#and I’m still not yet at that point fully but I feel so much closer

[fairbabie]

riding him senseless ♡

your boyfriend turns into such a whimpering and pathetic mess when you decide to take charge for once, taking care of him in the form of bouncing up and down on his drooling cock as you’re seated on his lap.

he whines so loudly, large hands gripping onto the soft skin of your hips and desperately leaning forward to suck on your pert nipples. with your tits bouncing in his face, your pussy swallowing him whole, the creamy mess that’s frothing between you two, the wet sounds of his balls slapping against your pussy and your thighs hitting back down on his, not to mention how breathtakingly gorgeous you look right now, it’s just too much for him to handle; he’s turning so braindead from how good it feels when you ride him like you own him.

“baaabyyyy.. y’re so pretty,” he groans. “ah-ah! ‘m cumming— hngnhh..mmmfffp— cumming, cumming!”

“yeah?” you reply, breathing heavily. the slick noises contributed from the mess that’s been forming at the base of his cock and your cunt makes you a bit too dizzy for your own liking. “go ahead, sweet boy.. jus’ let me take care of you m’kay?”

he sobs loudly, choking on his whines and moans as he finishes so deep inside you. it shoots up and ropes of his warm, hot cum is spilling into you. he rocks his hips up lazily, trying to get every last drop out. despite this, you’re not done yet. instead, you grab onto his shoulders and shift a little before continuing.

“hnnghh.. ah—ah! no—no stop, m’ sensitive.. can’t..” he whimpers, although his actions say otherwise because he instinctively reaches for your hips again, grabbing you closer and trying to make you go faster.

“hmm.. you’re making a mess..”

“i’m sorry, i’m sorryyy! hahh— i can’t—can’t take it.. so much.. i can’t hold it in..”

feeling the pressure build up, there’s tears forming and his eyes roll back in pure desperation as you keep your pace. it’s too overwhelming for him and his cock is so sensitive to the point where it hurts. he’s about to finish again so easily even though he already came earlier, not too long ago. “i’m gonna… gonna.. i—i’m—“

“shhh, baby.. it’s okay. i’m gonna cum too, wanna make me cum right? be good and fill me up n’ make me cum ‘round your cock?”

“y-yeah, yeah..please.. i��ll do anything, pretty.. don’t stop..”

“‘m so close.. wan’ you to dump your cum into me while i cum okay?”

and that was all it took. with a deep, broken moan that ripped all the way from the back of his throat, his hips desperately bucked up and he couldn’t even form a sentence before his release hit him, his cock twitching so much as he flooded your cunt, like he was trying to give you everything. it hits you in thick waves— hot, heavy, and endless. each pulse sent more spilling out, filling you to the brim, leaking out before he was even done. it was so messy, just pouring into you with no end in sight.

grinding down hard on him as you gasped, “ffuckk, cumming—!!..” feeling the tension in your body snapping as you came all over him.

afterwards, it was silent except for the sounds of both of you panting, trying to catch your breaths as his head was buried into your chest. with a quick kiss to his cheek, you lifted yourself up from his cock, where everything started dribbling out of you slowly.

“shit…” you heard him say.

you pouted. “you’re the one that asked me to ride you tonight.”

he’s still trying to catch his breath as he mumbles, “i didn’t think.. didn’t know it’d be like.. this.”

he looks up at you like a lost little puppy, big eyes and pouty lips as his arms circle around your waist, hugging you in attempts of keeping you closer to him, his chest pressed against yours.

“ah,” he starts, like he’s suddenly got a great idea. “made such a mess, think i should clean you up..”

“huh?”

before you can fully process what he means, he gently pushes you down, your back hitting the mattress as he climbs on top, lowering himself to where your glistening hole is. he looks at you, eyes shining with quiet intensity and a determined look before he starts going down on you, licking and lapping at your pussy, causing everything to smear onto his face. guess that’s what he meant by cleaning you up, huh?

isagi yoichi, alexis ness, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma, itoshi rin, jean kirstein, reiner braun, porco galliard, armin arlert, nanami kento, gojo satoru, choso kamo + any of your favs!

based on this request

[theloveinc]

This whole time… this whole time I thought I just wasn’t capable of writing long fics/short stories. Turns out I just wasn’t as good a writer.

[screampied]

☆ cw. fem! reader, college au, first lesson, dumbification, praise, he's so nerdy, squırting, unprotected, mdni.

nerd! nanami who ends up teaching you a few ‘fundamentals’ of squirting after you end up gushing out by accident.

“oh, my,” he’d huskily croon, taking a short glance at your body that’s laid flat on his timber desk. mousy eyes zero up ‘n down your entire frame before he groans, feeling your legs snake around his slim torso. after another hourly long session of cramming your brain with pounds of boring information, you’d probably forget by the next day, you told nanami that you wanted to try out ‘penetration.’ and now, that came with you gushing straight out with his meaty shaft buried snugly deep inside of you. he grows quiet, smacking his lips as he feels your slobbering cunt dripping wetly like a running never-ending faucet. it’s almost adorable with the way your face scrunches up and you’re clawing at the buckle of his drooping belt with shaky hands. “we haven’t gone over that area yet, sweetheart,” and you’re moaning, feeling your back tickle against the scattered piles of marked papers that laid directly underneath you. “ah, ah. don’t close ‘em,” he purrs, staring as your stick-glossed quavery legs try to snap themselves shut. “let me examine the wet problem a bit closer.”

“w- was that supposed to happen?” you breathe through rushed pants, frantically chewing on your bottom lip as you watch him pull out. he’s slow, feeling your slight muscles tense and spasm as you drenched the entirety of his stilled dick with molasses of your webby slick. “f- fuck,” you whimper, and nanami’s pressing a pointed thumb down against the pearly top part of your tender clit. gradually, he’s swirling a plethora of exaggerated shapes alllll around your tender entrance, lowering his head once his turgid cock’s fully out of you.

with a placid hum, nanami nods. “don’t fret, sweet thing. it’s normal,” and you prepare a deep, heavy breath as you try to peek down, watching nanami re-adjust his clear-framed glasses. “but, do you think you can do that again? i’m . . having a bit of trouble with my vision,” and he softly presses a chaste kiss against your cunt. shortly after, a slimy dewy web of stringy juices merrily glues against his lips. “i believe if my hypothesis is correct . . if ‘m closer like thiiiis,” and you moan, feeling the cold lenses of his glasses press right up against your puffed folds. “you’ll help me solve just how much of a wet girl you can get for me this time.”

openly, nanami eyes at your sopping pussy that’s just pouring from all areas with so many dewdrops of slick. a shimmery stream of your syrupy arousal cascades down the slot of your entrance and oh- it’s so pretty. at least to him.

if you squinted enough, you could see the obscene mirroring reflection of the shiny glossed view that rests between your legs from the clear lenses of his glasses. “clitoral glands,” he starts to ramble, rubbing a thumb near the top bulb-shaped part of your twitching heat. “clitoral body,” and you moan, feeling him swerve his digit down lower. “but let’s skip to . . . her,” nanami coos huskily, and you gasp once his round thumb plugs itself inside you after just a few loose inches. you swallowed that single digit right up oh-so blissfully.

like a hidden trick of a magician—his finger disappears inside of your cunt, and it presses against a particular small texture right above your lower opening. “. . that pretty urethra of yours.”

there - that’s where you felt the exact pressure of yourself gushing out, creaming down his cock with such a vivid risqué spray.

you’re still getting over it as your jaw dangles open—mouth cutely wholly ajar and all. as nanami continues to toy with your slobbering clit, he silently grumbles whatever extra clitoris facts underneath his breath. a single finger that was tucked inside of your gummy orifice gradually transitions into two, and you let off the sweetest moan that rang against his ears.

“such a pretty pussy from an even prettier girl,” and his words smokily deepen as he loudly ‘pops!’ both fingers out of your drenched slit. it’s all puffy now, drooling from each slippery flap. nanami sits up before re-aligning his milky-covered tip against your sobbing cunt.. “mini pop quiz,” he grumbles, letting off a deep sigh once his flushed crownhead languidly slides its way between the split of your folds. you’re laid back against the desk with a pout twisting across both sides of your lips.

pop… quiz?

nanami adjusts his crooked glasses by shoving them slightly back with a middle finger before humming. “riddle me this,” and a sweet moan drags its way past your throat once he’s smearing his bulbous tip across your sticky entrance.

left-to-right and it’s hypnotic. “what is the majorly important gland of the clit that helps lubricate the vagina properly?” and nanami presses a large hand on your tummy, simpering at the cute silence for an answer. with a snicker, he tilts his head at your quirked brow. “oh- c’mon. this is easy, we talked about this two days ago.”

“t . . the um-” you stammer, the throbbing of your clit increasing with each delicious second that passed. with your mind joggling its empty memory, you inhale a moan that was desperately trying to escape from your spit-stained lips. “the clitoral glands?”

“close, but no, dumb girl,” and with a smack, nanami whacks his swollen tip against the front of your weeping pussy. you finally release that moan you were holding onto with heave after heave puffing out your chest. “try again. this time, actually use that brain for me, yeah?”

you pout, and after about four seconds you left off a whiny grump. “is it . . the skene’s glands?”

“good girl,” and you let off a needy mewl once he rubs a palm against your pussy. his personal way of praising you without words, even after calling you a ‘good girl.’

it’s a soft, enticing rub that smears the entirety of your slick around his entire palm, coating it right away.

you’re so wet - pathetically drenched that you stick your candied juices all over the prints of his hand.

“it’s very important that you know about the skene’s glands. just like how important it is for me to teach you how soaked you are,” and you don’t even realize it, but the second he spanks against your cunt once more with his palm, you’re squirting . . again.

it’s a thick shiny geyser that ends up spurting out of you with a loud pssssh! and your toes curled in ecstatic rapture. you’re whining at how sudden and abrupt it was, and nanami just shakes his head with a wry smile. a hand maneuvers in a circular rotation against your pussy as you finish your three-second monumental high. “f- fuuuck, fuck!” you whimper out the same colorful syllables through your lips as your eyelids droop.

as you’re panting, still feeling the scattered bundles of paper rub and prick against the back of your skin, you eye nanami through murky peripherals. pretty ‘n glossed-eyed, you let off a shaky puff before moaning. “did . . did i pass?”

“not quite,” nanami takes his glasses off. they were still a bit soaked from earlier, a bit of your own droplets of literal juices fogging the lenses before he gave it a sweet lick. filthy. nanami squints at your twitching body before slithering a fat thumb down your tender, convulsing pussy for the nth and last time. “think we still have more basics to go over,” and he positions his head right back down between the eagle-spread valley of your legs, whistling riiiight between your driveling, puffy slit.

“besides,” and you whine once he gives your cunt its final, sloppy spank. “my only criticism— is that, we could work on that squirt velocity a little bit more,” and he pats your cunt before staring straight at your pulsating entrance, hungrily licking his lips.

“i wouldn’t mind training her, heh.”

[kaiser1ns]

#. A KISS TO PROVE IT

featuring 𝗶𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝘀𝗮𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

fluff + slight suggestive. for him kissing wasn't special, but his actions told you otherwise.

You are thirteen. A teenager—well, at least at the start of teenage life. Watching movies where the main characters share their first kiss has become fascinating. What’s so special about kissing, anyway? Do you just walk up to a random boy and kiss him, or do you tell the friend sitting next to you that you want to try it?

"Sae, do you know anything about kissing?" you ask, glancing at him as he remains glued to the TV, watching yet another football game.

"Huh? You mean that disgusting thing adults do when they love each other?"

Love each other? The thought rolls around your mind. Do you really have to love someone to kiss them?

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” you counter.

He finally looks at you, leaning slightly closer. “What’s so romantic about swapping germs with someone else?”

Typical boy—he doesn’t get it.

But what if? What if you kissed someone you really, really liked? What if he was the boy sitting next to you, holding your hand like he is now, his curious gaze waiting for an answer? Would it still be disgusting? Or would it be... something else?

“When a boy and a girl fall in love, they do more than just hold hands or visit each other’s houses,” you murmur, your cheeks heating under his stare.

At your words, Sae lets go of your hand, and you suddenly wish you hadn’t said anything, but then he speaks.

"Do you want to try?” he asks but you don’t answer. You can’t. Your heart is pounding, but he leans in before and... It’s quick, awkward, and ends almost before it begins—a brush of lips that leaves your mind with questions.

“That’s it?” he asks, skeptic and unimpressed by the mere act of kissing. You’re stunned silent, your lips tingling. But Sae, who is never satisfied, leans in again. “Let me prove it—kissing is gross.”

This time, it’s slower, more deliberate, and definitely less awkward. It’s warm, it’s strange, and you can’t help but think he’s wrong. It’s not gross at all. This time, the kiss lingers, as if he’s trying to understand why you find it so fascinating. The world seems to fade away for a moment, until—

The front door slams open.

“I’m home!” a familiar voice echoes through the house, followed by hurried footsteps. Sae pulls back instantly, his expression blank as if nothing happened.

Rin appears in the doorway, stopping dead in his tracks. He blinks at the two of you, then points at you and Sae accusingly. “Why is Nii-chan eating her face?”

You want the ground to swallow you whole.

Sae groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Rin, stop saying stupid things.”

As Rin bounds away, laughing, you sit frozen, your cheeks on fire. Sae exhales, leaning back on the couch like it never happened. “See? Disgusting,” he mutters, though his tone sounds less sure now but he still reached out to hold your hand.

Some things, it seems, are better left in theory.

When Sae left for Spain, it felt like your heart had been ripped out. The boy you’d spent so many afternoons with, arguing, laughing, and most importantly sharing your first kiss, was gone. And the distance between you, one thing remained certain: Sae was your first love, and you fully intended for him to be your last.

Now you are seventeen, in a cozy hotel room, sitting on the plush couch, it feels like no time has passed. He’s here again, leaning into you, and the world-famous athlete—Itoshi Sae the pride of Japan, playing for Re Al is nowhere to be seen.

To you, he’s just Sae. The same annoying, sarcastic boy who always got under your skin, except now.

His lips are on yours, firm and demanding, as if making up for lost time. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and you don’t resist. How could you, when you’ve been missing him just as much?

His mouth trails down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you let out a soft sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair. “You’ve been gone too long,” you whisper, between kisses. Sae pauses just long enough to smirk against your lips. “Not my fault you’re terrible at long-distance relationships.”

You roll your eyes, but the playful retort dies on your tongue as his lips find yours again, hungrier this time. He’s missed you—he doesn’t need to say it; it’s in the way he kisses you, the way he is finally claiming his most important prize.

“Still gross?” you tease, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, his expression softens. “Very gross,” he says, before pulling you back into another kiss, as if trying to prove his point all over again.

