I could, “I should be the one thanking you.”

But he was adamant it seemed. “No, really. You–” He stopped and took a small breath, “You’re good with her. She likes you. And then that shit at the park, and in the car.” I felt him shrug lightly, the motion thoughtless, and could picture the struggle that warred over his face. So I didn’t dare move. “Don’t think she’s ever really had someone treat her like that.”

Once again today, I found myself wanting to probe, to question. But I could feel how hard it was for him to speak, to get his words out and across in the way he wanted. I kept quiet.

“It–” He forced himself to exhale, “It just means a lot. So I gotta say thanks.”

My arm came up around his waist almost automatically and I squeezed briefly before I pulled away again, swallowing the emotion that had welled in my throat. “She’s a good kid.” I told him in a soft hum, “You don’t have to thank me for anything. It’s not how shit works with me.”

He snorted a breathy laugh out through his nose and finally eased back enough that I could actually feel the tension flood from him. “I’m starting to get that.” He admitted quietly, as though it hadn’t even been meant for me.

I didn’t question it though, or the way it made me feel, because I suddenly felt my eyes begin to droop. I licked at the corner of my mouth and sniffed, “Think it's hitting me now.”

I felt when Em moved to peer down at me, smirking when he saw just how heavy my eyes had quickly become and the way I was now fighting to keep them open. “Come on,” He prompted gruffly, shifting in his seat to stand before he held both of his hands out towards me, “Bed.”

Snuffling a tad, I did end up taking his arms, allowing him to tug me up. I swayed ever so slightly once I was finally standing. “I hate flying.”

He snorted but entertained me, “Yeah?”

I uhuhed, blinking again slowly.

Apparently, me all doped out due to a lack of sleep was enough to get Em laughing because he cracked up when I almost toppled back down onto the sofa on my way out of the room, pouting at the knock my knee had taken instead. “Shuddup.”

“Almost there, sure you ain’t gone fall down them stairs?” He teased and the air that escaped him at the blow I hit him with tickled the back of my neck, “Fuck. Remind me not to mess with you.”

I smiled sleepily before his hand came to settle on the small of my back almost thoughtlessly, peering up to find that we’d made it to the staircase. I grabbed at the bannister and pulled myself up the first few steps.

“You good?”

I hummed at his ask, the sound buzzing somewhere in the back of my throat, before my eyes were slipping closed once more and then shooting wide open when I managed to miss the edge of the next step.

Marshall’s hands were immediately there to catch me. “Careful, baby.” He murmured, so focused on the task of getting us up the stairs without injury that he was blissfully unaware of how his words had chased some of the sleep away.

“I’m okay.” I reassured him once I’d finally managed to find my voice, but his hands remained on my hips all the way up the stairs and to the landing.

We stopped there, at the patch of hall that separated his room from mine. “Sure?” He quizzed, dipping his head to catch my eye.

Unable to do anything other than smile, I chuckled. “I’m sure. Sorry, I was fine and then it–”

“I get it.” He cut in, “Hits you hard and sort of comes outta nowhere.”

“Yeah.” I croaked out another laugh, tired eyes trailing between his. “Bet I won’t even sleep that long either.”

Marshall perked up a little at that, understanding exactly where I was coming from, “Well, you need anything you know where I am.”

I rolled my eyes but kept on smiling. “I’ll be okay.”

He hummed, not entirely satisfied with that, but took a step back once he realised I really was fine. “Just say okay for my own fuckin’ peace of mind.”

Raising my hand I saluted him stupidly, but it had him biting back another smile.

“Dork.”

“Dick.” I shot back.

He shook his head, “Go to sleep, asshole.”

“I am.” I snorted just as my hand gripped the handle to my room, “So fuck off.”

Marshall continued to stand there though, tucking his hands into the joggers he was wearing as he waited for the door to swing open and for me to step inside.

I paused just short of the threshold, fingers playing with the handle for a second. “See you tomorrow then.”

A small smirk worked its way across his face.

“Tomorrow.” He repeated before he finally took a step back and turned to head down the hallway. I watched him go, until he disappeared into the shadows and I was left alone for the first time since I’d arrived.

Tomorrow, I thought to myself as I moved to shut the bedroom door.

–

Turned out that I had been right.

It must have been around twelve or so when Marshall and I had finally turned in, but I was blinking back to consciousness no less than a few hours later.

One glance at the clock told me it was only half five and the hour had me biting back a hefty sigh. Still, I knew I wouldn’t be getting much more sleep so I took the shower I hadn’t had the chance to the night before and started to get ready for the day, playing music low to keep myself company in the quiet my room offered.

An hour or so must have passed with me just puttering about, pulling out some clothes and drying my hair, it was when I’d just finished applying a little makeup to mask the darker circles that had appeared under my eyes over the last couple of weeks that I first heard it. A slight scuffle.

I paused and set down the makeup bag I’d been packing back away, waited for a second until I heard it again. Just a slight shuffle of feet beyond the door.

Forcing myself up off the bed, I stood and wandered over towards it, watching as a small shadow casted under the foot of the door before I turned the handle. The face I was met with shot over towards me in startled surprise and I chuckled inwardly, choosing to smile instead.

“Hey, lovely. You okay?” I asked, peering out down the hallway to find that the lights were still off, probably for my sake.

Rosie was chewing heavily on her lip when I looked back at her, the girl already dressed for school. She nodded and lifted her mouth in an apologetic grin, “Sorry, hope I didn’t wake you. Dad said to be a bit quieter.”

I grinned at the thought but rolled my eyes at the man and bumped the door open a little wider with my hip, figuring that Rosie had been shuffling outside for something but unsure on whether or not it could land her in trouble. Especially seeing as Marshall had instructed her to keep the noise down, thinking I was still asleep.

“You’re all good, been up for a while.” I told her, wandering back over to the foot of the bed after I’d gestured her inside. I packed away the remaining products which were still laid out on the bedspread and let her peer around a little. “Excited for school?” I asked, glancing over to where she still stood by the entrance.

She hummed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “It’s school.”

Releasing a soft chuckle, I dipped my head in an amused sort of nod. “I can understand that. You got a favourite lesson at least?”

Rosie chewed her lip again in thought before deciding on History. I smiled at the way her little face lit up at the mention, but I prolonged the silence a little in hopes that it would get her to open up about why she’d been shuffling about outside. It was a trick that had worked a dozen times over on Lottie.

Seemed it worked on Z too, who toed at the carpet just as I moved my makeup bag off to the side. “You any good with hair?”

The question did catch me by surprise, I couldn’t lie, but then I was grinning. “My sister had me learning all sorts,” I divulged to her, “and when I was back at school me and my friends would spend our lunch hour plaiting each other's hair. Drove the teachers mad.”

Rosie giggled at that and finally seemed to relax, moving further into the room. “Would you braid mine?” She wondered and peered up at me with those doe eyes I knew Marshall must have a hard time saying no to, “Dad’s getting better but he usually says it's just good up and out of the way in a ponytail.”

I pulled a face, wrinkling my nose at that. “Well, sure. But I reckon it’s just ‘cause he spends too long trying to work it out all over again each time you ask. You’re lucky though, my brother won’t even try.”

We shared a giggle as I wandered around to grab a few products I’d need. “Didn’t know you had a brother.” Rosie stated once I’d pointed her over to the chair closest and started on brushing her hair, being careful not to tug or pull.

I hummed softly in reply, “He’s a little younger, has a job that takes him all over the world so I don’t see him too often.”

“What’s he do?” She quizzed me, and for all that I’d learnt about how excitable the girl could be, she sat almost stock still in the seat as I sectioned off her hair.

