#and now I know I could still go but I won’t know anyone

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER FOURTEEN ━━ Show a Little Loving

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

❀ ━ word count: 6.4K

❀ ━ warnings: detailed make out but it doesn’t go any further

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: think TATBILB

THE NEXT MORNING, Jo woke up feeling like she was in a completely different reality.

Nothing looked different—the room was the same, the dim winter light slipping through the curtains, the soft weight of the blankets tangled around her legs. The air in the cabin was cool, and the scent of coffee and something sweet, maybe cinnamon, lingered in the air from downstairs. Normal. Everything was normal.

Except for the fact that Jo was—and still is—decidedly not.

She’s never been less normal in her entire life.

Because for the first time in her entire life, she likes someone who isn’t Asher Davis.

And that someone is Paige.

When she woke up, Jo stayed frozen under the covers, trying to process it—like if she just laid there long enough, she could force her brain to make it not true. But the weight of it merely pressed down on her, undeniable, suffocating. She felt like she’d just unlocked some secret part of herself she wasn’t supposed to find, like she’d just opened a door that can’t be shut.

She spent the entire night tossing and turning, hyper-aware of every single thing Paige did.

The way Paige curled up beside her like she always does, shifting close like she’s drawn to Jo in her sleep. The way her breath tickled against Jo’s neck, steady and warm. The way she tucked her face into Jo’s shoulder, lips brushing against her skin. Jo barely slept because of it. She just laid there, rigid, heart hammering against her ribs like a drum, panicking.

And then later this morning, when they were brushing their teeth together in the tiny bathroom, Paige kept nudging her shoulder. Jo doesn’t even know if it was on purpose—Paige is like that, casual and comfortable, always touching Jo like it’s second nature—but Jo noticed. She felt it. And it was so stupid, so small, but it sent a wave of something through her, something warm and unbearable and foreign.

And now���now they’re on the ski lift, and Jo is trying so fucking hard to act normal.

It’s not going well.

Paige is sitting way closer than necessary, thighs pressed against Jo’s even though there’s a whole chunk of space open on the other side of the lift. The cold metal bar rests against their laps, and the mountains stretch out below them, snow-covered and endless, but Jo can’t focus on any of it.

She can only focus on Paige.

She doesn’t get it. Paige has always been touchy with her. They’ve shared a bed countless times, always leaned against each other, always sat too close. This isn’t new. This isn’t different. But now, it feels different. It’s like Jo’s senses have been turned all the way up, like she’s suddenly attuned to every single point of contact, like her body is tracking Paige without her permission.

And she doesn’t like it.

She shifts slightly, just enough to put some space between them, but Paige only grins and leans in closer, bumping their shoulders together. “You’re quiet,” Paige says. “Cold?”

Jo forces a shrug, not trusting her voice. She knows it’s uncharacteristic, but everything about her seems to be that way today.

Paige hums like she doesn’t quite believe her, but she doesn’t press.

Jo bites her tongue inside her mouth and stares straight ahead, pretending to be interested in the scenery, pretending her heart isn’t trying to climb out of her throat.

She cannot be weird about this.

She won’t be weird about this.

Because if Paige notices something is off, Jo has no explanation. What the hell is she supposed to say? Sorry, I just realized I have a thing for you and now I can’t function like a normal person anymore?

Absolutely not.

And worse—what if her family notices? They know her better than anyone. If she doesn’t get her shit together, they’ll realize something’s up.

Jo swallows hard, stomach twisting. She can hardly survive herself knowing this—if other people did, she doesn’t know what she’d do.

So she keeps her mouth shut, keeps her body still, and hopes to God this feeling will go away before she completely loses her mind.

And then, thankfully, they reach the top of the lift. Meaning Jo has something else to focus on.

Getting off of it on a snowboard isn’t hard, not really, but it’s definitely not something you want to mess up unless you enjoy face-planting in front of a bunch of strangers. Jo angles her board as the bench slows, pushing herself forward with practiced ease, gliding down the short slope leading away from the drop-off point. She turns just in time to watch Paige follow behind her, arms slightly outstretched, knees stiff.

Paige doesn’t fall—which is honestly impressive for a first-timer—but Jo can tell it’s more luck than skill.

They then make their way over to the side, where Jo’s family is already securing their bindings. Jo sees Paige watche, then follows suit, crouching down and clipping in her back foot like she’s done it before. For a second, Jo thinks maybe she has—that maybe she totally overestimated how difficult this was going to be.

Then Paige stands up.

And just stands there.

Jo doesn’t even have to say anything—she can see the exact moment Paige realizes she has no fucking clue what to do next.

The thing about snowboarding is that, once both feet are strapped in, there’s no casual shuffling around like with skis. You have to commit to your movements, shift your weight with intention, trust the board to follow. Paige, currently, looks like she doesn’t trust anything. She’s frozen in place, weight too evenly distributed, arms slightly hovering like she’s trying to counterbalance pure fear.

Jo’s family doesn’t notice. Of course they don’t. They’re already pushing off, racing down the slope like they forgot they just dragged a complete beginner onto what is definitely not a beginner run.

Which means it’s entirely Jo’s problem now.

Jo sighs and turns back to Paige, who immediately schools her expression into something completely nonchalant, like she wasn’t just panicking a second ago.

“I’m good,” Paige says, nodding.

Jo lifts a brow. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Paige insists, overconfident. “I ski all the time. How hard can it be?”

Jo snorts, shaking her head. “That’s like saying, ‘I can ride a bike, so how hard can a unicycle be?’”

Paige glares. “That’s not the same thing.”

“It’s exactly the same thing.”

Paige groans but doesn’t argue further, which is good, because Jo is pretty sure that if she lets her go down the slope without at least trying to teach her something first, she’s going to have a very injured best friend by the end of the day.

Which—yeah, Paige doesn’t need any more injuries.

Jo drops down onto the snow, motioning for Paige to do the same. “Okay, before you kill yourself—”

Paige sighs. “Very encouraging, thanks.”

“—I’m gonna teach you the basics.”

Paige rolls her eyes but listens as Jo explains how to shift her weight, how to stop using her heel edge, how to not immediately die the second she starts moving. She nods along like she gets it, but Jo knows she doesn’t, because when she tells her to try stopping, Paige just stares at her.

“Like this,” Jo demonstrates, digging into her heel edge and coming to a smooth stop.

Paige squints. “I don’t think my feet can do that.”

Jo gives her a look. “They can. You just have to actually try.”

Paige glares at her, then attempts it—and immediately wobbles so hard she almost eats it.

Jo bites her lip, trying so hard not to laugh, because she knows if she does, Paige will shove her straight into the snow.

Still, watching Paige struggle is… entertaining.

Actually, no, it’s worse than entertaining, because Jo is finding it way too endearing, and that is a problem.

