#OH THIS ONE REALLY STARTLED A LAUGH OUTTA ME THERE

[tinyshyteacup]

TW: cussing, medical stuff, hospitals, fighting, angst

A:N: I do not understand this culture, heavy use of google, if anything is offensive or incorrect, please let me know so I can adjust -T.S.T.

Part 13

Spare Parts - Part 14

The clubhouse was loud—the steady hum of conversation, the clinking of beer bottles, the occasional burst of laughter from one of the brothers. It was comfortable chaos, familiar and easy to drown in.

But Coco wasn’t listening.

Because you were right there.

And still, somehow, too far away.

You’d been back at the clubhouse a few times since that night at his place. You weren’t avoiding him—not really—but the shift between you was obvious.

You still laughed at his jokes.

Still gave him that little smile when he caught you off guard, before rolling your eyes at him.

But the difference was in the space.

The way you leaned away slightly instead of letting him close. The way you flinched—just barely—when he brushed your hand reaching for your drink. The way you looked through him sometimes, like you weren’t really there.

And Coco fucking hated it.

"Alright, chiquita, I’m callin’ bullshit."

You blinked, startled by the abruptness in his voice.

Coco was slouched in his chair beside you, beer hanging lazily from his fingers, head tilted slightly as he studied you. His usual smirk was there—but his eyes weren’t playing around.

"Gotta say, chiquita," he continued, swirling his beer casually. "I’m real impressed with whatever the fuck kinda ninja skills you been pullin’ lately—‘cause I ain’t seen a girl dodge me like this since I got chased outta a house with a baseball bat."

You frowned slightly, shifting in your seat. "I—what?"

"C’mon, muñeca." Coco exhaled sharply, flicking his gaze over you. "You been actin’ different. Like—‘oh shit, Coco might breathe too close to me, better take a step back’ kinda different."

He leaned in slightly, testing the waters—his hand just barely grazing yours where your hand was on the bar.

And you—sarcastic, sharp witted you, the same girl who had touched him so easily after a couple of drinks—tensed.

Coco felt it.

And the smirk on his lips flickered just slightly.

"Look, muñeca, if you didn’t wanna be here, you coulda just said so. Ain’t gotta sit here lookin’ like you tryna break a world record for keepin’ space between us."

You exhaled sharply. "Coco—"

"Nah, go ahead, mami. Say whatever the fuck it is you ain't been sayin' since you left my place that night."

There it was.

Your shoulders tensed, fingers gripping your drink just a little too tightly.

Coco watched, waiting.

And then—

"I don’t know what you want me to say."

Coco let out a sharp breath, tipping his head back. "Damn, muñeca, don’t make this harder than it needs to be."

He straightened slightly, flicking his beer cap onto the table before his gaze snapped back to yours.

"I wanna know what the fuck happened."

You swallowed hard. "Nothing happened."

Coco’s jaw tightened.

"Bull. Fuckin’. Shit."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his face.

"You ain't gotta tell me everything, chiquita. But you do gotta tell me why the fuck you actin’ like I’m about to bite you."

Coco watched you carefully—his usual smirk nowhere to be found now, just patience, frustration, something softer lurking in his expression.

And then—

"You know I like you, right?"

You froze.

Coco leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, voice a little quieter now.

"Ain’t no secret, muñeca. You cute as hell, and I like keepin’ my hands on you."

You swallowed

Angel and Gilly were nearby, not directly listening, but close enough to hear. Close enough that the tension curling between you and Coco wasn’t exactly subtle.

You hadn’t meant for this to happen—not here, not now—but Coco had cornered you with his usual casual intensity, and now you were trying to find the right words while your throat refused to cooperate.

His eyes were locked onto you, sharp and expectant.

"Go ahead, chiquita, spit it out."

You opened your mouth, then hesitated.

Your pulse was racing, chest tight with frustration. You didn’t want this to be a thing. Didn’t want Coco overthinking it. It had nothing to do with him, and yet—

"I—" You exhaled, shaking your head. "Coco, it’s not—"

"Not what, muñeca? Not a big deal? Not somethin’ I should be askin’ about?" He scoffed, leaning back. "Damn, you good at dodgin’ shit, huh?"

Your jaw clenched.

"I’m not avoiding you, I just—" You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "It’s not you."

Coco raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Coulda fuckin’ fooled me."

"Coco—" you tried again, voice wavering now, too many emotions bubbling up too fast.

"Nah, nah, go ahead, muñeca, lemme hear it." He gestured vaguely, his sarcasm sharp now, more bitter than playful. "Lemme hear how it’s ‘not me’ when you won’t even let me fuckin’ touch you anymore."

You flinched.

And that tiny movement—that fraction of hesitation—made something snap behind Coco’s eyes.

"Shit," he exhaled, shaking his head. "You for real right now?"

"Coco, please jus—"

"No, muñeca, for real—what the fuck did I do?" His voice rose slightly, frustration bleeding through. "‘Cause if it ain’t me, why the fuck you actin’ like I’m ‘bout to do somethin’ to you?"

"It’s not like that—"

"Yeah?" His voice was flat now, no more teasing, no more easy amusement. Just Coco, raw and unfiltered. "Then what’s it like, huh?"

You could feel Angel and Gilly’s eyes on you both now.

Neither of them had jumped in, but you knew they were listening.

"Shit, maybe I shoulda known better," he muttered. "Guess all you needed was a couple drinks, huh? Damn shame I didn’t take more advantage while I had the chance."

Your stomach dropped.

"Jesus, really—"

"What?" His voice was mocking. "Ain't that how it fuckin’ works? You get all soft, let a motherfucker hold you, then wake up screamin’ like I did somethin’ to you?"

A lump formed in your throat. Tears burned behind your eyes.

"It wasn’t you," you whispered.

"Sure as fuck felt like it," Coco snapped.

The embarrassment burned through you, making your stomach twist.

Coco scoffed, shaking his head.

"Man, fuck this."

He grabbed his beer, taking a long swig, then set the bottle down with a sharp clink.

"Y’know what? You ain’t gotta tell me shit, muñeca. I’m done askin’."

Your breath caught.

"Coco—"

But he was already pushing back from the table, already standing.

"I got shit to do."

You hadn’t been able to sleep. Too much in your head.

The fight with Coco was playing on an endless loop—his sharp words, his frustration, the way he just walked away.

Pendejo—shit that arsehole had you thinking in spanish now.

Your stomach had been a knot since then, your mind running through every single way you could have handled it differently.

You should’ve told him something.

You should’ve explained.

You should’ve—

Your phone buzzed violently on the nightstand, jolting you from your half-asleep state.

Unknown Number.

Frowning, you answered, voice hoarse. "...Hello?"

"It’s Gilly. Listen—" A breath, urgent but controlled. "Coco got hit. He’s at St. Teresa’s."

The air left your lungs.

"What—?"

"Not fatal, but bad. Just get here, alright?"

You didn’t remember the drive to Coco’s house.

Your hands were shaking against the wheel, thoughts spiraling out.

Not fatal could mean anything.

And the last memory you had of Coco was anger.

By the time Letty slid into the passenger seat, your stomach was twisted so tight it hurt.

"What the fuck happened?" she demanded, voice sharp but anxious.

"I don’t know," you admitted, voice small. "Gilly just said it was bad."

Letty was tense, arms folded as she stared out the window, but her leg was bouncing relentlessly.

Neither of you spoke after that.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and bad coffee. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly, making everything feel too bright, too sterile.

Letty pushed the door open first, walking in with all the confidence in the world.

You hesitated, after that fight, would Coco actually want you there ? fingers curling into your sleeves before forcing yourself to follow.

Coco was propped up against white sheets, arm in a sling, bruising darkening along his jaw. Bandages wrapped around his torso, peeking out from under the hospital gown.

Kutte, shirt and bananda discarded on a chair beside him.

His eyes found you immediately.

And even half-drugged and stitched up, he was still Coco.

"Shit, took you long enough," he muttered. "What, had to do your makeup first?"

"What the fuck happened?" Letty demanded, moving to his bedside.

Coco let out a dry, bitter laugh.

"Got shot. What’s it look like?"

You sucked in a breath.

His eyes flicked to you, and for a split second, something unreadable passed through them.

"Shoulda seen it, muñeca, fuckin’ circus out there. One second, I’m good—the next, I’m takin’ a bullet like some idiot who don’t know how to duck."

"Coco—"

"Naw, but it’s cool, right?" He exhaled sharply, shifting against the pillows with a wince. "Ain’t like I had shit I was waitin’ on back here, right?"

Your throat tightened.

"I—"

"What?" His dark eyes met yours, gaze too sharp, too knowing. "You finally got somethin’ to say, chiquita? Or you gonna keep pretendin’ like none of that shit happened?"

Your stomach twisted.

"Coco—"

"Nah, nah, it’s cool. You just here ‘cause of Letty, right?" His smirk was sharp, but his eyes were tired. "Ain’t gotta pretend otherwise."

"That’s not—" You exhaled sharply. "I was worried about you."

"Yeah?" He scoffed. "Coulda fooled me."

Letty was silent now, watching the exchange.

You swallowed hard, stepping closer. "Coco, for fuck sa—"

"Save it."

His voice wasn’t angry.

Just... tired.

"Ain’t really tryna do this here." He exhaled heavily, adjusting slightly, grimacing as the movement pulled at his stitches.

Your hands twitched at your sides. You wanted to help.

The air in the hospital room shifted when the doctors walked in.

Their eyes flicked over Coco’s tattoos, then darted towards his kutte.

In that single glance, he became less than a person to them.

"Alright, Mr. Cruz, you suffered a gunshot wound to the left shoulder. The bullet was removed successfully, and you have a few fractured ribs from blunt force trauma. We’ll be keeping you overnight for observation."

Their tone was clinical, detached. No bedside manner. Like he wasn’t in pain.

Coco didn’t say anything. He just stared, his mouth pressed into a thin line, fingers drumming impatiently against the bedsheets.

"Any numbness or tingling in your fingers?" The doctor barely even looked at him.

Coco didn’t answer.

Because what was the point?

You stepped forward.

"Would nerve damage temporary?" Your voice was calm but firm.

The doctor blinked, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to ask.

"We don’t see signs of long-term nerve damage, but he may experience temporary weakness. We’ll monitor it."

"And the fractures?"

"Hairline. Pain management should be enough, but he needs to avoid strenuous activity."

"So no riding?"

"I wouldn’t recommend it."

Coco huffed a laugh, shaking his head.

"Y’all really got a way with words, huh?" He muttered under his breath.

The doctor ignored him.

"And his pain medication?" you continued.

"We’ll be prescribing non-opioid pain management, given his... associations."

You bit back the urge to roll your eyes.

Coco’s jaw tightened.

"Excuse me ?" Your voice was sharp now. "He’s post-op, in significant pain, and you’re denying him stronger medication based on an assumption?"

The doctor paused.

Coco watched you. Closely.

"We’ll reassess in the morning," the doctor said finally.

"With all due respect, you should make allowances for stronger medication. I’d like you to confirm what you will administer and what the dosages are" your voice was clipped but polite

The doctor blinked.

"I have no problem discussing this with your senior consultant" you finished.

One doctor glanced at the other and mumbled something about 'providing updates' before stepping out.

The moment the doctors left, Coco let out a low whistle.

"Damn, muñeca." His lips curled into something between amusement and curiosity. "Didn’t know you spoke fluent ‘Don’t fuck with me.’"

Letty snorted.

You felt the heat that had been directed at the doctors disapate.

"I just—know my way around hospitals."

Coco’s gaze sharpened. Not teasing now.

"Yeah?" He adjusted slightly, grimacing as he moved his shoulder. "How’s that?"

Your fingers twitched.

"Just—" You swallowed. "I just do."

His eyes narrowed slightly, studying you.

The hospital room was quieter now. The distant beeping of machines, the muffled sound of voices outside—but inside, it was just you and Coco.

Angel had taken Letty to get some rest, and Gilly was trying to find decent coffee.

Coco was watching you, eyes half-lidded from the pain meds, but still sharp in that way he always was.

"You ain't gotta sit here all night, muñeca," he murmured, voice rougher than usual. "I ain't dyin’ or nothin'."

You exhaled, leaning back in the chair. "I know."

A beat.

Then—softer now—

"Why'd you come?"

Your fingers curled in your lap. "Because my favorite arsehole tried to scare the shit out of me."

Something flickered in his expression.

Then, with a quiet scoff, he turned his head toward the ceiling.

"So... I been thinkin’."

You raised an eyebrow. "That's dangerous."

His lips curved slightly. "Yeah, well. Got a lotta time to kill."

His hand—resting against the blanket—twitched. Like he wanted to move, to reach for something, but didn’t.

"About the clubhouse,  shit i said."

The air between you shifted.

"I was an asshole."

You blinked.

Coco huffed, glancing at you. "What? That shockin'?"

You hesitated. "I never expected you to say it."

He smirked—a little crooked. "Yeah, well. First time for everything."

You waited, quiet. Letting him say what he needed to.

Coco exhaled, rubbing his jaw.

"Look, chiquita... I got mad ‘cause I didn’t get it. You shut down. I ain’t used to that. Most people? They either tell me what’s up, or they don’t mean shit to me, so I don’t care either way."

He shifted slightly, wincing.

"But you? That night—" he shook his head, frustration flickering behind his eyes. "One second we were good, next you’re bouncin’ like I did somethin’ to you."

You opened your mouth—but he held up a hand.

"Nah, I get it. It ain't about me. You said that. But that don’t mean it didn’t fuck with me."

His voice dropped.

"I like touchin’ you, muñeca. I like the way you look at me when you forget to be nervous. That night, you were just... there. Right up against me. And it felt right. Like somethin’ I ain't had before."

His throat bobbed.

"Then I blink, and you’re fuckin’... gone."

"So yeah." He exhaled, finally looking at you again. "I got pissed. ‘Cause I didn’t know what the fuck I did wrong, and I didn’t know how to fix it."

Your stomach tightened.

"Coco—"

"Nah, I ain't mad no more." His voice lowered. "I just—"

He ran a hand over his face.

"I don’t like fightin’ with you, chiquita. Shit don’t sit right."

Silence.

Then, softer now—

"So, I’m sorry."

Your throat felt tight.

"For pushin’ when you weren’t ready. For makin’ you feel like you had to explain when you weren’t ready for that either."

His fingers twitched again. "I just—" He exhaled, almost frustrated with himself. "I don’t wanna fuck this up."

"Me either Coco" you murmured.

[rabotimagines]

"Toping you when they usually bottom" GN BOT Reader x Jazz, Prowl, Thundercracker, Soundwave

Summary: First time the bots top you when you usually top them.

Warnings: None.

Genere/Theme: Smut 🔞 MDNI

G1 characters: Jazz, Prowl, Thundercracker, Soundwave.

Notes: Reader bottoms for the first time. Bot reader so valve/spike used.

Pronouns: You, your, yours.

Jazz is a true no leaning switch himself. He expertly folds to fit his partners likes and wants. Jazz isn't too fixated on topping or bottoming, really. He just wants to have fun and share the moments with you. So he's not exactly bemoaning or anything about not topping you yet. ... But it's his creation day, and you ask him if he wanted anything particular, and he leans real close to you, smiles, and asks, "Let me eat your valve out?" Which leads to his current residence between your thighs, with him working you through your third overload of the night with his glossia. Jazz always gives oral like he's on a mission, and tonight wasn't any different. Jazz loves making you fall apart for him. Shame you didn't let him do it more often. He pulls away when you stop shaking from overload number three. "Let me just say... I love my gift." Jazz smiles easy and nuzzles his cheek against your inner thigh.

"Jazz -" the pitch in your tone makes him pause to make proper optical contact with you. Your expression was serious with no room for argument. Jazz fully expects you to tap out for the night when the last thing he expects sounds out of you. "Spike me."

Jazz's jaw sets, and he's on his pedes at a startling speed. "Oh baby can do-" his array pops opens and his spike pressurizes properly. He savors the sight of your dripping valve under his spike before sliding home easily due to how aroused you were. "Frag- Really spoiling me today, huh?" Jazz huffed a laugh, enjoying how you felt fluttering around him. Jazz doesn't wait to start thrusting in lazy but deep motions. Making sure to bottom out every time he did so. Jazz hoists your pedes up onto his pauldrons and traps you against him and his berth.

Jazz's pace picks up till he overloads with a sharp invent. Jazz groans at the feeling of spilling inside you, his hips lazily rolling against yours through it.

You're both venting against one another until Jazz eventually picks up his pace again. Hips soon snapping like they had been before. You jerk and grasp at Jazz's armor tight, your optics are deliciously bright while huffs and gasps slipped outta you. Valve still taking his spike so nicely. "Got two more overloads to go! Need to- catch up with you, Sweetspark." Course Jazz was planning on catching up again if he got you to overload again- and again-

It was unlikely, but Jazz really hopes he breaks before you do.