“He’s in the Army,” I answered her, figuring that I’d do two dutch braids and use the black ribbons I’d gotten in New York to tie them off. “He’s good at it too, loves it there.”

That set her off and she began asking question after question, probably curbing all of her enthusiasm into it seeing as she couldn’t move. I rambled away too, regaling lighter stories of my brother’s experiences, as well as the pair of us as kids. Rosie seemed to prefer those, smiling up at me and wondering if she could see the picture I’d just told her about, of Danny and I at the beach covered in thick, muddy sand.

I wrapped up her two braids, tying the bows before I moved away to grab my mobile, finding the picture easily enough seeing as though Danny had sent me it the last time he’d been on leave.

“You look so alike!” Rosie giggled when she took a look at it, taking in the obvious traits we shared.

I chuckled as she stepped back, “Not really, he’s got a much bigger head.”

She laughed at that but then appeared to catch her reflection in the mirror on the dresser, she gasped and hurried closer to get a better look at the braids. She admired them for a long moment before she eventually grinned up at me, “It’s so pretty.” Rosie murmured gently, fingers toying with the black ribbon before she wrapped her arms around my waist, “Thank you.”

Anyone else I would have waved them off and said it was nothing, and in a way it was, but with Z I could only hug her back and smile. “You’re most welcome.” I told her as we parted, “Just glad you like it.”

“Like it?” The girl’s eyes widened like something straight out of a Disney movie, “I love it!”

I did chuckle then, “Well, I’m glad.” It was in that next moment that I went to tuck my phone into my back pocket and blinked at the time, “Best to go find your dad, don’t want you to be late.”

Rosie nodded around another grin, looking in the mirror one last time whilst I gathered up the last of my things to join her. We headed out together, Z telling me all about the lessons she was supposed to have today as we trailed down the stairs.

All of our talking must have alerted Marshall because he only lifted a brow at his daughter when we entered the kitchen. “What I tell you?”

I gifted the man a placating grin as I wandered in behind her. “It’s fine, I was already up.” I reassured him, “And besides, I was doing God’s work.”

Rosie snickered at my words, but did a twirl when I pointed over at her. She was giddy when she approached the kitchen counter in a rush, pushing against it to beam up at her father. “Like it?”

Marshall’s face softened at the sight of her so smiley and went to run a hand over the girl’s head, but there was just enough time for Rosie to duck out of his reach.

“Dad!” She admonished, shooting him an appalled look before she moved to settle onto a stool on the opposing side.

The man held his hand up in surrender, eyes disbelieving. “Apologies, didn't realise I was talking to Dolly Parton.” He muttered and shook his head before turning and mumbling under his breath, “Jesus.”

I snorted to myself and glanced about the kitchen, not an avid breakfast eater but used to having at least a brew first thing. Marshall must have noticed after he’d slid a bowl of cereal towards his daughter and glanced my way.

“Thanks for that, by the way.” He said quietly to me, gesturing over to where his daughter sat, munching away. “She didn’t bother you none?”

My head shook quickly, “No, not at all. It was nice, I’ve missed the days of doing my sister’s hair. She’s long grown out of that phase now.”

Marshall quirked a small smile of his own and then padded towards a cupboard, it was there that he dragged out a box. I frowned at the wicker exterior and honed in closer when my eye caught on something familiar poking out the top.

I gasped. “No shit.”

“Dollar!”

My head spun back to find Rosie grinning at me from around her spoon. I winced at the slip and shot the pair an apologetic smile which Em just waved off, but I jumped to grab a dollar from the small card case I’d brought down with me anyway and slapped it on the side. “I have a feeling this house is going to bankrupt me.”

Rosie giggled whilst Marshall just shook his head and pushed the dollar back to me. I hardened my stare and dared him to fight me on it. To my surprise the man just huffed out a short sound that could only have been a laugh before he gestured back over to the box.

“Was meant to give it to you yesterday.” He revealed as I carefully moved to peer into it again, marvelling at all the little treats that sat inside. “But things got real busy.”

I released a breath, my mouth parted whilst I reached a hand into the box. I grinned, heart warming at the item I held. “Tea.” I practically exclaimed as I looked back at the pair, not having had a cup since I’d arrived in The States, “And my favourite kind, too. How’d you even know?”

“Mentioned it before.” Em said breezily, before he moved back over to the island.

Had I? I wondered, perplexed by the idea of him even remembering before the sound of another cupboard opening dragged my eyes away from what else had been in the box.

I watched closely as Marshall dragged out a metal appliance from under the counter, only furthering my shock.

“The girls went through a herbal tea phase a while ago, bought this stupid thing and used it a half a dozen times.” He mentioned and settled down a kettle for me to use, “Figure you’ll need it.”

Rosie laughed then, breaking my daze as she slurped up the remaining milk which lined her bowl, “Think she’s speechless, Daddy.”

I narrowed my eyes playfully in turn, but she hadn’t been wrong. I just couldn’t quite wrap my head around it all. With a short snort, Em smirked and glanced back at me.

“Come on,” He egged, “we only got a bit before I gotta go. Make me one.”

Unable to dim the smile that then chose to overwhelm my face, I simply shook my head in disbelief but jumped into action, “Grab me two mugs then– the milk too.”

I plugged the kettle in by the simple coffee machine in the corner and peeled open the familiar gold box full of heaven, popping two teabags into each of the mugs Marshall then slid on over to me. I prepped each one a little differently, knowing that Em wasn’t too big a fan of milk in his coffee before I added a couple spoons of sugar to sweeten it. It was always nicer to taste that way the first time around, but most were weaned off of it by the time they were old enough to realise that the practice was sacrilege.

By the time I was clinking a teaspoon on one edge and had dumped both tea bags out, I padded back over to where Marshall was now sitting with Rosie, both of them having been content to just watch me work, and settled it in front of him. I urged him to try it with a raise of my brows.

He wet his lower lip, shared a brief look with his daughter which made me muffle a giggle, before he finally took a slow sip. He blinked at the taste and my grin widened. “Good, right?”

Em blinked again down at the muddy brew and I watched as his mouth pursed before he tried it once more. Rosie hunched over to get a look too, “Can I try?”

Marshall looked to me to ask if she could and I couldn’t see a reason not to, had practically been drinking tea for as long as I’d been on solids. So I dipped my chin, “It’s similar to coffee, but not. Won’t send her into a caffeine frenzy.”

With a cluck, Em let the girl take a sip, warning her that it was hot just before Z pulled away with a heavy grimace. The girl shook her head to show her evident disgust and both Marshall and I laughed at the reaction. “Gross.”

“Oi.” I rebuked teasingly, pointing at her from around my mug, which earnt me a giggle of my own before she was settling back down on her stool.

“Not for me.” She declared and then jumped off the chair to place her now empty bowl in the sink, “Sorry, El.”

I laughed at her apologetic wince and waved her off, “You’re alright, sweetheart. Isn’t for everyone.”

Rosie’s wrinkled expression eased at my words and she smiled as she rounded the island to lean into my side, “You coming to drop off too?”

Blinking, I glanced over at Marshall in confusion. “Drop off?”

The man continued to sip at his tea, which amused me to no end because I knew by the time I had to leave I’d have him hooked, and licked his lower lip before answering, “School.”

Oh. I nodded in a way that showed an understanding then peered down at the smiley blonde beside me, “Sure, if it’s okay with your Dad.”

Rosie nodded eagerly and looked towards the man in question, who’s eyes darted between the both of us before he ultimately shrugged. It got him a giant grin. “I’m going to grab my bag!” The girl told us and barely even gave anyone a chance to get a word in edgeways before she was darting across the room and up the stairs.