But it’s hard, because Jo is stuck here watching Paige, her flushed cheeks, her concentrated little frown, the way she huffs whenever she messes up but refuses to ask for more help.

Jo has to get it together.

She clears her throat and moves on to the next part—teaching Paige the “falling leaf” technique, which goes just about as well as expected. Paige flails. A lot. She makes little frustrated noises, glares at Jo when she tries to help, insists she’s got it even when she absolutely does not have it.

Jo grins, probably too much, but she can’t help it. She’s never seen Paige like this before. Paige is good at everything—basketball, school, literally any sport she tries—but right now, she’s an absolute disaster.

And Jo finds it so ridiculously cute, it makes her chest constrict.

Why, why, why, why, why?

By the time they move on to full turns, Paige is mildly competent. She’s still wobbly, still too tense, but she starts linking her turns together, starts actually looking like she knows what she’s doing.

Jo watches her, nodding approvingly. “Look at you.”

Paige looks at her, grinning wide, blonde hair slipping out from under her beanie, flushed from the cold, happy.

And Jo—Jo feels something tight in her chest.

Something warm and annoying and confusing and—

She tears her gaze away before it turns into something worse.

Eventually, they decide Paige is ready for the slope.

Jo isn’t entirely sure that’s true, but there’s only so much practicing they can do before Paige gets impatient and wants to actually go somewhere. And Jo gets it. She does. Paige isn’t the type to sit around mastering the basics—she’d rather dive in headfirst, figure it out on the way down.

Which is how they end up at the top of the easier slope—the one Jo’s family didn’t go down.

It’s still not technically beginner-friendly, but it’ll have to do.

Jo studies Paige as she shakes out her arms, shifting her weight back and forth like she’s hyping herself up. She’s still pretending she’s not nervous, but Jo can see it in the way she breathes in deep, lips slightly parted, exhaling like she’s about to take a game-winning shot instead of just… sliding down a hill.

Jo shakes her head, telling the blonde, “You’re gonna be fine.”

Paige doesn’t meet her eyes. “Yep,” she says, sounding uncharacteristically unenthusiastic.

“Mhm,” Jo confirms.

Paige rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. Instead, she pulls on her goggles. And then she takes a final breath, gives Jo one last I’m totally calm and confident nod, then pushes off.

Jo follows immediately, ready to intervene if Paige immediately eats shit.

She doesn’t.

In fact, Paige actually does an okay job.

She’s still stiff, still a little too tense, but she’s making turns, shifting her weight properly, keeping herself upright. Jo even hears her let out a small whoop at one point, though it quickly turns into something that sounds suspiciously like a scream before she regains control again.

Jo has to laugh. “Not bad, huh?”

Paige breathes out hard. “I’m doin’ great, thank you.”

Jo grins but doesn’t argue. Paige’s balance is still shaky, but she’s improving with every turn, her confidence visibly building—until they get too close.

Jo realizes it a second too late.

She shifts left, trying to create space, but Paige is still a beginner, and she wobbles at the exact wrong time. She catches an edge, stumbling forward, and Jo barely has time to react before she gets caught in it.

“Shit—”

Then, they’re both tumbling.

Jo crashes backward into the snow with a heavy thud, the impact sending a jolt up her spine, her board kicking up powder. Paige lands right on top of her, effectively knocking the air out of her lungs.

Jo groans, blinking up at the sky for a second before lifting a gloved hand to shove her goggles up.

“Shit, bro, that hurt,” Paige mutters against her chest, fumbling with her own goggles, breath puffing out in visible clouds.

Jo exhales sharply, trying to process—not the fall, not the pain, but the fact that Paige is on top of her, head pressing into her heavily layered chest like it belongs there.

She’s too close.

Jo feels it everywhere—Paige’s weight, the warmth of her breath against the fabric of Jo’s jacket, the way her hand is braced against Jo’s sides as she tries to push up, but she’s still struggling with her goggles, fingers catching on the strap.

Jo shakes her head. “You’re a mess—”

Without thinking, she reaches up, gloved fingers brushing against Paige’s cold skin as she pushes her goggles back, slipping them up over her helmet.

Paige shakes her head a little, her other hand dropping to Jo’s side to keep herself balanced.

The world is quiet around them—just the muffled sounds of distant snowboarders, the crunch of powder under shifting weight, the occasional gust of wind.

Paige blinks down at Jo, blue eyes so blue in the snow-bright lighting, her face flushed from exertion, from the cold, maybe from something else too.

And Jo—Jo can’t look away.

Her chest tightens.

Her fingers are still against Paige’s face, and Paige isn’t moving, isn’t pulling back, just watching her with something unreadable in her expression.

Jo’s gaze flickers down—to Paige’s lips, slightly chapped but still soft, still way too close to her own.

And for a second, for one reckless, impulsive, insane second, Jo thinks about leaning in.

The thought sends a jolt through her.

She shoves it down so fast it makes her stomach churn, immediately pushing Paige off of her before she can even fully process what just happened.

“You’re too heavy to be laying on me like that,” she says, trying for humor, but the words come out a little strangled.

Paige grabs her own bearings, letting out a startled laugh, sitting up on her knees. “Hey!”

Jo rolls over, sitting up quickly, dusting snow off her sleeves, trying to act normal, trying to breathe properly, trying not to think about how she almost—

God.

She can’t do this.

PAIGE STEPS out of the bedroom, rubbing at her arms as a shiver wracks through her. She knew changing into just a t-shirt and sweatpants was a bad idea, but her sweatshirt is still damp from falling in the snow earlier, and putting it back on felt like asking for hypothermia. She’ll have to live with it, she guesses, even if the cold air nips at her skin, goosebumps rising along her forearms.

The day has been long, another one spent out on the slopes. Since Paige’s first time on a board yesterday, she’s improved tenfold, and today had been much much more enjoyable, only a few falls to round it out.

She hears movement in the kitchen as she rounds the corner, the soft clinking of mugs and the faint hum of Jo moving around.

Paige slows her steps.

Jo’s back is to her, standing at the counter, stirring something in a mug—hot chocolate, probably, based on the rich scent of cocoa that lingers in the air. The sight of Jo, standing there so effortlessly domestic, makes something warm curl low in Paige’s stomach.

Paige is used to it, at this point. It happens constantly, the unshakable heat that rises whenever Jo does literally anything. Yesterday, it had been on the slope, when Jo helped her up from the snow, when she brushed Paige’s hair out of her face, when she looked at her with something so unreadable, so intense, that Paige had felt frozen in place.

And now—now, it’s just the way Jo stands there, all soft and warm and anything but hers in the low light of the kitchen.

Paige hesitates for a second, then smirks to herself, an idea forming in her head. She moves quietly, barely making a sound as she steps up behind Jo, hands flexing at her sides, anticipation bubbling in her chest.

Then, before Jo can realize what’s happening, Paige strikes—

Cold hands pressing firmly against the back of Jo’s neck.