You melt into him, your heart pounding as your hands clutch his shirt, desperate to close the space between you. It’s overwhelming, messy, and intense, but neither of you care.

Right now Sae isn’t Japan’s treasure. He’s yours.

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[arina24]

Reprise

LE SSERAFIM Kazuha x M Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut

10k words

You’ve always loved the carnival. The yellow lights splash across the land like streaks of fire, growing ever more alluring the closer you get. The Ferris wheel is the first to appear—giant, unmistakable. Then the merry-go-round with the painted horses comes into view. Nearby, a huge tent hides the mirror maze underneath.

When you’re right up there, the stalls selling popcorn and potato snacks pop up, filling the evening air with salt and warmth. Maybe you’re a little too old for most of the rides now, but that doesn’t really matter. It’s about how it makes you feel, right?

You thought you’d noticed all the highlights on your way there. But something still feels just out of sight, like the memory is yet to fully take shape.

Then you see. You’d missed something—no, someone important. She might just be the most important attraction here for you.

You don’t remember your childhood best friend being this beautiful.

Your gaze locks onto Kazuha, wearing a sporty white crop top and a baseball cap. Fits the theme. Her jet-black hair dances in the wind, but never blocks her view as she aims a long air rifle at the board of balloons—a fierce look in her eyes.

And when dawn breaks, she’ll disappear, like the carnival itself. Again.

“Still awful at aiming, huh?” Your voice catches her off-guard as she’s reloading for a second try.

She turns sharply—bullets slip from her fingers and roll towards you. You promptly stop them with your feet. “Careful, butterfingers,” you add as you bend to pick them up.

Her eyes stare at you for a moment, flickering with something unreadable, before going back to the natural cockiness you’ve always seen her sport.

She snatches the bullets out of your palm with a scoff. “Not awful. I was compensating for the wind—it changed direction at the last second.”

“Right,” you reply, amused.

“And someone I haven’t seen in years randomly shows up? I think some shock is warranted.”

She takes another shot. This one almost hits the operator a few feet away from the target.

“You know you’re supposed to hit the balloons, right?” You gesture to the board. “Let me have a try before you end up hitting some poor kid around here.”

Kazuha grits her teeth at that comment. As competitive as ever.

“I’m going for the harder balloons at the back. They keep moving.” She puts all her focus on this shot—posture adjusted, wind analyzed and eyes narrowed.

The bullet flies, and this time, hits her target. The balloon pops with a loud crack, startling some kids nearby.

“Yes!” She punches the air. The operator hands over a big teddy bear to her. Kazuha flips you the finger with a smug smile, hugging the bear to her chest.

“You still have a couple bullets left,” someone reminds her. She reaches for the gun—but before her hand can get close, you quickly pick it up. You point it at the same area she was aiming at and fire off two quick shots in succession. Both hit your target, much to her visible displeasure.

Two plushies for you. You turn towards Kazuha and hold them up in mock triumph, taking in the spite written all over her face. It only makes you feel warmer inside.

“Being the gentleman I am.” You offer her both the bears. “I will let the lady have her prizes.”

She rolls her eyes at that and gives the bears to some kid roaming around. He snatches them from her hands and runs away, without so much as a thank you.

A woman nearby, likely his mother, stops and chides the kid. “Go on, thank the nice lady. You can’t be rude like that.”

“Yeah, thank the nice lady who couldn’t win a single thing till I showed up,” you whisper into Kazuha’s ear. She endures the lecture with a tight, polite smile.

”No, no, it’s completely alright. I know how kids can be sometimes.” She grabs your wrist as an excuse and pulls you away with her.

Soon enough, the pair annoying her disappear from view. ”I hate kids,” she mutters, not realizing she can let go of your wrist now.

“That’s funny.” You let her lead. “Because the last time I saw you, you were one.”

Evening slowly dips into night, and more and more lights are being switched on. Kazuha adjusts her cap, tying her hair back with a rubber band. Her perfectly fitting crop top slides up a little as she raises her arms, revealing more of her toned midriff. But the view is fleeting—her hands drop back down, searching for your wrist before she notices she doesn’t need to hold you anymore.

The smell of burnt sugar and frying oil thickens as more stalls open up. Laughter from kids on nearby rides echoes through the air. You’ve walked these places with Kazuha before. But the way her fingers brush her wrist now—you hope, maybe it was yours she was reaching for.

You get the lightest feeling you're seeing her differently this time.

“Gosh it’s been…” She tries to count the years, but gives up. “Forever. Didn't even know if you were alive. Or if you offed yourself for losing to me in too many games.”

“You could’ve known, you know, if you ever bothered to reach out after disappearing.”

She ignores that comment. You want to press again, but the night is just getting started. Maybe you'll get your answers later. Maybe. But for now, you'll let it slide.

“Speaking of games in which you lose to me—” She stops, revealing where she’s been leading you: a big toy hammer leaning against a massive target, and a tower of numbers climbing all the way up to 1000.

You know you’ve been had.

“Remember this?” she asks with a cheeky grin—planned all along.

“Clear as day.” You deadpan.

“Thought I'd give you one last chance to try and beat me.”

The sting of losing to her all those years ago suddenly feels fresh and piercing. There's no way you're still worse than her at this, right? You are a grown man now, and she’s just a girl.

“Loser has to buy the other marshmallows, same rules,” she continues, sweetly. You curse yourself under your breath. You’ve given her way too much money in this stupid game.

“Fine. Who goes first?” You pick up the hammer, feeling its weight.

”Since it’s already in your hand, I’ll let you go ahead, gentleman.” She hands over some change to the operator nearby.

You cannot let her beat you. Not again. Not this time.

You take two practice swings. Grip firm. Stance solid. Hammer lined up dead-center. This can’t go wrong. On the third swing, you go for it, hitting it hard with a satisfying thump which makes the marker shoot up. It races past the initial numbers, and your heart kicks up with it. Maybe this is it. Maybe this time you finally win.

To your dismay, the pace drops rapidly near the top. 800, 850, 900, and the marker comes to rest at 950. One square away from a 1000.

���Not bad.” She almost seems genuine—then the corners of her lips slowly curl up. “But clearly, there’s room for improvement.”

“Oh, cut it out, Zuha. No way you’re making 1000.”

She doesn’t respond right away, picking up the mallet and trying to block out the crowd noise. Her fingers curl around the handle, and that familiar smirk returns. No practice strikes for Kazuha—she’s going all in. But just as she’s about to bring the hammer down, her foot catches on a rock. The swing goes wide, and the hammer almost slips out of her hand.

You burst into laughter, but she’s unfazed. She takes another swing, making sure her feet are clear this time. The sound the button makes is enough to cut through your laughter and let you know she’s smacked it.

The marker shoots up again, and it’s hard to tell if it’s faster than yours. The pace drops like it did for you: 850, 900, 950—and then it ekes out a slow, grinding climb to a perfect 1000.

Not again.

”Streak still alive. Guess you just lost a strength game to a girl, again.” Not trying to be subtle today.

Her arms don’t look remotely like they pack that much power. They’re long, slender, and smooth—not the kind that throws down 1000s like it’s nothing.

What does she even do to be so strong? Although it’s weirdly attractive in a way you don’t quite know how to explain. You don’t know how to explain a lot of things about her tonight—her eyes sparkle with the reflections of the lights surrounding you, and if you stare into the golden streaks in them long enough, it’s almost enough for you to feel something.

Though that could just be the nostalgia talking, you argue.

You have no choice but to add to the already large amount Kazuha has looted from you in this game.

“The lady in the food stall is still the same.” She dips a marshmallow into the chocolate dip and nibbles on it.

“Maybe she loves—” A running kid bumps into Kazuha, pushing her off balance. Her chocolate spills all over your fingers.

“You little shit!” you shout, but he’s long gone already. You steady her with your clean hand. “You okay? Didn’t knock the wind out of you or anything?”

“No, I’m alright.” She brushes herself off. “Was the same kid from before. I suppose this is what I get for trying to give him some teddy bears.”

“Did earn him a lecture.” You hold up your fingers, showing them coated in her dip. “He made my hand a mess too.”

“Well, can’t let my hard-earned snacks go to waste now.” She pops a marshmallow into her mouth and lifts your fingers to her plush lips. She pauses for a second, then slides them into her mouth, sucking the chocolate off like it’s an everyday occurrence.

In her defense, it could have passed for one. A few years back. But right now, it does not feel so everyday to you. Kazuha’s warmth envelops your fingers, savoring the sweetness from you so casually. You hope she doesn’t catch the flush creeping on your face. She’s quick with it—you’re in public after all, but it’s enough to get your pulse racing. Her tongue slips out to lick the remaining off her lower lip.

“Mouth clean?” she asks.

You wish it weren’t (maybe you could have offered to clean it off).

But it is, and you report that truthfully.

You were staring at her face maybe a bit too long—her delicate lips, fierce dark eyes (soft underneath, you know), strands of hair framing her face like she’s a photograph—a moment to be captured, and it’s long enough for Kazuha to notice. She tilts her head, amusement slipping into her eyes.

”All okay? Did I suddenly turn too beautiful for you to take your eyes off me?”

(You have no idea.)

“What—no, no.” You stumble over your words, eyes darting around for an excuse to change the topic. The gigantic rotating structure right behind her catches your eye.

“I was admiring the Ferris wheel behind you. Brilliant architecture, right?” And if your memory serves you right, this might just prove to be the best excuse.

“It’s alright. What’s so brilliant about it?” You can feel her smug exterior crumbling ever so slightly.

“It’s the biggest attraction here and we should definitely go on it once.” (Second biggest.)

“Nuh uh.” She knows your intentions.

“Oh my, the strong and mighty Nakamura Kazuha still pisses her pants at heights.”

“That happened once,” she protests.

“Do you know what happened every time we went on the wheel? You holding—no, crushing my hands and not letting go no matter how much I cried.”

”That won’t happen again, because we aren’t going on it,” she says with an air of finality.

“Can’t believe you’re still afraid of heights.” You shake your head in disappointment.

“I’m not.”

“Then we’re going on it—right now. Even little Zuha wanted to go on the ride. Every single time. Have you really become more of a coward?”

A long sigh leaves her mouth. She’s conflicted, but you can sense the side you’re rooting for is winning the battle.

“Are you gonna hold my hand again when we get to the top?” you ask, waiting in line after getting the tickets.

“Not a chance,” she retorts.

The queue is short, and your turn comes quickly. Kazuha’s denim shorts ride up her thighs as she sits down, and you try not to stare too long. You take your seat next to her in the cramped cabin. The operator pulls the metal bar down with a clang, locking the two of you in place.

The wheel moves a little, then stops for the next passengers to get in.

“The worst part is the loading, really.” She leans forward a bit to look at how far the ground is from her.

After peeking down, she immediately snaps back in place. “Nope, shouldn’t have let you talk me into this.”

“Hey calm down. Let’s maybe try to talk about something else. What have you been up to? My guess is training to be a professional athlete.”

The wheel is set into motion, and Kazuha breathes again.

“Good guess.” She snorts. “But no. Regular adult life, mostly. Nothing as glamorous as that.”

The wheel stops for the next loading, about halfway up now. You are suspended several dozen feet in the air, feet dangling below. The cart rocks unevenly, making it worse, at times tilting almost perpendicular to the ground. Kazuha’s face is red. She looks like she’s about to throw up.

“Hey, think this is a good time to ask—” She turns to you nervously, voice shaking. ”Are you seeing someone?”

“Not currently, no.”

”So I won’t get jumped by some girl for holding your hand, right?” Her hand slips into yours, palm in palm. She grips you hard—the usual, but you were the one who got her on this time, so you’ll bear it.

“Only if I won’t have to deal with any jealous boyfriends or exes either.” Your other palm moves on top of hers, affirming her grip. She relaxes a little at the touch.

“Boyfriends, no; exes, I’ll trust you to defend yourself if it comes to that.” She rests her head on your shoulder. Her hair falls behind you, brushing softly against the back of your neck.

“Tell me something. If you’re so afraid of heights, why did you want to go on it every time we came here?”

The wheel is moving again, and you’re on the way to the top now.

“Look.” She motions towards what you’re already seeing. The small-town houses look like mere dots across the landscape, none of the buildings tall enough to display any of their features. Rolling green fields surround the town, broken only by the occasional winding road.

Below, the carnival stretches out, cheap decorations and all, but charming in its own right. The striking yellow lights tie it all together. A scene worth the ride.

“I love the view. The town looks absolutely stunning from here.”

“So why'd you just up and leave one day? Seems rather unfair to the town.” (To the town.)

“Because.” She shrugs. “How could anyone be content where they are?”

“Dunno. I could be pretty content staying right here.” You turn, looking into the eyes which effortlessly held your attention the entire evening.

The wheel comes to a slowing halt right at the very top.

“Talking about the view or me?” Her eyes look back at you, pupils dilating in the lush ambient glow around. You could stare into them forever.

“I mean the view—” Your throat tightens. Words stuck in your mouth.

"Is that all you were gonna say?"

“You, you look so beautiful.” You barely manage to get it out.

“Kiss me, then.”

What happens next is a blur. Purely instinctual.

She pulls you in, your lips connecting like opposite poles of a magnet, finally allowed to meet. Your hand wraps around her waist, and her fingers thread through your hair. Her lips are soft and warm—perfect.

There’s still a trace of chocolate from earlier, not that her mouth needs any help being sweet. Her nose brushes slightly against yours, and you keep her lips locked in place, almost like you’re afraid she might disappear again.

A soft whimper leaves your mouth, letting her know how much you’ve wanted this. She tilts your head towards her, finding the perfect angle for you to feel her lips full against yours, her body moving closer. The air between you carries her scent—fresh, floral, sharp.

You wish you could freeze this moment: Kazuha’s lips pressed to yours, the kiss full of everything neither of you could say aloud.

She pulls away for a second, her fingers still tangled in your hair, not willing to let you go. She looks into your eyes, searching for a reaction to what she did.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you like this,” you murmur.

”Feels right.” Her lips part in a soft smile.

You cup her cheeks and pull her back in, her lips crashing onto yours. You aren’t satisfied with one round. You couldn’t be satisfied with a million rounds.

The wheel is back in motion, the cart rocking gently. Neither of you care. In your world, the two of you are still, existing only for each other.

The night is warm; it’s still summer, but there’s a cool breeze flowing through you now. You’re unsure if it’s because of the ride or the released tension. No—it has to be the kiss. Normal breezes don’t feel this freeing.

The rest of the ride passes in a mix of fervent kisses and dodging onlookers whenever the cart dips too low for comfort. Kissing you seems to work better than any antidote for Kazuha’s acrophobia—you don’t hear another complaint from her. All her attention is on you.