I smiled after the retreating figure, amused by her antics, but eventually Marshall dragged my attention back to him. “You good with comin’?”

Withholding a sigh, I shot him an exasperated smile and another nod. “‘Course. Stop questioning shit.”

He pulled a face. “Just tryna be hospitable, shit.”

“Hospitable isn’t the word I’d use.” I chuckled then finished the last of my drink, peering into the still warm mug, “Thanks for this though. It means– well, I can’t explain how much it means to me. Like having a little bit of home here.”

Marshall dipped his chin in silent understanding, still sipping away. “Can understand why, I’ve had this shit before but it ain’t ever tasted like this.”

That had me grinning, “You pulling my leg?”

“Nah, for real.” He said, nodding his head, “You put somethin’ in it?”

I glared and swiped his cup away, taking the two of them over to the sink to rinse. “No clue why you went into the music business, should’ve just been a clown.”

He was smirking when I looked back over, forearms pressed against the counter as he watched me clean the mugs and Rosie’s bowl. “Have a dishwasher, you know.”

Wrinkled my nose, I shrugged, “Probably have a lot of shit that makes life easier.”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Em laughed, the sound of it low but rippling the otherwise quiet kitchen.

“Take it as you will,” I retorted smugly, drying the dishes off easily and placing them down on the draining board. “We gonna start writing today?”

I asked it as I turned back to face him, pressing back against the sink to meet his stare. He shook his head though and pushed up out of the barstool, grabbing the keys he’d since set out on the side, “Figure I’d show you ‘round first.”

The smirk he wore made me question what it was exactly that he meant for us to do, but before I could even think up a reply he was already trailing away and calling up the stairs to Rosie.

Still, the thought lingered.

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benedictscanvas · 2 years ago

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be still, my foolish heart [5] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: finally! sorry it's a couple days late, but the busy week is over and we are back at it. i really enjoyed writing this one. did a poll to find out how people feel about reader pov, so there may be a few reader pov bits coming your way soon, just so we can see whether she's smitten too... <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist

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chapter five - if you got love to get done

The crowd is roaring as he walks out of the tunnel, squinting a little in the sudden wash of sunlight that hits him. The music is loud and he feels himself rising taller, pushing his shoulders back, chest forward as he realises the moment he’s having. It doesn’t matter one bit that he’s got a bib on, that he’s taking a sharp right turn and heading straight for the bench.

He’ll be subbed on at 60, he’s sure. Confident, even. The last few days in training, he’d played some of the best football he could remember playing. His phone was filled with encouraging messages that morning, from the team, from the coaches, from practically everyone that knew him. The only one he’d replied to so far was his mum, but he was looking forward to going through them properly later.

Earlier, he’d found himself disappointed not to see you at breakfast, but now here you were as he headed towards his seat on the bench, just one row behind him with a camera in your hand. You grin when you see him, and hold up your camera questioningly. He plays along as he stares off into the distance pensively, pouting and sharpening his jawline. You giggle as you take a few snaps and he's eager to sit down in front of you.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Jamie said, swivelling in his seat to chat to you despite the funny look from Gondo beside him, “I mean, not at the match but, y’ know…”

“Sat on the bench?” you asked and he nodded, “Yeah, I had to fight to be here, honestly. But there’s nowhere else I can get the right angles for the socials. At least, that’s what I told them.”

He grinned right back, turning even further in his seat so the two of you were face to face, but then the first notes of the national anthem started playing and you whacked his shoulder frantically as the two of you tried to stand up quickly. Even during the anthem, he risked a glance back at you and you glared at him until he turned back around, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face as he sang.

“You’ll get me fucking fired!” you hiss from behind your hand when the two of you are able to sit back down again, “They’ve already asked me why you’ve been in so much of the content recently.”

“What did y’ say?”

“That you’re the only idiot who says yes to all my stupid ideas.”

His shoulders slump at that description, but he’s quick to bounce back when you start laughing at him. You rest a hand on your shoulder as you lean in, still keeping a hand over your mouth to stop any pesky press doing any lip reading.

“I couldn’t tell them you’re just my favourite, could I?” and he could swear his heart stops, because that almost sounds like flirting. He stares up at you, wide-eyed and helpless until you continue, “Not supposed to tell anyone I’m Richmond, remember?”

Right. Richmond. That was why he was your favourite, because he’s the only Richmond player who’s fucking here. What if Roy was here? Or Isaac, or Colin, or Bumbercatch? It suddenly occurred to him that even if he was your favourite here, you might have a very long list of Richmond players you liked more than him. The thought settles and he can feel his uneasiness in his stomach.

He doesn’t respond before he turns back around to watch kick off, just smiles at you instead and hopes that his lack of reply isn’t too rude. Your hand lets go of his shoulder after a moment or two, and he’s absolutely kicking himself but then the match starts and he can’t think about it anymore.

It’s an easy opener, even if Gareth insisted that they couldn’t become complacent. England were 2-0 up within around 10 minutes with a tap-in and a penalty from King, and from there seemed content to coast to half time with the majority of the possession. Jamie cheered for both goals wildly on the sidelines with the rest of his teammates and then jogged down into the tunnel quickly when the halftime whistle blew.

The team talk was nothing he hadn’t heard before. Gareth was hardly going to change tactics now, so once he’d got past the main parts, he turned his mind to you, just for a few minutes. He probably wasn’t your favourite player at Richmond. And it shouldn’t matter to him, he knows that, but it does. The pit in his stomach that the thought has caused just won’t go away.

He could ask you, but that would be ridiculous. Would make him seem ridiculous. This was definitely getting out of hand, because he had been so sure he could just be friends with you and be happy about it but- you were just so great. The two of you had spent the last four days in Italy practically joined at the hip. Filming and laughing and crying-while-laughing.

All the while he’d been promising himself not to think about you in any way that wasn’t friendly. All the while he’d been lying to himself. You smile at him, and he feels like he’s spinning around on a fucking hill like in that movie Roy had made him watch about a month ago.

The team is all clapping, so he snaps himself out of it and claps too as everyone files out of the room. He’s so frustrated with himself for thinking about this now - it isn’t the time. So he decides - after the match, he can think about it as much as he likes. Come up with a proper plan to rid himself of this once and for all, so you can get on as well as you do without him worrying about silly things like being your favourite Richmond player.

When he arrives back to his seat on the bench and flops down into it, he feels a delicate tap on his shoulder and turns to see you, still smiling that infuriating smile.

“Hey, you’re very tense,” you say teasingly with a light poke to his shoulder, “Whole first half without talking isn’t very Jamie Tartt of you. Something I said?”

He likes to think he can read you pretty well sometimes, and he’s positive he can see your smile falter as you ask. So he did come off rude when he turned around and stopped talking to you. Again, he’s kicking himself.

“No! No, love, ‘course not,” he tries to reassure you, “I’m just nervous, honestly. Y’ mentioned Richmond and I know that I’m…y’ know. I’m good there. Jus’ wonderin’ if I’ll be any good here.”

He wasn’t wondering. He’s been great in training and he’s fishing for compliments, he knows it. The thought makes him feel like a prick again.

“Come on. You’re joking, right?”

He doesn’t expect that particular response, especially not the thinly veiled amusement on your face.

“Uh- no? Don’t think so.”

“I’ve watched you in training. You’re feeling it, I know it. I know you a bit by now. So why are you lying?”

It was the most straightforward you’d ever been and he had no idea what to do with it. But Gareth was calling his name, and Gondo elbowed him in the ribs hard.