Jo screams.

It’s high-pitched, startled, and absolutely hilarious.

She jolts forward, nearly sloshing cocoa over the counter, then whirls around, eyes wild, before smacking Paige’s arm, sending a weak but retaliatory shove into her shoulder.

“What is wrong with you?” Jo yelps, voice still breathless from the shock.

Paige is cackling, clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, your face—”

Jo glares at her, rubbing at the back of her neck with a dramatic shudder. “You suck. I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.” Paige grins, stepping beside her, nudging her lightly with her hip. Jo just mutters something under her breath and turns back to the counter, still grumbling as she grabs another mug and pours some hot chocolate for Paige, shoving it at her without another word.

They end up drinking together, leaning against the counter in a comfortable quiet, warmth settling between them.

Paige takes a sip of her cocoa, sighing into the comforting heat, before glancing over at Jo—only to immediately snort.

Jo blinks at her, confused. “What?”

Paige just shakes her head, grinning. “Joey, you got a little—”

She gestures vaguely, but Jo just frowns, not getting it, so Paige doesn’t think much before she lifts her hand, reaching out, swiping her thumb carefully across Jo’s upper lip to wipe away the hot-chocolate mustache.

And Paige—Paige really should’ve thought about what she was doing before she did it.

Because suddenly, Jo is looking at her.

Really, really looking at her.

Those wide, dark eyes staring up at Paige, so open, so deep, so endlessly fucking beautiful, and Paige’s breath catches somewhere in her throat.

Her thumb lingers at the corner of Jo’s mouth, pressing lightly into the soft skin there, and Jo doesn’t move. Paige doesn’t even think she breathes.

Her lips part, and Paige’s gaze drops, just for a second, just long enough for something unspoken to crackle between them, thick and heavy and—

The sound of footsteps breaks them apart.

Paige jolts, snatching her hand away so fast it’s almost unnatural.

Jo takes a sharp breath, blinking rapidly, stepping back, shifting away.

And then Peyton waltzes in, completely oblivious to the moment she just shattered, announcing cheerfully, “I’m making cookies, and you two are gonna be my helpers.”

Paige’s heart is still racing, and she shoots a glance at Jo, who looks… composed, somehow, like she didn’t just—like they didn’t just—

But Paige knows her.

She sees the way Jo’s fingers twitch against the mug she’s holding, the way her jaw clenches just slightly, the way her shoulders are drawn just a little too tight.

And Paige knows.

Whatever that was—Jo felt it too.

It doesn’t really undo anything in Paige like it should. Because, recently, things have just been like that. It’s weird.

Paige swallows hard, turning back to Peyton with a too-easy grin. “Oh, yeah, we’ll totally help.”

Jo lets out a quiet laugh beside her, and when Paige glances over, she finds her smirking too, They both know they’ll be no help—if anything, they’ll be a nuisance, eating all of the dough before Peyton can even put it in the oven.

For now, the tension’s been almost buried under something playful, something safe.

But still—Paige knows.

She felt it.

And no matter how hard Jo tries to act normal, no matter how hard Paige tries to shove it down—

It’s still there.

JO LEAVES Mia’s bedroom, closing the door softly behind her as she rakes a hand through her hair. The faint scent of strawberry-scented hair chalk clings to her hoodie, and her fingertips are slightly stained pink and blue from helping Mia color streaks into her light brown hair. It had been cute, how excited she was about it—sitting cross-legged on the bed, practically vibrating with energy as Jo carefully twisted sections of her hair and dragged the chalk down in soft strokes.

Jo’s family does their gifts on Christmas Eve—Jo’s parents are firm believers in the magic of sleeping in on Christmas morning, rather than waking up at the crack of dawn to open presents—and tonight, was just the same as always. The living room had been a mess of ripped wrapping paper and scattered boxes just an hour ago, Jo and her sisters laughing over their gifts, their parents watching with fond amusement. Paige had fit into it like she belonged there, pressed beside Jo for the entirety of it.

Jo frowns slightly as she steps into the hallway, suddenly aware of the quiet that’s settled over the cabin. It had been loud earlier—Peyton arguing with their dad over the rules of a board game, Mia showing off her new gifts, Christmas music playing softly in the background—but now, it’s peaceful. Dim lighting, the distant hum of conversation from the living room. She wonders where Paige went.

She heads toward the kitchen, where her mom is finishing up the last of the dishes, running water humming over the faint clatter of plates. “Where’s P?” Jo asks, leaning against the doorway.

Her mom doesn’t even glance up as she says, “Oh, I think she went out to the hot tub.”

Jo nods, but her chest tightens, just a little.

She turns on her heel and makes her way to the room she and Paige are sharing, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. She exhales, standing still for a moment, debating.

She thinks about joining Paige. Thinks that it’s normal for best friends to do that, to sit in the hot tub together after a long day, soak in the warmth and relax. But she also knows herself, and she knows the way her thoughts have been slipping these last few days, the way she catches herself looking at Paige for too long, noticing things she shouldn’t be noticing. She knows that if she goes out there, if she lets herself be alone with Paige like that, she might not be able to control the way her mind wanders.

Whatever, she decides. She wants to get in the hot tub.

So, she grabs the bikini she packed, changing quickly before wrapping herself in a towel. The air in the cabin is warm, but she knows the second she steps outside, the mountain air will cut through her like a blade. Still, she forces herself forward, padding toward the back deck, bare feet light against the wood floor.

When she opens the back door, the cold hits her immediately, biting at her exposed skin. She shivers, hissing, “Shit, it’s freezing out here.”

Paige startles slightly, turning her head. She’s sitting in the hot tub alone, the water bubbling gently around her, steam rising in wisps. Her eyes catch the deck light for a second, flickering bright, and she huffs a quiet laugh. “It’s warmer in here.”

Jo rolls her eyes, setting her towel down on a nearby chair. “Oh, really?” she says, sarcastic, before stepping into the hot tub.

And then her gaze fully lands on Paige, and—well, fuck.

She looks good.

It’s not like Jo hasn’t seen Paige in a sports bra, in oversized sweats, in all kinds of casual, effortless outfits. But this is different. Her blonde hair is down, slightly wavy, damp at the ends. Her bikini is turquoise, standing out against her skin, making her eyes even more blue in the soft deck lighting. And—shit, Jo shouldn’t be looking—her biceps. Jo knows she’s been training through her ACL recovery, knows she’s been getting stronger, but she hasn’t let herself really notice until now. Hasn’t let herself register the way Paige’s arms look, the lean muscle in her shoulders. And then there’s the cross chain hanging at her collarbone, resting against her skin, catching just enough light to make it glint faintly.

Jo swallows hard, forcing herself to look away, sinking into the water as she exhales. The warmth is immediate, a contrast to the crisp night air, and she tries to focus on that instead of the low, lazy grin Paige is giving her.