-

With Prowl, it's a touch- complicated. You didn't really "Top" so to speak before this point- but neither had he. Prowl didn't like losing control on the battlefield or in the berth. You just so happened to be the same. So you'd both begun with servo and mouth activities, with most times it leading to hot and heavy frottage. Most often, it would end with you both usually rutting against one another like a pair of aggressive cyber hounds. Yes, Prowl would like to overload in your valve, but he also wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of the opposite. So Prowl knew he had no right to ask you to do the same. You found a middle ground regardless, and it worked.

Prowl didn't count on it occurring, but it does end up happening when you're grinding against one another again. Both of your servos are over each other's spikes, jerking up and down at a steady pace. Prowl is already close to his own overload- only you end up releasing your own spike and shift, pushing your hips upwards. Prowl hissed in a vent and glanced down at where the head of his spike was now slotting against the folds of your valve. When he glances back up he was met by your bright optics  "Prowl, if you don't spike me right now I'm leaving-" Prowls optics widen and he grasps at your armor and snaps his hips harshly. His spike bottoming out inside you with a gasp. Prowl vents harsh at the sensation of your valve wrapped around him.

Prowl frags you harsh against the berth, his chassis coming down and pressing hard against your own. Much too pent up from thinking he'd never be inside your valve like this and already much too close to overloading. Your servos grasp tight on the base of his doorwings, and Prowl groans. His hips buck harder and harder, trying to savor the hot rush it is. Eventually, you squeeze his doorwings, and Prowl overloads only to keep fragging you both right through it. His transfluid makes a mess of your inner thighs in the process. Until Prowl eventually bottoms out inside you and stilled. Prowl began huffing in panted vents.

He pulled back a touch, the sound of you huffing brings his optics back to your cobalt tinted faceplate. The after effects of a hardy valve overload are still obviously rocking through your frame.

Maybe Prowl could... offer to return the favor. Especially if it raised the chance of you doing the same afterward.

-

Thundercracker kinda does mind, but he also doesn't know how to bring it up. He didn't hate bottoming or anything he just really wants to top you more- or at all. He's got a spike, and he wants to frag you into the dirt with it. The problem is Thundercracker isn't going to say that, and he doesn't exactly know what he's supposed to say about it. So he elects he'll say something when he finds the chance. You're in Thundercrackers lap, glossia in his mouth with your modesty panels pulled back, grinding on one another. And in the heat of it, Thundercracker lifts your hips and drags the length of his spike across the opening of your valve. Your valve lubricant coats his spike, and he gasps at the feeling.

You only jolt and break away to stare down, and Thundercracker lately realizes what he'd just done. But this was the perfect chance to ask, right?

Thundercracker grabs your hips and tentatively lines his spike up with your valve. "Can I?" He asks stupidly, and Thundercracker is immediately regretting how he'd asked that. Why did he do that- Before he can rip into himself mentally, you wordlessly grabbed his pauldrons and started lowering your valve on his spike- and Oh Pit! He's inside you now- Thundercracker hissed a vent at the sensation of you dropping down his length. Digits grasped tight on your hip armor when you sat back in his lap, spike now fully inside you. Oh, you feel Perfect- slag. You squeezing down on him every time you vented made Thundercracker feel hazy.

Your digits abruptly dig into the sensitive base of his wings and Thundercracker keens and spills inside you. Thundercracker groans and ruts against you in short motions through his own overload. Thundercracker can feel his optics brighten fast and harshly in mortification when realization sets in. You're staring at where his own transfluid is now spilling down into Thundercrackers lap. Thundercracker opens his mouth to apologize, but all that comes out is a sharp grunt when you grind down in Thundercrackers' lap. Thundercrackers digits dig hard enough in your own waist the metal wants to try to give and you still. Thundercracker huffs and makes optic contact with you. "Wanna overload in me again?" You casually ask, apparently much too forgiving for Thundercracker.

Thundercracker nods fast a quick. "Yes." Sounding out of him, very glad you were giving him a chance to redeem himself. He genuinely did not know what he'd do with himself if that was his one experience with your valve.

Here's to hoping (and praying) he didn't frag up round two.

-

Soundwave is a true verse normally. But he's frankly so tired from war efforts that he barely has the energy to interface, let alone top most days. He doesn't have a problem indulging you with his valve when he's feeling lazy but still wants to sexually satisfy you. Yes, Soundwave would like to spike you more often or once even. But the days and battles take up most of his energy and free time. One day, you have a mission, and it ends with Soundwave pissed after stupid battlefield decisions that made the entire battle drag on much longer than needed. You were in group A and had a much easier time than Soundwaves group B during the mission. He enters his habsuite to find you already laying face down on his berth, having let yourself in.

Soundwave walks over and doesn't hesitate to straddle, and full-on shoves his faceplate flat on the back of your chassis. Eventually, his servos start wandering with his earlier frustrations feeding his continued touches. Soundwave skipped tracing and moved to fondling and pulling on your frame. Soundwave sees your modesty panel where your valve would be visible to him. he's digging his digits into your hips already. "Permission to spike?" You grant him it and pull your array back, and Soundwave doesn't hesitate to spike you then and there.

Soundwave would usually take his time to savor you or this, but Soundwaves frustrated. And you at least seem content taking that frustration for him. He'll have to reward you later for it, but right now, he's slamming himself into your valve from behind over and over again. "Soundwave- spike!" you muttered and- Ah- he sees. Your spike can't pressurize right with you flat on his berth. Soundwave pulls your hips up a touch, and your spike pressurizes instantly. Soundwave then snaps his hips hard enough to frag you back flat on his berth. Your spinal strut arched and your servos gripped at his berth for some type of purchase. You squeeze down on him, and Soundwave realizes he's about to overload. Soundwaves servos abandon your thighs, and he reaches over further to press his digits over your mouth.

Soundwave groans deep when you wordlessly take two of his digits in and start sucking. Your glossia laps along them with a hum and Soundwave bottoms out and promptly overloads inside you. You overload right after him, which makes Soundwave only press you harder into his berth. Your valve is twitching around his spike length as you come down from both your combined post overload high. You huff when Soundwave pulls his now oral lubricant soaked digits out of your mouth.

Soundwave might have to adjust his schedule and make the time so he can spike you again like this.

[jaellyfishh]

The Corner Where We Met · Part 3

part 1 - part 2

trope: art teacher!azzi x PE teacher!paige

content: slow start to set the scene lol, fluff, smut, tiny angst

word count: 6.1K

The next Wednesday since that night

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” KK whispered to Aaliyah as she stared at the scene in front of her, the pair sitting in their usual corner table of the teacher’s lounge.

Edwards turned her head to join her colleague, nodding impressively. “They sure are giving each other googly eyes. But, like, when do they not”.

There stood Paige and Azzi, casually chatting while they waited for their lunch to heat up. It was nothing out of the ordinary from their usual break time exchanges, but somehow the air around them this time felt different - a little more affectionate.

They were smiling ear-to-ear, sometimes one was grinning at the ground after the other said something. In some moments they also giggled or had let out a light laugh, tilting their heads as they stared at each other, eyes glimmering. They were truly in their own world.

Given, their schedules haven’t exactly been aligning during school, they relished any chance they could get to see each other, even if fleeting. Whether it was Paige waiting by Azzi’s classroom door before they head to lunch or whether it was Azzi helping Paige clean their gym storage room after school; even the quick glances when they’d passed each other down the hallway or with their colleagues at lunch. They always seem to find each other.

All of a sudden, strong hands gripped the shoulders of the curious teachers. “Hey, you guys seeing what I'm seeing?” Nika had just entered the chat, Kayla right behind her.

"Girl, that's what I said! There’s a shift in the space time continuum. Did Car say anything to y’all about that night? I couldn't squeeze anything outta Azzi. And Paige kept deflecting my question," Arnold asked Nika, who took a seat beside her.

“You guys sure do seem invested in the love life of complete adults," Mühl shook her head. “But as lame as it is to admit it, this is the only thing I look forward to in my life. And no, by the way, Car and I don’t even remember what happened that night.”

Kayla sighed. “Yeah, me neither. I just remember calling Azzi ‘cause she wasn’t on the dance floor. Then she popped up outta nowhere to help us, so.”

Arnold hummed. “Didn’t Paige show up right after?”

“Yeah, she came out from the toilet,” Edwards answered as if stating the obvious.

The new information made the girls whip their heads to face Aaliyah. Then KK lifted one eyebrow, leaning towards here. “And where was Azzi coming from?”

Aaliyah slowly answered as her memory was picking back up. “Oh…the toilet. Wait-”

“You bitch,” Arnold started poking the taller girl’s sides, making her jolt. “How could you keep this from us?”

“Stop! Oh my god, I’m sorry, jeez!” Aaliyah whispered-yelled. “Listen, I was half drunk and scared for Car and Nika to piece things together, okay? Besides, I had to worry about preparing questions for pop quiz over the weekend. And then my rent was due. Don’t even mention about getting Oreo to the vet because of his ear infection-“

���Okay, you have adult things to do, we get it!” Arnold interjected, annoyed at her friend for keeping something she deemed was a really big secret.

Kayla couldn’t keep her smile from forming. “You guys don’t think-“

“What are you guys talking about?” A familiar voice startled the group of ladies.

As soon as they whipped their heads to the source, they were met with Paige and Azzi who were holding their lunch.

The women started scrambling, some resuming to munch on their food, some fumbling in their words trying to get a response out.

“Oh, you know, Aaliyah’s sick puppy,” Mühl was able to answer coolly.

“Oh, Aaliyah, I’m so sorry,” Azzi sympathised as she sat down, Paige following suit.

“H-he’s better now. Thanks, Az,” The taller girl couldn’t help but feel baffled over the sudden attention to her dog.

“So…you two seem to be very close,” Williams smiled, almost scheming.

Azzi bit her cheeks as she opened her lunch box. “I think we all have, no? We did do a bit of team building last week”.

“Is the team building in the room with us?” KK whispered while snickering. Paige couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, being she was the one sitting closer to her.

But Paige could see Azzi tense up under the guise of eating in nonchalance, her eyes scattering as she couldn’t exactly look her friends in the eye. After all, it felt like she was being interrogated by a large group of people, let alone at her workplace.

Suddenly, Azzi felt a warm touch on her thigh. The blonde had placed her hand on it under the table, her thumb rubbing on her knee hoping to ease the curly brunette’s mind. Azzi could only take pleasure in the feeling as she just continued to chew on her sandwich, her muscles beginning to relax.

And then Paige stared at Nika. “Dude, I’m still not forgiving you for vomiting on my shoes, by the way. Great team building. Now I know who to never go out drinking with”

Nika scoffed. “Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t smell horrible! Never wear that musky shit near me”.

“It’s Valentino. You just have poor taste. And shit alcohol tolerance”.

The group laughed as Nika was about to pounce on her, the tension beginning to subside.

Throughout lunch, Paige kept her hand resting on Azzi’s thigh, rubbing it occasionally when she’d remembered. It only took a few seconds for Kayla to realise her friend had scooted marginally closer to Paige, perhaps to lean in for comfort or to make the distance easier for her arm.

Kayla gave Azzi a knowing smile before joining in the momentum of the conversations.

If it's one thing for certain, as curious as the girls were about this new romantic telenovela unfolding before them, they prioritised respecting the pair even more. Of course, they had to be mature about it, they were all adults, after all. But they’d also like to think a little teasing and plotting wouldn’t hurt anyone.

—

“I’m afraid they won’t stop playing detective” Azzi told Paige as they walked down the hallway together. It sort of became a ritual for the blonde to drop Azzi to her class when she had free time, a kind gesture for…new friends.

“It’s inevitable. They weren’t as invasive as I thought they would be, though,” Paige smiled, her attention way too focused on the curly brunette.

The pair didn’t really talk much about that night. Their approach to it being quite unique to them, very casual. Regardless, they liked the subtle intimacy they have. Sure, there’s a mutual fondness for each other so far, giving lingering touches or speaking about certain personal matters, but they don’t dwell on it too much. For Paige, she had thought for a while that it could overcomplicate things and, for Azzi, it was more of fear towards her overthinking. That perhaps she’d be too overbearing once they eventually address it.

“Well, at least they’re self-aware. They know better than not to push me too hard,” The shorter girl mumbled the latter sentence, blurting it out absentmindedly as she looked straight ahead.

“Why’s that?” the blond asked curiously, unsure if Azzi was just saying it a joke or not.

As soon as Azzi went silent, Paige could tell it was something more serious.

“Oh, you know, just my past and stuff,” The younger girl tried to act dismissively. The blonde nodded in silence, understanding well not to press any further than Azzi wanted to. In fact, Paige herself would not be ready to open Pandora's box of her own past either.

“You know, I really admire you, Azzi”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Wait, where’s all this coming from?”

“I’m being serious. You’re a great teacher. You go above and beyond for this school and you care so much for the kids that you treat them like they’re your own. Like take my first few gym classes, for example, they always talk about how they’d rather you teach them because I’m ‘too bossy’ and that I don’t let them ‘voice their opinions’. They’re middle schoolers!”

Azzi moved her head in skepticism. “Did you do something I’m not supposed to find out?”

Paiged grunted. “Can you take the compliment for one second? Geez!”

Azzi conceded, her hands raising up in surrender. “Okay, okay, okay. But that’s just called being a decent adult, no? They’re already stressed with needing to get good grades so they can get a ‘good paying job’… they don’t need more adults nagging in their faces about it. Besides, I also think you’re doing a good job for someone who just started. You give them tough love, but it pushes them to be strong, you know? I could learn a thing or two from you, too”

Paige smiled in agreement, looking at Azzi with pride. “And that’s why I’m your favourite teacher, right?”

“Please, I think KK takes the title since she teaches high school math,” Azzi scoffed, trying to hide her smile. Paige frowned.

“Oh, that’s unlucky. ‘Cause you’re my favourite teacher, actually,” Paige lowered her head as she glanced at Azzi through her lashes, her hands behind her back as she looked at her in anticipation. A lame posture that can look charismatic.

Azzi shook her head at the way Paige tried to flirt, stifling a smile as to not give her any satisfaction.

As the air around them began to shift, they were suddenly met with a rather stout, shorter figure approaching them.

“Ms. Fudd! Moore’s favourite,” a gentle yet gruff voice sang, alerting the pair.

“Oh, hey, Principal Auriemma,” Azzi quickly redirected her sullen expression to a smile.

“I just wanna apologise again about terminating Ms. Smith’s contract. You taking up the job of two people is truly not fair. But I’m doing my best to find a recruit asap,” He gave her a sympathetic smile.

He continued. “But, I’m afraid I have even more terrible news, depending on how you take it.”

The pair gave each other a quick glance.

“As you know, Moore’s winter recital is coming up. And you must know better than me how much that means for a lot of our kids and their parents. And you’ve always done fantastic in designing the props every year. But with Ms. Smith gone and Ms. White coming back from maternity leave by the end of next month, I’ve been doing my best to ask the other teachers for help, truly, but they all seem too busy, so-“

“I can help,” Paige interrupted before Principal Auriemma could finish.

Both him and Fudd turned their heads to the taller woman, Azzi surprised.

“You said it before I could, Ms. Bueckers,” He smiled. “If that’s okay?”

“I’m always happy to help, Big G,” Paige gave a charming smile, her hands clasped behind her back as she gave a single nod.

Principal Auriemma gave a loud laugh before reaching his hand out. To Azzi’s surprise, the pair dapped each other up.

And as soon as he left the two women alone in the hallway, the curly brunette couldn’t help but laugh at what she just witnessed.

“This is KK’s doing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, she’s honestly great influence”

As the pair giggled on their continuing path, Paige asked. “So, what are we gonna do now?”

Azzi sighed. “Well, I like to plan ahead, so I’ll make a list. We definitely need to buy some more art supplies. We can reuse the spares from last year, which could reduce overspending the budget. Wait, I don’t even know if the music and drama club students planned anything since Ms. White’s not here. Are we copying the one from two years ago? Do I have to make a new set? God, I think our Christmas Tree might even been broken-

“Azzi, Azzi, Azzi,” Paige repeated calmly, gently grabbing Fudd’s hands while her thumbs caressed them. “Breathe, please”.

The curly brunette took a deep breath before she locked eyes with Paige.

“Sorry, I feel like I have a lot on my plate right now”

“That’s why I’m here to help, right?” Azzi gave her a simple nod. “I’ll do what you need me to do since I’ve got a free period. We’ll think about everything else after school, okay?