Eventually, the ride slows to a stop. You lend her a hand getting off the cart (though she'll deny ever needing help with that). Palm in hers, barrier lifted.

“Next time, maybe I won't have to fight to get you on this thing?”

“Maybe you will.” She steps out of the cart, getting on the trimmed grass with you.

”I’d do a lot worse things to kiss you like that again.”

The lips you just kissed waver into a smile as she sweeps a few strands of hair out of her eyes.

“Didn’t know you had a flirt in you.”

“You weren’t around for my best years.” The thought reminds you. “You never told me why you left.”

She takes your wrist in her hand and starts walking, going who knows where again. Her eyes drift toward the fields far away, like she could find her answer there if she tried hard enough.

“Not my call, really. Mom wanted a fresh start, I think.” She kicks a stone. It skips past a nearby stall. “Said I'll get more opportunities in a big city. More exposure, yada yada. Probably just excuses.”

Her voice trails off for a second, like she’s holding back the rest. Excuses for what? But instead of continuing, she just keeps walking. You decide to give her space for now.

“So, did you? Got into any new stuff?”

“One or two.” Her gaze drops to her feet.

“Like what?”

“Ballet.”

You break into a smile. “Didn't peg you for a pirouette. All that inhuman strength—and you chose ballet?”

“Shut up. I’m good at it.”

“Yeah, I'm gonna need to see a performance to decide, live.”

She scoffs. “In your dreams.”

The walk keeps going. She pulls you past the stretched-out haunted house and the bumper cars. The carnival music fades, speakers switched off one by one as the night gets deeper.

“Do you have a place in mind, or are you just taking me in circles?”

”We are going somewhere. It’s been waiting since we got here, you’ll see.” She rounds the corner and stops in her tracks. Lifting your hand, she points to the huge tent in front of you. “We're here.”

Mirror maze.

“Why does it feel like you've been calling the shots the whole night and I'm just following you?”

“When have I ever taken a bad decision?”

You don’t even bother with a response, and just look away.

“Come on, you’re really gonna pretend we didn’t have fun here?” Kazuha continues, half-challenging. Truth is, there's a spark in her eyes you'd follow anywhere.

You shrug. “Don’t know. Don’t remember much of this.”

”So the onus is on me to make this memorable for you.” She nods like she’s been expecting this.

“What does that even mean?”

Ignored. You turn to the ticket stand—only to find it shut down.

“Zuha, it’s closed. Guess we’re too late.”

A playful smile creeps on her lips. “Just as planned. Follow me.” She heads to the back of the tent, where there’s no one around. Lifting a loose flap, she pulls you in and lets it fall shut behind you.

Shiny is the first word you’d use to describe the place. Disorienting the second. It feels like you’re in one of those high school physics puzzles: Given k mirrors at various angles, calculate how many images you’ll see. The answer to this one is millions. Millions of yourselves and Kazuhas surround you, some even intersecting at odd angles.

You take a step—only to hit yourself on the head. All the Kazuhas around you grin widely as you rub your forehead.

“Watch and learn,” she says and strides forward. Not an obstacle in her path. Eyes locked ahead, no hesitation, almost like the mirrors themselves part to make way for her.

“Caught that grace? Ballet.”

“If you brought me here just to show off again.” You roll your eyes at her. “I'd rather leave.”

She keeps walking, taking right and left turns at specific spots like she's memorized the entire map. You follow. The way she moves—self-assured, hips swaying ever so lightly—is captivating nonetheless.

Your thoughts spill out before you have a chance to catch them. “Though I’d be content just watching you like this.”

That’s not how you talk to your childhood friend.

A soft laugh slips from her. “I thought you wanted to leave a minute ago. Anyway, I didn’t bring you here to show off. I brought you here to show something, if it still exists…” She taps behind the panel of one of the mirrors. “We're in luck.”

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“Shh.” Her finger brushes your lips—light, deliberate. It lingers there a second longer than it needs to. Your heartbeat stumbles. You want to kiss her fingertips, suck them into your mouth like she did yours, but you don't.

“I know you said you can't recall much. But try jogging your memory, do you remember when we used to play hide-and-seek here?”

You take a look around, and in the reflections, the past becomes clearer. Environmental memory and all.

“Somewhat. Didn’t you always vanish for way too long?”

“Precisely. I'm about to reveal to you where I used to hide.” Kazuha motions with a flair suited for revealing a lifelong secret.

She pulls at a mirror. It gives way to a relatively small space—just enough for the two of you to fit, with a little room to spare. Brown walls, a break from the bright and shine everywhere, make it feel like a private spot made only for you both.

You step in first, Kazuha slips in after you. As she moves past, her chest brushes against your hands—slow, almost like she wants you to touch her. You can hear—no, feel her breathing. Steady. Yours isn’t.

A second later, she's in place. The mirror slides shut behind her, darkness swallowing you both.

“Give it a minute, your eyes will adjust,” she murmurs, her hand settling on your shoulder to steady you. “Unless you’d prefer to feel your way around instead.”

You’re facing each other, backs against opposite walls.

“Is this the first time you’re here with someone?”

She nods. Kazuha’s floral scent hits you stronger now that you’re this close to her. You’re almost scared to breathe her in twice.

Your eyes adjust, just enough to make out her face. You can’t help but admire how gorgeous she is, right there in front of you, even if you can barely see her in the dark.

Almost like she knows what you’re thinking, she stands on her toes to reach a panel behind you. She pushes it open, letting a few rays of light in. They illuminate her face a little, her features even more striking in the dim golden light. The light carves across her cheekbones, emphasizing their sharpness.

And yet, it’s the same Kazuha you’ve seen a million times.

“What if someone sees us?”

“Nobody will. It leads nowhere, I know this maze inside out. We have this place to ourselves.”

Her thighs touch yours as she settles back into place. It’s incredible how sure of herself, confident, she can be even when she can’t see anything. Or maybe it’s because you’re here with her.

“Why are we here?” you ask softly.

“I’m not staying here long.”

Her words land like a stone in your chest. It wasn’t exactly a surprise, you had no idea why she was even here, but it was easy to get lost in the memories with her and pretend this was permanent.

It’s not though, and her words remind you—maybe both, that this night is fleeting. You need to make it count.

She brushes the back of your neck. The warmth of her body is comforting, even in the summer, heating you up. The silence hanging tells you exactly what you have to do.

You cup her cheek and pull her in, lips meeting yours. You slip a hand around her waist, impossibly slender against you. Maybe there was truth to her claims on grace after all.

Her fingers are tangled in your hair again, messier this time—like she wants to show you exactly how much she wants this. Wants you. She pauses for a second, her lips grazing your ear, breath hot on you.

“And when I said you can feel your way around,” Kazuha whispers. “I meant my body too.”

You don’t move at first.

Not because you don’t want to—God, you do—but because this version of her, the one offering herself to you in the dark, feels almost too surreal to touch. Like one wrong move and she’ll vanish. Disappear into thin air. Again.

“You okay?”

You nod. “I just... I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Her fingers find your chin. She tilts it toward her. “I’m here now. So touch me.”

Your hands trace the outline of her figure. You've touched her before—games, scrapes, fights—but never like this. Never with intentions like this. You slide down the curve of her back, her skin damp from the heat, before finally resting on her ass.

Your fingers hang there awkwardly—hesitant, unsure what to do. Kazuha notices. She places her free hand on yours, guiding, and presses your hand into the soft curve of her ass. It’s plump, yielding, and fits perfectly in your palm.

“Feels good?” she asks, voice low.

“Mhm,” you breathe.

Satisfied, her lips return to yours. You squeeze her ass cheeks again. A soft moan escapes her, caught by your mouth before it can go anywhere else.

The tip of your tongue grazes her lips, asking for entry. And her lips part willingly. Your tongue slides against Kazuha’s in her mouth—hungry, slick, and deep.

For once in her life, she’s happy to lose to you. Her tongue submits to yours, letting you savor her mouth at your own pace.

Her hand drifts down, fingers tracing the outline of your hardness, already heavy against your pants. She cups it with her palm, groping, gently stroking through the cloth. It only makes you harder. Throbbing. And a grunt slips out at how she's touching you.

She tugs at your pants, asking for more. You grab her wrist and lift it away.

“My turn.”

Her brow lifts slightly, but the corners of her mouth curl in approval. “Someone’s feeling bold tonight.”

You sink to your knees, planting kisses on the abs you've seen all night, but never really admired how fit they are. Tight, slim, built to be shown off, worshipped. And worship them you will, tasting her skin with your tongue, licking across her midriff. Her skin has a hint of salt, sweat glistening under the light, but she still manages to taste sweet.

“Can we at least take my shorts off?” she huffs.

You look up, meeting her eyes. “We've got all night.”

Still, you decide not to torture her further. You unzip her denim shorts and slide it down in one fluid motion. Her black panties greet you, fabric stretched over the shape of her lips, outline clear. You only need one touch to feel how drenched she is, and it’s immediately clear why she needed them off.

Her inner thighs are a creamy, milky white, tempting you to taste more of her. You start with kisses, then drag your tongue slowly over her soft skin. Her flavor is stronger on her thighs, more intense, addicting. You can't get enough.

Her muscles tense beneath your tongue, and Kazuha's fingers weave into your hair. Every flick of your tongue leaves her trembling, you're getting closer, but never close enough. She shifts her body, trying to press down on you, wanting something you won't quite give her.

It’s not like her to beg for anything. You’d probably laugh if someone told you she ever did. But now, for the first time, you hear her beg. Kazuha herself, whispering for release.

“Please.”

Your hands reach behind her and pull her panties down. Her pussy presents itself for you—bare, pink folds slick with a mix of sweat and arousal. Your tongue finishes its ascent, giving her core a long, slow lick. She whimpers, so satisfied. She’s warm, the heat on your tongue telling you just how much she’s been holding back.

Her grip tightens in your hair, urging you closer.

But you tease her instead, giving slow, deliberate licks—agonizingly gentle. You love how each moan slips out in rhythm with your touch, music only you get to hear.

“Someone might hear us,” you murmur, fully aware you’re the reason they might.

“Fuck,” she hisses. “Let them, then. Feels too—fuck, good.”

She gets wetter with every lick, your saliva mixing with her arousal, coating her pussy in a translucent mess. Some of her sweet nectar trickles into your mouth, and you savor every drop. Your hands wander to her ass, groping handfuls of her flesh, driving her further, closer, deeper into ecstasy.

“Clit too, please.”

You wrap your lips around her clit, one swirl of your tongue, and she’s squirming. Kazuha arches her back, trying to push herself further against your tongue, wanting all of you on her.

You pick up the rhythm, quick swipes of your tongue at her clit, and she melts into a moaning mess. Her hands clutch locks of your hair, not daring to let you go.

“Had no idea you were so fucking good at this.”

Her thighs lock on either side of your head, pushing you further and further into her heat. You can barely inhale anything but her pussy now—her sweat, slick, lust for you. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The more frantic her hands grow in your hair, the more you reward her with your mouth.

And it’s no surprise she’s already getting close. She grinds her pussy on your tongue, chasing her release. Her knees go weak, and her fingers dig deeper into your scalp, as if needing you just to stand upright. You press her further against the wall, steadying her.

Her wetness is all over herself, thighs, abs, pussy, coated in her own desire. Her moans take over the entire room—someone’s definitely hearing, and she couldn’t care less.

She’s screaming all sorts of things, your name included, and it’s the first time you’re hearing it in this flavor out of her mouth. You could get used to it.

As she finishes, a gush of juices flows into your mouth, and everywhere else. Your cheeks, lips, and neck are all a mess. Kazuha’s slick is all over you, and you could stay like this forever. (Not literally forever—good thing she always carries tissues)

“Maybe I did miss out on a few things,” she says between heavy breaths.

You look at her with an expression that says, I told you so.

You climb up and kiss her lips, offering her a sample of her own juices. Her tongue slips out to swipe at your mouth, tasting the mix of her slick and your spit, and she laps it up into her own. She lets you go once she’s satisfied.

“Not bad. Been a while since I’ve tasted myself.”

“You're kidding right? You taste incredible.” You wipe some off your mouth.

“Since when do you shower me with praise like this? Maybe I should disappear more often.”

She rests for a good few minutes, catching her breath. Once she's steady, her hand slides down to your pants once again, finding your cock pressing through it. “Can I have my turn now, Mr. Decision Taker?”

“Sure, but I don't see how anything can match up to the performance I just gave.”

“Ooh, shouldn't have gone there,” she purrs, dropping on her knees in front of you. Your pants are tugged down quickly, your hardness even more obvious on your underwear. “You have no idea what you started.”

“Or maybe I know exactly what I'm doing.” You grin, hand slipping through Kazuha's hair.

There’s no hesitation in her grip as she fondles your boner through the cloth, trying to familiarize herself with the shape before she even sees it.

“Brat…” She rolls her eyes as her fingers tighten on you.

“Just the way you like it.”

She slips her hands into your underwear and pulls your cock out. You’ve known those eyes your whole life—seen them light up over dumb jokes and game nights—but now, they’re locked on your cock like it’s the only thing that matters.

“Someone must have been feeling a little… constrained.” She runs her fingertips along your length, barely brushing. Every touch sends sparks dancing across your skin.

She glances up, catching the way you squirm. “Two can play at the teasing game.”

Your cock is throbbing, twitching for anything more than the ghost of her touch. Your thighs tense without permission, breath catching—shallow, uneven. You want to grab her hand, make her finish what she started. But you also want to stay still, because somehow the way she looks up at you, barely touching, is better than anything else could be.

Once she decides she’s done playing, she wraps her palm around you, slow strokes gliding up and down your length. You let go of a soft moan, ”Zuha…”

Her eyes meet yours and she strokes you firmer now, steadier. “I like hearing you say my name like that.”

“Keep going and you’ll be hearing it a lot more.”

She brings in her mouth close to your tip, tongue about to slip out—

—instead, a hot breath rolls over your skin. It hits you like lightning. Your cock pulses harder than before.

“Oops. That wasn’t intentional.” The smile tugging at her lips says otherwise. Her hand rubs gently over your tip, like nursing an injury. She holds your base firmer, leans in near your tip again—breath careful this time—and kisses it. Another, then another, and plants a line of kisses to your base.

Finally, her tongue slips out, and she licks you all the way back to the tip.

Kazuha gives you a few more licks, slow and deliberate, making sure not a single spot is untouched. Your cock is lathered with her spit, giving it a glossy finish.

“You taste good.” Her eyes glint up at you. “Could suck on this all night.”

You’re already getting weak for her. “Not sure I can last that long. But we’ll try.”

One of her hands drifts down to your balls, massaging you gently. Suddenly, she squeezes too hard.

“Ah—careful,” you wince, hips pulling back instinctively.