“You finally decided to join me,” Paige murmurs, shifting slightly, the water rippling around her.

Jo smirks, because it’s easier than letting anything real show. “Yeah, well, I figured you’d get lonely.”

Paige rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, stretching her arms along the edge of the hot tub, tilting her head back slightly. Jo catches herself staring at the curve of her throat, the faint glisten of water against her collarbone, and quickly looks away.

This is fine.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice the way Jo’s whole body is too tight, too aware, too much as she leans back against the edge of the hot tub. Instead, she shifts slightly, gaze flickering away from Jo, looking out toward the mountains. Jo follows her line of sight, letting herself focus on the view instead of the heat curling in her stomach, the undeniable feeling of wanting something she isn’t supposed to want.

The view really is something.

The mountains stretch high and dark against the night sky, the peaks dusted with snow, the stars scattered above them like someone spilled glitter across the horizon. The air is sharp with the scent of pine and frost, the only sounds the occasional distant rustle of wind through trees and the soft bubbling of the water around them. Jo’s been coming here since she was a kid, since before she could even really appreciate how incredible it was. It never gets old.

Paige exhales, voice quiet, almost reverent. “It’s kinda perfect here.”

Jo glances at her again, at the way the dim deck lights reflect in her eyes, making them almost glow. And for a second, Jo doesn’t think she’s talking about the view at all.

“Yeah,” Jo agrees, looking away, looking anywhere else. “It is.”

Silence settles between them, thick but not uncomfortable. Jo tries to let herself relax into it, but then she hears the shift of water, the subtle movement before she feels it—before she realizes that Paige is moving closer to her.

She tenses before she can stop herself, her fingers curling under the water.

And then Paige is looking at her again, something soft in her gaze, something almost vulnerable, like she wants to say something but isn’t sure if she should. It’s a rare look for Paige, whose confidence is as natural as breathing, who always seems to know exactly what to say and when to say it.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Paige says, and her voice is quiet but serious, enough that it throws Jo off for a second.

Jo swallows, holding eye contact with her for a long moment before looking down at the water, watching the way the steam curls off the surface. Her face suddenly feels warm in a way that has nothing to do with the hot tub. “Well, it’s not like I’d ever let you stay at campus by yourself on Christmas,” she murmurs.

Paige tilts her head slightly, considering that. “Yeah,” she says slowly, “but a lot of people wouldn’t have just let someone tag along with their family for the holidays.”

Jo looks up again, furrowing her brows, because the way Paige says it—like she was expecting Jo not to invite her—rubs her the wrong way. “You’re not just any someone, though, P,” she says, voice firm. “You’re my—”

She stops short, the words catching in her throat, because—well…

She doesn’t actually know what this is anymore.

She’s never let herself think too hard about it, about the way they slipped into each other’s lives so fast, like gravity pulling them together. Her roommate, her teammate, her best friend. But none of those words feel right for this, for the way her heart is hammering, for the way Paige is looking at her.

Paige shifts closer still, the movement rippling through the water, stealing the air from Jo’s lungs.

“Hm?” Paige hums, like she’s waiting for Jo to finish.

Jo forces herself to breathe, gripping the edge of seat in the hot tub just to have something to do with her hands. She exhales sharply, shaking her head once, barely. “You’re just—my person,” she settles on, because best friend doesn’t suit the way her pulse is thrumming, doesn’t suit the way her entire body is tuned into Paige’s every shift, every breath.

She makes eye contact again, and—Paige isn’t looking at her eyes anymore.

She’s looking at Jo’s lips.

That’s definitely not something best friends do.

Jo’s stomach flips violently, her entire body going stiff with tension, with awareness, with want. Paige’s gaze flickers back up, just for a second, and Jo swears she sees something shift in her expression—like realization, like something clicking into place, like maybe, maybe she’s been thinking about this just as much as Jo has.

The air between them is heavy, electric, charged with something neither of them are saying.

And then it snaps all at once when Paige shifts even closer, so close Jo can feel the faintest brush of her knee against hers under the water, and Paige says, “Jo?”

It’s quiet, almost hesitant, and it’s the first time Jo has ever heard Paige say her name like that, like it means something more.

It undoes her completely.

She doesn’t think. Doesn’t even hesitate.

She just moves.

Leans in instead of pulling away, lets her eyes flicker shut as she presses her lips to Paige’s, her heart slamming against her ribs.

And Paige—Paige doesn’t pull away.

Paige kisses her back.

It’s soft at first, like they’re both testing the waters, and Jo melts into it, lets herself get lost in the warmth of it. Paige’s lips are soft, gentle against hers, and Jo feels like she could drown in the way Paige tilts her head just slightly, deepening the kiss.

And then—something shifts.

The hesitation begins to fade. Paige moves in closer, her hands finding the skin of Jo’s waist under the water, and Jo exhales shakily against the blonde’s mouth because oh.

Paige kisses like she plays basketball—effortless, confident, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Like she’s taking her time memorizing Jo, mapping her out piece by piece. Jo barely has time to process it before her body reacts on instinct, her fingers reaching out, finding Paige’s shoulders, gripping just tight enough to keep her as close as possible.

The heat between them rises, spreading through Jo’s chest, making her lightheaded. She’s hasn’t felt something like this in a long time—if ever, really. This dizzying, overwhelming need. She can’t remember if it was ever like this was Asher. Jo was always just so used to him—but Paige… Paige is entirely different.

Paige kisses fast yet slow, soft yet rough, the perfect mix. She shifts again, pressing in closer, and Jo can’t help but chase her, tilting her head, her fingers slipping up from Paige’s shoulders to thread into damp blonde hair. Paige makes a soft, pleased sound against her lips, and Jo swears she feels it all the way down to her toes.

Jo’s needy now, desperate in a way that catches her off guard, but she hardly finds it in herself to care. She tightens her grip on Paige, her nails digging into her scalp, pulling her impossibly closer because it’s still not enough.

Jesus fuck, Paige is a good kisser.

The blonde lets Jo take control for a moment, lets Jo press her back against the edge of the hot tub, but then—just as quickly—Paige is taking the lead again. Her grip on Jo’s waist tightens, fingers pressing into slick, warm skin as she shifts them, pulling Jo forward, guiding her onto her lap. Jo’s breath stutters as her bare thighs press against Paige’s, her knees pressing into the edge of the seat on either of Paige’s hips.

Paige’s grip is firm, her touch sure and steady in a way that makes Jo’s skin feel like it’s burning.

She should say something, do something, anything other than let out the small, helpless sound that slips past her lips as Paige pulls her in tighter.

But she does. And Paige hears it.

And something about it—about that quiet, desperate little noise—seems to spur Paige on, because then she’s tilting her head, chasing Jo’s lips again, capturing them in a kiss that’s deeper, hungrier than before. Her tongue slips into Jo’s mouth, licking around, and Jo inhales sharply at it.