“Okay,” Fudd croaked. “You wouldn’t mind accompanying me after school to buy our supplies?”

“Of course,” Paige smiled, her thumbs still caressing her hands.

Azzi stifled a laugh. “Okay, you can let go now”.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” The blonde grinned, her hands now gripping tighter.

They stared into each other’s eyes, one looking teasingly while the other rolling in frustration. The curly brunette was trying to pull her hands away, tugging as formally as she can without seeming too erratic. Paige stood firmly, not moving an inch, her grin remaining.

Before her defeat, Azzi turned her head with wide eyes.

“Principal Auriemma!” Azzi gasped. Paige jumped as she ripped her hands off, a nervous expression plastered on her face while she turned to where Fudd looked.

Paige saw nobody in the hallway. And Azzi was able to escape, jogging back to her class. The blonde stood alone, hands on her hips as she smiled in defeat.

—

“Freaking cheater,” The blonde startled Azzi, who was waiting idly by the gym doors.

Azzi rolled her eyes smiling as they made their way towards the exit. “You need to stop pulling that stuff here. There’s kids around, not to mention our coworkers”.

“I know, I know. I just like messing with you,” Paige shrugged, nudging her arm on Azzi’s.

“I swear you act like a high school boy sometimes,” Azzi shook her head.

“That hurts, Az. Then I guess I won’t tell you what the kids at drama club prepared for,” Paige sighed, her strides getting longer as she walked further away.

“Alright, alright, fine. But, just so you know, I won with that one,” Azzi insisted, catching up to the blonde. And Paige just let her.

After the blonde gave her the run down all the way to Fudd’s car, Azzi was relieved they didn’t have to buy much. From Paige’s intel, the kids will be redoing the songs and activities from their recital two years ago, that was as much as the high schoolers could conjure up for their school with their teacher gone.

And, in no time, the pair had driven to Walmart, ticking off everything from Azzi’s checklist before returning home to the Fudd-Ducharme household with full hands.

“Just put them on the floor there. Sorry for the mess. I’ll go get us some water,” The curly brunette panted as she dropped the bags by their sofa before heading to the kitchen to pour themselves a glass.

Paige let out sound breath before plopping herself on their brown couch, a softness to that could lull anyone to sleep. As their bodies relaxed in the quietness, Paige couldn’t help but observe her surroundings, appreciating the earth tones and somewhat eclectic design.

“Hmm, you’ve got a nice place. It feels really cozy,” The blonde sighed as her body assimilated into the sofa.

Azzi approached their living room, handing out a glass of water to Paige.

“Thanks, we worked hard on it. Trust me, this place looked like shit when we first moved in,” Azzi contorted her face in disgust as she reminisced, settling down next to Paige who sat up to take the glass off her.

“Well, you sure you’re not trying to revert back to it? Because what is all that?” Paige laughed as she pointed at the cardboard boxes accompanied by scattered tools on the ground right outside her bedroom door.

Azzi realised before laughing herself, semi-embarrassed at the state she left her house in. “Stop, I just got a new bed frame, okay? Car was helping me out yesterday, but I didn’t get time to clean up before school started.”

Paige found an opportunity. “Hm, someone got a li’l too freaky”.

“Yeah, well at least I got more game than you,” Azzi scoffed.

The blonde raised her brows. “What makes you think I don’t have any game?”

“You seem like a one-person-at-a-time individual”

“Yeah, so I can take my time talking them through it,” Paige remarked suggestively, her voice confident.

“Paige,” Azzi warned before the blonde chuckled.

“We’re not in school, so I can mess with you, can’t I?”

Azzi could only bite her cheek, unable to find a comeback. She couldn’t exactly discern the true intentions of those words, her brain already interpreting it as something that would raise the hairs of her skin.

“Speaking of Caroline, where is she?” Paige asked curiously as she sipped on her glass.

“Oh, she won’t be here for two days. Her cousin had an emergency, so she’s babysitting until they come back,” Fudd answered. "Speaking of which, I have to text her you're staying for dinner".

Hmm, how convenient, Paige muttered as she placed her glass on the table in front of them.

“Hm?” Azzi tilted her head, certain of what she heard, but still wanted to make sure.

“Hm? Oh, it’s nothing…” The blonde tried to dismiss, her body position now fully turning to Azzi, one arm on top of the sofa as her head rested on her hand.

And they just sat there staring at each other, these moments happening more and more frequently, always leaving them at a loss for words. But it was hard not to get trapped in each other’s eyes. It was as if they tried to search for unspoken answers every time, a need to do something.

“Well, I-I’m gonna order us some take out. I don’t really have left overs except for fruits, sorry,” Azzi scrambled to fetch her phone from her pocket.

Paige reached out her hand to stop Azzi. “No, it’s okay, I got you. You ran around getting all these supplies, it’s the least I can do.”

Azzi nodded. “Okay…then I’m gonna take a quick shower. I dunno how long you’ll stay tonight, but if you wanted to take one as well-”

“You asking me to join you?”

Azzi closed her eyes. “You know, at some point I’m gonna get tired of that, right?”

Paige laughed through her nose. “And I’m surprised you haven’t stopped me already”.

“Whatever. I’m gonna leave some clothes out for you,” Azzi said as she entered her room. Paige hummed in response while scrolling through the Noodles & Company menu.

Fifteen minutes later, Paige heard the common bathroom door swing open, the steam coming out as a figure came into her peripherals. For some reason, her heart started racing. Perhaps it was the subtle eroticism of it all, a possibly semi-naked Azzi within the same vicinity. And it was ironic, really, given she wasn’t afraid of almost seeing it all that night. But this time felt different. She didn’t want to raise her head too much, knowing that she wanted to give Azzi as much privacy as she could.

I’m not some creep, Paige thought.

But the freshly cleaned girl started approaching Paige. And the blonde could only clench her jaw, her eyes glued to her phone as a distraction. And just then Azzi bent down in front of her causing the blonde to jerk, her head instinctively raising up.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I left my phone here”. Azzi was already dressed in her home clothes, they were simple. A grey shirt paired with black shorts. And she was scrunching her wet hair with a towel, trying not to drip water on the small carpet. Paige found the sight adorable. However, she was still stuck in a trance, her heart thumping for her ears only to hear.

“Paige, you good?” Azzi stifled a laugh. “Did you think I was just gonna walk around naked or something?”

A warmth grew on the blonde’s cheeks. “Absolutely not,” she replied in denial.

“Right, right. Well, the shower’s ready, just so you know,” Azzi pointed out the obvious, grinning at the state of the woman in front of her.

“Right, um, also order’s on its way, so…yeah, okay,” Paige stammered before quickly getting up, leaving the living room as Azzi continued to smile.

It was rare for Azzi to catch moments where she’d get Paige flustered, but when it happens, it’d stroked her ego just a tad bit.

Another fifteen minutes had passed and Paige had left the bathroom, fully clothed and her hair damp. As soon as she approached Azzi who was sitting on the sofa, she folded her arms in disappointment.

“Really?” was all the blonde could say before the younger girl bursted out laughing.

Azzi had given her an all bright pink attire. An oversized pink shirt with bejeweled lettering spelling out ‘Princess’ across the chest paired with shorts of the same colour.

“What? I think it looks good on you!” Azzi exclaimed with a wide smile.

The blonde let out a deep breath before plopping herself heavily beside Azzi. The curly brunette turned herself fully to Paige, her head propped up by her own hand as it rested on the head of the sofa. Feeling betrayed, the blonde turned her head the other way.

“Paige, quit sulking. You’re being a baby right now,” Azzi shoved her shoulder with her free hand.

The blonde continued to mope, not giving the curly brunette any attention. But a small smirk etched on her face where it was hidden from Azzi.

Azzi sighed. “Alright, fine”

As Azzi looked onto the blonde woman, she couldn’t help but stare at her cheeks like it’s free real estate. The curly brunette can’t lie, she craved being in any form of intimacy with Paige ever since that night. It left her on a cliffhanger, so she can’t help it when her body starts to learn towards her.

Before Paige knew it, Fudd planted a kiss on her cheek. The blonde slightly jolted before turning her head to finally face Azzi. Smile beaming as if she was waiting for that moment.

And then Bueckers pecked her lips, returning the favour, her eyes half-closed in a cheeky smile.

But before Paige let go, Azzi pushed her face forward, reattaching their lips together.

It was needy, yet tender. Impatient, yet delicate. A type of crave that could only be felt by the pair. The younger woman slid closer, deepening the kiss as she gripped Paige’s waist, the blonde’s hand remaining on her jaw as her thumb caressed Azzi’s cheek.

Paige realised that Azzi liked to kiss on her bottom lip a lot. Capturing it, sucking then biting before the blonde let out a breath in arousal.

“Hmm…you’re so pretty, Az”

Feeling warm all over by her voice, Azzi draped her thighs over Paige’s lap, straddling it in remembrance of that night. The older woman instinctively gripped Fudd’s waist, pulling her in closer, deepening the kiss even more. Their breaths were muffled, their moans swallowing each other. Azzi’s hands travelled up to cup Paige’s jaw possessively, while the blonde’s hands rubbed up her back and down her ass.

Then Azzi started grinding subtly on Paige’s core, their bodies heated. Sloppy and messy, their kiss became hungrier, their tongues continued to entangle in each other, minds growing fuzzy.

Ding dong.

The girls paused, panting. Azzi’s hands stayed gripping Paige’s jaws, the blonde’s hands glued to her ass. But their lips were magnetised and they leaned in again, resuming their make out session. It was turning them on even more, their kisses breathless-

Ding.

It was Paige’s phone notifying of the successful delivery, waking the pair up from their trance. They looked at each other rather dissatisfied by the interruption, but they soon realised they needed to eat first.

Just as Azzi was about to slowly get off Paige’s lap, the blonde pulled her back and gave her another peck.

“I’ll go get it,” Paige smiled dopily before turning Azzi’s hips to the side to settle her gently on the sofa.

Azzi smiled shyly, acting busy by moving the coke bottles on the table unnecessarily on the table she had already set. And soon enough, Paige returned with a paper bag, taking out two big containers in excitement.

“Here’s my Wisconsin Mac & Cheese, and here’s your Chicken Cobb Salad…hmm, look at all those greens in there,” Paige contorted her face in disgust.

Azzi let out a small laugh. “For a PE teacher, you sure eat unhealthy”.

“Life’s too short to trap people in a box. Let me live, Azzi,” Paige dramatically exasperated, causing the younger woman to roll her eyes.

The sun had already set and the darkness of Azzi’s home was illuminated by the array of sunset and accent lamps around the apartment. The ambient low-lighting casting shadows throughout, a perfectly cozy vibe for a weekday night.

Azzi had switched on the TV, a random movie playing as the pair were busy munching on their dinner, the atmosphere comforting.

As the flow of the night continued, the pair laughed as they shared stories of their past, mostly the weird era of college. Azzi discovered that Paige studied nursing for two years before switching majors, the reason being the financial burden and the burnout. And that she had a roommate who secretly kept a pet spider that one day escaped and conveniently sat on her pillow one night - her trauma for creepy crawlers more apparent since then. Paige learnt that Azzi’s first reason she started drawing as a kid was because she wanted to picture herself kissing Nick Jonas. And that her two younger brothers admired her so much to a point where they would insist on wearing her clothes to school to be just like her.

After dinner, the pair made their way to the kitchen. They threw away their empty containers and miscellaneous things in the trash before Paige went to wash her hands.

As she waited for them to dry, Paige leaned her back on the kitchen counter behind Azzi, watching her use the sink. When the curly brunette turned around, she was surprised at the blonde eyeing her down.

“Yes?” Azzi asked, her tone playful as she leaned her back on the sink counter.

“I kinda…don’t wanna leave yet,” The blonde pushed herself off the counter, walking over to where Azzi stood, her arms instinctively reaching out to grab her waist.

They just smiled in their intimate embrace, Azzi’s hands intuitively trailing upwards to wrap them around Paige’s neck, tilting her head before replying.

“So stay,” she whispered like she was lovesick. Then she leaned her face towards the blonde’s neck, giving feathery kisses, almost like she was trying to persuade her to stay.

Paige’s knees almost buckled this time, Azzi’s wet lips tickling on her skin. It was not like she was going to leave anyways.

As the curly brunette continued peppering sweet kisses on her jaw in neediness, the blonde couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. She liked how possessive Azzi held onto her, not wanting to let her go.

In an instant, Paige bent her knees, lowering her arms below Azzi’s ass and, in one quick motion, she swiftly lifted her up. Azzi gasped at the romantic gesture. Reacting almost immediately, Azzi wrapped her thighs around Paige’s waist, securing herself as she looked at Paige with dark eyes.

It was bewitching and greedy, the cozy mood of Azzi’s dark apartment paired with the thought of them being all alone. Their hooded eyes stared mindlessly at each other’s mouth, the air around them thickening.

“Az, please,” Paige whispered.

Immediately, Azzi crashed her lips onto Paige’s, the moan they let out was lewd. The younger woman could feel Paige turn them around, slowly walking to the counter behind her and placing Azzi on the cold surface. The curly brunette shivered, but she kept Paige close, tightening her thighs around her as they continued to make out, Azzi’s hands finding home in Paige’s jaws.

Then Paige moved her hands. She snaked one long arm around Azzi’s waist while her other free hand fiddled with the hem of Azzi’s shirt. The older woman needed to feel her, she wanted more from that night, she wanted more of Azzi.

And just then, Paige hands went under her shirt, roaming Azzi’s ribs and sending shivers down her spine before ultimately cupping her breast.

“Hhh, Paige,” was all Azzi could breathe out.

The blonde started fondling it, squeezing and playing with the nipple. A moan escaped from Azzi’s mouth in between their make out session.

“You like that?” Paige's voice sent vibrations on Azzi’s lips.

“Mmm, yeah,” Azzi stammered, relishing in the touch.

As their movements grew more sensual, Azzi removed her lips, their foreheads touching. They grinned with closed eyes, giddy from the tension.

“Hmm?” Paige just hummed, wondering why the woman in front of her paused.

“I got a new bedframe…” Azzi leaned her head a fraction backwards, the blonde’s face in full sight. The taller woman bit her lips with hooded eyes, waiting for Azzi to continue. “I…I wanna test it out”.

Paige could only smile dopily before whispering. “Yeah, I was kinda waiting for you to say that”.

The pair giggled before Paige lifted Azzi up from the counter. The younger woman hugged Paige close, the feeling of being held like that made Azzi’s heart flutter, as if she was the most delicate person in the world. And she couldn‘t help but find her lips back on Paige’s neck again as they moved, intentionally giving slow, smacking kisses which the blonde found pleasure with the sound.

As soon as they entered her bedroom, it only took a few seconds before Azzi felt some turbulence as Paige knelt on her bed, moving towards the centre before gently laying Azzi down on her back.

Paige hovered over Azzi, both arms planted on either side of her, while Azzi’s arms and thighs remained draped around Paige. Their faces are inches away from each other. The intimacy thickened as their breaths continued to cool them down, but Azzi didn’t want the heat to go away, instead pulling Paige’s neck lower.

“I wanna finish what we started that night,” the blonde breathed out.

“Please, just,” she whispered, trying to get their lips to meet. “I want you”.

But Paige redirected her lips on Azzi’s sweet spot right below her ear instead, giving a wet kiss before mumbling. “How bad?”

Azzi let out a breathy moan. “I…I…”

Azzi was feeling overstimulated as soon as Paige’s hand traveled under her shirt, kneading her breast again.

“How bad do you want me, Az?” Paige repeated, grinning in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi was squirming, arching her back a little so that she could bring her body closer to Paige. “I’m wet,” Azzi whimpered faintly, just enough for Paige to hear.

In rushed fashion, Paige slightly lifted herself and took off her own shirt before tugging on the hem of Azzi’s shirt to pull it off her as well. Immediately the curly brunette reacted, lifting her back so Paige could remove it and throw them off to the side.

They didn’t waste any time revelling in their exposed skin, the sexual act all too familiar to them. Paige quickly leaned down again, making out with Azzi more aggressively with a type of devotion, letting out breaths in between the spaces between their tongues which became entangled in each other. Azzi roamed her fingers around Paige’s chest before landing on her breasts, kneading them as she slowly grinded their cores together, a moan escaping the blonde’s lips from the touch,

And then Paige travelled her lips down to Azzi’s breast, nibbling and sucking on it while her free hand fondled with the other, squeezing at the nipple, making Azzi moan harder. After several seconds, Paige started to go lower, giving long, sensual strides of licks down across her abdomen, Azzi’s fingers gripping tighter on her hair as she took pleasure in the foreplay.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige mumbled in between her licks.

“Hmm,” Azzi could only sigh.