She lets go instantly. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Was that too hard?”

You nod.

“Should I stop with my hands?” A flush spreads over her cheeks, as if she’s second-guessing herself. Doesn’t happen often.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You stroke her hair, trying to soothe her. “I know you didn’t mean to. You can still do it if you like, just be a little gentle. They’re sensitive.”

“Okay, I'll be careful.” Her hands return to your balls, fondling with a calculated care.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.” You cup her face with one hand. “Don't think I've ever seen you like this.”

Her cheeks only flush a deeper red at that comment. She tries to ignore it and focuses her energy on your cock instead, trying to wipe that smile off your face.

Her hand spreads the slick mess all over your shaft. Your fingers dig deeper into her hair, urging her to take you in—and to your surprise, her lips immediately part open. Guilt always did make her more agreeable. Her hands rest on your thighs, steadying herself, breath hot against you.

Then she takes you into her mouth.

She’s soft. So warm. Incredibly wet. Her mouth wraps tight around you, tongue flat underneath, her spit making you slick as she slides deeper. Her cheeks hollow—sucking hard enough to pull a sharp gasp out of you. You twitch inside her mouth, and that is all the encouragement she needs to keep going.

Her tongue swirls around your cock, slurping loudly as she sucks, like she’s convinced it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

She keeps you there for a while, her eyes gripped on yours, watching them roll back deeper with every passing second. Drool slips from her tongue, soaking your cock until it runs down and lands on her own midriff.

“Your mouth feels unreal.” It takes effort to even pronounce words. “Zuha.“ More moans of her name, as promised. You see the glimmer in her eyes every time you say it.

She slides you deeper into her throat, her lips brushing against your waist. Her throat constricts around you—so fucking tight. Kazuha’s making the dirtiest noises you’ve ever heard.

And when she finally can't take it—she pulls back. Her face is a mess. Strands of her spit glide from her lips to your cock. It almost feels wrong to see Kazuha like this, but then why does it feel so fucking good?

She steadies herself with a breath, then plants kisses down your length, getting ready to take you back into her mouth. You brush a few strands of hair out of her face and lock them in your hand, still gripping her hair. Her lips envelop your length again, the sensation drawing a grunt out of you.

Her mouth bobs up and down on you, taking you deeper with every round. Your knees go weak, and you look around for something to hold onto—but nothing.

“Is it okay if I hold your hair tighter?”

She nods, unbothered, and barely reacts when you tighten your grip on her hair like your life depends on it—focused on worshipping your cock. If anything, she takes it as a sign to go harder. Her mouth moves faster on you, suction tighter than ever.

The wet, slick sounds of her lips on your shaft are somehow louder than your moans.

Her lips release you with a pop, and her hand takes over—lips kissing your tip as her grip tightens, almost possessive of you. She strokes you, steady and firm, and for once, your moans rise louder than the obscene sounds she makes. The sensation makes your back arch, every movement pushing you closer to release.

“It’s okay, you can cum on me.” Her hand keeps working you, milking you for all you’re worth, her face right below your tip.

And then you let go. Thick ropes shoot out of you, landing across Kazuha’s face—forehead, cheeks, chin, and some in her mouth as well.

A few drops drip down to her chest and midriff. She’s a total fucking mess for you—and somehow still manages to look like the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen.

“So, not matching up to your performance is out of the question.” She swipes a streak from her cheeks and licks it off her fingers.

You struggle to form a response. It takes a while before you can say, “Ouch. And here I thought you were doing all this because you were into me.”

“Of course I am, you dork.” She gestures to the sticky trails from her hair down to her body, like that alone should be proof. “And I pull off this look too, by the way.”

“Sure you do. Thank God you always carry tissues though.”

“Yeah, God,” she mutters, already digging through her bag—only to come up empty-handed. “Not this time.”

”What the fuck? We are not going out like this.”

”Yeah, I gathered.” She lets out a quiet breath while she takes one last look in her bag. “I can’t walk out covered in cum and spit. You’re gonna have to go grab napkins for me.”

”Your juices are all over me as well, ma’am.”

“All this is definitely worse. So you are going.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

You stand there, staring at her, she is right. There’s no way she's stepping outside like that. Which means it's on you to dodge a dozen eyes and sneak your way to a food stall for napkins.

She looks at you, eyes glinting, lips pursed like she’s trying to suppress a smile.

”Not funny, Zuha.”

She shrugs. “A little funny.”

The packet finally comes out from her bag, and right when you’re about to grab it—it slips from her hands.

“Jesus. At this rate I might have to actually go out like this.”

She picks it up and offers one to you. “If I were you, I’d be thankful someone actually brought tissues.”

You grab it and start wiping yourself off. “We should take this someplace a little more… intimate. No point taking risks like this again.”

“That, I agree. But where?” She's dabbing at her face too. These are the wet deep-cleanse ones. Should do the trick.

”Same as usual, my place? Nobody’s home—whole reason I came here.”

“Works.”

—

“So what did you use to do there before you, you know, had a guy to play around with?” You plop on the couch beside her, packet of cookies in hand. The air conditioner drones in the background, a welcome break from the heat outside.

“Play with myself,” she says casually, grabbing a cookie.

You turn to her, brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“Not like that, dumbass,” she shoots back. “I meant doodle, sing songs, dance.”

You flip through TV channels, stopping on some old sitcom. “Prefer my company to that?”

“It’s close, but I’d say so.”

“Ever think about what life would’ve been like if you’d stuck around?”

“Sometimes.” She pulls at the strap of her top, then lets it snap back.

“Maybe we wouldn't have had to wait so many years for something between us.”

“Or maybe things would have never gone this way.” She leans back on the couch. “We were around each other all the time back then. And still—nothing.” Her eyes drill into the ceiling.

The TV screen flickers, static crackling from the speakers.

“Does that sometimes. Let me go check the connection.” You head behind the TV stand, feeling for the loose wire. You crouch down, out of her line of sight.

“Did you miss me?” Her voice is quiet, distant, like she’s not sure she wants the answer.

You don’t reply right away, spending a few seconds fiddling with wires that aren’t even loose.

“Sometimes. Like when I got sick, I half expected you to show up with juice and stupid movies again.”

Silence stretches between you.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up.”

You get up and walk back to the couch. “I never understood why you ghosted. Just had to make peace with it—no other option.”

“You really wanna get into all that?”

“Of course I do, Zuha. We were best friends for a decade. Whatever this is now, barely a night. I still care about you. That’s the issue, really.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She lets out a long sigh.

“Life got… weird when I moved. My new school was awful. I tried. But people either acted off or pretended I didn't exist, so I just stopped”

She shifts in her seat, adjusting her posture.

“And home wasn’t much better. Dad rarely visited, guess that was always the plan. Everything sucked. I wanted to text you—God, so many times. I’d open our chat and just sit there like an idiot.” Her fingers tug at a thread on the couch, eyes somewhere else.

“I couldn't. I was scared. Scared you'd moved on. Scared I'd look pathetic like that.

I wish I did though. Tonight… felt easy. Felt right.”

She meets your eyes now. “And more importantly, it was fucking unfair to you. I'm so sorry.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy.

“Hey… that sounds rough. Must have been hard to reach out with all of that going on. I had a sense things weren't great with your parents but not the full extent.” You pull her head to your chest. “I’m glad you told me though. Are things better now?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’m alright now. I still think about you from time to time, but it felt like the door had closed by then.”

She stretches her legs, resting her head higher up your chest. “Shit, we've been talking all about myself. What about you? How’s life been?” Her eyes glance up at yours.

“Nothing that dramatic.” You chuckle. “Stayed at the same school. Then college. Got an internship starting soon, offer came through just a few days back.”

“Wow. Someone’s been busy winning.” Her voice softens. “I’m proud of you. If we’d still been in touch… I probably would’ve been the first person you told.”

“Nah, you never were.”

“Shut up, I so was.” Her palm covers your mouth. “You came running to me to celebrate after placing second in a sack race.”

“Hey, it was a highly competitive—” You fight to lift her hand off. “—race. Millions would’ve killed to get on the stage and collect that medal.”

”Sure.” She laughs—the sound so sweet to you. Infectious. You can’t help but join in.

Both of you sit there for a second, smiling, catching your breath. It's easy like this. Familiar.

You nod toward your bedroom. “I suppose we should be making up for the missed movie nights.”

“You wanna watch something or just sleep with me?” She grabs your wrist, tugging you along.

“Wow, that reminds me. One of those sleepovers, you fell asleep first, as usual, on me and I had the most confused boner ever.” You pause. “Maybe I shouldn't have said that out loud.”

“Were always into me, huh?” She looks back over her shoulder at you.

Your memories tug at you, almost like they're trying to say something. “I'm not sure. Which is what made it weird.” Her step slows a little.

“What’d you do?”

”What could I do? I waited till it went away, then went to sleep.” You reach the bedroom and shut the door behind you. “Can't believe our parents never suspected anything, with how close we were. Not that we ever crossed the line back then, but still.”

Kazuha gets on the bed with you, pulling the blanket over you both. “My mom did. She had the same two lines every time I left the house—‘Tell your boyfriend I said hi,’ or, ‘Have fun on the date.’”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Your lips twitch into a smile. “How come I never heard about this?”

“Because I told her if she ever called you that in front of you, it'd be the last day she saw me.”

“Sounds about right. Didn’t she question your tragic outfit choices for a ‘date’ though?” You pull up Netflix, and hand her the remote. “Your pick for the night.”

She scrolls through the options. “You want me in some short little dress or what?” Her nose scrunches just at the idea.

“Obviously. Don’t you do ballet anyway?”

“Performing’s different. I’d probably cancel the date if I had to wear one outside.” She eyes your watch history. “What kind of trash do you watch?”

You sit up, facing her. “Let’s up the stakes of our next hammer game—marshmallows are boring. If I win, you’ll wear a dress on our date.”

“And if I win, the dress goes on you?”

You stare at her, deadpan.

“Kidding.” Her hand reaches for yours, intertwining fingers. “And you're never winning against me. So if you really wanna see me in a red dress, choose a different bet.“

“Why red specifically? Maybe I’d rather see you in green.”

”Wasn’t red your favorite color?” She finally settles on a cheesy romcom.

“Didn’t know favorite colors are still a thing after you grow up.” The movie begins—opens on a girl monologuing that she’ll never settle down. “Wow. You called my taste bad, and now we’re watching someone explain why love isn’t for them for the hundredth time?”

“Best I could salvage from your recommendations list. And hey, fits the mood at least.” She slides her fingers up your arm, and they settle on your shoulder.

“And what kind of mood would that be?”

Her grip tightens on your shoulder as she leans in. “It’ll take her the whole movie to realize that love is, in fact, for her.” Her hair hangs dangerously close to your face, brushing your cheek. “We can skip to the ending.”

You breathe her in. “Why does your hair smell so good? What's that scent?”

“Same shampoo I've always used.”

“No way. Didn't smell like this before.”

She laughs. “Maybe you had rocks for a nose back then.” She moves even closer, and you can feel her breath, hot against you. “You smell it better now?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, moving in to kiss her neck. Kazuha wraps her arm around your waist. A low moan slips from her lips as you leave a trail of soft pecks down her neck. She tilts her head back, letting you find the curve of her neck better. You keep kissing her—until a crop top interrupts your descent.

“Want it off?”

You nod and help her lift it off. You continue your path, lips brushing on her collarbone. Your hand finds her chest, cupping her breast through her bra. Her breath hitches. Her soft sounds grow louder at how you’re touching her.

She lets her hands wander down your body, feeling your hardness poking through your pants. “Already hungry for more?” Her fingers grazing you like that don't help at all.

“Hungry for you, Zuha.” It feels so good to tell her that. Your lips find her cleavage, kissing at the tiny bits peeking out from her bra. The chatter of the movie—the female lead’s friends urging her to text someone—fades into the background, replaced by the sounds Kazuha makes just for you.

Your hands reach behind and unhook her bra, freeing her tits. Her breasts are soft and creamy, perfectly shaped for your hands and mouth. You taste them—tongue gliding over her sensitive skin.

Her nipples are already taut, and you take one into your mouth, savoring the texture of her arousal. Her hand tangles in your hair. She’s not willing to risk letting you go.

You feel her other breast with your hand, taking her in your palm and gently squeezing—more moans for you. She leans back, pushing more of her flesh into your mouth, urging you to have more of her.

You take your time with her. Quick swipes of your tongue, gentle sucks on her nipples, your hands massaging her tits, and with every motion, soft sighs slip from Kazuha’s mouth.

“Figured you’d be thorough with this too” She lets out a breathy laugh. You can feel her body getting hotter—and one slip of your hand beneath her shorts confirms what you were thinking—she’s soaked. You gently push her onto her back, climbing over her.

“These aren’t needed.” One swift motion—and her shorts are off and on the bed. Her juices are already soaking through her panties, leaving damp spots on the sheets.  You kiss your way downwards, moving to her abs—before she stops you, clutching your shirt.

“Can we please take this off too?” she asks.

“You’re so adorable being polite during sex, you know?”

She smacks your shoulder—

—”Ow, that hurt.”

“Yeah, kind of the point. Now shut up and get naked with me.”

“What's wrong with me finding you cute like that?” You shrug and let her help you take your shirt off.

She shifts her gaze. “I don't know. That's not… our thing.”

“Going down on each other wasn't our thing till tonight. Didn’t stop us.”

“Good point. But that doesn't mean everything will change overnight.” She drags a line down from your chest—coming to a stop at your waist. “Do your pants need a separate invitation?”

You take off your pants and underwear, and she’s wrapping her hand around you again. She grips you tight, stroking your length.

“I want you in me.” Her hand glides naturally on your cock this time, like she knows exactly how to please you best.

“Come here.” You help her get her panties off, her hand not letting go of you—almost like you’d disappear if she did. You stare at her beautiful bare folds, coated in her translucent arousal, aching for you.

Kazuha’s hair is spread across the pillow, framing her face, almost angelic. She breathes short, needy gasps; even having your cock close to her core is too much for her. You line up your tip against her lips, her heat brushing against you. Every graze sends sparks flying through both of you.

Her hands come up to your face and tilt it toward her. “Look at me, please,” she whispers.

You meet her gaze as you slide inside her. Your cock is immediately wrapped in her warmth, drowning in her wetness. “Fuck,” she hisses. Her walls clench down on you, gripping you tight, almost making you lose control.

“Zuha, you feel amazing.”

Her lips twitch into a smile. You can tell she needed that. You want to throw in another unnecessary quip but you decide against it—enough smacks for the night. Her walls stretch around you as you go deeper, adjusting for your thickness. Your hips meet finally, your cock fully enveloped by Kazuha’s warmth.