“You’re up, bro. Go and warm up!”

Jamie was quick to react, glancing back at you a few times but soon getting his head in the game. He pushes your conversation, your words, right to the back of his mind as he sidesteps along the side of the pitch, then moves through the exercises he usually did on autopilot.

He hadn’t even noticed it was 60 minutes through the game. At least he’d been right about one thing - he was getting subbed on.

He ran to grab his shirt as one of the assistant coaches told the fourth official that England would be making a change. You were nearby again and you grinned at him when he was close enough.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said loudly, and he knew what you were talking about, “Just go and fucking smash it, Jamie!”

He nods. Yeah, he’s gonna fucking smash it.

He tears off his bib and stands ready on the touch line, proud to be wearing Sam’s number on his back. He knows that Sam should be here in Italy playing for his country as he deserved, and it was only a small tribute, but he hoped it would make some kind of statement. King runs over to him, slaps his hands against Jamie’s and that’s it - he’s running onto the pitch with a new spring in his step.

He’s an England player. He’s done it. Lifelong dream achieved.

Around ten minutes into his debut, he sees Rife making a delicious run down the right side and he hooks his foot around the ball to send a pass forward, soaring over the heads of the defenders and landing right on Rife’s foot. He holds his breath as Rife shoots, but the net bulges soon after and now he’s got an assist too.

It’s overwhelming.

Still, Rife is running over to jump on him and he lets him, then Wire, then practically the whole team. At the bottom of the pile, Jamie spares a thought for the Jamie of a few years ago, the Jamie for whom goals were everything and assists meant nothing. How sad it would have been to miss out on this feeling of helping his team, his country, towards an emphatic win.

And it was a fucking excellent assist, too.

The last ten minutes are uneventful. Jamie knows he’s playing well and remembers your words - you’re feeling it. You’ve summed it up perfectly. His feel of the ball, his feel for his teammates and their positions, its all coming together. At the final whistle, he lets out a roar, full of all the anxious anticipation that went into this moment then takes the nearest player to him in a huge bear hug.

The coaches and rest of the team walk out onto the pitch, shaking hands and clapping each other on the back. Jamie makes a point to shake as many opposition players’ hands as he can before he moves on to celebrating with his teammates. Almost as soon as he’s ready to jog over to Rife to pick him up, however, he spots you, filming Rife on your phone.

Maybe he isn’t your favourite Richmond player. But you said he was your favourite around here and he’s going to take that and run with it.

“Y/N! Hey!”

You look round as soon as he calls and put your phone away instantly. He’s not sure you’ve even finished with Rife. Either way, you’re sprinting up to him and you’ve got him locked in the tightest of hugs before he knows it. Despite how unexpected it is, it doesn’t take him long to wind his arms around you in return because it’s the easiest thing in the world.

You pull back, positively beaming.

“That assist, Jamie! I fucking knew you were feeling it, that was insane!”

“It were pretty good, weren’t it?” he says proudly, pulling you back into his arms for one hug while he still can, grateful when you let him. He leans back this time, watching you with a quirked eyebrow, “You know me quite well, huh?”

If he didn’t know any better, he’d think you looked flustered.

“Didn’t know you were going to do that, though, did I? Magic, that was,” you’re still heaping praise on him, and there’s a part of him that wants to tell you to go on, but he doesn’t want to push it. He also doesn’t want any awkwardness between the two of you, but right now he thinks he could do anything, so he takes a chance.

“Earlier, you said I was your favourite because I’m Richmond and it jus’ felt shit,” he admits, all in a rush, “That’s not your fault, I know. I never thought about you likin’ Richmond in general before. Instead of-“

Instead of just me. Instead of just liking me, for who I am and not what team I play for. Tell me I’m your favourite Richmond player and I’ll stop being a fucking prick.

He keeps most of what he’s thinking to himself, because he feels like he’s probably already said too much. In his sessions with Doctor Sharon so far, she’s been so encouraging of his newfound honesty, both with others and with himself. She’d want him to ‘communicate his feelings’ with you, and he wasn’t sure if this was the best way of doing that, but it had happened now. He’d already said it.

You still had your hands on his arms, having pulled them back from their tight squeeze around his neck and shoulders. You were looking at him thoughtfully, and he was struck by how stupid he was when he thought he could read you earlier - you were impossible to read sometimes.

After what feels like years, you press your lips together like you’re suppressing a grin and squeeze his biceps.

“Jamie…” you begin, voice as soft as it’s ever been, despite the still deafening roar of the crowd. He’d practically forgotten he’s still stood on a football pitch, “Come on. You’re joking, right?”

Same words as earlier. His heart sinks.

“I swear, Y/N, I’m not lying this time, that’s actually why I got all mardy-”

“You have to be joking,” you repeat, interrupting him slowly, “Because you must know you’re my favourite player everywhere.”

He isn’t sure whether to sigh in pure relief or start panting for breath. You’re looking at him so softly, there’s almost shyness there. He’s never seen you shy, ever. Certainly not around anyone else.

“You’ve admitted something, so I will too. Just to be fair,” you smile easily, still holding him by the arms. He wonders if he could put his hands back on your waist, but he can’t move a muscle in case you move away from him, “I’ve never been nervous around football players. I work with them everyday, you know? And then you walk up to training that first day, and you don’t hear me when I ask my question, and I felt nervous. Stupid nervous.”

“…because you’re a Richmond fan?”

“No, Jamie,” you say, but you don’t say why you were nervous, you just fucking stare at him. His heart is begging him to lean in and kiss you silly, “Maybe it was the hair.”

You reach up to gently tug on one of the strands that falls in front of his face from his headband. He’s struggling to find his voice.

“I-” he has to cough to get his words back, “I do have good hair.”

“Great hair, even,” you smirk, and he can see you biting your lip, “The rest of you isn’t too bad either, I guess. If you’re into that kinda thing.”

Oh. Oh.

You’re flirting with him.

This is new. He’s oblivious and his processing time might be longer than others, but you’ve never blatantly flirted with him before. He’d know, because he’s been desperate for you to flirt with him for a few weeks now. Basically since he met you. Whether it’s playful or not, it’s a new development that has him floating.

This, he can do. Flirting. He’s good at this.

“And what kinda thing would that be?” he says, tilting his head and smirking right back at you. All his terror at your previous sincerity falls away and is replaced by a need to match you quip for quip. He can think about the fact that he’s your favourite player everywhere when he sits in his hotel room grinning in the mirror later.

“You know,” you rock back and forth on your heels, “The whole fit footballer thing. Abs and shit. It’s a very particular type.”

So you had looked at him at the pool party. It shouldn’t have made him so giddy. You just called him fit. He could melt into a puddle at your feet if he wasn’t so determined to make you giddy in return.

“And is it your type?”

You make a show of thinking about it in a way that shoots sparks all the way down Jamie’s spine. He’s so glad you can’t hear his heartbeat like he can, roaring in his ears.

“Dunno. I like my guys with enough hair gel to set their head alight, you know?”

A dig at his look from a few years ago. Of course you’d find a way to mention that without stopping that tone you’d taken on out of nowhere. The tone that was disarming and charming and downright hot.

“You know, I think I know a guy like that,” he said, pretending to search for someone over your head, “You don’t happen to know any mad pretty PR women I could point him to?”

The grin that took over you, bloomed across your whole face, was exactly what he’d been hoping for, finally finding the opening in the conversation to compliment you right back. You move closer to him and he feels himself let out a tiny gasp, but all you do is tuck yourself into his side, winding an arm around his waist. He lets his own wrap around your shoulders as the two of you start walking over to clap the England fans in the corner.