Just as Paige reached above Azzi’s centre, she latched her fingers onto the waistband of Azzi’s shorts. Paige looked up, nonverbally asking if it was okay. To which Azzi nodded, lifting her bottom slightly so Paige could tear the piece of clothing away.

The blonde marvelled at the sight, Azzi’s moist centre enticing. Immediately Paige plunged her lips onto it, making out with it first before she started sucking and flicking her tongue around her folds. The rhythmic yet irregularity of it all made Azzi dizzy while Paige moaned into it.

“Fuck, Paige”

“Hmm, you taste so good, Az”

Just then, the blonde slowly inserted her middle and ring finger into Azzi, eliciting a long, vulnerable moan from her. Paige’s long fingers started thrusting in and out, the squelching of the moist centre resonating across the room, never missing a beat as Azzi continued to whimper erratically.

“You…feel…so…good” The younger woman voiced after every thrust.

Paige took satisfaction in Azzi’s pleasure, her fingers quickening with the momentum of their lust as sweat started forming on their bodies. The curly brunette began kneading her own breasts as Paige continued her rapid, hypnotic movements. Azzi was at her peak.

“Paige, I’m gonna–“

“I got you, baby, let go,” Paige reassured as her lips hovered above her centre, eyes on Azzi’s face who was letting out erratic moans, messing up Paige’s hair as her fingers squeezed harder. Paige fastened her tempo, the exhaustion of her arm muscles gratifying.

And at her peak, Azzi let out a tight cry as she came onto Paige’s fingers, a sigh of relief heaved by the blonde as she watched the younger woman pant in satisfaction.

After slowly removing her fingers out, Paige licked them clean before carefully crawling back up to Azzi. She gently pushed the curly brunette over to her side before wiggling herself in between the bed and Azzi’s back. The blonde was big-spooning her, planting light kisses on her shoulder while their legs tangled with each other.

“You okay?” Paige asked, looking at Azzi in anticipation.

The younger woman sighed with a smile before taking Paige’s free arm and draping it across her abdomen herself. “Yeah, I just…need a minute”.

“Okay,” Paige whispered, pulling the woman in closer to her body.

They stayed in comfortable silence for several seconds, Paige’s breath tickling the back of the woman in front of her as their bodies gave each other warmth.

Azzi started. “How do you do it?”

Paige paused. “How do I do what?”

“I dunno, you have this way of making me feel comfortable about myself. I kinda hate it”

Paige twitched her head, raising her eyebrows. “What ever happened to saying ‘thank you’?

Azzi let out a small laugh. “Sorry, I just- thank you. You make me feel…nice.”

The blonde eased. “I guess it’s…from experience”.

It went silent for a moment. It wasn’t surprising to Azzi if Paige wasn’t a stranger to sex and romance, probably even having a roster, for all she cares. But the nonchalance was disconcerting.

“Hmm,” Azzi’s tone was subtly disappointed.

“What?”

Azzi paused. “Do they tell you that, too? That you make them feel nice?”

The sudden bluntness to Azzi’s question caught the both of them off guard. But the curly brunette stood by it, sighing as her eyes wandered around her room. There was a small tug from the corner of Paige’s lips, tightening her embrace with the younger woman.

“Yeah, they do. They also tell me they don’t appreciate it when I mess with them at work. Even though I know they kinda like it. You know, I think they’re probably obsessed with me, I mean, I’ve caught them stalking me sometimes”

The curly brunette suddenly turned her body around, her expression in annoyance as Paige babbled sarcastically.

“I can’t stand you sometimes”

Paige just smiled smugly. “I know”.

The blonde pulled Azzi closer by the waist, pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. The younger woman closed her eyes, savouring the sweet gesture as it made her feel important and cared for. But it didn’t take long before those thoughts were suddenly replaced with fear and anxiety. Just as Paige was about to lean towards her lips, Azzi lowered her head, her expression sorrowful.

“Hey, is it something I did?” Paige asked concerningly.

“No, it’s not you. It’s um…” Azzi hesitated, her reasoning falling short due to the fact that it harboured a lot more scarring memories which she didn’t intend to revisit just yet.

“It’s okay”. Paige could only pull her into a hug, not really knowing what was going through Azzi’s mind but intuitively understanding that it was better to give her comfort.

“I’m sorry,” Azzi muffled into her Paige’s bare chest.

“There’s nothing you need to apologise for, Az”

The curly brunette retracted her head, wanting to face Paige this time.

“Can you kiss me again?”

Paige let out a sigh through her nose, smiling with hooded eyes as an answer.

Their lips connected, this time more sweet and delicate. Paige held her tight, her touch consoling her. And soon the pair lulled themselves to sleep from the tiredness of the day.

[dixons-sunshine]

Possessed | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you, @darylssunshine and @lazyneonrabbitt for some of the dialogue on this. Happy Halloween, everyone! Loosely inspired by @angelwings-crossbowstrings’s “Trick Or Treat” fic.

(GIF by @dixonscarol)

Daryl Dixon was a brave man. There was almost nothing in the world, old or current, that could terrify the man you loved more than life itself. He did not scare easy at all, and you were beginning to think that perhaps the man just did not have a fearful bone in his body.

Well, that was before you had suggested a horror movie marathon to celebrate Halloween, and you quickly realised that Daryl could indeed be a jumpy mess.

“Babe,” you began through fits of laughter, “it’s just a movie.”

Daryl grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest as he shifted his attention back to the movie that was playing on the television—a luxury that living in the Commonwealth provided you. “Quit yer laughin’, woman. Ain’t nothin’ funny ‘bout this.” He could feel the warmth spreading across his cheeks, and he prayed to whatever higher entity was listening that you could not notice it. “Can we jus’ finish the goddamn movie, please?”

You simply shook your head, clasping a hand over your mouth to stifle your giggles. “Sorry,” you apologised, your words muffled by your hand. “Yeah, we can. Think you can handle it?”

Daryl scoffed and leaned back against the couch, attempting to appear nonchalant. “‘Course I can. Ain’t no fuckin’ wimp.”

Despite his words, the moment the two of you quieted down and turned your attention back to the movie on the screen—Annabelle—another jumpscare happened. It startled Daryl so bad that he instinctively grabbed onto you, his arms wrapping around your shoulders as he shifted closer to you. If he moved any more, he would be clambering onto your lap, and you found it rather endearing.

Choosing not to say anything, and biting your lip to prevent another laugh from escaping your chest, you wrapped your arm around his shoulders, softly trailing your fingers over his arm. However, you barely began offering him comfort when he jumped again, and this time, you could not help the laugh that escaped you.

Daryl grumbled and removed himself from your embrace. He grabbed the remote and paused the movie, before turning back to you. “S’not funny.”

“It is!” you laughed, your hands clutching at your chest as you doubled over. “It’s just… you’re like the toughest person I know! Am I really supposed to believe that a horror film is enough to have you cowering into my lap?”

“I ain’t cowerin’,” Daryl countered with a scoff, but he knew that his words seriously contradicted what you had seen just a few moments prior. “I jus’ dun’ like dolls, s’all, and that bitch s’a haunted one.”

“Wait, seriously?” you asked incredulously. “You don’t like dolls? How come you never told me?”

Daryl shook his head. “‘Cause s’silly,” he mumbled. “I dun’ like them movies ‘bout haunted dolls.”

“Not even Chucky?”

“Nah. Bastard scares the hell outta me.”

“Hun, you could literally dropkick Chucky across the room if he came running after you,” you told him with a light laugh, your eyes sparkling as you looked at your husband.

“He ain’t even s’posed to be runnin’!” Daryl replied exasperatedly. “He’s goddamn plastic!”

“Well, dead people aren’t supposed to be able to run either, and you kill those every day without hesitation.”

The archer let out a small sigh and shook his head. “Yer one to talk. What ‘bout those lil’ spiders ya scream at when ya even so much as see ‘em?”

It was your turn to scoff. “It has eight legs and, like, fifty thousand eyes! That’s not natural.”

“Oh, and a possessed doll is?” Daryl countered, and you knew he had a good point.

“Touché, Dixon,” you conceded with a small smile. You took the remote from his hand and got up, moving towards the small stack of different movies. “How about we watch something else? How does ‘Halloween’ sound?”

Daryl visibly relaxed at that, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Sounds amazin’.” When you popped the movie in and flopped down next to him on the couch, Daryl wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Have I ever told ya how much I love ya?”

“You don’t have to. I know you do.” You leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, before pulling away and smiling at him. “Happy Halloween, Dar. I hope Annabelle doesn’t haunt your dreams tonight.”

Daryl groaned, but he smiled nonetheless. “Yer on thin ice, woman.”

“I love you too, Dar.”

Prompt: You’re like the toughest person I know! Am I really supposed to believe that a horror film is enough to have you cowering into my lap?

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @thevegandarkelf (comment/DM to be added or removed.)

[l0relaii]

GREETINGS

need me some thoughts about Connor.

Deviant Connor who's got a thing for his 20-25 year old neighbor after he moves in with Hank after the war where he ends up going on a date w her and she invites him insidee... oop... smutty thots?

oh jesus my first time writing for connor i'm a bit nervous ngl

part 2

you were hank's neighbor

you were the only person he actually trusted because you helped him a lot with his grief after his son died

you'd come over and cook a decent meal for him once in a while, you'd get him in bed when you found him black out drunk on the floor, you'd feed and walk sumo

you even took the adorable saint bernard into your home when hank got too overwhelmed and couldn't take care of him properly

you sat down at his kitchen table watching him eat the soup you'd made him

he'd told you he'd been assigned a case and his partner was "a damn android"

you laughed a bit at his annoyance

"why don't you give him a chance?"

"yeah sure, maybe we'll even become friends, why not move him here with me? i see you're already sweet on him"

only if he knew that all his jokes would become true..

his sarcasm only made your smile widen

"oh come on hank, maybe you will grow.. fond.. of- what'd you say his name was?"

"why? d'you want to buy one for yourself? i don't think they're for sale for civilians darling"

"oh don't be an asshole hank. if you need anything else you know where to find me"

you said as you got up from the table and went to grab your coat

"connor."

"what?"

"his name's connor"

connor knew about you too. hank drunkenly blabbered about you when he found him laying on the floor

"leave me alone, you fuckin' android! get the fuck outta my house"

"i'm sorry lieutenant, but i need you"

he heard hank calling out your name while he dragged him to the bathroom to try and sober him up

"i don't know who that is lieutenant, but i can assure you, she's not here. it's only me, you and sumo"

"then go and get her"

"is she your wife lieutenant?"

"no you pervert, she's my damn neighbor"

"i'm sorry to inform you but i don't think we have the time for that right now"

"shit.. sumo! attack!"

the only thing he got in return from the dog was a little bark

"good dog.."

after connor managed to sober him up he saw you coming to pick up sumo. he was.. glad that you weren't hank's partner,though he didn't know why he felt that way at the time

your eyes met for the first time. you could see his LED turn yellow. he was analyzing you

and you think he liked what he saw when you noticed a blue tint in his cheeks

that was.. interesting

you didn't see him again after that, not until the war was over. not until he moved in with hank and you learned that he was a deviant

you found yourself intrigued by him. without even realizing you were coming up with different reasons why you should come over at hanks place more often

you wanted to cook him a nice dinner, or to give sumo a bath, or to give him back a book you burrowed

and everytime you ended up staring at connor. he was certainly different than when you first saw him

not so rigid, more.. human

his presence was nice. you felt protected, secure around him, horny flustered even

he was currently watching you scratching sumos belly on the carpet, getting ready to take him out for his evening walk

hanks gruff voice suddenly startles him

"you know it's not polite to stare"

"jesus hank, you scared me"

"why don't you ask her out?"

"like.. on a date?"

"yes like on a date"

"..why?"

"don't play coy connor, you've seen how she looks at you too"

he did notice your heart rate being higher around him, your oxytocin and estrogen levels increasing when you acknowledged his presence

you hear hank shouting out your name while you're putting on sumos leash

"connor said he wants to join ya on your walk"

"really?"

he nudges him in his chest managing to get a strained "yes" from him

the walk was a pleasant one. you talked with him about hank, about sumo, about his life and how everything changed for him after the war

"how did you feel? you know, when you uh- deviated"

"it was scary at first, i felt- human.. it's hard to explain."

"i understand"

you give him a side glance noticing his LED is yellow, he's analyzing something, he's analyzing you

after that evening it kinda became your thing, going out everyday to walk sumo around the neighborhood

hank mentioned to you that connor is learning and exploring different emotions and that he's eager to experience anything that a human would feel and do

"maybe you could help him with that"

help him with that? yeah sure why not? unfortunately you failed to pick up on his suggestive tone

connor was indeed exploring. he felt.. weird around you. what was that feeling? his system was heating up whenever he thought about it, whenever he thought about you

he did some research and he associated his reactions to human arousal. was he..? aroused..?

he knew you certainly were

one evening you invited him at your place after you walked sumo, your explanation being that hank was really tired that day and you didn't want to disturb him any more

he accepted after he made sure he wouldn't bother you, of course he accepted, he couldn't wait for you to do this even though he'd never admit it

he noticed your hormone levels and the way your legs crossed and you squeezed your thighs

he also noticed your body heating up and the pheromones you released

you noticed the slight baby blue tint in his cheeks and the..pinkish hue of his LED? more like a peachy tone, similar to the yellow one but definitely different

that's new

what was also new was the bulge is his jeans. was he hard? could he get hard?

apparently he could, and he just realized he did

"i'm sorry, this has never happened before-"

"d'you need.. any help with it?"

"i guess i do.. could uh- could you help me?"

"i thought you'd never ask"

ajsjnxd cliffhanger i'm sorry i don't think i'm ready to write the whole thing 😭😭

[munsster]

through and through

A/N: i am simply a sucker for a gorgeous, dumb blond (gif creds: @captainsamerica)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: The most stubborn man in the world has no one to blame for that gunshot but himself. And all over again, you'll clean him up. 1.5k words

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, angry but soft reader, dumb stevie, slight wound description, its okay: everybody lives, cursing, pet names (honey, baby, darlin), friends to lovers

"God, Steve, do you know how frustrating it is when you do this?" You're ruffled: wide-eyed and feverish. Upset might better describe your situation. Peeved, maybe. Because you're used to his recklessness. Always have been. Even when it was only news articles and rumored hospitalization.

Arm hooked around his waist, he slumps his weight against you while you struggle up the ramp of the jet. Labored breathing fans the nape of your neck, and you can feel his tension loosening with the grip of his consciousness. As he plops down into a hard metal seat, he deflates. Especially with you beside him, he's happy the scolding of his life is at hand.

And all he can do is laugh. Of course he's gonna be okay; he's pumped full of the purest steroids long-dead alchemists could come up with. Which is why he's not worried. So far from worried, in fact, that he's grinning. You're fingering antiseptic against the fresh gunshot wound in his abdomen, and he's sitting pleased.

"You couldn't have been a little more careful?” You grumble something about how stupid he is. That he's doing it on purpose to mess with you. Leave it to Steve to get shot just to piss you off. "Try to risk your life a little less, 'kay? God, it's so frustrating.”

He chuckles, hissing at the brief pain and slumping down in his seat. "You said that already."

"I'm not afraid to hit a dying man—"

"Hush, I'm not dying." He coughs up a wet gargle, and the panic sets in. You press a square of gauze against the shallow divot with the heel of your palm. Lazily, his head lulls to the side, and he can't stop himself from smiling at the crease between your brows.

"That's exactly what you'd say if—"

"—If I was dying, yadda yadda. Have I ever lied to you, darlin'?"

His palm cups yours on his hot skin. Each breath presses taut muscle into the gentle curve of your fingers. Your face screws inward, but he puts a little pressure on your knuckles, trapping them in place on his stomach.

"How'm I supposed to know?"

His tongue clicks behind a smirk, and he blinks his eyes shut. It's because he's exhausted, you know that. You should let him rest, but after losing all that blood, you also figure it's better if he stays conscious until you're sure he'll make it. There's no reason for this time to be different. But then again, there never really is.

"Hey, hey, hey, don't do that. Keep 'em open, please."

"Aw, come on, honey—fine"—his vibrant blue eyes startle you as he goes back to staring—"As I was saying—I'm not planning on dying anytime soon. If I was, I'd tell you so you could smack the deathwish outta me."

"Oh, and I'm just supposed to trust you, huh?"

"Yes, please." He's horrible. The blood he's got left all goes to his head to fuel a stupid grin and the biggest, dumbest puppy dog eyes. No thoughts behind them, just pure nonsense and foggy desire.