“Go ahead,” she sighs, arching her back slightly to give you a better angle. Her juices spill all over your cock. “Give it to me.”

You start slow, drawing your hips back leisurely. Her eyes flicker—caught between wanting to shut them and savor the feeling, and keeping eye contact with you.

“Ah!” She parts her lips when you thrust back into her wetness. Your fingers roam her body—the curves of her chest, the tightness of her abs, the softness of her thighs. A satisfied smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

Your hand comes to rest on her hip, gripping her to steady yourself. You find your rhythm, your cock disappearing into her with every slow, deliberate thrust.

Your fingers press deep into her as you build momentum, little by little. You take a quick look at her reaction to make sure it doesn’t hurt her—all clear. If anything, the lip bite says she likes how possessive you’re being with her.

Each time you push into her, she lets out a louder moan—soft, breathless gasps spilling into the space between you. Her cheeks flush, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she gives herself over completely. God, you could watch her face look like this forever.

It’s mesmerizing, really, how easily you can push her into the depths of ecstasy.

One of her hands grips your waist, grounding herself against you as she basks in the feeling of you fucking her.

“Fuck, just like that,” she squeals. “Just like that, sweetheart.” Sweetheart. The last word comes out somewhat awkwardly, but with how much of a moaning mess she is, it’s hard to tell. “Feels so good. Please, don’t stop,” she gasps, her perfect tits bouncing with every thrust.

“Not—” You grunt, hips rocking into her. “—planning to. You feel so—fuck—fucking good, Zuha.”

She fights to keep control of herself—loses. Her back arches, then sinks deeper into the bed, eyes closed shut as she melts into you. Her legs hook behind your back, thighs tightening around your waist, locking you in. Kazuha surrounds your entirety.

“I’m gonna cum.” Her mouth cups into an ‘o’, her body trembling as the pleasure crashes through her. You already know: It’s an image that’s not leaving your mind so easily.

One of the (several) things you’re getting to know about Kazuha tonight is that when she cums, she leaks like a waterfall.

Her juices gush all over your cock, somehow drenching it even more than before. Her body first tenses around you, then she quivers in pleasure, trembling. Her eyes flutter open to meet yours.

“Are you close too?” she asks. You nod in response. If you weren’t already—the sight you just saw was enough to nearly push you over.

“Keep going, feels so good.” She drapes an arm around your neck—the motion almost too much for her spent body. “Kiss me, please.” You lean in close to her, Kazuha exhales softly when your lips touch.

The kiss is lazy, lingering, a complete contrast to the rhythm of your thrusts down below. You pull back just enough to ask, “Zuha, where should I—uh, cum?”

Her brow furrows briefly. “Wherever you want… but I wanna feel all of you in me.”

“That’s what I want too.” You drive into her with a few final pumps—climax fast approaching.

“Cum in me, sweetheart,” she whispers against your ear. Your lips go back where they belong—pressed firmly to hers.  Thick streams pour into her. Her soft, drenched pussy pulls you in, clenching tight around you.

“Give it all to me,” she breathes. “Every single drop.” You keep pulsing inside her, each spasm dragging more of you out. She takes it so well, her body milking you dry like her words promised.

You slowly pull out of her, your cock slipping from her soaked core. Your release drips out of her, trailing down her thighs. You collapse beside her, every muscle sore. Kazuha clutches the sheets, still breathing hard next to you.

"That was nice," she sighs.

"Nice sounds like a participation award."

"Fine, it was fucking amazing."

“I hope you mean that." You drape an arm around her shoulder. "Wanna go sit on the fields later? Big cities just don’t have skies like these.”

“Yeah. Been so long since I’ve properly seen stars.” Her head rests on yours.

“Can’t say the same, seeing one right next to me.”

“Gosh, enough flirting for the night, Romeo.” The way her cheeks turn red disagrees with her words. “Starting to miss the days when you’d just call me names all day.”

“Who says I can’t do both, loser.”

“There we go. Much better.”

“Besides, you were the one who called me sweetheart earlier.”

“Never happened. Oh, and we don’t have to leave right away, right?”

“No.”

“Good. I wanna rest here for a while.” She snuggles up to you and shuts her eyes.

—

You lie down on the damp grass, the air cool this late at night. The blades are soft but cling to your skin, carrying a faint earthy scent.

Kazuha settles beside you. The sky above is wide and clear, scattered with stars. In the distance, the Ferris wheel still glows in yellow.

Balloons are being popped, stalls shuttered. Leftover food dumped into buckets. The painted horses are lifted from the merry-go-round, loaded piece by piece into trucks. Teddy bears crammed into plastic covers. The tents are gone—replaced by bare ground with nothing to offer.

“Sweet spot to light one.” She flicks a stray blade of grass at you.

“You smoke?”

Her shoulders rise in a shrug. “You heard my whole story. What do you think?”

“Thought that was just a TV trope. Guess not.”

The wheel lights glow brighter with every minute, while the rest of the carnival dims.

“Would be cool if the carnival lasted all year.” She exhales, like she knows it's wishful thinking.

“Don't know if it'd feel the same. But still, does feel weird watching it get packed up like this—like seeing a school after hours. Or an empty mall.” You wrap a strand of her hair around your finger.

“Liminal space,” she says.

“Hm?”

“Places of transition—or something like that. Exactly what you said. Felt the same to me when I saw it from the train window. The first time I was leaving town.”

The quiet stretches between you. A faint pop echoes, cutting through the silence—maybe another balloon meeting its end. The carnival getting taken apart suddenly feels like the only thing worth seeing.

“So…” You clear your throat. “You’re leaving tomorrow?”

She tilts her head up, like she’s just noticed the stars. “I lied about something.”

“Wait—you're staying?”

“No. I’ve got a ticket.”

Something in your chest crumples, slow and painful. “What is it?”

“About why I always wanted to go on the ride with you, even when I was scared of it as a kid. The view was nice and all, but I never got the appeal.”

“Then why?”

“You liked it. I wanted to confess to you at the top.” She draws her knees up, curling into the thought. “Cheesy, I know. But I saw how your eyes lit up at the view. I wanted some part in that.”

She pauses, then adds, “And felt nice to have an excuse to hold your hand.”

It takes a few seconds to respond with a question that only sounds smaller out loud. “Why didn’t you—you never told me.”

“Chickened out every time. It hurt, not being able to tell you. Whenever you smiled at me there, it felt like I was drowning. And when I was leaving the last day…” She takes a long breath.

There’s a heavy thud of something getting thrown in a truck.

“But I could never risk what we had—could never risk hearing that you didn’t love me back.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.” You say it with such conviction that it silences whatever doubts were still in her eyes.

“The second I saw you here today, knew I had to take my chance. Wasn’t getting yet another one.”

“Guess you took it.”

She shifts slightly, turning towards you. The grass rustles beneath her. “What I’m trying to say is, yes, I have a train to catch. But no, I’m not disappearing again. Not without you.”

Her words echo in your ears. They settle somewhere deep in your chest, humming.

All those nights you spent wondering why she stopped replying. Why she left without a word. Wondering if you were the reason she never looked back.

“So, what—I just drop everything and follow you?” The words come out uneven, rougher than you expected.

“No, but that doesn’t mean this has to end here either.” Her voice wavers, choking in her throat. “That doesn't mean I can't still have you in my life, right?”

Something in her tone sounds different this time. Like she’s scared to lose you too.

“True.” A soft gust of wind ruffles her hair across your cheek. “Suppose our date with you in a red dress will have to wait.” (But not forever, right?)

For the first time in all the years you’ve known her, you see her eyes pool. They shine—stars caught beneath the tears. One drop falls onto your shirt, sinks through the fabric, straight into your skin. Burning.

Her hand finds yours and squeezes, probably harder than she means to—as always. She whispers, “I’ll wait for it.”

The Ferris wheel flickers once, then goes dark.

—

[yukioos]

you are the only one who can change shoto’s mind

“we could have fought better against the attackers.” shoto frowned, staring face to face with katsuki.

“no shit, icy-hot, but don’t act like you were better than me!” the blonde argued, pointing a finger in his face.

“you were reckless,” he raised his voice then turned to denki, “you hardly did anything,” and switched to every student around the room, pointing out each and every flaw without recognizing his own.

you crossed your arms as some students began to intervene, and focused on your quirk. shoto had a hard time calming down, although he acted like nothing bothered him most of the time. one thing all of you knew though, is when shoto was mad, everyone knew.

the boy was arguing with his classmates when suddenly everyone disappeared, and all sounds drained out. he gasped and backed away, on high alert. was there a new member of the league who was doing this to him?

he then heard a familiar voice, yours, reassuring and getting closer to him, “shoto,” you tried to catch his attention, and he finally turned around, “it’s okay.”

his eyes softened and unclenched his jaw. he let his guard down but tried to persist, “i need to tell them we could’ve done better. we did a terrible job, and multiple people need to work on their skills. we won’t get anywhere with this talent, practically useless—“

“you’re riling yourself up.” you slowly stepped toward him, “take a moment to yourself, then you should calmly speak to them or walk away. it’s important that you say what you were feeling, but be careful about it.”

he huffed and gave you a small nod before waiting a few minutes, then murmured, “i’m ready,” he was fully met with chaos but tried to restore the peace he had once disrupted.

ever since that day, he’s been taking more time to think about his words. he could get especially impatient during fights, and sometimes you still had to remind him to calm down.

another time, shoto was about to make an impulsive decision before you clouded his mind. the league was attacking his classmates, and he needed to do something about it. he had time but thought he had none, and tried to attack before you stopped him.

all the noise and screams faded out, and he knew you had silenced everything once again. he turned around, trying to find you when you meekly stood there, tilting your head. you were both thinking the same thing.

“it's okay,” you gave him a small smile, and he had time to think about his attack. once he looked up at you from the ground and nodded, you showed him reality, and he quickly attacked.

the boy would also always remind you before every fight to not die, as he was worried about losing you. you could help him with his struggles and frustrations like no one else and gave him company when he needed it.

he turned to you, as routine, as you hid behind a large rock with him. he raised his voice, “y/n—“ with sharpened eyes, and he stared into your eyes.

“if i die, you’ll kill me, right?” you teased, grinning.

a frown appeared on his face, and he averted his gaze, the tips of his ears tinted pink. you knew him too well.

no one knew you were the reason why shoto has become calmer lately, and your classmates had yet to thank you for it.

yes this is based off of megumi and yuji bc i love them so much

[p0orbaby]

R thinks Alexia is embarrassed to be dating her because R hasn't met her friends when in reality she doesn't want the team to scare R away.

-

The first thing you notice when Alexia walks through the door is her expression. A mix of contentment and exhaustion, like she’s just finished saving the world but could still go another round if she had to. Her hair is tied back in that effortlessly perfect way that you’ve never quite managed to replicate, no matter how many YouTube tutorials you’ve watched.

“Hey,” she says, setting down a bag of groceries on the counter like it didn’t cost her at least fifty euros for whatever organic nonsense she’s insisted on this week.

“Hi,” you reply, the word clipped, your voice low.

She pauses, turning to look at you with that face. The one that says she’s already analysing the situation and will probably win whatever argument is about to unfold. You hate that she’s good at this. You hate even more that you’ve already lost, but you press forward anyway.

“So,” you start, trying for casual but landing somewhere closer to brittle, “I was just thinking. You know how we’ve been dating for, oh, six months now?”

Her eyebrows lift, just a fraction, but she says nothing.

“And how I still haven’t met any of your teammates?”

There’s the flicker of understanding in her eyes, followed by something that looks suspiciously like guilt. You press on, emboldened.

“Not even one,” you add, holding up a finger for emphasis. “Not Irene, not Keira, not even Ingrid, and she seems like she wouldn’t hurt a fly”

Alexia sighs, rubbing a hand over her face, and you know you’ve struck a nerve. “It’s not like that,” she says.

“Oh, isn’t it?” You fold your arms, leaning back against the counter. “Because it kind of feels like you’re embarrassed of me”

That gets her. She blinks, her mouth opening and closing as if she’s trying to form words but failing spectacularly. You’re on a roll now.

“I mean, it’s fine if you are,” you say, with a shrug that’s entirely too casual. “I get it. I’m not, like, a professional athlete or anything. I don’t even know what half those drills you talk about are. I had to Google what a rondo was”

“Cariño,” she interrupts, her voice soft but firm, and it derails you just enough to make you falter.

“What?”

She steps closer, her hands finding your hips in that way that always makes your resolve crumble. “I’m not embarrassed of you. I could never be embarrassed of you”

“Then why—”

“Because,” she cuts you off again, her forehead resting lightly against yours now, “my teammates are… a lot”

You blink at her, thrown. “A lot?”

She nods, her lips twitching like she’s trying not to laugh. “Yes. Imagine a group of very competitive, very opinionated people who spend way too much time together. Now imagine them interrogating you about every single detail of our relationship”

“I think I could handle it,” you say, but your voice wavers just enough to betray you.

Alexia smirks, pulling back just slightly so she can meet your gaze. “Could you handle Mapi trying to figure out your star sign within five seconds of meeting you?”

“I—”

“Or Patri asking you whether you think pineapple belongs on pizza?”

“I mean—”

“And then there’s Aitana, who will definitely ask if you’ve ever made me cry”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. She raises an eyebrow like she’s already proven her point.

“Okay,” you admit after a beat. “That does sound… intense”

“Exactly.” She presses a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping back, as if that seals the conversation. “I just don’t want them to scare you off”

“Alexia,” you say, grabbing her wrist before she can fully retreat. “I’m not going anywhere”

She looks at you then, her expression softening in that way that makes your chest ache. “I know. But you’re too good to deal with all that. At least not yet”

“Not yet?”

“Maybe next month,” she teases, a rare grin breaking across her face.

[etherealrin]

ᯓ★ thinking about academic-rival!rin

“you…you’re my rival!” an angry, red-faced itoshi rin had foolishly declared in second grade, after you’d scored a perfect 100 on the latest math test—he’d only received a 98.

rin hadn’t seriously meant it back then, but you took it very much personally. over the ten years which ensued, the two of you had developed an odd dynamic. it was intense, to say the least. you took the competition very seriously, taking every advanced course your school had to offer, and rin followed right alongside you. the obvious result was matching schedules; each year you’d chosen virtually identical classes. you’d decided to hate him, and your rivalry was no secret either, with your and rin’s name always occupying two of the top three spots in class rankings. despite that, he’d never done anything to suggest dislike for you. even the teachers had taken to teasing the two of you, they seemed to love pairing the two of you for group projects, watching you both struggle to outperform the other on presentation day.

“not again,” you groan as you realize that rin was your partner. rin mirrors your displeased expression from across the classroom. your english teacher smiles at you both, thoroughly entertained.