“I’ll keep you posted,” you say, looking up at him, all sweetness. He knows you aren’t, though, because your free hand comes to rest on his stomach as you look up at him. He feels every ab tighten under your touch despite his best efforts, “Guess we’ll just have to keep looking, hm?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, grinning down at you as he tugs you further into him, “If your mate Tiff ever joins us out here, she could be a good option for him, right?”

You push yourself away from him, and its the last thing he wanted. You walk backwards away from him for a few seconds, then shake your head at him with a smile and run to catch up with the rest of the team.

He’s left a little bit awestruck in your wake. He jumps when someone claps him on the back, then turns to see a very smug Rife.

“That bad?”

Jamie huffs out a half-laugh as his eyes go back to following you, watching you congratulate some of the coaches. There’s a little bit of jealousy in his chest even watching you talk with them, and he hates it.

“That bad,” he confirms, still staring at you from afar, “That fucking bad.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt series #be still my foolish heart #as someone who watches a lot of football can i just say this gif is the hottest thing in existence

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decepti-thots · 2 months ago

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☕ ~ trans woman whirl?

I love trans Whirl headcanons but I think I love them for totally different reasons than I usually see, tbh? That is- I think a lot of the time the fandom just goes 'oh! Girl Holoform Spotted! now this character is girl, and we can say character is trans girl because in the comic they are called he/him' and tbh I find that attitude as fandom often implements it annoying for a couple reasons; one, it often feels like a kind of 'if character Looks Like Girl, well, character Is Girl' deal which tbh feels kinda shallow to me ngl, and two, it (and similar under-expanded upon headcanons) not infrequently seems to be a way for the fandom as a whole to justify the general lack of content for the very explicitly canon trans characters by instead being like 'all the material we make for these characters not treated as such in canon proves that we definitely love trans characters. don't think about how lug or anode or arcee don't get that same attention, or that this content only offhandedly actually deals with transness 90% of the time', you know? Bit mean, but I can't help but feel that's a repeated tendency in the fandom, tbh. I would feel less like this if the fanon trans headcanons did not just vaguely go 'oh. also ig they are trans, how nice' with no follow up and instead actually treated these characters as having opinions about being trans, but in too many cases they unfortunately... don't. (And no, them being robots is not an excuse. Anode has opinions on this. Arcee has opinions on this, a lot of them!) But we're here to talk about Whirl, and I want to talk about why I do love trans Whirl, so.

I love trans Whirl for reasons far outside of that, and I think taking that approach to the idea does it a disservice tbqh. Specifically I like trans Whirl for the same reason I like reading Verity as trans, because it adds to Whirl's character arc about being denied agency over identity and clawing it back on purpose in a way where the trans reading feels especially resonant and like it genuinely adds to the overall subtext of her arc. Whirl's entire character is one where the violent removal of agency in her life is so much a focus it changes the course of history; Whirl refusing to let the functionists that ruined her life win is why Elegant Chaos plays out as it does. Whirl is a character whose entire sense of self as a person with the ability to make any choices at all was viciously ripped away from her, and in turn a character whose response to that is to make her ability to choose exactly what she does so utterly undeniable that even if you hate her, even if you think she's repulsive, even if you want to throttle her, you cannot pretend she is not in control. In that specific context, adding in the idea that she would choose her own gender, in defiance of a Cybertronian culture that implicitly treats gender as an alien unwelcome influence, so she can have what she wants- that rules. There's also such a line to be drawn there between Arcee's arc and Whirl, I think, that is so great. That's where I see why it is so good. Being seen as just a gun to be aimed that everyone professes distaste for but still wants to stick around and do dirty work, but you insist upon your interiority being seen as just that; your interiority. And all the things the people who want to do to you which you hate being what you embrace. It's fantastic. I simply prefer that as an angle through which to view the ideas than like... haha well Whirl's holoform is Girl With Guns how funny. You know?

And one of her most "humanising" moments is when she extends that to someone else. I'm thinking of when she tells Tailgate that Cyclonus was lying about his injuries; that part where Cyclonus is trying to protect Tailgate in a way that is ultimately toxic for them both. Sure, everyone else agrees that the best way to handle this is to lie for your own good so you don't make a decision people don't want you to. But that's not fucking fair, and who gets to decide what's "your own good"? Viewing that in light of a Whirl who is not just vaguely a woman but specifically linking that to the way Whirl's rigidly defined role under a functionist heel ruined her sense of identity, because they know what's best for you whether you like it or not- damn, that is COMPELLING. And I find that just. So much more compelling than what fandom so often does with the idea. Whirl, above all else, knows how important demanding agency is. I think that makes Whirl a character ripe for a reading as trans, and I love that for her so much. she'll grab you by the throat and make you acknowledge her. and she's right every step of the way, no matter how much you want to look away. i love her.

tl;dr WHIRL TRANS WOMAN GOOD. LOVE IT. no really i just, it's so good.

#ask meme #WOW THIS IS ONE I HAVE A LOT OF OPINIONS ON TURNS OUT #tldr. i love. trans whirl. because i love whirl so so so much #(also yeah i use canon pronouns usually but. we are talking about whirl as trans here so we're on that delicious she/her whirl content)

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nothorses · 1 month ago

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Hi so I’m a nonbinary lesbian and have been out for well over 6 years. My gender expression has changed a lot over the years and now I’m just. A bit lost. I want to experiment more with masculinity again but I’ve kind of forgotten how to? I’m in a bit of a weird spot where most people around me aren’t trans (except for my roommates) but are of the (very good!) idea that “clothes and attributes aren’t gendered” and dress sort of unisex in as cheap second hand clothes as possible. Some guys have long hair or wear makeup to parties and some women don’t shave etc. But I still feel like most people view me as a woman or woman-lite because even though they’re well meaning and progressive, they’re not really well-educated about transness. And I’m in a long term lesbian relationship and have a lot of hobbies that are more traditionally feminine. My pronouns are they/she but most people use she/her exclusively. I’m starting to feel more and more dysphoric about this after a few years of no dysphoria, but I don’t know how to change things. So yeah do you have any tips on doing masculinity? Or experimenting more with combining gender expressions? I wish I could start t but the trans healthcare in my country is terrible.

ngl a lot of that is so familiar to me- especially the pronouns! It's been a long time since I started to lean more into masculinity from the kind of "I'm not a yucky man lol that would be unfeminist" purgatory I was trapped in pre-transition but post-realizing-i-was-trans-in-some-way (which isn't to imply that's where you're at, that was just my personal journey) but I definitely feel like I resonate with a lot of what you're describing from, like, that specific period in my life.

I think drawing harder lines around how I wanted people to refer to me helped a lot with this, early on. I know a ton of people who have pronouns they use with trans friends that are different from the pronouns they let cis people use; she/they for the people they know will make the effort to use both, but they/them or she/her exclusively for the people they know are unlikely to use those pronouns if they have an alternative. This works with other language as well- but that's all to your personal comfort level!

Outside of that, I think step 1 is really just thinking about what masculinity means to you, and what kinds of masculinity you're interested in or intrigued by. Don't worry too much about figuring out exactly what you want right away- just experiment with whatever seems like it might be fun or comfortable. Think clothes, hair, mannerisms, roles, hobbies and interests; anything you might have denied or been denied because of gendered expectations. There's no one singular way to Do Masculinity, and the goal isn't to start out with a single perfect, consistent way of presenting yourself to the world. You're just playing with things you haven't had permission to play with before!