"You're the worst," you huff. It kinda stings when you don't chase it with a laugh or a smile. He hates that he's forcing you to be professional. Because unprofessional, unapologetic you is his favorite. A real sweetheart, and he's the one responsible for driving that away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. More sincere than he's been in his life. Well, this life. It's not often that he gets to open up. He's been Captain for years now. And finally someone calls him Stevie again, and he's screwing it up with his stubbornness. He wishes he could be candid. Taken with life. Unabashed life, all at the tips of his fingers. Yet grabbing on never felt so far away.

He flutters when you scowl up at him, relieved that he gets to be acknowledged by you once more. Excited, suddenly, by the hand on his new scar. Wonderfully exposed by the top of his suit folded at the waist in his lap. And you have to admit, he's handsome. Golden hair flopped into his face, bloodied up by his or someone else's, but still so charming between rattling exhales.

You sigh. "I hate it when you're headstrong."

He perks up from behind the guise of creeping pain. You pay no mind, zipping the first-aid kit up and shoving it back into your duffel.

"Can't you let someone else take the high road? You know it's okay to be the bench guy for one game. Maybe save your life." You shrug, and the guilt washes away from the surface of his skull. He's thrilled again to be here for your bloom as the jet lifts and your ears pop.

"But that's what I have you for."

He hates it because it implies that's all. But that's far from all. You are all. He doesn't know it gives you butterflies because it implies that he has you. And he does. He will.

"As much as I love being your personal nurse, don't you think I deserve a break?" You pout and settle in beside him. He thinks the closeness could make his slow heart start up again. Even with near half his blood left, he'd circulate triple as long as you stay this close.

"C'mon, honey, you know I like when you work for it."

You don't have a second to process before he shifts closer and leans his head back against the tough wall. Your neck goes all hot because he drops his hand in the small space between his thigh and yours. The length of his thumb curiously swipes the skin of your catsuit, and you stiffen.

His breath catches in the dark. Your fingers fit slowly in the spaces of his own, a subconscious squeeze soothing the warm strain built up in all the little slips and slides. And it's okay now. Close like this is good for his ache. He doesn't have to be straight-posture, strict leader in your arms, even if he hasn't been there for very long. He would still like to fold into your warmth like perfect cake batter. Vanilla and streaks of funfetti if you'll keep him in place for a while longer.

"I told you to keep your eyes open, Stevie."

So they snap open. To find you're watching him. It wrecks him wholly to know you've noticed him before. It's so stupid, but he obsesses over the times you're not subtle about it. Like now: wetting the corner of your mouth with the tip of your tongue, pressing the pad of your thumb to his forefinger's knuckle.

"And I told you I'd be okay, darlin'." He feels himself softening. Hot peaches laid delicately into the shell of a tart to bake until golden brown. You could slice through him and take a bite. It would all reassure him knowing you enjoyed the bittersweetness and buttery smooth sinking of your teeth into his flesh.

"Stevie," you coo, lips parted. The gravity of you makes him want to slink closer like a stray cat to warm milk. To dip his tongue in and savor the newness. Cool and better than ever. You could—you do fuel his strength. Every centimeter poured from your cupped palms into—finally—Man. At last. Gold and glimmering. Exposed to weathering but picturesque evermore.

But he looks dazed. Glossed over. On the verge of emotion. And distress bubbles in your lungs.

"D'you need to rest—"

He shakes his head. "Stop thinking about me for five seconds, honey. I think kissing my girl is rest enough," he huffs, "Don't you agree?"

You squint. Smartass. "Actually, old man, it might be better if—"

In a breath, he holds the pretty swell of your chin in his shaking fingers. Mouth close enough to feel the dryness and the softness beneath it all. You gasp, going all pliant at his will. Like angels, too nervous to be impure, he's holding you in place like a statue. Keeping you on edge.

Until you grab his face and kiss him nice and slow. Enough to heal his plight. A new gunshot wound in the form of a pretty lady tearing through his well-grooved chest. Leave all the shrapnel if you'd like. With your mouth in the small of his own, he feels like a dizzy hangover in the middle of a house party. His hands grasp greedily at your waist, turning you and shifting you and pulling. Bringing. Begging.

And, like a minx, like always, like you, you push away with a laugh and wipe his spit from your mouth.

"Been waiting on that for... ever. Feelin' sealed up already, baby," he grumbles.

"Sweet on me now, Stevie?"

He shakes his head with a chuckle.

"Always have been."

marvel masterlist

[lilozzzyo]

Jack Mercer x Female Reader

You had just heard the weather report that there was a bad storm coming in tonight and you immediately packed your bag and ran over to the Mercer house. You made it just in time, only getting few drops of rain before barging into the house. "HEY! The door was unlocked again, you guys really gotta do something about that" you said dropping your bag on the couch and walking past Bobby who simply rolled his eyes. "Well nobody expects someone to just barge into their house uninvited" you give him the finger making laugh as you search the fridge for the left overs you had cooked the other night. "Bobby I am always invited, I practically live here, I cook, I clean, I-" you are then suddenly startled by Jack popping behind you saying "oh you do a lot more than that gorgeous." You giggle as Jack wraps you in his arms and starts to snuggle into your neck as he starts to rub his large hands up and down your sides. Bobby makes an over exaggerated gagging sound before complaining "see this is exactly why I'm getting the fuck outta here," he then turns on a heal and starts to walk toward the door. You wiggle out of Jacks handsy grasp to shout "Wait Bobby, there's supposed to be a really bad storm tonight maybe you should stay in" you were genuinely worried not wanting him to get stuck. He then smiled reluctantly "relax, I am just going to handle some business I will be back before the morning, don't wait up.... and don't be nasty in the kitchen" he says before slamming the door on his way out, leaving you and Jack giggling in the kitchen.

After eating the left overs you had made the other night, you and Jack go upstairs to his room. You shower, light a bunch of candles, and change into one of his old band t-shirts before crawling into bed with him. The storm is raging and you're certain the power will go out at any moment but you simply couldn't care less. Jack has you sprawled over him as he rubs your back and hums to you. "Are you going to sleep in your jeans Mercer?" you joke as you look up at him making him chuckle. "No, obviously but I have a very beautiful lady currently holding me hostage and not letting me move." You roll your eyes and gently smack his chest. "Hey I'm not complaining, I would however prefer you like this" he says before flipping your positions so he is now hovering above you and looking down with a devilish smirk, "see? now this is much better" you giggle before rolling your eyes and pulling him down to kiss him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he wraps his arms around your waist deepening the kiss and fighting you for dominance. He starts trailing kisses from your lips to your neck leaving little love bites in his wake. He moves his hands from your waist to your hips, rearranging you to lift your leg over his hip to grind himself down against you. He groans deep in your ear making you arch your back at not only the sound but the vibration speeding south and making your head swim. Your eyes are already rolling to the back of your skull and he has barely even done anything yet. But the feeling of his large hands hungrily exploring your body, his deep voice rasping in your ear, his soft lips kissing and nipping at your neck, all if it combined had you feeling so overwhelmed you didn't even realize how loud you had started moaning. He chuckles deeply in your ear "Oh baby, if you making noises like that, it's going to be a very long night for both of us"

Okay so this was just a quick one shot because I am also madly in love with Jack Mercer and I need more content of him. Also this was supposed to be about cuddling with him buuuuut one thing led to another and here we are. Oh well hahahaha!

[writing-with-yours-truly]

Wattpad Transfer: "We stole Jimmy's Car" Quackity [YouTuber] x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Additional information: Inspired on the video Sapnap Uploaded

Requested by: N/A

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

"When the fuck are they gonna get here?" I groan, checking my phone's SnapMap to locate my friends. "No idea. All they told us was to wait here," Punz answers. "That's fucking dumb," I reply.

My SnapMap opened and it appeared that they were really close. I heard a honk and I yelled, startled. The boys started laughing and I raised my middle finger. "Shut up." Karl rolls his window down. "Get in the car!" He yelled.

We all walked over and started piling in. "Can you not have the part of me screaming?" I ask Karl. He replies with a laugh. So the layout was...

Karl and Sapnap in the front. Me and Quackity in the middle. Nolan and Punz in the back. "Whoooo!" We hooted.

...

We were on the road for thirty minutes and the Tesla battery was almost dead. "We probably gotta charge it," I shrugged, hearing a beep. "No shit." Quackity says in response.

Karl recorded Sapnap, as he got out of the car. "We need to charge the car before we really hit the road."

"Snack time!" I yell, running out of the car. "Y/N wait!" Quackity ran after me.

...

After we got back from getting really good snacks, Quackity leased intimate the car. "Got any games on your car?" I covered my mouth as I squeaked because of Quackity trying to climb into the car. "Quackity, there's a door for a reason!"

"Shut up, Y/N, I'm having a moment." Sapnap and Quackity got close and I started wheezing. "Its so fucking warm you don't need a fireplace, you need ice cubes."

...

We all were back in the car, and Karl was driving this time. "Karl! Yo Kar! What if we crash the car!" I yell. "You can get him a new one, right?" Karl asked me. "No, it was Sapnap's idea!" I pointed at Sap.

Sapnap turned the camera around. "Punz, when's the next Among Us video coming out?" "Uhhh...." We all just laughed.

"Anyways, Q, man, where are the snacks?" I ask Quackity. "Glad you asked, Y/N!" Quackity lifted something up. "We got the candy, and we got the...The drink!" He pointed at the drink.

"Oh, we also have a secret charger!" He pulled off a plastic piece. Then he pulled another up, causing it to fling off.

...

"Look at my cards!" Punz waves his Pokémon cards in front of my face. "Get the cards outta my fucking face," I laughed.

Punz pulled the cards out of my face. A few minutes later, Nolan and Punz were sharing a bag of beef jerky. I gagged at the rancid smell, and turned my head away.

"I don't want your handouts, man!" I speak in a fake Mexican Dream voice, causing Quackity to laugh until the jerky was in his face. "Get that shit away from me!"

Karl, who had enough with our antics, yelled "Everybody shut up! Its silent car time now. Thanks a lot!" Sapnap sighed, as he was getting content from the banter.

Punz had lifted his arms and flipped off Karl. I slapped his hand. "Oww! N/N slapped me! Karl!"

Sapnaps camera was pointed at us again, and I did a fake pout. "He's whying." I talk in my baby voice.

...

It was dead silent until Sapnap's face time was going off. "Oh, shit."

"How's it going?" Jimmy asks.

"Its going good. What are you up to?" Sapnap cooly answered.

"I see a camera pointed at the phone." I push the camera back and mouth, 'Careful.' to Quackity.

"What? Oh, that's weird." Sap acted dumbfounded.

Jimmy answered with, "I assume that means you're pranking me."

"I mean kind of. I don't know if you'd call it a prank." I snicker silently listening to the two.

"I think its more like...theivery." Sap shakily answers.

Jimmy exhaled. "Is that my Tesla?"

"It-its your Tesla, Jimmy."

"Bro, Y/N. We were bonding together!"

"I know!"

"And you're trying to steal my car?!"

"It was Sap's idea, not mine," I giggle.

"This is something I would expect from Karl. But, Y/N! Come on."

"Hey, they told us to go to this sketchy ass gas station."

"How about this. Sapnap, I'm giving you four days to return it or I'm calling the cops." He hung up, leaving us all to freak out.

"But-" I caught my breath from laughing as Quackity gave Sap the camera back. "He's your bestie!" I wheeze.

"He's joking, right?" Sapnap asks himself. "We just gotta hide it," Karl gives an idea.

...

Five hours in and were charging our -Jimmy's - Tesla, and somehow ended up at a mall arcade.

"We gotta leave though, if we want to eat at the place we want to." Sap explains to us. Nolan runs ahead, yelling, "Let's go!"

Karl shakes his head.

The boys, besides me and Quackity, were playing basketball, skeeball, the typical arcade games. While I was in a Vr box, and Quackity was watching, with a headset on to talk to me. Like a mic.

"Okay, you're doing great, N/N. Just be careful of overusing the power." This was my first time playing FNAF on vr and I was scared shitless. I was on 8% power and was yelling things such as, "Get the fuck away, you dumb ass chicken." Quackity whispered, "Y/N. Shh." I heard footsteps and I shakily asked, "Who was that?"

"Only Sapnap, Punz, and Karl. Come on Princesa. You can--" he got cut off by the other two talking. I stood still, confused. "What's going-- AUGHHH!" I screamed as I was jump scared. I quickly took the headset off, and pinched myself.

"I am here." I stepped out of the black dome, and to the boys, shaking. "We got kicked out, Karl said, holding the camera. "Damn."

...

"Since these guys know all of us, we should tell them what's going on." We stood in front of the four shoppers. "Basically, we're stealing Jimmy's car, and we're driving it all the way to Orlando." One of the boys gasped in shock.

...

Sapnap gasped with his hands on his head. "Banter!" He yelled. "The podcast!" One of the kids showed Sap his phone and he was subbed to him.

...

"Yo, Jimmy. I found some fans and told them what we are doing to you!" Sap greeted. "Yo, what's up Mr. Beast!" One of the guys greeted.

"We took your car and are driving it to Florida!" I cheerily exclaim.

"Wait, can you do me a favor and steal the car back?" Jimmy asked the fans.

They laughed.

...

We were about five hours on the road when I attempted to sleep. Spoiler alert, I kept getting tapped, and sleeping on the side of plastic hurts like shit.

Sap tapped me and my eyes jolted open. "Stop itt," I slur. "Was that a good nap?" Punz asked me. "Hell no."

Everyone just laughed. "Oh look, the suns coming out!"

"Damn, that is a big ball."

Suddenly, Karl pulled over, and ran out of the car AS TRUCKS AND SHIT WERE COMING, becuase he had to pee. I immediately looked out Quackity's window. "Yuck."

I immediately got an idea. "He still pissing?" I asked. "Yeah." I started to get in the front. "Q, support my leg so I don't break anything." "Got it!" He helped me in the front seat. "Bye!" I shifted out of park. I immediately hit the gas.

"What the fuck!" Everyone kept saying. "You left Karl," Sap exclaimed. "I don't care!" I giggle.

"Sapnap!" Karl exclaims. "I'm right here." He was sitting in the seat I was in. "Holy fu-"

...

We stopped at a restaurant that Karl put in the GPS. "This was where I loved to eat." He exclaimed, jumping out of the car. Karl dropped the key. "Oh, shit that's the key!" Nolan grabbed it. "Got it!"

...

I stood next to Karl as Nolan and Sapnap slid down the rail of a government building. "We are fucked if they got the snipers. I can feel the red dot on my head," I jokingly say.

...

"Karl you're drivingggg!" I yell, jumping in the back, Quackity following suit.

"I ended up dosing off until I heard Quackity yell something. "This thing added 6 more fucking hours to the trip!" He was rambling about what time we would get there.

I myself was tired already. I yawned. "Can we just go home," I slur out. "No," Sap answers, pointing the camera at me.

...

"Since the trip is so long, I decided to get everyone Mexican pastries." Quackity held a back up, it rustling. "Who the fuck bought this shit?!"

He pulled out sour spaghetti noodles. "Hey!" Karl exclaimed. Quackity kept scolding him. "You are a grown ass man!"

I yawned again, and tried falling asleep, but everyone was talking, and it drove me insane. "Just shut up!" I yelled, causing the chatter to stop. "I'm tired, man." I mutter some o/l swears. (Other language)

"We know you're swearing." Quackity pointed out. "Whatever. Its not like you don't call me names in Spanish. Like Princesa." I put my head on the plastic and tried to sleep. Until Quackity pulled my by the shoulder and laid my head on his shoulder.

...

I woke back up to everyone but Quackity cheering. "WE'RE IN FLORIDA!" Then a song by Dream started playing. "Oh look Y/N's up." I started belting the lyrics to Roadtrip. "Whoooo! Slay!" Karl exclaimed. I sat back, and put my head back on Quackity's shoulder.

...

Finally, we made it to Orlando! "Jimmy won't actually call the cops on us, right?" Sap asked himself, before turning the camera off.

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Took another 8am Wednesday lab this semester which means you get to find out first that I failed the fuck outta that midterm. Anyway. I'd like some more of my demon boy, or whoever isn't biting. Happy Wednesday 💕💕

WIP Wednesday (3/12) | Demon Neil AU (Part 25)

Andrew's consultation appointment is made the slightest bit awkward since he's met the client before in very different circumstances. He recognizes Mason as soon as he steps into the building. Tall and well-muscled, with eyes on just the wrong side of green. They'd met a couple months ago at Eden's, need Andrew say more?

"Yes. You do. I don't even know who Eden is."

With an eye roll, Andrew ignores his demon in favor of the man sitting in front of him. Mason shows no sign at all that he remembers Andrew, which is for the best. He just introduces himself and starts to ramble on and on about his tattoo dreams. He tells Andrew that he wants roses wrapped around both arms from his wrists to his shoulders, vines and leaves and thorns. The whole nine yards.