Jo’s mind is a mess, spinning wildly, but all she can focus on is this—Paige, the way she tastes, the way she feels, the way every press of her lips, every swipe of her tongue, sends electricity straight through Jo’s veins.

The second Paige’s lips leave hers, Jo almost whimpers at the loss.

Her breath is uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly as moves beneath her, her lips ghosting away from Jo’s mouth, trailing down, down, down—until they’re pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the sharp line of her jaw.

Jo swears she forgets how to breathe, her hand tightening in Paige’s hair, half-gripping her chain, as well.

Paige doesn’t stop. She presses a kiss to the spot just beneath Jo’s ear, and Jo shudders, her fingers tightening in Paige’s hair. She can feel the heat of Paige’s breath against her skin, feel the way Paige’s lips part just enough for her tongue to sweep out.

Paige’s hands grip onto the skin of Jo’s waist before one begins to slide up, fingertips tracing Jo’s spine before settling firmly at the back of Jo’s neck, holding her in place. Paige’s other hand trails from her hip, down to the curve of Jo’s ass, palming and kneading it in a way that makes the brunette feel the need to clench her thighs together—anything to relieve the ache growing between them.

Instead, she makes a noise—something soft and high-pitched, something that she doesn’t even realize she’s made until Paige reacts to it.

Paige groans a little, exhaling sharply, her lips nipping along the column of Jo’s throat, her tongue sweeping across the skin to soothe it. Jo’s head tips back before she can stop herself, before she can think, before she can do anything other than feel.

And God, she feels everything.

Paige’s mouth, Paige’s hands, the firm grip keeping her exactly where Paige wants her.

Jo’s heart pounds, and she doesn’t know if it’s from heat of the water or the heat of Paige, but she feels like she’s burning from the inside out.

She tries not to think about what this means, about how everything is changing, about how she’ll have to deal with this later.

She tries not to think about whether Paige wants this the same way she does.

Paige has a roster. That much, Jo knows. She’s seen it, heard it, talked to some of it—mostly just Celeste, but still. Jo knows that all of this stuff is casual and fleeting for Paige, just another part of her life.

But Jo isn’t like that. She doesn’t do this kind of thing. She doesn’t let herself get swept up in the moment, something that could be nothing, in something that might not mean anything to the other person. Seriously, she literally dated the same person for nearly six fucking years.

But then—what could this be? Paige is her best friend, her teammate, her roommate. If they became something more, they couldn’t fuck it up because it could ruin everything. Not to mention the fact that it hasn’t even been a month since Jo and Asher broke up. She’s still trying to mend that crack in her heart.

All of these thoughts should make her pull away. It should make her stop.

But they don’t.

Because right now, with Paige’s lips on her neck and her hands holding Jo so close, it feels like none of that even matters.

Right now, Jo doesn’t care if this is just another fleeting thing for Paige or if she should even be doing this with a break-up so fresh.

Because right now, Paige wants her.

And Jo wants Paige.

So, she lets herself have it.

She tightens her grip in Paige’s hair, tugs just slightly, just enough to pull Paige’s mouth back to hers, just enough to draw another satisfied sound from Paige’s throat. Paige’s nose nudges Jo’s as she tilts her head, pressing into the kiss again, deep and slow and absolutely devastating.

And Jo lets herself get lost in it.

That is, until the sound of the back door opening shudders around them.

Jo feels her entire body jolt like she’s been electrocuted. The heat from the hot tub is nothing compared to the fire scorching under her skin, the way her heart slams against her ribs like it’s trying to break free. Beside her, Paige reacts just as quickly—springing away, water sloshing violently between them, the absence of her warmth immediately and startling. Jo doesn’t dare look at her, doesn’t dare move, because if she does, she’ll have to genuinely acknowledge what’s just happened. She’ll have to process the way her lips still tingle, the way her chest is still heaving, the way Paige was just kissing her like she fucking meant it.

But she doesn’t have time for that, not when Mia—innocent, unsuspecting Mia—is standing by the back door in her little Rudolph-themed swimsuit, eyes bouncing between Jo and Paige like she’s trying to put the pieces together.

“Hi…” the little girl says slowly, tilting her head.

Paige is the one that moves first.

“Um,” she stammers, her voice higher than usual, her hands flexing uselessly at her sides as she stands up too fast, nearly slipping in the water. “I’mma—uh, I’m just gonna—shower. Yeah—shower.”

Jo watches, still slightly frozen where she sits, as Paige snatches up her towel with more urgency than necessary and books it inside without so much as a glance back. The door slides shut behind her, leaving only the ghost of her presence and the realization of what’s just occurred.

Jo is still stuck, still trying to catch up, still trying to make sense of the fact that she kissed Paige—she kissed Paige—and Paige kissed her back—and—

And then Mia lowers herself into the water, grinning.

That fucking grin.

Jo narrows her eyes before Mia can even open her mouth. “Don’t.”

Because… yeah, she just—can’t talk about this yet. Maybe never.

Jo clenches her jaw, her teeth grinding together as she stares down at her hands as if they hold all the answers. Maybe they do—because just moments ago, they were holding Paige.

Jesus, what has she gotten herself into?

[themoonlitquill]

Whispers Woven in Shadow. (2/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝��𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨���'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; Okay, first of all, you guys are AMAZING. 🥹🩵 Thank you so much for all the love and comments on the first chapter! I honestly didn’t think anyone would like it because of all the incredible Azriel fics out there, but I’m grateful for how well-received it is! I hope you enjoy this just as much! And thank you again to @coffeebooksrain18 for the moodboard. She does an amazing job, so check her out pls!

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗠𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗱𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳-𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲, 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗽𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹.

𝖶𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖢𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ; 3633.

The shadow spoke in a breathless whisper, trickling in with the cool breeze of the night, and a hand flew up to her mouth. She held in whatever sound was threatening to burst free and struggled for a minute to remain focused.

I can hear you in my head! Just like I do myself. Oh! Ariadne blinks in a rush, her vision becoming watery. You’re the first voice that I’ve ever heard in my life besides my own! This is incredible! Have I always been able to do this?

Since you were Made.

Does this mean I can talk to anyone now? Ariadne felt like she was going to explode, every one of her limbs trembling as she tried to process exactly what it was that was happening; she could hear - not in a traditional sense, but it was still something - and it was the most exciting thing that she had ever had.

Once you learn.

She supposed that made sense. It would be just like anything else; practice makes perfect and being immortal meant she had nothing but time, right?

Will you… help? Ariadne opens her palm as the shadow circles around before wrapping around her arm. Normally, I’d teach myself but this isn’t exactly the same as what I’ve done in the past. I don’t even know where to start. Does Azriel know you’re here? Did he send you? Does he know too? Does anyone else?