I also have a lot of "feminine interests", and a big thing for me has been finding masculine role models within those things. In my area it's mostly women who are into horses, and I was the only man on the horseback riding team at my school when I transitioned; but cowboys are totally a thing, and I started leaning into that role pretty early on! We also ended up getting another guy on the team, I think partially because he saw there was at least one other & he wouldn't be the only man there, which was cool (he latched onto me hard, too. it was very funny to me when I mentioned being trans & he apparently had very much not realized that before. I got to watch his worldview shift in real time, lmao)

That one was probably the easiest, though. I've also looked to really positive, loving male teachers in my work in education, and that's been awesome! Sewing & embroidery have been the hardest by far, but I've definitely found plenty of men in both over time. Finding embroidery patterns to try out from gay men depicting masculine-presenting bodies has been especially fun & validating.

I know this isn't the most specific advice, and I'm not sure if you were looking for like, a list of clothes to buy? But honestly this has just been my own journey. I wear what's comfortable and I haven't really changed my interests or hobbies; exploring masculinity has really just meant giving myself permission to engage in things I haven't before, wearing things I feel good in, and looking to others who've given themselves that permission as well for inspiration. I had to be more intentional about considering the masculine-to-me options early on than I do now, but like, it should all be about you and what you're interested in. There are infinite types of guy! I think it's just a matter of figuring out which ones you resonate with and why, and building your own type of guy out of that.

#advice #trans #transmasc #dont know if u id that way anon just know this post might resonate for folks in that tag!

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showtoonzfan · 10 months ago

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Just want to preface this by saying i love ur analysis sm- u put my exact thoughts into words when i cant verbalise whats wrong with a particular writing decision 🥲🥲

Anyway, smth ive noticed is how... little time vivzie actually spends on writing or characterizing or fleshing out her characters.

Which has to be the weirdest thing so far bc every writer and artist ive met agree that its the best part of making an oc! Its so fun to think of backstories and tie that into their current personality and generally just figuring out random details to get to know your characters!

Like, my ocs are my best friends, i know everything abt them from their trauma and childhoods, to their favourite food and music.

But time and time again she proves that her characters are at best acquaintances... the fandom fleshes out the characters so well and with so much love and care and thought that vivzie herself cant do and its just sad.

Not even mentioning the hundreds of retcons and how characters will just change personality randomly or act out of character which results in the work feeling like a fanfic of itself. (Ironic considering some fanfics have better and more consistent characterisation)

It feels like shes making it up as she goes, instead of having an actual plan. Just shoving random ideas she likes or picks up from the much more creative fandom into the 2 shows without actually stopping and thinking abt the consequences or implications.

Theres so many decisions shes made that irk me so bad... the ideas individually have potential but they either dont fit the show or have to make huge retcons and result in the plot not making any sense.

Also, ngl but she has the worst case of tell dont show ive ever seen my god 😭😭 like... you realise you have to show things instead of just fucking singing it or having a character say it??? Or is that another thing that the fandom has to do so they can convince themselves that the show has good characters??

Atp idk how to salvage the show... i keep finding more and more plotholes and unless i literally turn my brain off and only focus on haha funny dick joke or pwetty colors, these questions keep popping into my head making it a painful unenjoyable experience.

Again, if the fandom has to justify your bad nonsensical hypocritical worldbuilding then you failed. Massively.

Anyway im very sleepy rn just wanted to rant a bit bc im a writer and artist myself and it pisses me off how someone gets their show on the air and still doesnt care abt putting in effort into their plot or characters beyond aesthetics and random ideas that dont go well together...

You’re speaking facts! And it’s honestly like..kinda funny too that people who have their own OC’s can flesh them out and deep dive into their arcs/backstories ect, yet a professional showrunner who’s had these characters for YEARS can’t even give the majority of her characters flaws or quirks, or even consistency, same goes for Helluva Boss.

Viv is a really good example at letting inspired writers know what not to do when making a story and characters so at least they have that lol.

#reply #ask #all facts btw heavily agree #thanks for ranting to me!#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #Hazbin critical

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judasgot-it · 1 year ago

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I wanted to write something really quick for Jouno's birthday ngl, so here's some really cheesy dogshit

Happy Birthday to the blind king himself (ugh I miss him)

Scenario: Calling Jouno while he's at work. It becomes a little silly.

As much as Jouno hated the telephone, he hated the sounds of his coworkers even more.

What were they yelling for? It's four in the morning.

Who's even up at four in the morning?

Apparently them.

Every day. For the last 2 weeks.

Usually, he could have slept in for at least 3 more hours. Have a coffee that didn't taste like piss and tinfoil (everyday he hated whoever made the coffee in the lounge, no one would tell him the name of the moron who cheaped out on it. They weren't safe from him.) and get to tell his woe's to someone who didn't have rocks for brains.

But no. He was stuck here, at HQ, listening to reports that led their current case to nowhere.

Which led to yelling. Always yelling.

So answering the phone was honestly rather refreshing.

"..."

He waited a second. Why should he, of all people, speak first?

"Hello? Is Jouno there?"

Jouno felt time pause for a moment. He stopped, listening to the other members in the room.

They seemed rather distracted, not truly paying attention to what he was doing. Teruko and Tachihara were arguing and Tecchou was...he smelt gross, so probably working out.

"Sorry, who is this?"

He really hoped he was hearing wrong.

"Jouno, c'mon you know who I am. Why, is something wrong?"

When did you have their number? As far as he recalled, only government officials were ever given this number, and even that is far and few in between. He never let you know much about his work.

"I'm not trying to buy anything."

To Jouno's dismay, that failed miserably. Instead, all he heard was your laughter on the other side of the phone. Did you really think his misery was funny?

"If I find you, I'll kill you."

Jouno made threats as a part of his day-to-day life, it was easy to fake it towards you. But a part of him felt how he was cracking easily, hearing your obvious giggles as they thought of the next line to say.

"Ok ok. Sorry I know you're busy at work right now. But I really did call for something really important."

Taking a moment, Jouno sighed as he leaned against the small desk that held the phone. He waited a bit, listening to see if the others in the room were still ignoring him.

As much as he hated it, they seemed to actually notice that the "bad-things-are-happening-please-help" phone was called. His luck really is immaculate.

"How did you get this number again?"

There was a guilty laugh on your end. What had you so happy?

"Some other day, maybe. But that's not important! Jouno."

Jouno gave a very long sigh.

"Jouno, today is your birthday!"

"Yes."

He was really hoping he was as good of an actor as he thought he was, because he couldn't help how his heart was beating twice as fast at the thought of you remembering something so small.

"Are you coming home tonight?"

There was a pause.

Jouno didn't want to respond, because he hated the answer. Truthfully, he didn't know when he would have a 'normal' (for a hunting dog) workday.

He didn't even want to admit out loud how much he missed you.

"Oh, ok. You know, after your 'case' is over, we should get to celebrating. I have the perfect gift for you already, which definitely involves no clothes."

"No."

There was a pause on your end. He hated telling you no. Weird, since frankly breaking people's hearts was his favorite past time.

"Good idea. Uh..."

Jouno forced himself to listen back into the conference room, which was now weirdly quiet. There was also a small heartbeat very very close to him.

That was not a good sign.

"Thank you. Um."

He turned his head, bell-jingling against the phone, as he knew Teruko was looking up at him -probably with a shit eating grin.

"...I love you."

Sighing, he ate his pride, turning away.

"I love you too, Jouno. Happy birthday."

You sang it, not forcing him to endure the entire song. He hoped he was tall enough and facing enough away that Teruko couldn't see the smile on his face hearing those words.

When he hung up the phone, hearing the click and shut off the landline, he was forced to face his reality.