“you two will be assigned romeo and juliet,” she says, feigning indifference. you swear she’s trying not to laugh. the rest of your class inevitably snickers: of course the two who hate each other would have a blast presenting the iconic love story!

“no, no, no, no!” you find yourself telling rin as you pace around his room, pointing at his computer then back to him, anger evident in your tone. “juliet is not stupid, she’s only trying her best to save herself from never seeing romeo again, and inevitably divorcing paris,” you exhale. of course rin couldn’t be trusted with the character analysis of juliet—he was so cold that he probably couldn’t comprehend the idea of love. in your fit of annoyance, you’d walked closer to rin, fully invading his personal space. to be precise, your faces were barely inches away, but you only continue your rant. “you probably don’t even get what love is, just let me do the analysis!” you huff, arms crossing.

you’re met with his clear azure gaze, and, weirdly, he laughs, low and melodic.

“do you really think that?” rin asks, leaning in just a bit closer, breath tickling your nose. “that i’m not capable of love?”

“well-“ you falter, unsure of your answer. and why the hell was he so close to you? why did his cologne smell infuriatingly good, was it le labo santal 33?

“why do you act like you hate me?” he whispers. there’s no hint of mockery in his voice, it’s genuine.

“because i do?” your voice shakes. you’re not even confident of that—but wasn’t he supposed to be your rival?

“hmm, but i don’t think so,” he breathes. his fingers move to ghost up your face and cup your jawline. you’re hesitant to move away; honestly, you don’t want to move. the tension in the air is thick enough to slice and you can’t help but indulge in the enigma of itoshi rin—what would be his next move?

maybe it was all just a ploy to make sure you failed english?

“here, let’s pretend you’re juliet and i’m romeo,” he says suddenly, still hovering above your face. “since you think my analysis is so bad, maybe i’m a hands-on learner.” his hand trails down your waist as he speaks, his touch dizzying. you were probably malfunctioning, because you should have seen the red lights and sirens in your head. yet you’re frozen still, all you can do is stare back stupidly wide-eyed at him, letting him slot his lips against yours and you hate how perfect he feels, how he tastes faintly like the peppermint gum that you love.

it feels like sparks rushing through your veins, you feel high on something else entirely. you feel him smirking into the kiss, like he’d known all along that you would fold the second he tried something. because you had never truly hated him, not one bit.

you give into his touch, into the kiss, as rin pulls you closer, fingers skimming through your hair. rin was the smarter one, unfortunately. he’d known that your little rivalry was only a product of misplaced feelings, because how could the second grade him tell you that he liked you, admired that you were smart?

“you win, rin,” you admit once he lets go of you, gasping for air.

“…i thought so.” he replies. “is now a good time to mention that i might’ve bribed our english teacher for this project?”

“you what?”

a/n: i never forgot when lya posted ab this omg. ooc rin probably but idc! ugh i’m sorry this isn’t the best

masterlist.

[piastappies]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 END OF THE DAY ! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

pairing. lando norris x reader

summary. being a supportive girlfriend during an awfully stressful time is hard, so when reader and lando ends up fighting, neither of them is surprised. however, she can’t help but be in love with him at the end of the day.

notes. pretty short and not proofread 😕😕

YOU WERE WALKING ON EGGSHELLS FOR THE PAST two weeks around your boyfriend. he was thrown into contention for the title mid-season and as the last race weekend of the season was getting excruciatingly closer, lando’s mood was dropping drastically. you understood it, not in the way that you were in the same situation as him, but frustration, pressure and disappointment weren’t strangers to you. you could see that your boyfriend was gradually becoming a ticking bomb, yet unsure when will his breaking point happen.

as it turned out, it happened on a second day after he got back from brazil. it was a silly argument that escalated to a major fight, resulting in you, driving back to your apartment in ventimiglia to give the brit his required space.

it wasn’t ideal, coming home, you hardly stepped a foot into your apartment, when lando was in monaco as you usually stayed at his place to get as much of him as possible in the — usually — short period of time. norris, unbeknownst to you, immediately felt terrible just as he watched you left. guilt creeped up his spine, yet he made no effort to stop you, knowing that he needed some space to get ahold of himself. no title could make him fill the void if he lost you.

so, after a few days of radio silence from one another, you were starting to feel like you were losing the precious time you had with lando. the clip from max fewtrell’s stream with your boyfriend there, saying that he’s eating food that sat in his fridge for more than six months or staying awake for 26 hours, has found its way into your twitter feed. it made you worry restlessly.

thirty or so minutes later, while lando was still playing some game with max and a few of their friends, you let yourself into his apartment and started rummaging through his to find all those expired items and threw them out, already making an order for new groceries. as much petty as you could be sometimes, you didn’t want your boyfriend to end up with food poisoning, it was kind of oscar’s thing now.

cleaning his fridge took you fifteen minutes at most, considering that you threw up a huge portion of its content. it was just then, when you decided to put on your big girl pants and face him. you made him some tea with lemon and honey, before quietly tapping him on the shoulder.

“jesus christ!” he shrieked, causing you to giggle. “mate, i think i’m having some sorta proper hallucinations.” your boyfriend spoke into his headset, not believing the sight in front of him — not believing that he was seeing you. you could’ve easily picked up the guys taking a piss out of him, which made you laugh even harder.

“you need sleep, lad.” “yeah, you sound like a maniac.” “that’s the expired meat speaking.”

“don’t worry ‘bout it, lads. i’ll take care of him.” you moved closer to the microphone to let the guys know that everything’s taken care of, fully aware that max, your boyfriend’s best friend, would get concerned.

“i’m super sorry.” lando spoke softly, once you left the discord call. his arms snuck around your waist, pulling you flush against him — almost as if he had really missed you. “i love you so much, please don’t break up with me.” he added. you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to bite back the chuckle upon not only hearing his words, but also upon seeing his childish-like expression.

you managed to escape his embrace, dropping your hand into his, while trying to drag him back into his room for a nap. it wasn’t a hard task with lando trailing right behind you until you sat him down at the edge of the bed.

“i’m not mad at you, baby.” you reassured him in a gentle tone. your hand caressing his cheek. “i still love you, okay? but you gotta go to bed, lando. we’ll talk later, alright?” you tried to coax him into listening to you and you’ve succeeded.

WHEN YOUR BOYFRIEND WOKE UP A FEW HOURS later, he thought that your presence in his apartment was just a dream. having pushed himself off the bed, he walked to the kitchen to finish off his expired chicken. that’s when he found you lounging on the couch, while eating something that smelled incredibly well.

yup, he must’ve been hallucinating.

with that in mind, he didn’t even approach you, trying not to feed into his delusions. if his mates knew that he started seeing his girlfriend after eating something that spent a few months in his fridge, they would never let him live it down. he furrowed his brows at the sight of a pan full of carbonara that he had no recollection of making — maybe he should go see a doctor?

lando sighed in relief after having taken a sniff of the dish, realising that somehow it’s not gone bad. how did it ended up in his place? no idea.

“bloody hell, no more eating expired food. i’m seeing stuff.” the brit muttered, rubbing his face in slight frustration. upon hearing his quiet mutter, you let out a small chuckle, tilting your head to the side in amusement.

“lando, you know i’m real, right?” you mused, a small smile creeping up on your lips. your boyfriend’s forehead creased in confusion. god, he seemed so out of it. “as in, i came here this afternoon, you’re not seeing stuff.” your words were coated with hilarity as you gave him a look.

lando was bewildered. twenty six hours of sleep weren’t that much, how did he forget that you got to his apartment and, apparently, talked to him? his cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he put the plate down on the coffee table and sat next to you.

“i, uh, wanted to call.” he spoke, his head hanging a bit lower. “t’was unnecessary, my outburst, i mean.” a sigh escaped his lips. he was slowly beginning to look like a sad, kicked puppy.

“it was super unnecessary.” you agreed, running a hand through his hand in a slow motion. “we can’t really go back in time, can we?” he shook his head at your words, taking your hand in his hair as an invitation, so he moved closer to you, his arm sneaking around your waist.

“but you still love me?”

“yes, lando. i still love you.” you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“good, i would probably kill myself, uh, or die without you.”

[chevxyn]

BUT WHAT?

in which your bestfriend always wanted you, but..

various! blue lock x reader

pairings (separate) : sae x you x rin, isagi x you x kaiser, nagi x you x reo, bachira x you x otoya, aiku x you x sendou. (love triangle.)

note: i’m sorry if there’s grammatical mistakes, as english is not my first language and if this is not as your expectation. thank you for reading!

part 2 of “him over me?” bestfriend’s view; angst, fluff, toxic you (rin,sae), fully written, striked name : the one that got rejected.

BUT, you messed up.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae.

AFTER DAYS has passed, you and sae became close, while you and rin gotten somewhat distant. yet for you, it was a good feeling.

but for rin, it was hell. he has waited for you for years, it broke him when you don’t text him first, or nag him to hang out with you anymore. as all you ever talk about is sae, sae, and sae.

did the same person that ruined him, the one that told him he had no worth in his life again, is the same person that’s gonna take his one and only?

he hates itoshi sae, he hates him. more of all, he is starting to hate you. someone that he admired for years. his bestfriend. so my god, it hurted when you told him you and sae are official after just two weeks.

and that’s probably the start of why this argument started in the first place. “why are you so upset with me?” [name]’s voice called out to him, “rin!”

“why do you have to date sae?” he asked, his voice was sharp and stern. [name] has never heard this tone that he was using, and he always had thought that rin would support you. wouldn’t he?

“what?” you blurted out and rin looks at you, “why did you have to date sae?” he repeated, you were about to speak again, “why him? and not me?” he said, it was not much, but it made it clear to you. he liked you.

“rin..” you muttered his name, “i didn’t know you felt that way,” your voice was about to crack but his was already is. “you didn’t think that it hurted?”

“seeing your bestfriend, someone who i wished was on my side, betray me for their pathetic crush!” he yelled out, and you stayed still. you never knew how deep his feelings actually is.

“you know what? forget it,” he dismissed as he was preparing to leave before you stopped him, “i’m sorry.” you said, sorry? was that all?

“i’m sorry that you feel that way, i- i didn’t know.” you said and he was quiet, “of course you’d say you didn’t know, but you did. that’s just another excuse.” finally, walking out. while you just stood there.

“you’re nothing but the same as my brother.”

BUT, you figured it out.

michael kaiser, isagi yoichi.

ISAGI had gotten dangerously close to you, infact it looks like both of you are closer then you and kaiser ever was. it gotten to the point where you feel comfortable to hugging him wherever you want.

as for kaiser, he hated that fact. he hated how easily isagi could pursue you when he waited patiently. so it came to the point where he just had to confront it to you.

both of you were walking together as he just finished with practice, seeing this opportunity, he talked. “[name]” his voice was warm, something that only you could get from him. you looked at him and smiled. “what is it, micha?”

“do you,” he paused as you looked at him, “do you like isagi?” he asked and that made you almost stop. as your eyes met his, you slowly nodded. “i mean, i did.” you chuckled.

“but he told me that there is one person,” you continued and looked upfront, “that he’s annoying, arrogant, handsome” kaiser quiets down as he took all of that in.

“and apparently how he would never go a day without mentioning my name.” you said and focused on the sidewalk, not wanting to see his eyes. “and how maybe i should take a chance with him.”

kaiser was quiet before he reluctantly grabs your hand, “and how that person is you.” you said, and smiled.

“general answer of that question. yes, i do like isagi, he’s a good friend.” as your head slowly turns to meet his. “but, i like you better, cause you’re my bestfriend.” “so you did know that i liked you.” “it takes an isagi to make me realize that i guess.” man. kaiser might just thank him for that

BUT, you like his friend.

mikage reo, nagi seishiro.

IT DOESN’T take a genius to find out nagi and [name] hanged out that day without reo. that’s probably why the same rumor that was deep down in the ocean came back after weeks.

and unfortunately, it came to reo’s attention. he felt absolutely crushed, cause not even he knew about this. they did not even include him into the mix. wasn’t he the first one? wasn’t he the one that introduced him to you?

so now here you guys are, it was quiet until reo talked, “are you both dating?” reo asked, as nagi and you looked at him. “eh? n—“ nagi nodded, “mm.”

due to nagi’s confirmation, that made reo’s heart ache. did he actually ran out of time? you were red blushing crazily as you cling to nagi while denying his claims.

he had never seen you like this, usually you’d be calm and collective when someone else does this. so why is it that you’re so flustered with nagi, cause you like him? you never act like that to him.

it made it worse when nagi just pulls you closer towards him. do he just give up? there’s no point into liking someone that already likes someone else right? especially when it’s your friend.

“i’m so happy for the both of you!” he said as he kept that supportive face, even if his heart felt like it was barely beating. “reo! nagi’s just—“ reo chuckled as he patted your back.

“don’t you always say you wanted him? hm?~” he teased, his other hand that he hid was shaking as the one that stayed on your shoulder was confident. “reo!” you scolded and hid your face to hide your blush.

maybe, he could move on. it’ll be hard cause you’ll be seeing each other alot. but, maybe he could. but for now, his heart felt heavy.

BUT, bachira sets you up.

otoya eita, bachira meguru.

BACHIRA after being friends with you, he was one that asked, alot. and one of the questions that he had asked is what relationship otoya and you had.

you told him it was just plain friendship, but when he heard that he looked sorta unsatisfied as if, searching for another reason. something that he knows that you didn’t.

so it was odd when bachira suddenly asked you to meet up at the mall, and who showed up was otoya. your eyes widened as you chuckled.

“yow ninja.” you smiled, “oh, hey [name].” he said and looked around, “where is..” he seemed to be looking for the same person that ‘ghosted’ you. and by together, you both said, “bachira?” “bachira.”

he looked at you and sighed, “did he just try to set me up with my bestfriend?” she giggled, and shrugged. “well we’re already here anyways.” otoya said, he saw the chance. and oh, he’s gonna take it.

he really did thought about the possibility of you and bachira, and how bachira would ask alot about you. he thought bachira’s feelings was the same as yours.

he never expected that bachira himself would be doing this for him. so here is the two of them, eye to eye. “you’re right, might aswell go out with eachother.” you teased and winked which made otoya rolled her eyes and pushed you lightly.

and for this whole day, you both spent time together. and now you’re at the mall’s rooftop. holding the drink that he had bought for you as the sunset has ended and the moon has risen.

“[nickname].” otoya muttered out your name and you looked at him, “hm?” it was now or never. he wants a chance with you.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

BUT, you finally noticed him.

sendou shuto, oliver aiku.