You will be led in the right direction. And no to your other questions.

How did you end up knowing? Especially when no one else did? That was what was bothering her the most. If the shadows were commanded, then why had this one in particular broke away from the rest to come to her?

The shadows gather information from all across Prythian and have come across Daemati before. They are rare, but they are out there. Feyre Cursebreaker is one. We could sense it in you.

Then why wouldn’t Azriel know? Aren’t you supposed to report everything to him?

Not always.

It sounded almost amused at that and Ariadne was beginning to realize that Azriel’s shadows had a mind of their own. Emotion too. That would definitely be something.

But for now, you need to sleep. There are bruises under your eyes.

She rests her other hand in her lap, trailing the tip of her finger along the embroidered filigree. I don’t sleep very well.

You have nightmares.

Her eyes widened a fraction. How did you know that?

When you made the entrance in the wall in your mind, you allowed access to what is inside and everything is chaotic in here. I did not snoop.

A tickling sensation bubbles up in her throat and Ariadne quickly swallows it back down; she didn’t know what her laugh sounded like, so she didn’t do it often. In fact, she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed.

I don’t know why, but I believe you. I’ll… work on the chaos, the corner of her mouth curves upwards, not quite a smile but it was progress. And I’ll try to sleep too. I won’t make any promises though.

Good. Tomorrow, we will go to the library.

Ariadne’s gaze flicks to the closed door and she nibbles on the inside of her lip. Today was the first time she had left this room and now she was going to do it the very next day? Even if - she had to admit - it wasn’t so bad. Nothing horrible happened to her and she had managed to do what she wanted, almost, on her own.

Surely she could make it to the library and back with a similar result.

Alright, she nods. I can do that.

Of course you can. Sleep now.

The shadow’s whisper leaves her mind and she blinks, feeling around at the opalescent wall to see the opening was still there. How could she close it? Think of it molding back, Ariadne takes a breath. Piece by piece until it’s shut.

She grits her teeth with the effort it takes, a bit of sweat forming on her brow as the pressure builds beneath her skull; her breaths were heavier and there was a flash of bright light behind her eyes, yet she continued on until it began to come together.

It wasn’t happening as fast as she would’ve liked and it hurt, but by that damn Cauldron, she was doing it.

And she couldn’t help the glimmer of pride that shone in her when the opening closed completely, leaving only that moonlight glow behind.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

The nightmares came as they always did. In flashes of images that she desperately wanted to forget and in bursts of pain that reminded her she had screamed in the water after being thrown in, and there had been no one to hear her as liquid filled her lungs, cutting off her air supply and choking, burning. Too much. It felt like everything was on fire and she was being torched from the inside out.

And she never wanted to feel that ever again.

It also led to her only lightly napping for a couple hours, which did her no good at all, but she was in no position to complain either. Everything had happened so quickly, even if she was sleeping well, it would still take awhile to recover.

At least she tried.

Ariadne had managed to wash up in the bathroom, which actually went better than she thought, and was already dressed, though she didn’t eat. Her appetite could still use some work. None of it was appealing and made her want to vomit, in truth, so that was for another day.

The shadow hadn’t come back yet and it was approaching mid-morning. Did that mean she was expected to go alone? She’d never been there before and sure, the kitchen was easy enough to find, but what if this was harder?

And that means what? That you’re going to quit? You’ve dealt with worse and you can make it to the library on your own, Ariadne stands with a huff and strides over to the door, opening it and walking out to the left instead of the right. See, I can do it myself.

She keeps going with purpose in each step and passes by the doors that housed more bedrooms until she reaches the end of the hall. It curves to the left and she decides to follow it, figuring this was the best option right now.

I wonder if Nesta has at least been reading. I know she’s worried about Elain, but she needs to worry about herself too, Ariadne glances over her shoulder as if she would find the steely-eyed gaze of her sister and is relieved when she doesn’t. Maybe you could bring her some after you’re done.

It would give her a chance to feel some sort of connection back to their old life and what she loved to do.

They all needed that.

Ariadne’s fingers twitch and she takes a breath as she looks up to see a set of double doors, made of some sort of mahogany - she guessed - with iron handles. Hilarious, she rolls her eyes and pulls it open to see inside. Ah-ha! I’m good at this.

She’d found the library.

It smelled like ink and paper with a hint of lemons. And it was cozy too, with overstuffed armchairs and a loveseat arranged around the fireplace, decorative pillows, tables with potted lilies and vines, stacks of notes, plush rugs, and rows and rows of shelves filled with books.

You gotta be kidding me, Ariadne walks over to one of the shelves and runs her fingers over the spines. There has to be hundreds in here. This is insane, she bites her bottom lip. Where do I even start?

She squints at the titles and selects a few that she thought might be useful, along with one or two that just seemed like they would be fun to read. It couldn’t hurt to see what type of fiction was over here in Prythian.

After gathering them all in her arms, Ariadne makes her way over to one of the armchairs and sets the stack of books on the small table beside it. She moves to grab for plain paper and something to write with when a bound leather notebook and a cream colored quill with an inkpot appears right before her eyes.

Just like the orange juice, she sits down and pulls her legs up underneath herself. Amazing, really. I didn’t even have to ask you to do that, the first book she grabs is one about magic and powers of the Fae in Prythian; if any of them would have information about Daemati, this would - probably - be the one.

Ariadne flips it open and runs her finger along the page, finding herself wondering how old it was, how far the history went back. It was truly something to think about.

The seven Courts of Prythian each have a type of magic that is specific to that area and the High Lords are the most powerful, some of them even having additional abilities.

Winter Court Fae have ice manipulation, which also extends to frost and snow.

Autumn Court Fae have fire, able to create and wield flames.

Summer Court Fae control water, forming it into any shape, any size, and will it where they wish.

Spring Court Fae are connected to the earth and air, finding their power in nature and blending into their surroundings.

Dawn Court Fae brings the art of healing, producing some of the greatest Healers in Prythian, talented enough to mend any injury.

Day Court Fae have light and are able to break through darkness, showing the truth. High Lord Helion is known as the Spell-Cleaver.

Night Court Fae controls darkness, bending it to their will and stealing sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell.

Ariadne tilts her head and quickly grabs the notebook and quill, settling the inkpot on the arm of the chair and beginning to jot down notes. She wanted to know everything that she could; Feyre came back with multiple powers after being resurrected and who was to say the same hadn’t happened to her?

She deserved to know that about herself if that were the case.

To control the mind is deadly. If a Fae holds this power and wields it against another, death is certain to follow.

That didn’t seem like something she would be able to do, so maybe it was just the mind reading then? Or rather, Daemati? What was the difference?

Ariadne underlines a few times and turns through the pages in search of the word ‘Daemati’, knowing that there had to be something. Rare or not.

They are called Daemati. This is an exceedingly rare gift that the Mother only hands out to those She chooses. A Fae who has this ability can read, influence, and shatter one’s mind.