The moment he makes his idea known, Andrew pulls up a couple of photos on his phone and pretends to listen intently while Mason talks about his mother— named Rose— who'd died a few weeks back. t's a tribute piece. And a huge one at that, but it's not as obvious as the ones with death dates people ask Renee for. It's something pretty enough for Andrew to bother with. It doesn't take him very long to bring the idea to life and when he turns the sketchpad over, Mason's eyes light up.

"Oh. That's perfect. Just like that up both arms. Can we do that?"

"I can do whatever you want." Andrew bites his tongue when Mason's mouth quirks. Too late does he recall saying something similar at the bar when Mason picked him up. He clears his throat. "With the tattoo."

"Right." Mason says. Then he leans a bit closer, into Andrew's space. "Listen, I... Have we met before?"

Andrew isn't sure how to answer that when he's spent the past thirty minutes pretending he's never seen Mason in his life. Finally he shrugs. "Maybe. I've been told I have that sort of face."

"Oh. Right." Mason's expression twinges with disappointment but it doesn't linger. Instead he checks his phone and says, "I have to get to work soon. When do I come back?"

"Renee is in charge of scheduling everything," Andrew tells him, jerking a thumb towards the front desk. It's not the truth, but she's so good at it and she loves doing it. Well, she tolerates it anyway. For Andrew. He glances towards the desk and Renee isn't there.

"Renee's in the back, poking holes in somebody's tits." Seth says helpfully, while he stares at his sometimes-girlfriend across the shop. Andrew doesn't even know if he's got anyone on his schedule for today or if he only showed up to watch Allison.

"Don't say tits, it's rude." Allison says, throwing Seth a bone. God knows he's been waiting for her to speak to him since she arrived. From there, Andrew tunes them out. When they decide on a day for his first session, Mason slips twenty bucks into Andrew's palm. 

"For your time today," he says with a smile. "See ya next time."

"Ooh, put that tip in the New Car Jar," Allison laughs from her corner where she's supposed to be tattooing a girl's back. Andrew flips her off and shoves the twenty in his pocket.

"Andrew, why did you pretend not to know him?" Neil asks, startling Andrew a bit. He'd been uncharacteristically silent for the past half hour, so it's nice to know he's still there. Even if he's asking stupid questions.

"Because it would have been awkward to tell a client 'Yes, I sucked you off in an alley three months ago because you reminded me of someone else'," Andrew thinks back at him. That and he's also been trying rather valiantly not to remember the fine details of that night, as to not bombard Neil with vivid, explicit, memories.

"Oh." Neil pauses, perhaps considering. "Do people really do that? Just do sex things in alleyways?"

"Occasionally. For your information, people have sex in all sorts of places. Like bathroom stalls and backseats and locker rooms." Andrew tells him just as Renee reappears. He wanders up to her and, aloud, says, "Mission complete?"

"Not quite. She couldn't decide what type of piercing she wants." Renee says. "How'd the consult go?"

"It went. He's coming back on Thursday. One o'clock." Andrew answers. And though he will remember it on his own, Renee pens it into the book she keeps on the counter.

"What was his name?"

"Mason something."

"Charming." Renee writes it exactly like that, Mason Something, and drops the pen. About that time, her appointment sticks her head out from behind the curtain.

"I'm ready now." She says, not looking ready at all. Renee smiles and heads back anyway. While she's distracted Andrew gets out his phone to text Kevin and ask what he's doing.

Kevin: Just got out of practice. Why? Andrew: stuck at work, drive me home Kevin: Of course. Ten minutes.

[morgy-doo]

THE OWL HOUSE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS PART 2

part 1 ^

Edric blight~

handsome

very handsome

he will stand at the mirror for ages consistently combing his hair to look perfect before you two have a date

he would have been late if Emira didn't pull him away from the mirror

honestly Emira knows every in and out of your relationship

and that kinda scares you

you have been his alibi for when he needs to get outta trouble FAST

"oh yeah i was at the lake picking flowers with y/n"

he was indeed not

but to make up for it he will go do that very thing with you

will try and get in less trouble if it makes you happy

but really enjoys playing pranks on other people with you

also he LOVES it when you take his picture. like he will spend 30 mins on one photo trying to pull the right face and get the right angle

uses his illusions to make you laugh when you have had a tough day

Emira blight~

your face will constantly be red

this girl can FLIRT

she especially loves it in class when you are sat minding your buisiness and doing your work or whatever

oh you poor poor soul

and she chucks a note at you, usually saying something like

"i love your hair today gorgeous"

" i really wanna come over there and kiss you"

" i miss youuuuu"

she also loves hugging you from behind because she loves the shocked and startled look that comes accross your face everytime

guards you from her mother with her LIFE

she is not letting Odalia try anything with you, she can't lose you

definately pulls pranks on you with Edric 24/7

once or twice she does those couple pranks like

"putting a fake hickey on my neck to see my gf/bf reaction"

"break up prank with gf/bf

if any of these pranks make you cry or upset she will immediatly feel terrible and will do anything to make you feel better

she also loves buying you matching jewelry

Eda clawthorne~

THE OWL LADYYYY

she is so chill

like you could tell her that Belos is at the door with a warrant for her immediate execution and she will be like

"eh that's a problem for later, can you get me a drink doll?"

sometimes she treats you like her slave

but in the best way

she will gives you kisses in penance

whenever she goes out she brings you back cool trinkets she found interesting

you are luz's other parent at this point

luz always pretends to gag/vomit when you two kiss or hug

Eda would smile because she used to do that exact same thing at her age

hooty is always up in your personal business

but Eda sorts that out pretty quick

Lilith clawthorne~

literally a walking dictionary

she will randomly come up to you and spout a random fact she learnt that day

she thinks it cools and hopes you do too

when you are chilling out cuddling she will just randomly mutter

"did you know pigs orgasms last 30 minutes?"

(she definately would not say that but thats the only fact i know that is stuck in my mind so bear with)

she also likes to watch you use your magic and gives you some helpful tips

you also give her advice whenever she needs it, it's hard trying to deal with everything herself sometimes so she enjoys it when she just gets to rant about her stress while you stroke her hair

she ADORES it when you stroke her hair

it's really comforting for her

you defo call her "lils"

and she loves it

[cepheusgalaxy]

Day 4 of me trying to get better at writing

CW: Assholes and child abuse. Sorta.

If someone had asked it, Espa would have said it did not have favorites.

Bit if it were to actually make a tier, Ms. Ann would be somewhere in the middle of it. She wasn't very stern, but she was a little tough to deal with when stressed, which was an unfortunately common occurence. Mr. Juste would be near the top, with all his treats and headscratches, although his punishments were tougher when they slipped up near him.

Mr. X, however, would be at rock bottom of its list.

“Espada!” Espa tried to supress a flinch. She despised having him at the back of the room like that. “Have I told you to stop counting?” He spat.

“No, sir!” They yelled, catching their breath.

It started counting its repetitions out loud. From the fucking start, as he liked. Espa couldn’t see his face, of course, but they’d bed he was ripping a vein out of his ugly scowl. It fueled its animosity into its arms, gritting its teeth.

Espa was in a wide gynasium, with a bunch other weapons and a handful of equipment. They were doing some bimonthly conditioning sessions while most handlers and leaders did their occasional meetings. Espa didn’t know what they were about. It wasn’t their business to know. Her business was to keep up with whatever was thrown at her by the person assigned to assist them in training on those days.

Which this time, to everybody’s dismay, had been Mr. X.

Espa finished her push-ups. She moved on. The next part of the disgustingly long course the handler had set up for all of them was—of course, she thought, with a hint of annoyance—running. As they resisted the urge to take a sip of water—which could very well earn them a few hits from the belt—and got up on the dreadmill, they took a glance at their siblings on the other stages.

Sabre was already at the leg press, on the back of the room. Lilo was panting hard, limbs trembling, and had just gotten on the wooden floor at the left, accompanied by other five, to do his push ups. There were seven on the treadmill with it. Espa looked foward before Mr. X could catch her distracted and started running.

“Lilo!” X’s voice startled her. “I want fifty more outta you! Stop being such a pussy!”

Espa didn’t dare look on his direction. But it wasn’t hard to guess Lilo wasn’t doing very well. He’d need some massage and maybe some drink later. Espa supressed a twitch of her eye. X, of course, wouldn’t care. He had something personal against Lilo. Once, they’d overheard him talking to another handler about how he wished the higher ups would greenlit for refurbishing him already. A chill had perked up Espa’s spine that day. It didn’t want for Lilo to be refurbished. It’d never see him again. The other handler had laughed and patted Mr. X on the back, talking something about everybody knowing why Lilo hasn’t been refurbished and probably wouldn’t soon.

She did a favor to her own mind and did not remember the rest.

Finally, Espa catched up with Sabre at the leg press. It felt really uneasy having Mr. X behind it, without being able to see what he was doing. Not that his sight was an exactly pleasurable one. He was sitting down on his chair now, on the other side of the wall, as if guarding the door, spiky hair tied back into a short ponytail, with a few controllers—nope, don’t think about it—on his left hand. They side-eyed Sabre, in a way of saying “Isn’t him the worst?”

“Right? Poor Lilo,” he half-gestured to him, agreeing. “He probably wants him to mess up so he can have an excuse for shocking him.”

“I wish they’d forbid him from training us. He’s gonna get the newer ones killed one of those days.” She sent in a glare

They catched a supressed laughter. “Oh, you think he’d care?” Espa gave him a defeated smile in answer.

If it were with Juste, or even Ann—anyone, really—they’d be allowed to chat normally. Mr. X, however, didn’t like them opening their mouths to let out anything that wasn’t whimpers of pain or a “Yes, sir!”, so they had to improvise. X said it was soo unproductive and distracted themselves, and their siblings, and himself, and wasted breath, or whatever.

Sabre finished his repetitions, and Espa went back to focusing on the task ahead it. There were only three stages left on the course, and from her spot, she could see that only one person was in the last two. She was panting very hard, movements wobbly, and Espa bit her lip. At that rate, she was probably gonna be the first one to pass out. X would end up shocking her awake. As if having the same thought as them, she slowed down a little bit. Espa glanced at X anxiously, wondering if he’d complain, but as always, he was too focused on Lilo, watching him like a hungry eagle, ready to punish him at any slip up. That didn’t help the knot curling into her stomach. She looked away.

As Espa finished her bit, tights burning and sore, she dared to catch a second to catch her breath, throwing her head back and inhaling deep. X was focused on Lilo. It was okay. When her vision stopped spuning, she went to grab the spot Sabre left when he moved on with the girl on the next stage.

There were fifteen of them behind her. They were going to stay in there for a while.

[semisolidmind]

Related to the “Peaches moves to another town” ask, imagine Wukong DID decide to just sweep her off to Flower Fruit Mountain when Mac wasn’t looking. Macaque comes home to find her in their living room (or castle equivalent). Does he try to do damage control and take her back to her village or does he go “whelp, might as well keep her here. We were planning to invite her anyway” ?

fr tho that's what swk would do normally, i think

why should he wait? she'll love it on the mountain, c'mooooon, it'll be fiiiine, we'll explain everything and she'll be super hyped to be here with her two favorite lil guys! he doesn't think much of it, honestly.

mac, however, walks into the living chamber of the stone palace and finds reader awkwardly (and anxiously) sitting on a large floor pillow, startled by the sight of him. oh for gods sake, wukong did it. he finally stole her. now what're they gonna do? the cat's outta the bag, and there's no way of knowing what reader will do or what will happen to her if they take her back now.

and...after a quiet, somewhat one-sided conversation between macaque and reader where he explains himself and wukong, macaque...makes a decision. he doesn't want reader to go any more than wukong does. he doesn't want to have to pretend in order to be around her. he wants her to be safe. he wants her to stay.

so, he lies.

he tells her that he'd heard the towns mayor planning to have her killed for her "association with demons," so the monkeys decided to bring her back to their home where she'd be safe.

he apologizes for the kidnapping, and for not showing themselves sooner, but they just really enjoyed her company ("And dodging their official duties," he says under his breath, getting a little laugh out of reader).

reader is...not as frightened as she'd thought she'd be, given this new information. macaque, the larger demon version at least, is a lot nicer than she was expecting (considering all the terrible things she's heard about demons). he's calm, and his dry sarcasm and sense of humor have her feeling at ease quickly. if he was gonna eat me, he could've done so already, she thinks. it's nice to have a conversation that he can reasonably reciprocate, anyway. as cute as he was as a little monkey, she likes this form, too.

of course, that'd be when wukong busts in and ruins the moment.

[yandecifi]

What It Means to Be Made of Stardust

☆ chapter six

⋆ masterlist

⋆ cw: child abuse, sa, mental illness

hawks/reader, psychological, wip longfic

Hawks’ bedroom has one wall entirely made of glass.

You wake up to something shattering. You’re up, back pressed against the bed frame before you know it. The room is pitch black. You think you’re in your father’s apartment for a split second, that he’s stumbling around the hall for the thousandth time, that you’d nodded off waiting for him to stop; then you realize that your sheets are different, silky, and that you’re clutching the edge of a comforter. You don’t have a comforter.

You’re in Hawks’ apartment. His bed, specifically, and as your eyes adjust you finally let yourself breathe. That’s right. You’re spending the weekend at his place again. You’d celebrated your birthday with him earlier, and it seems the two of you had fallen asleep watching the movie you picked out.

It’s quiet now, and you begin to question if you’d really heard anything at all. You turn your head to check on Hawks. He’s not there. His side of the bed is empty and rumpled.

You slide out of the bed. It’s dark except for the small amount of light coming from the city, from that broad glass wall. You take small steps towards the bedroom door, the wooden floor cold beneath your feet.

You crack the door open and peer out of it. All of the lights are still off. You start down the hallway ahead of you. You make it to the living room, some of the takeout from earlier still on the coffee table, your bag on the couch. The hair on your arms is standing up a little; you cross your arms, rub them. It’s cold. You finally turn into the kitchen.

It’s still dark but there’s a soft glow coming from behind the island, from what must be the opened freezer. You hear Hawks swear under his breath. You pull at your shorts as you round the corner of the island. He’s crouched by the freezer.

“Hawks?” He’s startled, strangely enough, eyes a bit wide as his head snaps up to you. It’s odd because he’s constantly aware of what’s going on around him; he told you himself, he always knows where you are in the apartment. He picks up everything with his wings.

“Hey, hey, careful!” He whispers, sticking out a hand to prevent you from coming any closer. “There’s a lotta glass!”

“What?” You back up, look down, and sure enough, the tile ahead of you is glittering. It’s almost pretty. “Oh. Sorry.”

Hawks stares at you for a moment, still tense, before turning back to the shards on the floor. You fiddle with the hem of your shirt as he picks up some of the larger ones.

“You okay?” You murmur as he squints at the tile around him, searching for glitter. “What happened?”

“I just, ah…” Hawks closes his eyes. Everything about him is slow. “I dropped a glass tryna get something outta the freezer.”

There’s an empty bottle of tequila on the island counter. 

“You should go back to bed,” he says. His eyes seem to glow with the light of the freezer. You swallow.

Hawks gets night terrors. He doesn’t mutter or toss around in the sheets like your Mom, he sweats; his teeth will grind and you’ll stay very quiet until it stops. That, or he’ll lurch forward in bed with a shout and hold himself until his breathing steadies.

You sit in the bed that isn’t yours and wrap yourself in the blankets. There’s no more noise, though you think you hear him pacing. It’s two in the morning.

You’re staring at the glass wall, counting city lights, when the door opens. The muscles in your body contract, you shrink.

“You’re still awake?” The bed sinks as Hawks sits next to you. His voice is soft, soaked in deep sadness; he seems to wilt under moonlight. The first thing he said about this apartment was that it was too big.

“Sorry,” you whisper, eyeing the loosely held drink in his hand. “Just thinking.”

He laughs a little. His breath is warm and it burns your nose. “Yeah, me too.”

The two of you stare at the city. That sadness radiates off of Hawks with no end, it fills the room, the air is syrup and your lungs ache with it.

People don’t make sense to you and you know that. When your friends are sad, you can’t comfort them. You don’t know what that means. Yeah, hug them, tell them it’s okay, whatever - but what you know is tantrums and sitting in parks.

Hawks syrup-sadness drenches you and makes the tequila sweeter than it really is. Your blood is coursing through your tangled, balled up veins, your face is hot, hot, Hawks asks if you want the rest of it and you guess this is your way of making him feel better. Your heart is racing, you’re as small as the day you were born.