The one where he couldn't stop hearing his coworkers giggling. Particularly Teruko's, but even Tecchou was laughing somewhere deep in that stupid body of his that managed to breathe air.

He wanted to kick him.

"I didn't know you were in a relationship."

Tachihara said this nervously, but still with a smile in his voice.

"I'm not. I don't know who that was or how they got that number."

It was hard to say this seriously, as Jouno could feel the red creeping up on his face.

Happy birthday Jouno omfgggfgfg when is he coming back </3

#this is silly but happy birthday jouno #silly man is silly ?!#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #jouno x reader #jouno x you #jouno x y/n

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 years ago

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Hi Ghost! Mega congrats on 3k!! 🥳can i get a filthy martini with eddie munson? Maybe with some sneaking around fun? Thankyou!!

thank you so much!! ngl, i'm very proud of this one. i definitely got carried away, but i swear the smut is there, somewhere amongst the 3k+ words!!! this is really just one long love letter to eddie munson. hope i did your idea justice! also got heavily inspired by taylor swift's song "cruel summer", but what's new?

come party with me!

summertime and stardust (eddie munson x fem!reader)

warnings: smut, p in v, raw dog heathen prevails (aka unprotected sex). also a lot of references to mythology. my bad. i think i got too much prose all over my smut. oops.

Hawkins was always boring in the summer, and maybe that’s how the two of you ended up in this predicament. It was a sweltering wasteland of quarries that had started drying up long before July even arrived, and twenty four hour diners that were occupied with waitresses that made it very clear that they were sick of seeing yours and Eddie’s faces before even a week of freedom. Half of the usual hangout spots the two of you had considered hidden gems were quickly overrun by the middle-schoolers and freshmen that now had nothing but time on their hands (Eddie had taken the loss of the Arcade badly). So it was no surprise that you two ended up here, at the shore of Lover’s Lake, side by side on a blanket that Eddie had kept in the back of his van.

“Which one is that one?” you ask, lifting a finger to trace out a constellation winking down at the two of you.

“Orion,” Eddie immediately answers, hardly having to squint to make out the stars as you were, “Want to hear the story behind that one?”

“Is that even a question?”

This is how the two of you had spent the last hour. On your backs, gazing at the stars, exchanging stories and theories that did not belong to either of you. Tales of Greek Gods and Goddesses, smartass remarks and make-believe when one of you couldn’t identify the constellation. There’s nothing else but you, Eddie, and the cicadas this far out of town. A buzz of relief and tranquility to bask in. Every so often, you could make out the lake water lapping at the shore not far from where both your feet rest, Eddie’s stretching past the blanket.

It was nice. Every night you had spent out here had been very nice.

You turn on your side to listen to Eddie ramble about Orion, somehow both eloquent but still unfairly funny in his side comments of his opinion on the tale. He makes it very clear that he finds Orion to be deserving of losing his sight - “Seriously, fuck that dude!” - and you can only watch on, entranced by the boy and his starry eyes.

“I think the version where Artemis murked his ass is pretty good, but I also like the idea behind Gaia sending a Scorpion to kill him, because then they’re opposing constellations and sh- Are you even listening to me?” Eddie pauses when you bring a hand up to his chest, fingertips dancing over the damp cotton of his t-shirt.

You can’t hide the small smile tilting your lips as you nod, biting back giggles, “Oh, absolutely.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, arms crooked up to rest behind his head, biceps straining against the worn sleeves of his t-shirt. You resist the urge to just bury yourself into him, curl against his side and press, press, press until the two of you conjoin, never to separate again.

“You’re such a fucking liar,” he lowly chuckles, eyes looking back up to the sky as your fingers begin to trace patterns higher, now skimming his barely-exposed collarbones.

This is how it usually goes. He’s watching the sky, you’re watching him. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for the change.

Everyone in town knew that the two of you are friends; it’s not a secret. You’d met in school, partnered for a chemistry lab, and the rest was history. Everyone knew that you were the first person Eddie showed every new Corroded Coffin song to, and everyone knew Eddie was the last person you spoke to at the end of every day. And surely, they had to know to some extent, that you both reserved your summer nights for each other.

The change is what they didn’t know.

Steve and Robin would tease you two when you’d come into Family Video, a new thriller or horror movie always in hand at the checkout. Dustin would make gagging noises when Eddie would dramatically bid you farewell before Hellfire Club would commence, making endless jokes about his wife returning from war, how lonesome he would be now as you walked through the door and out of his sights for the next several hours. Even Mike, even Max, even Joyce, had made off-handed comments about your attachment to each other.

But they were all always joking. They never saw any purchase in their words, their relentless teasing never serious because they couldn’t fathom a world where those jokes were actually correct.

They could never fathom the nights you and Eddie would end up cuddling each other while studying, pressed together too tightly to leave space for friendly speculation. They could never fathom the way Eddie would drag you into the darkest corners of the arcade, his hands tight on your hips and your breath brushing his cheek as he nuzzled his way against your neck, teeth and lips alike nipping at you in desperation until you caved and gave him a chaste kiss. They could never fathom the way Eddie had been holding you to him by the end of these nights spent by the lake, pressing his body into yours and reveling in every whimper that was only his to hear.

No, they couldn’t fathom that half of the story. They knew you two were close, but they didn’t know just how intertwined your lifelines had become with the boy lying beside you. And that was fine, you didn’t care for them to know about those sacred moments laden with secrecy. All you really cared about was that the boy before you was all your summer nights and all your starry skies, brimming with clandestine glances and whispers of worship in moments alone. That was enough for you. Here, in your bubble of privacy by the lake sans persistent cicadas and gentle waves, he was yours.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eddie murmurs, bringing a hand up to yours that continues to explore his body innocently, intertwining your fingers with his before resting them over his heart.

It was drumming in his chest – you could feel each beat perfectly, breaking through the Iron Maiden logo and against your skin. After a few moments, your own racing heart synced with his, a quiet rhythm coursing through your veins. You hope he could feel it, too.

“Just thinking about how it’s just us out here,” you whisper back, voice low and careful not to break this moment. All of the paths, all of the dead-end streets you had both endured, just for moments like this, “How it’s always just us.”

You mean more than the fact that you never invite anyone else out on your endeavors, but Eddie takes it that way anyway, snorting.

“You wanna start inviting the guys out here?” he jokes through more laughter, making you attempt to break your hand free from his in order to smack at his chest. He doesn’t let you, though, only tightening his fingers’ grip on yours, “Think that Gareth would like the show? Or maybe Jeff?”

“Stop,” you whine, starting to fight him with your whole body now, still trying to get your hand free. You nearly roll on top of him, your giggles now joining his, “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

He doesn’t reply as the two of you continue to wrestle. At some point, he takes his free hand and begins to tickle you, making your giggles turn into awful screeches, echoing in the warm, stale air around the two of you. You twist and twist and twist, trying to get away from his merciless grip. You’re no longer holding hands, him now utilizing both to attack your sides before moving toward your armpits.

“Don’t!” you gasp out, realizing what he was about to do. He’s on his side now, you flat on your back as he begins to hover over you, “Edward Munson, don’t you dare!”

But he does dare. And even as you’re slapping at his shoulders, even when he overexaggerated how much your knee knocking against his thigh hurt, even when the weight of him presses you down into the blanket and threatens to bury you into the soft dirty of the small-town beach, you know it in your heart – there is no where else you’d rather be in this moment.

The compromising position that results from the ridiculous tickling and wrestling is welcome, Eddie’s body heavy between your legs as his torso drapes over yours. Your face-to-face with him, now looking in those dazzling brown eyes for constellations rather than the sky above.