DUE TO you already having plans with sendou, you rejected oliver. saying you’re busy. to be honest, you only liked oliver cause he was exceptionally handsome & the way he acts is a gentlemen-like (despite even if you called him an asshole), the only downside is you dislike how he would cheat on women.

you want to still go after him and have that ‘try’ but as you thought about it. what if you end up like those same victims? just another person to aiku. you sighed. find someone else to like that is what sendou had said.

you agreed to meet sendou at his apartment, upon getting there. he opened the door and saw you. you both made plans to do a movie night.

you and him went to the couch and sat down there, watching the movie. but while watching it, the film was about a boy that had to put up with his bestfriend liking someone else. and midway you questioned yourself, did sendou ever felt like this?

you didn’t think so, considering both of you always kept it platonic, but as time passes. you couldn’t help but notice how pretty sendou actually is, and no matter how reckless he was, he would treat you better than most people.

and how cute he is as he is wrapped in a blanket cause of the cold, he always talks about how he is gonna be the best striker in the world and you loved that about him.

and how he cared about you enough that he’d warn you about aiku, you sighed deeply as he looked at you. “what is it?” he asked, concern was hinted in his voice as he looked at you.

“nothing’s wrong, but you look stupid wrapped around that blanket.” you said and chuckled and he flicked your forehead lightly, “it’s cold, give me a break.”

sendou, you really are someone to be admired at.

©chevxyn.

[wolvietxt]

𝓑UTTERFLIES, PART TWO.

pairing : bucky barnes x fem!reader warnings : fluff, kiss, that’s literally it i think summary : after much deliberation, bucky finally acts on his feelings for you wc : 1.2k a/n : part two to this fic💕

bucky had been avoiding the common areas of the tower for the past few days, ever since his conversation with wanda. her teasing words about him having a crush had burrowed deep into his mind, and every time he thought about seeing you, his heart raced and his palms grew clammy. but he couldn’t avoid you forever, not when you’d become such an integral part of his days.

so, when he found himself in the kitchen one morning, staring blankly at the coffee machine, he wasn’t entirely surprised to hear your voice behind him.

“good morning,” your cheerful tone was always comforting.

he turned, offering you a small smile. “morning,” he mumbled.

“you look like you could use some coffee,” you teased, gesturing to the empty mug in his hand.

“yeah, guess i’m not fully awake yet,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “what about you? you’re always so… chipper.”

“it’s caffeine,” you joked, flashing him a grin. “and maybe a little bit of just liking mornings.”

he couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him. “guess i’ll have to take your word for it.”

as the two of you stood there, the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from your latest mission to the strange quirks of living in a tower full of superheroes. bucky found himself relaxing, the tension in his shoulders easing as you laughed at one of his rare jokes.

“you’re funny, you know that?” you said, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

“not sure anyone’s ever called me that before,” he replied, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“well, i’m saying it now,” you said with a firm nod, your smile still beaming. “and i don’t lie about these things.”

bucky’s heart did a little flip at the sincerity in your voice. he wasn’t used to compliments, let alone ones that felt so genuine. 

from that day on, your interactions became more frequent. whether it was a shared meal in the kitchen or a brief exchange in the hallways, you always seemed to find a way to brighten his day. bucky, in turn, began to seek you out, drawn to the warmth you radiated.

one evening, you found yourselves in the common room again, this time watching a movie with the rest of the team. bucky had taken a seat on the far end of the couch, but you’d plopped down right next to him, a blanket draped over your lap.

“didn’t take you for a movie night kind of guy,” you whispered, leaning closer so only he could hear.

“i’m not, usually,” he admitted, his voice low. “but… this seemed like a good idea.”

“well, i’m glad you’re here,” you said, your smile soft and genuine.

as the movie played on, bucky found it harder to focus on the screen. his attention kept drifting to you - the way you laughed at the funny parts, the way your expression softened during the emotional scenes, tears brimming at your waterline. at one point, your hand accidentally brushed against his, and though you quickly pulled away with an apologetic smile, the brief contact sent his heart racing.

when the movie ended, you turned to him, your eyes bright. “what did you think?”

“it was… good,” he said, though he couldn’t have recalled a single plot point if his life depended on it.

“you’re such a liar,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “but that’s okay. next time, i’ll pick something you’ll actually like.”

next time. the words lingered in his mind long after you’d gone to bed. he wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, you’d become the highlight of his days. and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.

over the next few weeks, bucky found himself growing more comfortable around you. your conversations became longer, your laughter more frequent. you had a way of drawing him out of his shell, of making him feel like the version of himself he’d almost forgotten.

one afternoon, the two of you were sitting on the tower’s balcony, a light breeze rustling through the air. you’d brought out a deck of cards, insisting on teaching him a game he’d never heard of.

“okay, so the goal is to get rid of all your cards,” you explained, shuffling the deck with practiced ease. “it’s kind of like uno, but with regular cards.”

“sounds complicated,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“nah, you’ll get the hang of it,” you assured him. “and if not, i’ll just keep winning.”

he smirked. “we’ll see about that.”

the game quickly devolved into playful banter, with you teasing him every time he made a mistake and him firing back with his own dry humor. by the time you’d declared yourself the winner for the third round in a row, you were both laughing so hard your sides hurt.

“okay, okay, you’re officially banned from shuffling,” you said, wiping a tear from your eye. “you’re too good at stacking the deck.”

“hey, don’t hate the player,” he replied, his grin widening.

as the laughter subsided, a comfortable silence settled over you. bucky found himself watching you, the way the sunlight caught in your hair, the way your lips curved into a soft smile even when you weren’t talking. his chest tightened with an unfamiliar but not unwelcome feeling.

“you know,” he said quietly, “you make this place a lot more bearable.”

you looked up, your eyes meeting his. “that’s funny,” you said, your voice just as soft. “i was going to say the same thing about you.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. bucky’s heart pounded in his chest as he searched your face for any sign of hesitation. but all he saw was warmth, an openness that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he could take the leap.

“would it be okay if i…?” he trailed off, his gaze flickering to your lips.

you didn’t answer right away, but the way you leaned in, the way your breath hitched ever so slightly, was all the encouragement he needed. 

when his lips met yours, it was like the world fell away. the kiss was soft, tentative, as if he were afraid of breaking the moment. but as you responded, your hand coming up to rest against his cheek, he felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the sunlight.

when you finally pulled back, your eyes searched his, a shy smile playing on your lips. “so,” you said shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. “was that as scary as you thought it’d be?”

he chuckled, his forehead resting against yours. “not even close.”

“good,” you said, your fingers brushing lightly against his. “because i’ve been wanting you to do that for a while.”

“me too,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “i just didn’t know how.”

“well, you figured it out,” you said, your smile widening. “and for the record, you’re pretty good at this whole talking thing when you try.”

he laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that felt foreign yet wonderful. “guess i’ll have to keep practicing, then.”

“i’ll hold you to that,” you said, leaning in for another kiss.

this time, he didn’t hesitate. because for the first time in a long time, bucky felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

ᰔ bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially, @hhiggs, @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts, @seasonofthenerd, @superlegend216

@withasideofmeg, @pvndomi, @flamin-hot-cheetos, @bbittenapples, @hazydespair

@aoi_targaryen, @person-005, @corvuscattus

more tags : @vicmc624, @starsmoonn, @daddyyy88, @illusionaryjourneys

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: panic attack

word count: 5k

A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊

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

Mid February 2024

Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it. 

It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.

Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.

The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.

Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.

The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.

And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.

Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.

So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"

"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.

"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."

Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.

"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."

Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."

Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel. 

"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."

Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."

The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend. 

"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"

Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.

…

But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost. 

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.

The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.

Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.

But none of that mattered. Not to them.

Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her. 

She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.

Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling. 

Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise? 

The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning. 

She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.

The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.

Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.

Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."

But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."

Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."

Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.

"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."

Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.

"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."

Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.

"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."

Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.

"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.

Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."

Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.

"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."

Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."

The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.

Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.

Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.

Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.

When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.

Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.

Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.” 

The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.

Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

…

Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.

"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.

Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"

Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."

Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"

Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."

Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”

"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."

Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you. 

Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."

"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."

Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."

Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."

Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"

"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides

Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy." 

Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."

With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car. 

…

The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.

Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."

Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"

Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."

Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."

Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."

Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."

Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.

Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.

"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.

Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."

When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.

"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"

"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim. 

They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass. 

"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.

Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.

The teasing never stopped.

"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.

"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."

Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.

The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.

"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.

"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.

Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.

On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.

As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.

At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.

"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.

" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.

"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."

Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."

She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.

"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."

It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"

Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."

The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup. 

"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.

Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"

Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"

Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.

"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."

Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.

"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."

Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"

Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.

Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.

"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"

Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.

"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."

The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.

[wordsofwhimsy]

Starry Night˚ ✦ .　.  ˚ .　　

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Fluff

Word Count: 514

Synopsis: A sweet moment between two lovers

a/n: Van Gogh is my favorite artist and today is his birthday, so this is my tribute to him. He wasn’t appreciated the way he should’ve been when he was here. I hope he knows now the beautiful legacy he’s left behind.

You didn’t often get moments like this. Mark was laid in the grass next to you, his fingers laced behind his head in a kind of make-shift pillow as his brown eyes gazed up at the stars. You curled your body perfectly into his side, resting your cheek on his toned chest. Cicadas chirped all around you; out of view but so clearly heard in the otherwise quiet night.

The poets would cry if they could see this moment. It was perfect. A sense of peace that would leave the most trained monks in awe had washed over you both. Yes, you had been stressed. College was overwhelming, work seemed never ending, and your family was unbearable. But for all your woes they of course were a pale shadow in the light of Mark’s life. This was a constant thought in the back of your head; always trying to be mindful of your complaints when taken in context of what he went through.

You loved him so much, and you thought he knew that. Or at least, you tried your best to make sure he did. Whether that effort was in vain was something you had yet to fully figure out. But on nights like this, it all seemed to align so perfectly and all that was left to do was enjoy the moment.

“Y’know it’s kinda weird.” Mark’s voice cut through the silence, the words vibrating against your skull as he spoke. You hummed a small noise to let him know you were listening while your nail traced loops over his pecks. “I’ve been in space, like, a lot. More times than I feel like I can count. And every time I’m out there, it seems like it’s just an empty void. Cold, with nothing around for millions of miles.”

You didn’t speak, but your fingers now stood still as you paid pointed attention to what he was saying. He took a breath before burying a kiss into your wind-swept hair.

“But when I’m looking up at the night sky from earth—with you—it seems… different.” His left arm moved from behind his head and wrapped around you, holding you tight. “Like it’s filled with so much…”

“Possibility?” You finished softly. His fingers squeezed for a moment into your skin.

“Exactly.” You smiled, nestling yourself closer to him.

“Life sucks most of the time. But, sometimes…” you sighed deeply from your nose. “It’s like you can see the magic between the stars.” You wondered if you sounded like an idiot as you said it out loud, but to Mark it was almost prophetic. A gasp pushed out of your lungs as Mark rolled you on top of him, your faces now inches apart. His mouth gently curled upwards, his eyes burning into yours.

“I see it in you, too.” Your heart fluttered, feeling your expression melt into a wisped smile as you looked down at him through your lashes. There was nothing else to do, of course, but press your lips into his and lose yourselves in the enchantment of the night.

[7ndipity]

He Forgets Your Birthday

Yoonig x Reader

Summary: You’ve always had a complicated relationship with your birthday, but Yoongi’s always there to comfort you. Until he isn’t.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: angst, comfort, swearing, suggestive at the end

A/N: Thanks to @coffeedepressionsoup for this request, I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

You never really liked your birthday.

For as long as you could remember, you could sense the looming feeling of dread and unease each year as the date drew closer. You don’t know what it was exactly, maybe it was because of how you were raised, maybe it was just a quirk of your personality, but whatever the reason, you could never shake the feeling of guilt, as if you were a burden to those around you.

Over the years though, you had been lucky enough to find a circle of people that, while they might not fully understand your feelings on the subject, made a point to make sure you felt special and remind you of how much they cared for you whenever that fateful day rolled around.

One of the best at this was Yoongi.

Yoongi had always had a particular knack for being able to read your emotions and understood your feelings about your birthday, he wasn’t exactly fond of his either, but that didn’t stop him from worrying whenever he noticed you growing more quiet and withdrawn as it approached.

He never pressured you to share what was going on in your mind in those times, but he always found little ways to let you know that he was there for you and to show how much he loved you.

It was never anything super elaborate; last year, the two of you just went to the movies, because he knew there was a particular film you’d been dying to see.

It never really mattered to you what you did though, so long as you were together, you were happy.

Though, time together had been rather hard to come by the past few months.

Yoongi had been busier than ever, traveling and working relentlessly in preparation for his new album. Most nights he was holed up at the studio til 2 or 3 in the morning working on songs.

You worried about him over extending himself, but he assured you that he had it all under control, that he was able to keep up with everything.

It was another one of those late nights at the studio as he sat hunched over his soundboard when the sound of his phone finally managed to break through his hyperfocus.

Glancing at his phone, he face pulled into a slight frown as he read the text notification from Namjoon.

“How’s Y/n?”

“Fine, I think. Why??” He sent back, confused by the random question.

“Idk, she just seemed a bit down earlier when I sent a happy b-day msg”

“Her birthday’s not till tomorrow-

”Oh fuck.” He swore out loud, checking the date with a sinking stomach as he realized his horrible mistake.

Jumping to his feet, he felt his heart drop again at the sight of the time on his phone screen.

10:02pm.

“Fuck.” He cursed again, nearly running down the hall to the elevators. He couldn’t believe he’d mixed up the days so badly. How could he have fucked up something like this?

Had you realized yet? Most likely, he hadn’t heard anything from you since your usual morning texts. You must’ve been so upset, how was he ever going to make up for this to you?

He practically ran up the stairs to your apartment, knocking frantically on the door and begging that you weren't so mad that you wouldn't answer.

As soon as you opened the door, he tackled you in a crushing bear hug.

“Yoongi, what-?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He mumbled into your neck.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“Your birthday.” He felt you stiffen slightly.

Pulling away to look at you, his heart broke further as he noticed the faint redness around your eyes.

“I got the days mixed up, I thought it was tomorrow,” He explained guiltily. “I’m so sorry, Jagi.”

You looked down, nodding slowly.

“It’s okay.” You said softly, voice still somewhat croaky from your earlier bout of crying.

“It’s not, though. I should’ve been here.” He said, growing more upset with himself.

“You’ve been busy, I get it.”

“That's no excuse,” He said. “I still fucked up.”

“It’s fine, Yoongi, really.” You said tiredly, wanting desperately to just forget the whole thing.

“No, it isn’t-” He insisted, gripping onto your hand as you tried to draw away.

“Yoongi, please.” The last word comes out far more broken than you intended it to, betraying your true emotions that you’d been trying to stamp down all evening.

Before you could help it, the tears you had been trying to hold back broke free, dripping down your cheeks and onto your joined hands.