Your jaw tingles where he cups it. He’s close. There’s a giddy smile on your face. You’ve never kissed anybody before, especially not someone like Hawks; the girly part of you is squealing. He doesn’t stop and you start to shake.

Is this okay? This is going kind of fast.

☆

Waking up hurts. It isn’t just the headache or the other aches in your body. Even before all this happened, waking up hurt. It hurt because you would wake and you would feel at peace and away. Your mind, completely still. You would be okay. Then, you would think your first thought, and it would all be torn from you and that horrid weight would fall upon you and your burning stomach. Every morning. Every fucking morning.

You push down the emptiness like you do every morning. You stare at the ceiling and consider yourself like you do every morning. You tell yourself it’s okay like you do every morning. You consider why. Why, why, why, why? It’s all you ever think about. Why does he act the way he does? Why? You used to think you would understand when you were older. Why? You seem to think that if you keep thinking about it you’ll know. Why?

Hawks helps clean out your staples again. He has a toothbrush in his mouth. You sit hunched over on a stool in his bathroom. Why? It’s three in the morning.

Days start early here. You sit at the kitchen island and Hawks is making coffee. He makes a cup for you, too. Your breakfast is coffee and two painkillers. Hawks keeps the bottle and you don’t argue.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks, suited up and ready for patrol, eyes sparkling. You feel like something stuck between his teeth.

“Better.” The cup is pleasantly warm between your hands. The meds aren’t helping, yet. “When do you come back?”

Hawks scratches at the scruff beneath his jaw. “Mmmm, should be around two if everything’s cool.”

“Okay.”

He grins boyishly like he does. “Why? Missing me already?”

Hawks has gotten good at flustering you. He’s gotten even better at making you smile.

“Shut up,” you say, laugh intertwined with your voice. “I just wanted to know if I could say bye before I leave.”

Hawks cocks his head. He’s animated in every expression and lilt of his voice; you want to tell him there are no cameras here.

“You’re going back to school?”

You’re emotional and probably some kind of brain-damaged. And dumb, of course, you’re pretty stupid -- all of these traits combined yesterday into a wonderful display of some kind of deep green, a stagnant swamp of bitterness. You were your dad. You stare at the countertop.

“I mean, yeah. I have to.”

“Stop picking at your nails.” He swats your hands away from one another. “And yeah, I know, but from what you said last night that place kinda sucks.”

You snort, manage a sarcastic roll of your eyes. “I was just being stupid. I need to apologize to a lot of people.”

Hawks sips at his coffee, thoughtfully, like he does in his interviews but without the smile. He stares at you, the crooked teeth you try to hide, the mottled purple and green. Why he takes these moments to look, you have no idea; there isn’t much to like aside from your hero schtick and the fact you're easy. Your smile is too big and your posture sucks and your fingers are rough from school and Dad.

But you like your eyes, the way they crinkle when you’re happy, you feel like everybody else when they do that. You’ve spent long minutes smiling at the mirror convincing yourself joy isn’t ugly on you.

“You need to heal. I don’t think you can do that there.”

The wrinkling of your brow says everything for you. Hawks puts his mug down.

“Your friends were awful at handling you. Didn’t empathize. Not that they could, they haven’t experienced what you have,” he laughs a little, “one of them even tried to fuck you not a week after you were out of the hospital.”

“That’s -- it, he wasn’t.”

He blinks lazily at you. You’re easy.

“Okay. Whatever it was.” Hawks continues as you try for words. He speaks fast, you struggle to understand, he’s always been smart. “And your teacher, the guy’s been trained in signs of abuse. He’s a hero. He had to have known what was going on.”

“It was different,” you try, but you can’t catch up to him.

“Maybe it was. Maybe it’s ‘cause he’s not like us.”

“I think about that too, you know.”

“Of course you do.” Hawks rounds the countertop so that he stands next to your stool. He pinches your cheek with a hand. “I’m just telling you what I see.”

You nod.

“I have cash laying around somewhere in my room. Take it for the metro.”

Hawks has to go now. He puts his mug in the kitchen sink and you wave and he’s gone.

You get up and open the refrigerator. It’s empty except for water bottles and an expired bag of shredded cheese. The freezer is in a somewhat similar state; it’s got bottles of alcohol, various ice packs, and ten loaves of sandwich bread. The bread is frozen solid, pre-cut.

You pry two slices of bread off of one of the loaves and put them on a plate. You microwave them. You take them out, sprinkle a heavy layer of shredded cheese onto one slice before laying the other on top. You put the plate back in the microwave.

You go back for your coffee while the plate spins around and around. The coffee is starting to get cold but you drink it anyway. You replay Hawks making the coffee for you in your head. The microwave beeps. You have a moist grilled cheese. Microwaved cheese.

“So, you’re a whore?”

What.

You stare at Hound Dog. You look down at your hands. It’s his office, walls simply decorated with positive phrases and emotion wheels, the lighting set to be calming for the two of you. You stand from the plush chair you were sitting on; there are stray threads where you’d been picking at the fabric.

His eyebrows are raised in surprise as you struggle inside yourself. Your fists clench and unclench, unsure of themselves, and you can’t speak or move. You’ve been in his office for a while. You know that but you don’t.

“Is it worse?” He’s got the mask of a counselor and yet even then you can tell he’s startled. “We’ll do some grounding exercises, then. Woof.”

You sit back down. The irony that your new counselor says ‘woof’ every now and then is not lost on you.

“Can you hear me?”

You look at the closed door. It has a poster on it with different faces, names of emotions listed below each one. There is one that is crying and it says despair. Hound Dog says your name. What.

You’re given an ice pack and are told to hold it to the crook of your neck. You just stare at the ground and do as you’re told. Hound Dog sits with you in silence for a long time.

Your head starts to hurt. Your hand does as well, it’s painful and itchy and numb from the ice. You place the pack on your lap and itch at your hand. The scratching isn’t deep enough.

“Can I go?”

You look up at your new counselor. He smiles as well as a dog man can.

“I just don’t want you to leave feeling worse than when you came in. Are you grounded now?”

Adults are meaningless. Adults look when they want to look. They ignore what they don’t want to deal with, they write off ‘youth’ like you as delinquents, troubled. You got into U.A with a clean record; it had to be, you couldn’t keep ending up in suspension, couldn’t keep skipping class or hitting people if you wanted to go somewhere like that. Your teachers still treated you with the same dismissal, like you weren’t worth the trouble of fixing, like all the effort you put into acting normal was nothing. It’s not your fault it’s hard for you to fit in — don’t they know that filth comes from filth?

“Yeah.”

“Alright. We’re going to see each other again at the same time tomorrow. Is that okay?”

“I don’t really have a choice.”

Hound Dog doesn’t respond. You head for the door.

“Have a good day. Woof.”

“You too.”

The walk through U.A’s administrative building is busier than you thought it’d be. Assistants walking around, the occasional teacher or whomever walking around in costume, meeting rooms with ongoing presentations. You stop at the student aid office. They direct you to the financial aid office. You’re directed back to student aid. You leave.

Outside is bright but you can’t feel the sun’s rays on your skin. Campus is relatively quiet, class is in session; you walk towards the heroics building. There are some construction workers putting in new turf by the sidewalk. You’re wearing a beanie you borrowed from Mina. It’s got leopard spots. She has one of everything in leopard spots. She calls it Y2K.

You’re leaning against the wall that’s next to the door of your home room. You can hear your classmates inside, mainly chatter and then a particularly loud guffaw from Kaminari. You end up in the girls' bathroom down the hall.

You crouch in front of the mirror. You’ve got one of Hawks’ shirts on. It’s just a simple, distressed black shirt but the tag says Gucci. He let you borrow it and you still haven’t given it back. You hug it to go to sleep.

The bell rings. Students are bustling outside, some girls start walking in and you leave the bathroom. You catch Aizawa by the door, thank God. The two of you stand inside homeroom now, he’s taller than you remember.

“Do you have my phone?” You start with the easier question, looking him in the eyes so that he knows you’re not scared of him. “I haven’t seen it since I was in the hospital.”

He returns your unwavering eye contact with ease. “I thought I gave it back to you with your clothes. It was the night I picked you up.” Aizawa is looking at you like he knows something you don’t.

“Oh.” That isn’t all that long ago. “Yeah.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

You want to tell him to just shut the fuck up for a second but that’s wrong. “No. I just, like, was remembering.”

Aizawa grunts in response. You’re still not breaking eye contact with him. Neither is he. It’s hard.

“My other question was about graduating.” You’re supposed to graduate in just a couple months. You just need to get one more little internship on your belt, something during winter break maybe, and then pass your final exams. Then, you’ll have money of your own, somehow, somewhere. “How much is this going to affect everything?”

He nods absentmindedly, holding his chin. He takes a deep breath. “That’s a discussion we’ll have with Recovery Girl, Principal Nezu, and Hound Dog.” You can’t help but feel like you’re twitching a little. His eyes search yours. “Personally, I don’t think you’ll be graduating this semester.”

“Okay.”

“Not because you aren’t capable,” he slaps on like a bandaid, “but because your current circumstances require all of your attention and time.”

“My injuries will heal by exam week, Aizawa.”

His lips press into a thin line. “I’m aware.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about?” It’s worse that he doesn’t look shocked at all by the fact you’ve cursed at him. Then again, what else would he expect from someone like you? “Sorry. You know what I mean. Or you don’t, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

He says your name, sighs. He thinks you’re stupid. “You aren’t doing well, mentally.”

You smile even though his words are pulling your intestines out of your throat and wrapping them around your neck. “I mean, that’s just part of the job. Heroes get depressed all the time. Trauma and stuff.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. And those heroes keep it managed.”

What, you’re not ‘managed’? You manage yourself just fine. You’ve managed yourself through so much more than just some exams. You’re not a child, not some fucking psycho that needs a straight jacket.

He fixes you with a pitiful look that punches the air out of your lungs. You try and reevaluate his expression but it’s just that, that fucking look, him out of all people, the one with the pinched eyebrows and round eyes, like he can’t believe what he’s looking at. How hard you are to look at.

“I just can’t let a student start hero work like that.”

Water splashes onto your face, cool and disgusting. Denki giggles and runs away from Mina, who’s pissed at him for bothering you, while you wipe the droplets off with your sleeve.

You’re sitting at the dorm’s dinner table, Bakugo next to you, the two of you eating fried chicken Midoriya’s mom bought for everybody. It was in the fridge so Bakugo microwaved it for the two of you, insisting that you eat.

“That idiot. I’m gonna throw that water gun away,” he says, giving you his napkin. You laugh a little.

“It’s fine. He’s having fun.”

“Yeah, by pissing everybody else off.”

Bakugo has been sticking to you like honey. Every time you look at him, his brows raise ever so slightly, and he’s been hovering over your health like he’s your mother. Maybe not like your mother. Maybe more like Hawks, but that’s not quite right.

You lean against him. Your stapled head rests against his shoulder, which stiffens like every other time you touch him like this. He’s warm. There’s something about the way your head feels on his shoulder that makes you smile.

“You’re so angry all the time, Bakugo.”

He keeps eating. “So are you.”

You scrunch your brows up. “What do you mean?”

“You punched Deku yesterday.”

“That was different.”

He snorts. You chew on your lip. Mina comes barrelling into the kitchen, out of breath, looking around frantically.

“Where is that bitch--” she gasps when she sees the two of you, placing a hand on her heart. “Awwwwww!”

You pull away from Bakugo with a cringe. When you open your eyes again, Mina is sliding into the chair in front of you. You don’t look at Bakugo.

“Are you guys finally a thing?” She purrs, grinning from ear to ear. “C’mon, you can tell me, babes.”

“Go catch dunce face or something.”

“Noooo, this is so much more interesting.” Mina then gets up, circling the table until she’s behind you, and wraps her arms around your neck. “You. Me. Upstairs. Now!”

“I’m tired, Mina,” you try, but it’s not actually your choice. It never is with her.

“Not too tired to hang with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my--” your mouth dries up when you see Bakugo’s face. “Stop it, Mina.”

“I’ll stop if you come up with me.”

“Fine.”

You’re dragged out of your seat by the hand and pulled towards the elevators. When you look back, Bakugo is eating alone. You didn’t say thank you for the chicken.

Mina’s room is covered wall to wall in band posters and polaroids. She has lights strung up around her room, candles that aren’t allowed on her desk next to crystals and jars of dirt. Minerals, she said, and she leaves them on her balcony to charge in the sunlight. They keep negative energy away from her. With the way she’s constantly bouncing everywhere, you can’t even tell her it’s stupid. Maybe you need a jar of dirt.

She’s got vinyls but no record player. A bean bag that she never uses. Her bed’s on the floor, no frame, because it looks cooler that way. She’s got a limited edition squishmallow that’s her most prized possession, that and her phone. Her closet is stuffed to the brim with ‘thrifted’ clothes and shoes (when you think thrifting, you think Goodwill, she thinks of the vintage shop downtown). Her laptop’s covered in stickers and has a crack on the screen from the time you both got drunk and tried to watch Juno.

“So,” she spins around to face you, hands on her hips, “spill.”

You pick at your fingers. You wear shirts you got from school events and Hawks. You have two pairs of shoes; one for everyday and the other for the gym. Your socks often don’t match, but not in the cool way hers don’t. She’s always got earrings and necklaces on that jingle and jangle, shine and catch your eye like stars.

“There’s nothing to spill, Mina. We’re not dating.”

“Uh-huh.” She sits on her bed, criss-cross. “C’mere.”

The two of you sit on her bed, on her fuzzy blankets and pillows. She shoves you her squishmallow while she grabs a heart-shaped pillow. “Here. Now talk.” The room is dark except for her string lights. She never turns the actual lights on, the soft glow of the strings is what she likes.

“I kinda. Kissed him.”

She leans forward with a shit-eating grin. “I knew it.”

“You did?”

“Okay, not really.” She falls back against the wall. “But I had a hunch. You were so awkward around him after our movie night, it was so weird, and then he was talking to you during lunch and touching your knee, like, what? And then when you punched Midoriya, which we also need to talk about, by the way, and you left with Sensei, Bakugo was soooo mad. I swear, he was straight up interrogating that boy. I was like, stop it Bakugo! And he was all like, no, Deku’s being Deku and something’s happening to my girlfriend, grrr.”

“...did he actually say girlfriend?”

“No.”

The squishmallow bends and squishes under your grip. “Do you know what Midoriya told him?”

“Uhhh,” she pauses. “I was gonna talk to you about this part later ‘cuz I wanted to give you space.”

You shake your head, heart beating uncomfortably. “It’s fine.”

“He said, uhhh, that you told Recovery Girl you wanted to, um, commit y’know.” She makes a vague hand gesture at you.

“You can just say suicide, Mina.” Despite your dry remark, your insides have turned into something like a pulp. They slosh around. Your thumb scratches your hand.

She crosses her arms and, for a rare moment, can’t seem to meet your eyes. She fidgets with her necklaces. “I don’t wanna say that about my best friend.”

You’ve spent a long time away from here. You haven’t had moments like these in her room, the stars glimmering on her chest and ears and ceiling, in a long time. Her eyes shine but not in the way they normally do, they’re watering, and she holds her pillow close to her chest. Your chest twists. Not because she’s crying, but because your first reaction to her tears was grotesque satisfaction.

She sniffles. “Did you really tell Recovery Girl that?”

“...yeah.”

Now, she actually starts crying. “Okay.” She wipes her face and her lips are pulled tight into a frown. You crawl over, hug her, give her her squishmallow. She shakes her head and pushes it back to your chest.

You can’t for the life of you understand why she’s crying, or how to make it stop.

“I’m sorry,” you offer. Your hands hover weirdly around her. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

“What are you talking about?!” Her hands finally remove themselves from her face so that she can glare at you. Her eyes make for black holes in her face in this light, you can’t see her pupils. “Say it again! Say it as many times as you need to! Make it everybody’s problem! Anything’s better than doing something like that! I wish you told me, if it made you feel better.” She grabs the squishmallow that lays on your lap and, once again, shoves it against your chest, wrapping your awkward hands around it. “Hold it, you need it more than me.”

She keeps crying. You hold onto the stuffy like she asked, but you don’t think she knows it does nothing to ease your hurt, to ease that feeling. That one you get people watching, that one you get when you look too closely at things like her shoes or the kitchen sink after Bakugo cleans it, that feeling you get when you wake up in the morning, that feeling you get the moment before your father loses his mind and right after, that feeling you get when Aizawa pities you, that feeling you lose when you’re around Hawks.

You hold onto it anyway as she sobs. She’s always been a crybaby.

“Mina, please don’t cry.” Your voice trembles a little as your hands fidget. “This isn’t worth crying about.”

“Why wouldn’t it be? You’re my best friend.”

“I’m your best friend?” You whisper. “Actually?”