Many, especially those in positions of power, learn to train against a Daemati. The methods differ for each Fae and each Court.

So it did mean she would be able to do that. Supposedly. But how? Ariadne wasn’t a violent person and to crush someone’s mind and kill them? There was no way she could ever be capable of something like that.

Not in a million years.

All she wanted was to be able to talk with another person - even if it wasn’t the usual way, who cares? - and then it wouldn’t just be her anymore, which was huge. It was something she had wanted for a long time and she would be a fool not to at least venture into the mind reading portion of it.

And letting in another person like she had managed with the shadow last night.

Ariadne wanted to figure out how, but it seemed that whoever had written this one decided not to give out too much information on the subject. I could ask Rhysand? He’s one, isn’t he? But I have no idea how to ask him and even if I did… I don’t really want to, she frowns.

It can’t be too hard. If a Daemati controls the mind, then I’d need something to protect myself, wouldn’t I? That’s what that wall could’ve been. Think about it, she taps her finger on the page. You had to create an opening for the shadow to get in and be able talk to you, then when it left, you had to close it back.

Her finger moves faster and she sits up a little straighter, writing down a few more notes. That keeps people out, but also lets people in, she dips the end of the quill into the ink. And from what the shadow said, it could see I had nightmares and said it was chaotic, so maybe I have to organize everything and keep certain things locked away. Like in a safe.

The movement of the quill across the paper quickened, putting all Ariadne’s thoughts in black and white, her mind racing with how much she was discovering and absorbing already.

That’ll be hard, considering I’ve never had to worry about anyone being in my head before. Not impossible though, which is good. Where should I start? Raising and lowering the wall? That would be the obvious choice, she places the cap on the inkpot and sets it back on the table, not wanting it to spill. Okay, her eyes fall to a close. Imagine a doorway forming in the light, a big enough space for a person. Just like last time.

She takes a steadying breath with her hands clasped together in her lap, beginning to focus on an entryway and feeling her body shake with the effort; her nails dig into soft flesh and she withholds a wince, knowing that her concentration couldn’t be broken, not when the wall was coming apart little by little.

Come on, come on, Ariadne’s brow furrows and she bites down on the inside of her lip, her breathing slightly quicker and more labored than usual. Almost there. A little more and you got it.

With a final push, the opening appears in the same spot it had before and she very nearly cheers aloud, but quickly decides against it and instead, she gives herself a small pat on the back. Well done, Ari! Again.

₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:･

She wasn’t sure how long she spent in the library, a few hours at least, or how long she had been practicing opening and closing the door in her mind, but she was sure that she needed a break. It seemed she had gone too far and exhausted herself even more so than she already was.

Probably not the best idea.

And she realized how deep she had gone with the way her once artfully messy bun was now falling to the nape of her neck, strands of rich brown and caramel frazzled in complete disarray; what a sight she must be.

Ariadne sighs and closes all the books she had read through, stacking them on the table along with the notebook and standing up to stretch herself out. A couple of her joints pop and she makes a face. What time is it? It has to be past lunch, she wiggles her toes against the carpet, thinking for a moment.

You should probably try and eat something. When was the last time you even ate? Do you remember? She couldn’t. It must’ve been when she was still human, which definitely wasn’t a good thing.

With a final sigh, Ariadne leaves the library and makes her way back in the direction that she came, knowing that she would be able to find the kitchen again fairly easily. She didn’t really want any food, but it had been awhile and she had to have something eventually, if she didn’t want to waste away to nothing, that is.

She enters the kitchen and finds it empty, as usual, her hands splaying out across the countertop as she mulls over what she might be able to keep down.

Soup, maybe? I won’t have to chew and it sounds less intimidating than anything else, a small hum, followed by honey eyes lifting to gaze at the ceiling. Would you mind getting me some? Tomato, please. Nice and hot.

There’s a shift in the air and in a matter of seconds, a steaming bowl appears in front of her, along with a spoon and a porcelain cup filled with tea; Ariadne offers the smallest hint of a smile. Thank you.

She grabs one of the stools and pulls it over before perching herself on top of it, feet dangling a few feet off the floor as she leans over to take the first spoonful into her mouth. It was smooth and creamy, igniting her tastebuds with the flavor of tomato, basil, and a subtle heat - pepper flake? - that elicited a small groan from her throat.

It was one of the best things she had ever had and she wanted to scold herself for not eating sooner. Better late than never, I suppose. Right?

Ariadne continues to eat, taking a small break in-between bites to add milk and sugar to her tea; she stirs it slowly and taps the spoon lightly on the rim before taking a sip. Her eyelids flutter. Gods, that’s good, she licks her lips and goes back to the soup. I should check on Nesta and Elain after this, shouldn’t I? But what would I be able to do? I still don’t know how to talk to them yet. Maybe waiting would be the smarter decision. I’m sure the last thing Nesta wants to do is read or write anything down.

The youngest Archeron was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the little shadow that had flitted towards her until she felt a cool sensation around her ankle. She looks down and her eyes brighten, immediately working to open the doorway in the shimmering wall of her mind.

It happens fairly quickly, much easier than it had when she first started, and she feels the presence of it enter.

There you are! I thought you said ‘we’ were going to the library.

The shadow wraps tighter around Ariadne’s ankle, its voice still that same breathy whisper. You managed just fine without me. It’s time you realize and accept that you are capable of more than you think.

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. How did it know her so well already? It was a bit unsettling, but not entirely unwelcome. Then why are you here now? If I can manage so well without you, as you say.

We were worried.

We?

Yes, Ariadne. We.

There was a part of her that wanted to ask more questions, but she also felt that if she were supposed to know, she would’ve been told. She had never been one to pry, always fearing that she would be overstepping somehow.

And even though the shadow wasn’t a real person talking to her, it was all she had right now and she wasn’t about to make it go away by not shutting up when she needed to.

Which is why she chooses to change the subject instead.

I know how to make the entry in the wall and how to close it. I practiced for a few hours. Not perfected, but that should mean I’ll be able to talk to someone else now, yeah? Ariadne feels goosebumps rise on her skin when it moves from her ankle to her calf, then disappearing entirely. Hey! Where did you g-!

The shadow reappears on her shoulder, the end of it looping through her hair and she felt a small vibration in the back of her mind; was it… purring?

No. Surely not. That was ridiculous.

Very good. I am proud of you. And yes, you should try it.

A warmth blossoms in Ariadne’s chest, spreading through her veins and giving her a sense of something akin to happiness. No one had ever been proud of her before. There was never a reason to be and now that there was, she found she liked the feeling.

What else had she missed out on?

Thank you! That’s sweet of you to say and it means a lot actually, her head turns, hand lifting to brush her fingers over the silken shadow. I’m nervous though, she swallows. I don’t know if how I talk in my head is okay for a normal conversation. What if…

She falls silent. What if she sounded… wrong?