Yoongi instantly pulled you to his chest, hugging you tightly as he backed the two of you into your apartment.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Jagi.” He whispered over and over, softly stroking your hair as your tears dampened his shirt.

After a few minutes once your sobs quieted, he pulled back to see your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently.

You nodded.

He led you over to the couch, still keeping you close as you sat silently for a moment.

“Are you angry?” He asked quietly.

You shook your head, biting your lip.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” He pleaded, his dark eyes boring into your own.

You thought for a moment, taking a deep, steadying breath.

“I know that you love and care about me” You began slowly. “And I know you would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, but… not hearing from you, not even getting a text or something… I don’t know, it just kinda stirred up those old feelings and thoughts of how easily I could be forgotten, what if people don’t actually like me, what if they just tolerate me in their lives...”

Your voice was almost inaudible by the end, not wanting to fully admit the deprecating thoughts that were going through your mind.

Yoongi teared up at your words. He knew he’d asked, but hearing you say it aloud broke his heart; to know he’d scratched those old wounds and caused you to doubt yourself crushed him inside.

“Look at me,” He said seriously, turning to face you. “Those thoughts? Nothing could be further from the truth. You mean more to me than anything in the fucking world. I know I fucked up today, but I need you to know that there is nothing that could ever make me forget about you. You are the first and last thought in my mind every single day. Understand?”

You nodded, wiping away a few more stray tears that had slipped out.

“C’mere.” He pulled you into another tight embrace, kissing your temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You muttered, tucking your face in the crook of his neck.

“If you want, we could still do something? Try and enjoy the last couple hours of the day, at least?” He offered

You shook your head. “I just want to be with you.”

He nodded, shifting around on the couch and pulling you onto his lap, holding you close.

“I love you.” He whispered again, running his soothing hands over your hips.

“I know.” You said, equally soft, cradling his face in your hands as you drew him in to connect your lips.

He kissed you deeply, trying to channel just how much you meant to him through the action, hands coming up to hold your waist, pressing you even closer.

He would never hurt you like this again, he swore to himself, pressing you closer to him. He would do everything in his power to remind you how much you meant to him every chance he got.

You sighed, looping your arms around his neck as you let yourself drift in the feeling of him all around you, the scent of his cologne, the soft sounds that left him as his lips drifted down the expanse of your throat, the way his hips twitched beneath you when you tugged at his hair.

Suddenly, he tipped you back on the couch, coming to hover over you, breathing unsteady as he stared down at you with an intensity that made you shiver.

“Happy birthday, Y/n.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0o0o0ooo @universal-travel-er @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[aerynwrites]

Worthy

Gale x Fem!Reader/Tav

A/N: based on this request! I hope you enjoy this nonny (and everyone else!)

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Self-Esteem Issues, insecurity, reader feels unworthy of Gale, comparisons to Mystra, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, fluff at the end, Gale is a sweetheart.

*Not beta read, apologies for any grammatical or blatant errors*

The stars offer you no solace tonight. 

Instead their gentle twinkling light seems only to mock you, taking you back to the memory Gale shared with you from his meeting with her. 

Mystra. 

The goddess who has held so much of Gale’s past in her hands and apparently still seems to have him in her grasp. 

Your self worth has always been something you’ve struggled with, especially in relationships. So, when Gale showed interest in you all those weeks ago you had a hard time accepting it, especially when you found out about his past with the goddess. 

But you’d started to love past that. As each day with Gale he proved his love for you more and more, with each little action or sweet word. He told you of the betrayal he faced at Mystras hand, how he had been cast aside and now with the orb in his chest…

You shake your head. 

All of that has shattered now. That tiny voice in your head coming back full force after your visit to Mystra’s shrine. After Gale had seemed so excited about the prospect of earning his goddess’ forgiveness by giving her the crown. 

You have to fight the tears that burn at the back of your eyes. 

Even now, Gale is off at Sorcerers' Sundries trying to learn more about the crown, asking Rolan if there are any more tomes he may have on hand.

That little voice is loud tonight. Louder than it’s ever been as you gaze at the stars from the balcony of your shared room at the Elfsong. Telling you that you were right all along. You’re not worthy of a man like Gale. 

How can you be? How can you ever compare to a goddess? 

The tears finally slip down your cheeks then, unable to contain the emotions that have been building in your chest. 

And as if the goddess herself wants to torment you, it’s at that same moment that the door to your room creaks open, Gales' excited voice drifting through the air. 

“You’ll never believe what I was able to find at Sorcerous Sundries,” he says happily, and you hear him set something down somewhere behind you as you try to wipe fruitlessly at your tears. 

You can hear Gale approach where you're standing, and you turn your face away just as he comes up to your side. 

“Rolan truly is a visionary, he was the one able to point me in the direction of-“ 

A particularly harsh sniffle from you makes Gale stop in his tracks, brows furrowing in concern. 

“What’s wrong, my love? Are you alright?” He asks, reaching out to wrap an arm around your waist, hand settling on your hip. 

Just another reminder of where you feel you fall short of Mystra. 

You step out of his embrace, missing the way his face further crumples, confused at your withdrawn state. 

Gale is not blind, nor is he deaf or inattentive. He knows of your struggles when it comes to relationships and your own self image, you’ve told him as much. But things were good - you’ve both made great strides when it comes to your relationship. 

So why are you pulling away? 

You shake your head, still wiping at the tears that won’t stop. “I’m fine, Gale.” 

He takes a step closer to you, frowning deeper when you take a step back. “Clearly not,” he says gently. “Please, you know you can confide in me, as I have you. Talk to me, my love.” 

Finally, you turn to look at him fully, face hot and eyes wet with tears. 

“Will you go back to her?” You finally ask, voice cracking through the lump in your throat. 

Gale looks puzzled. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.” 

You take a deep breath, chest heaving. “To Mystra, Gale. Are you-“ your words break as you fight back a sob. “She asked for the crown in return for removing the orb, correct?” 

“Yes, but I have yet to see why that is causing you such upset-“ 

“Because she’s a goddess!” You cry, tears coming down harder than before. “She’s offering you forgiveness, for you to be back in her good graces and I-“ a sob interrupts your words. “Why would you ever stay with me when you can go back to her? Why do you love me?” 

Gale’s lips part in surprise, eyes widening as it finally settles in why you’re upset. And if you could see through your tears, you would see the heartbreak that displays itself on his face. 

“She’s beautiful,” you continue, “and I-I’m this!” You gesture at yourself, heart threatening to snap in two. 

How did you ever think he would stay? 

You’re just about to turn and leave the balcony, leave the room in an effort to leave before he can prove you right. But before you can escape two warm hands cup your face, thumbs wiping at the tears that still cling to your cheeks. 

“Put those vile thoughts from your mind. You are a sight to behold, more beautiful than any god or goddess,” Gale whispers, brown eyes searching your own as he pulls you close. “Mystra may still be my goddess but that is all,” he says firmly. 

“I did agree to bring her the crown. But only so she could take this orb from my chest. Forgiveness be damned. I would not care if she took the crown and never looked upon me again,” he admits, thumbs moving down to trace gently over your lips. 

“I could not bear the thought of living the rest of my life with you with that threat looming over us. I agreed for you. For us.” 

His words are so full of conviction as he whispers them into the air between you, his lips almost brushing yours from how close he stands. You want to believe him, and in truth you do. You do believe him, because he’s shown you time and time again that he chooses you over anything. He even chose you over the crown, the chance at godhood. 

Yet that voice is still there, even if it’s quieter than before. 

“But…why?” you ask again, voice matching his in a whisper. “Why do you choose me when you’re worthy of so much…more.” 

Gale presses his forehead to your own, your noses bumping together as his lips brush your cheek. 

“If anyone is unworthy in this situation, it is me,” he tells you softly. “A man fallen from the grace of the gods. I have failed myself and you in more ways than one and yet you still remain by my side. Please…” His lips brush yours once more. “Let me do the same for you. Don’t push me away.” 

Before you can respond, Gale presses his lips to yours, arms moving to slide around your waist as he pulls you close. 

This time you don’t stop him. 

This time you stay. You let him kiss you and let him embrace you as he pours his love into you. 

Only when he pulls away do you finally find words. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Gale's lips tilt up in a small smile as he shakes his head. “Do not apologize to me, my love. Just know that I love you to the ends of the universe, and hold that love in your heart whenever those thoughts of doubt try to creep back in.” 

You nod, moving to wrap your arms around him as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. “I love you too.” 

Gale hums low in his chest as he holds you tighter, swaying gently in the cool night air of the balcony. 

And when you pull away just enough to look up at the stars…you swear they shine just a bit brighter than before.

[solbaby7]

*sidles up to bar*

Uh, can I have a whiskey sour, frozen, with a salt rim please? 🥃

*drops a twenty in the tip jar*

[ “i’m not the jealous type but what’s mine is mine + smut + cassian ]

and a tip too? wow this gonna be a generous pour lemme tell u 😘 *grateful smoosh*

-> BLURB BAR <-

—

It’s routine. An obligation. A means to an end.

It’s not like you actually wanted to be shmoozing up that Summer Court douchebag and yet Cassian can’t quell the uncomfortable itch under his skin at the sight of you smiling up at another male.

Sure, it doesn’t fully reach your eyes; doesn’t force those cute lines to carve their way in your cheeks or show off the pearly white teeth that have sunken their way in Cassian’s shoulder a time too many in a bout of excitement.

This is not the same—that much he knows and yet still he can’t shake off the distaste that lingers on his tongue. Reason refuses to reach that part of him that remembers flesh and blood, the sound of iron clashing against iron and the satisfaction that follows when an enemy took their last breath. “The point of this meeting is to establish peace,” Rhysand casually mentions, sauntering to Cassian’s side so silently it nearly makes him jump. “Those kinds of thoughts don’t exactly start friendships.”

He doesn’t mention Cass’ shoddy mental shields, too distracted by the way you seem to blend seamlessly into Summer Courts surroundings. From the style of your sundress to the iridescent glimmer of heels that resemble the waves in the ocean when the sun hits—gifts from Tarquin that fit entirely too well. “These friendships are becoming too friendly.”

The chime of your laugh cutting through the air has Cassian’s teeth grinding against each other, his arms crossing over his chest in favor of reaching over for the fancy battle axe anchored above the mantel and making good use of it “I don’t disagree,” Rhys grimaces at the male dragging a hand along the curve of your spine in a dangerous display of appreciation. “It’ll all be over soon. An hour tops.”

“Rhysand.”

“An hour tops,” He repeats, palms smoothing over creases in his suit jacket. “I promise.”

But not even Rhys can say no when Tarquin’s second in command all but insists on stealing you away for a quick peek of his personal gardens—bragging about its ocean view at sunset. It’s too good an opportunity to pass up and the genuine glee on the soldiers face in your presence doesn’t go unnoticed. The alliance is so close Rhysand can almost taste it but Cassian’s fingers are flexing in barely contained rage as you’re guided off down a hall separate from the others.

One minute passes and his eyes can't stop flickering towards that hallway. Five minutes go by and his stance is less sturdy, shifting the bulk of his weight from foot to foot like an antsy bull readying their hooves for a fair fight. He lasts ten whole minutes before his restraint snaps, leather boots clunking against marble floors as he all but takes off in a run towards you.

For once in Cassian’s life he gets a fraction of an understanding about how it feels to be a shapeshifter—the unbridled rage altering him from male to beast until he’s foaming at the mouth, claws protruding from blunt nails and all he thirsts for is blood. To spill crimson red and paint the walls in its luster while flaunting you as some pretty prize.

He finds you off scent alone, aureate irises latching onto you like a fish on a hook, reeling in closer and closer until you can feel the warmth of him radiating through his clothes. It’s pure luck that you’re alone, heels hanging limp in one hand as polished toes tease at sand so white it seems to sparkle under the sunlight. “What the hell are you doing here? You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Taking too long,” Cassian ignores that bewildered expression on your face, eyes darting to a set of double doors on the far left. “Had to check, needed to see you were alright for myself.” He’s touching you before you have time to fully process the panic that churns through your gut at the mere thought of Cassian being caught somewhere he didn’t belong.

It becomes all to clear that you’re the only one who cares when strong hands begin their trek around the hills and valleys of your hips. He takes the scenic route, paying a touch too much attention to the round of your ass but you don’t push him away—you wouldn’t dare. “It’s not like he was going to hurt me.”

Lips press kisses into the curve of your neck, teeth grazing along the slope of your shoulder until the flimsy little strap there falls limp along your arm. “Wasn’t worried about him hurting you, peach.” The grip on your rear tightens, spreading cheeks until you can hear the sticky separation of a needy cunt. “Wanted to make sure he wasn’t getting comfortable putting his hands places they don’t belong.”

“Cassian.” You shouldn’t be attracted to the possessive words and yet a shiver runs down your spine; anticipation awakening beneath your skin and suddenly you hope that it takes forever for Tarquins second to find that stupidly ancient tome he’d mentioned earlier. “Are you…jealous?”

“I’m not really the jealous type,” Each one of his actions contradicts that very statement. From the noticeable reddening marks he leaves along your clavicle to the harsh way your dress is wrinkled when hiked over the swell of your ass. A warm mouth crashes with yours, the groping accelerating tenfold once he’s found something sturdy enough to lean you against. “But, what’s mine is mine and it felt like I needed to get that message across.”

It’s all so rushed; movements hurried, heart thrashing against your ribcage while his leathers are unfastened and the ruddy tip of his cock is straining for a warm home to hold its release. Your ears are sharply attuned for noises, hold out for the scuffle of a shoe, the weight of a body against marble floors. Such awareness doesn’t take away from the feverish kisses with Cassian nipping at plush lips, fingers absolutely ruining the elegant curl of your hair as he tugs it back from your shoulders. “We don’t have much time.”

“Do some of my best work under pressure.” You almost find the urge to laugh but it disappears once you feel the blunt head of his prick nestling between your thighs. The sodden gusset of lacy underwear is pushed aside just enough to show off the arousal dribbling from your sex. “Hold on to me.”

The warning does you no good, the very breath knocked from your lungs as he feeds the thick length inside of you. Nails bite into the strong birth of Cassians shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as you’re given a few precious moments get used to the feel of him before the Illyrian takes you as he pleases. “Cass—oh gods!” It’s not your fault, you swear; blaming the force on his thrusts for the moans that spill free.

He doesn’t even bother trying to keep you quiet, encouraging the whiny mewls and choppy groans with skilled fingers twisting along your nipples and pressing tight circles to your clit. “Not the gods peach, just me.” Wall decor tremors behind you as pleasure shoots through your bloodstream, legs curling tighter around Cassian’s waist as you push him in further—allowing him impossibly deeper. “I’m the only one who gets to touch you like this and I’ll make sure the whole godsdammed world knows it.”