She looks up at you again, this time her face wrinkled and mouth apart. Her mascara drips down her face, you’ve ruined her makeup.

“Yeah?” She says it like it’s obvious. “Duh?”

Her room is covered wall to wall in band posters and polaroids. Most of the polaroids have you in them.

“Oh.” Your eyes burn and you take a sharp breath.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” You clutch the squishmallow to your chin. “There’s something wrong with me but you can’t see it, and I don’t know why.”

“What? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

That’s completely untrue and she knows it. You get up, drop the squishmallow onto her bed, then reach down and hug her tight. “I’m gonna go, I’m sorry for making you cry. I love you a lot.” You can hardly see the door handle from the way your vision blurs but you manage to make it out of her room. You stand in the brightly lit hallway of the second floor, the forever fluorescent lights droning on, something black and heady spreading through your stomach and throat.

I hate myself.

She has vinyls because she loves the bands, she gave you a tour and flipped through each and every one with a smile despite never hearing them play. She has a beanbag that she doesn’t use because it’s meant for her friends. Her bed’s on the floor because she rolls out of bed so often and so what if she loves the way it looks, how it’s like a little nest in her room, just because you always wanted a bed frame doesn’t mean she should. She gave you her most favorite thing in the whole world and told you you needed it more. She has a closet full of thrifted, or vintage, or whatever you call it, clothes because she loves the way they tell stories, they have frayed hems and little holes and she loves them more for it, she lets you borrow her clothes and shoes and doesn’t care when you bring them back worse off than before. Everything about her is so happy and lovely and she brings joy to everybody around her and you just don’t.

You groan in the elevator, grab your head and pull at your hair. You make it to your room, slam the door shut, you pick and pull at the staples on your head. You rip open your closet and look at the mirror there, look at your staples and pull at one in particular, you hate yourself. You grab scissors off of your desk and wedge one of the blades beneath and pry. You pry. And you pry.

Like that.

It flies off and you feel the way the skin tears with it.

You’re bleeding. Sometimes, it gets so hot and so heavy you can’t breathe. You drop to your knees and sit in front of the mirror, the scissors in your hand and staple on the ground. You seethe. You want to stab yourself again and again and again. You want to be better.

[justalittleficsideblog]

Heyy!!! I'm kinda new to tumblr... uhm.. so idrk how to work this. could you do like a touch-sensitive MC x the bros? (basically howd they react, also what i mean is like mc that'll tense up at the slighest touch but not in like a "i hate it, dont touch me there." its like a "im very surprised, but keep going." way??? sorry if this isnt the right place im like very new to tumblr- (obey me btw)

Hey anon! I did the first 3 eldest for this prompt. Let me know if you want the rest of them for this prompt! I really liked writing this, it kinda got me outta my writer's block that I'd been sitting with for a bit.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: none.

Lucifer, Mammon, and Levi with a touch starved!MC

Lucifer

he didn’t really notice it at first, hes not one to initiate much contact himself unless you do. I wouldn’t really consider him touch starved, more like he is untouchable.

as the two of you grow closer though he does notice how you shy away from large hugs or related moments from his brothers.

The two of you had been invited out to one of the popular festivals in the devildom. Lucifer, being the ever-cautious demon, made it a point to stick close to you amongst the sea of demons that were swarming the streets.

Lost from the other brothers, you stuck close to Lucifer, hovering just out of his reach but close enough that you could feel the broad scope of his shoulders behind you. As you were looking throughout the stalls, one of the more interesting food ones caught your attention, causing you to bump into a lesser demon walking by.

As you squaked an apology, you felt a sudden hand on your shoulder. Pulling you back into his chest, Lucifer snarled at the lesser demon and moved you both out the way.

You had startled at his touch. You weren’t bothered by it per se, but his broad hand grasping your smaller shoulder wasn’t something that you were familiar with.

“Does my touch… bother you?” he asked cautiously, gently lifting his hand away from you and holding it against his side. “I apologize for earlier—”

“Oh no!” you yipped. “It’s… not really like that. I don’t mind you touching me. I’m just not used to that sort of… “ you trailed off.

“intimacy?” he tried, eyebrow raising in question.

You huffed a laugh, “something like that, yeah.”

“well, then.” He started, tucking a loose strand of hair over your ear before he reached to take your hand. “Maybe some exposure therapy would work?”

You smiled, squeezing his hand back before leading him out into the crowd.

Mammon

I feel like he would be really similar in this regard. Like, he would want to touch and hold you, but anytime you brush fingertips or he grazes your side he would like flinch and run off.

So if anything you’d have to be more into giving him a gentle nudge as well. a learning experience if you will.

Ever unaware of your mutual pining, Asmo is the one that ends up giving you both a nudge, insisting that you both go to a stuffy night club with him. However, you both found yourselves tied together, Asmo nowhere in sight.

“I cant believe he just up and left us!” Mammon tossed up his hands, voice booming over the loud music and bass that reverberated through your bones.

He slammed his hands down, accidentally brushing harshly against you in the process. You noticed he jolted away, face turned as if he was looking for Asmo in the crowd of people.

You tried to shout to get his attention, but he seemed too preoccupied pretending to search the crowd. You huffed, moving against the sea of bodies to reach out for him.

Just as your hand reached out, you felt yourself get jostled by a clearly intoxicated demon. Causing you to flail and tip backwards.

A warm hand gripped your shoulders. Surprised at the touch, you scrambled forwards getting your bearing again.

Mammon threw his hands up in mock surrender, grimacing.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” you shouted over the crowd. Mammon made a confused face, and gently grabbed your fingers to lead to towards a less busy area of the club.

He immediately released his grip when you were both alone.

“Geez.. uh, sorry about that. I know you’re like.. weirded out about me touchin’ ya and all but—” he rubbed the back of his hand, eyes lowered as he spoke to you.

“What? Oh no! Mammon, please. I was just startled is all, I’m not used to being… held like that.” You smiled, gently easing your head onto his shoulder.

He tensed up beneath you briefly before relaxing into you, leaning his head on top of yours.

“How about we get out of here?” you murmured, glancing up towards his eyes.

He gave you a crooked smile, before grabbing your hand and pulling you out the door.

LEVI

I feel like with Levi, he’d be very into “accidental” brushing up against your shoulder, leaning in to show you how to use his controller or reaching across you to grab some popcorn or snacks while you watched shows.

I don’t think he’d truly realize it until you brough it up yourself. Or when he noticed you would shy away from him a bit.

He definitely got self-conscious about it. did he smell? Were you uncomfortable around him? He would sit there and worry about it and distance himself from you for a while he sat with his thoughts.

It was the second time that he cancelled plans with you that you went into his room to figure out why he was avoiding you.

You knocked repeatedly on the door in front of you, anxiously tap tap tapping your foot as you waiting for it to open. When there was no response you called out.

“Levi! It’s me, I’m coming in.”

You pushed the door open and scanned the room for him. Looking for that familiar frame you finally spotted him curled in the tub, a blanket draped over him as he stared at his D.D.D.

“Levi?” you muttered softly, tentatively walking over to him. “Is something wrong? Why have you been avoiding me?”

He huffed and turned over. “It’s nothing.”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s clearly something if you can’t even talk to me about this.”

There was a long pause.

“Do you hate it when I touch you?” The words were spoken so softly you almost had to strain to hear them.

Brows furrowed; you tilted your head to gaze over the tub.

“Any why would you think that?”

“am i… repulsive to you? You finch whenever I get too close, or shy away from me when we sit near each other.” He sounded heartbroken, his voice cracking towards the end of it.

You kneeled down by him, your cheek resting on the side gazing down at him.

“I have never been repulsed by you. It’s more of the opposite, really. I’ve just… got little experience with being touched at all, so I’m just unsure how to react when anyone gets close to me.” You paused. “I don’t… I want to be touched, though.” Your cheeks aflame, you turned away.

Suddenly, you felt yourself getting pulled in. crashing into a firm body and arms wrapping around your torso. His face was buried in your hair, and you could almost feel his grin.

“Maybe we can learn together.”

[mama-qwerty]

Unintentional Insult

From the Knucklesverse au.

~~~~~

Callie sat on the couch, Eclipse spread across her lap, Silver at her hip. Around her sat a handful of Knuckles. (Yes, she was aware that a group of echidna was call a 'parade' but saying there was a 'parade' of Knuckles in her house sounded stupid, so she made up her own term. A handful. Which made so much more sense to her.)

All eyes were on the television before them. She'd treated the group to a movie night at her house, and put in Monty Python and the Holy Grail. She figured it was a safe enough bet for all involved, and thought Gawain may get a kick out of seeing 'himself' featured in a movie.

It seemed to be a hit—lots of laughs at the jokes and various silliness. Little Z got a kick out of the Black Knight, and Cal figured they'd hear the Tis but a scratch! thing in the foreseeable future.

She kept flicking her eyes to Gawain to gauge his reaction, and found him sitting with a slight frown on his muzzle. Curious, she paused the movie, much to the annoyance of the others.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Gawain?"

The echidna turned, almost startled, at the interruption. "I am . . . surprised to see there were people so similar to us on your world. Is this based on factual events?"

A smile curled Callie's lip. "Eh, not really. I mean, the Arthurian legend is real, but this is just satire. A funny story with the characters."

Gawain lowered his head, in the classic "Knuckles thinking" pose. He hummed, his brow furrowed.

"I suppose given the different forms we've seen in the Sanctuary, it shouldn't seem strange that there would be a human version of myself. But somehow it seems . . . strangest of all."

Callie lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

The echidna shook his head, glancing back at the TV. "Hearing my name directed at a human is odd."

The woman shrugged. "We didn't have any echidna Knux's. Maybe this was the universe's way to bring that bit of honor and nobility to Earth."

Gawain nodded, but still looked distracted. "I understand that, but still. There are other creatures that could carry a similar nobility. Why a human?"

A tense silence settled over the living room then. It took Gawain a moment to realize what he'd said, and he turned with wide eyes to the others.

The other Knuckles’ stared at him, glared at him. Boom lay on his belly next to him, Dread was on the couch leaning against the arm. Gnarly and Renegade sat on the floor with their backs against the couch on Callie's other side. And Little Z sat at Callie's other hip.

And they all wore identical expressions of annoyance.

Even Eclipse and Silver stared at the knight.

Gawain flicked his eyes up to Callie, the actual human in their midst. She simply watched him, her eyes slightly narrowed, but a little curl on her lips.

He swallowed hard.

"I . . ." he started, clearing his throat to rid the slight shake. "I meant no disrespect. There's nothing wrong with being a human, of course, I simply don't . . . I didn't . . ."

"Ye better think long and hard ‘bout the next words outta yer mouth, lad," Dread said, his own eyes narrowing. His lip pulled into a slight snarl. "'Cause I won't sit here an' let ye insult this fine lass simply for how she be born."

Gawain swallowed again. He wasn't normally one to give any credence to Dread's threats, but he'd stuck his foot in his mouth and it was hard to extract it at the moment.

"I . . ." he said again, and pushed himself to stand. He held his hands in tight fists by his sides, and gave Callie a firm bow. "I apologize for my insult. I . . . I didn't think. I hope you don't think too ill of me now."

He straightened and looked toward the front door, where his armor was neatly stacked. Callie had made him take them off so it didn't scratch or snag any of her furniture.

"I believe I should go. I am sorry for my rudeness."

The echidna turned and hurried toward the door, cursing his tongue for saying something so rude without thinking. He reached for his breastplate when a hand fell on his shoulder. Gawain whirled, expecting perhaps Dread ready to lash out, but found Callie instead.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft. "Hang on a sec. I wasn't insulted. Humans are . . . well, we can be problematic, yeah. But that's not really strange, I don't think. I'd wager any species could have their bad eggs, echidna included. But I understand it feeling a little odd to hear your name attached to someone else."

Gawain stood with his head slightly lowered, but gave her a nod. "I am still sorry for what I said. Before you and Madam Maddie, the only other human I encountered was a vile witch who wanted to claim the kingdom as her own. So . . . I did not have a very good impression of your kind."

Callie hunkered down on one knee to come more face-to-face with the echidna.

"Hey, I get it. I mean, if I met Dread first, I probably wouldn't have a very good impression of echidna in general, either."

"Oi! I can hear ye!" a voice called, the annoyance evident. "And here I be stickin' up for ye! Aye, there's gratitude for ye."

Callie gave Gawain a little smile, which the knight returned.

"No need to be sorry, and no need to leave. C'mon, wanna finish the movie? I'll make some popcorn."

Gawain seemed to consider this, before giving her a shy smile. "May I have some of that warm cocoa?"

"Absolutely. C'mon, you can even help."

His misdeed forgotten, Gawain smiled, and followed his friend toward the kitchen. Callie passed by the couch, as Dread gave her a little evil eye.

"Where be my apology?"

Callie shoved his hat a little further down on his head with a smirk. "You still love me, little pirate man. You know it."

Dread gave a little grunt, straightening his hat. "Against me better judgment."

"Want a popcicle?"

A pause. "Yes, ma'am."

Boom pushed himself up. "Oh, snacks?! Count me in!"

Callie found herself leading a handful of Knuckles, a hedgehog, and a darkling into the kitchen, ready to raid her cabinets to satisfy their case of the munchies.

[keyh0use]

Ward's voice cuts through the charged atmosphere like a knife through warm butter, only less pleasant. Conversations momentarily pause as guests follow the sound, curious eyes landing on the Cameron patriarch before seeking out Rafe in the crowd, standing frozen beside his small group of friends. "I'll be right back," mumbles Rafe, addressed directly to Barry. The dealer gives a bored nod. "Yup, be waitin' on ya'," he says. Without further notice, Rafe swiftly leaves the circle to join his waiting father, shaking hands with older businessmen while effortlessly slipping into conversation with them. "Really?" Topper asks in disbelief, brows drawn and forehead creased as he watches Barry watch Rafe.

Barry takes a sip of the expensive alcohol he's been nursing for the last half hour, cringing once more at the bitter taste. "Don't know what you're on about," he answers.

Both kooks turn to face one another in sync, the blonde's hand curled around Kelce's wrist. "I must leave you, my love," professes Topper dramatically, giving his friend a sickeningly sweet look, all wide-eyed.

"I'll await your return with bated breath, my sweet prince." Kelce caresses Topper's cheek with his knuckles, before whispering scene, the two turning back to face barry.

"That's what you and Rafe sound like to us," informs Topper.

Barry hisses, "Like hell—"

"Just admit you're in love with Rafe, you should feel proud you might have a smidgen of a chance to date up," Topper continues, cutting the other man off without care. "Shut up," snaps Barry, head on a swivel as he scans the crowd for any obvious eavesdroppers. Kelce interrupts the inevitable bickering bound to follow to say, "I kinda agree, bro. Not with the classist comment—Topper—but maybe you could...oh, I don't know, give Rafe a hint, at least." "Nah, told y'all already to cut that shit out," Barry firmly replies, jaw tensing as he repeats the same pathetic truth for the dozenth time: "He don't feel that way 'bout me, aight?" Topper's laugh is obnoxious and explosive, taking both men off guard. "Is that what you think? I mean, really?"

"Dude," Kelce chides quietly, elbowing his friend in the ribs.

"Oh right." The blonde rubs at the sore spot with a grimace before fixing his attention back on Barry, sarcastically saying, "Rafe feels completely normal about you."

The dealer grapples for a response, rolling the now empty glass between fingers by the long stem. Confessing how he feels has been a topic of discussion with the annoying kooks for several months now, the two hounding him on Rafe's boat or in some obscure corner at a house party the moment he's left alone, like little well-dressed vultures.

Usually it's tolerable, sometimes even amusing but right now, surrounded by wealthy families and Rafe's whole damn family—Barry's tailored suit starts to feel too tight, the collar choking him out and sweat collecting in warm spots.

Barry's startled out of his thoughts by an arm being slung over his shoulders.

"Hey," Rafe greets his friends first, then tilts his chin down to talk to Barry. "Hey, so that fucking sucked. Told dad we were just leaving before he called me over, so we're good to go, if you wanna..."

"Yeah. Yup, let's get outta here," Barry answers immediately, not bothering to say goodbye to Topper and Kelce before dragging his boy towards the front entrance to gather their coats.

Once Barry and Rafe are out of earshot, Topper turns to grab Kelce by the front of his purple button-up. "This will never end! They're going to pine over one another forever and we'll have to listen to it," he complains.

"I know, buddy, I want Rafe to be happy too."

"What? No, that's not it," Topper dismisses. "I just don't want to be trapped with Rafe out on the ocean, listening to him drunkenly drone on and on about what he wants to do to Barry's face again. Here's a hint: it got progressively less PG the more he drank."