His grin from the entire interaction has begun to ache, but it doesn’t falter as he bumps his nose to yours gently, “I’m sorry. I get it, I know what you mean. It’s always been just us,” he pauses before scrunching up his face, rearing up to continue to tease you before he playfully mocks, “You and me against the world, baby.”

You smack at his chest with fruition this time, making a soft oomph fall from his lips that pass over yours, “I was just trying to be sentimental, you dick.”

The grin finally falls away, but the corners of his eyes stay crinkled, “I know.”

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s like a breath of fresh spring air. You’re no longer in Hawkins’ muggy summer weather, instantly transported somewhere far away where the sun is just warm enough for comfort, where the breeze is just soft enough to wrap around your shoulders like a favorite blanket, where every strawberry is the sweetest and nothing will ever hurt.

The world can be cruel, both in heat waves and hurting souls, but he never is. He’s a sanctuary – he’s your sanctuary.

His sickly sweet kisses continue, taking your breath away in a willing way, leaving both your lips shades of summer blooms and spring flowers. His tongue is a welcome prodding, almost as if tending to your garden as he tries to get the two of you even closer. It’s not possible, but it doesn’t stop either of you; chests crush together as foreheads clash, and you yearn for a world where you could just curl up beneath each other’s skin, clamber your way into his chest and nestle right beside his pounding heart.

Only Artemis knows that he’s already made residency in yours, decorating your ribs and lungs with his flowers of adoration.

Between desperate breaths and needy hands, hips beginning to roll and curse the clothing you two have yet to get rid of, you silently wonder where the two of you will end up in this lifetime. You hope it’s amongst the stars. You hope your constellation can find his across the night sky.

“Baby,” he begs. You don’t know what he’s begging for – for closeness, for your legs to fall further open and welcome him home, for you to swallow him whole with all the love pounding just beneath the surface of you – so you can only kiss him back with more urgency.

The urgency follows through both of your movements. Urgency is what removes his shirt, your hands shaking as his chest is exposed to you in the moonlight. Urgency is what unbuttons your shorts, prickles of thorns when his fingertips make contact with your nude hip. Urgency is the slip of his hand into your panties, fingers curling and swirling in every right pattern to have you preening against him.

“Off,” you plead with him once he has you down to just your underwear and him just his boxers. Your palms rack down desperately over the waistband before trailing down to his bulge, fevered movements earning more purpose as you press down on him and elicit a moan.

He recovers his composure, only to shake his head down at you, curls ticking your cheeks, “Ever heard of a thing called patience, sweetheart?”

“Fuck patience,” you immediately argue, pulling yourself back from his lips fully, eyes meeting and lips slick with each other’s spit, “We have the entire summer to be patient, Eddie. Just… Just fuck me. Please.”

You awakened something in him with those words, you saw away whatever restraint he was holding onto so tightly. These nights always ended the same way, but they never felt the same.

Familiarity waits in the shadows as each graze of his skin against yours ignites something new in you. New flowers, new petals, new budding growths that scream that this can’t last for just the summer. Whatever this is, as he removes your panties and his boxers, is not just a coming and going on the seasons. It’s not just a constellation only to be seen in the quiet of the night by two lovesick fools sneaking off to observe it. The heat of the summer that frizzes both your hair and his repeats it, the cooler breeze that rolls off the lake behind you guys encourages it. It may have taken the summer to tend to it, but this is only the beginning of it. Not the end – never the end.

And he fucks you like he knows it, too. He can hear the whispers of it all, telling him to pull you closer, telling him to take his time as he pushes into you and feels your walls stretch around him. It isn’t quite patience, it isn’t quite cruelty. It’s just you, and it’s just him.

“Fuck,” he moans out once he’s fully sheathed inside you, cock pulsing as your wetness tightens on him. Really, it’s a shame that no deity will ever experience the devotion you feel pouring off of him as his mouth falls open for you, as his head rolls back and his eyes flutter close. He’s devoted to you – he’s yours just as you’re his, “Always so wet for me, baby. Always so good.”

He finds a familiar rhythm to have you both gasping and groaning, and it still feels brand new. The way you feel him deep in your stomach, the way your thighs quiver and his abdomen tightens. It is all always new and it is all always euphoric.

If you lift your eyes to find the stars above you almost winking at you, you can feel that he’s not fucking you as you’d requested; he’s making love to you. He is confessing his past sins and he is professing that he’d spend the rest of his days here, inside you, against you, with you.

The roll of his hips don’t stay slow for long, though. You both know the love is there, and you both know what the two of you need. Eventually, soft confessions and loud professions become slapping of skin on skin, teeth knocking as you try to keep your lips on his. You swallow every moan and he grabs every mewl. You can feel his hands on your waist, your hips, your thighs. He is everywhere all at once, and it still isn’t enough.

It’s not enough until his movements stutter, until his voice has grown hoarse from calling out your name for only the two of you to hear. Your nails rake down his back at some point, and you know that come tomorrow night, beside the lake, you’ll be tracing fading red lines that spell out a clear message: he belongs to me because he chose me.

Your walls flutter around him and he knows without you saying a single word other than ramblings of his name that you’re close.

“Cum for me,” he’s begging again, lifting above you and looking down with wide, wet eyes, “Fuck- I- Please cum for me, baby. Need you to cum. Please.”

You whine out in response, head tilting back into the grass around the edges of the blanket, consumed by him. Your ears ring as your vision blacks, the last image you see being his face contorted in pleasure, and you can’t decipher whether it’s the lake again that you hear or simply your own waves meeting his shore.

The echoes of his voice surround you.

“Just like that, sweetheart.”

“Doing so good for me.”

“Always such a good girl.”

When his own high has its hold on him, his head is falling to your shoulder, his nose buried into your sweet spot behind your ear as you listen to every grunt and moan. He holds you painfully close, like he’s scared that maybe this is the end. You ponder bruises in the shapes of roses forming on your hips as he buries deep in you and he paints your walls with warmth, with devotion, with something unspoken only between the two of you.

He collapses on top of you in the afterglow. Savors the moment, lets his lips pucker against your salty skin slick with sweat no longer just from summer. His own hair is matted at the knape of his neck, his cheeks, his forehead.

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles from your chest. It’s overflowing, mingling with the still crying cicadas. He lifts his head and glances up at you, smiling shyly.

“What?”

You continue to laugh, unable to answer him, as he pulls out and cleans you up with his t-shirt. If you weren’t so delirious with unbridled delight, you’d scorn him.

He doesn’t bother with redressing as he rolls to his original side of the blanket, laying on his back and wrapping his arms around you to pull you into him, “What’s so damn funny, my beautiful girl?”

You think Artemis, maybe even Orion, would smile down at the sight of the two of you. Perhaps Gaia is sending her well wishes to the love-stricken look you two exchange in the form of a breeze that doesn’t bring more heat, only relief, only sanctuary.

“We are not inviting Gareth or Jeff out here, ever,” you finally explain breathlessly, “This place is for just us, Munson.”

He joins you in your lingering giggles, his chest shaking with them more than he vocalizes them as your cheek finds his heart and presses into his cheek.

Whatever this is, label or not, is good. And it is only the beginning, never the end. Whether the others will ever know or not, the two of you always will, and that’s all that matters for the time being.

“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckles, holding you just a little bit tighter, “Always just us, you heathen.”

He brings a finger to your chin, tilting your face up. When he kisses you, it tastes like summertime and stardust, just as it should.

#3k celebration #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #got very carried away i am so sorry #I TRIED I SWEAR #i love eddie so much it aches #not edited what's new #taylor swift inspired WHAT'S NEW

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