What if how she ‘talked’ was silly and amateur? What if she didn’t make sense and confused them? Ariadne thought she sounded alright, but then again, no one could read minds as humans and tell her otherwise; she could come off utterly ridiculous for all she knew.

Do not think that way about yourself, the shadow’s whisper had changed, now holding a slight edge to its words and she couldn’t help but wonder why. You have a brilliant mind and what you are lacking does not take away from that in any way.

Ariadne blinks, caught off guard and momentarily rendered speechless. It was strange; it almost seemed… upset with her, which didn’t make sense. Why would it be when it barely knew her? Either she was predictable or more had been seen last night than what was admitted.

I just don’t want to be… foolish, her tone had lowered, now a whisper of her own, though it was meek and not at all like how she normally was. I’ve only ever talked to myself and how would I know what I’m going to sound like to another person?

No way to know unless you try.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites .

[maximsdeadwife]

Come Close I’ll Show You Heaven

Logan x afab!reader

1.8k words

Summary: getting with Wolverine isn’t exactly what you expect

Authors notes: this is for my beloved @heresthestorymorningglory who has been my best friend, my sister, my beta reader, my favourite writer, my supporter and everything in between since we met through fandom a year and a half ago and have been writing and having fun with our favourite characters together since. Logan’s an old love for both of us, but for her birthday he’s entirely hers. Title comes from one of her Logan songs, I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) by Taylor Swift.

Content/warnings: nsfw, dry humping, fingering, kinda premature ejaculation but not really, alcohol mentions, fluff, crying

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he allowed himself to feel. He wasn’t sure he still possessed the ability, even if he stopped numbing every thought with the soothing sting of alcohol. It provided him the only moments of quiet he’d experienced in years, or at least, something close to it.

His kiss had been bruising; a rough, heated mess that you were almost sure would end in his hips slamming hard against yours until he found the brief release he needed and left you used and disappointed.

Because you knew that whilst you wanted him, he probably just wanted to get his dick wet. Hell, he even kept his mask on while he kissed you to keep his distance.

You knew it would be a one time thing, and now, with his lips ghosting over your throat accompanied by that delicious scratch of stubble, you had two choices – go with it and finally have him even just this once, or never know. And you had to know.

His fingertips drove into your waist as you made your mind up, grounding you back with him.

It felt so good, those heavy, muscular arms controlling your movements. Heat rushed to your core at the thought of him taking what he needed just like this, and the thought that it might not be so disappointing after all to have the Wolverine use you, feral and strong and ravaging. It was already kind of thrilling just to kiss him.

His grip loosened then and your heart sank – just a little at first, and then, all at once as he stilled above you.

‘Listen-’

‘No, it’s ok,’ you interrupted, beating him to it, ‘you don’t need to say it.’

You didn’t need to see him without his mask to know a thick line had appeared between Logan’s brows.

‘Say what?’ he asked.

‘That you don’t want me- or, I’m not doing it for you… whatever. You’ve changed your mind.’ You pushed yourself up beneath him, creating a physical distance so he didn’t have to. ‘It’s ok, we can just pretend this never happened and-’

He pushed himself forward and his lips pressed to yours again, only this time, he was ever so gentle. You gasped against them. You’d never seen him gentle. Never thought you’d feel it, either.

‘Not what I was getting at,’ he breathed, gruff, against your lips. His voice was the lowest you’d ever heard and you could feel it shiver through you. ‘Believe me, you’re doing… everything for me. It’s just- it’s been a while, alright? That’s all.’

‘Oh...’ You froze. Did you hear that correctly?

‘So, if I disappoint you-’ he broke off with a frustrated huff.

‘No, you won’t. You can’t,’ you reassured, kissing him back tenderly. You could practically feel his heart swelling at your response.

You wanted him, and he didn’t deserve anyone wanting him, but you did, and it was sincere and… kind of overwhelming.

His hand, once grabbing careless and rough at your hips, rubbed slow, tender circles into your back as the other pushed up into your hair, thick fingers tangling loosely in the strands. His chest heaved with a relief so intense it was almost tangible.

‘What do you need?’ you breathed, and he paused for a moment.

No one had ever asked what he needed. He wasn’t even sure.

‘Just you,’ he said.

You hooked a careful leg around his waist to pull him down closer to you, his hips falling easily between your thighs, and your tongue teased, warm and wet against his lower lip until he parted them and invited you back in.

You took the lead this time, slow and languid, and he hummed into it, hips rocking against the gentle movement of yours while he basked in your attention.

You rolled onto your sides to face one another, and little grunts were swallowed by your mouth as his arousal, very evident in the yellow spandex slid over yours.

Daring, you thought, since it had been how many months? Years? Since he’d been with someone else. 

You weren’t sure exactly how long Logan considered a long time, and although you were sure the alcohol consumption might help slow things a little, you really didn’t want him to peak too soon if this would be the one and only time.

You were on track to be fucked by the Wolverine for Christ’s sake — but more than that, you wanted to show him a good time, let him feel the comfort of another’s touch, let go. If he came now, you weren’t sure you’d ever get another chance to show him that.

He pulled back though, and you smiled at him, small but genuine. Reassuring again.

You fought the urge to reach up and push his mask back so you could look into his eyes, watch his reaction as you stroked his stubbled cheek with real affection.

Logan beat you to it. He slid the hand from around your back to push the mask away himself. Tired eyes turned watery as they met yours, and you sighed.

‘What?’ he grumbled, ‘Prefer me with it on?’

You couldn’t stifle your laugh. ‘No. Well, I mean… I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it, but right now I wanna see you.’

‘Freak,’ he grinned, hand moving back to your waist.

You let your fingertips wander over his suit, bright yellow dulled by dirt and stained with blood, memorising the contours of his body beneath while he memorised the warmth of your palm.

You let out a pleased little moan when your fingers found his erection and dragged up the impressive length, and his eyes squeezed shut. 

‘Fuck,’ came a growl from under his breath. 

He’s sensitive, you delighted, and took your hand away, back to resting on those broad shoulders.

‘Fuckin’ tease,’ he smirked, eyes lighting up with a fire you hadn’t yet seen but knew lurked somewhere in the depths. Impatient, he slid his hand between your thighs. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you confirmed, and he pressed his cupped palm against you, fingers teasing through fabric. ‘We gotta get rid of some of these layers, though.’

There was a simultaneous scramble then, during which you managed to help him shed the top half of his suit, and he tore off everything you were wearing far too easily.

You grazed his cheek with the backs of your fingers, and he leaned into it, starved, and in his eyes, undeserving.

His stomach flipped as your fingertips toyed with his hair. He was topless beside you, and you reached for his face first? Not his bare chest or abs? His eyes stung as he bit back the threat of tears.

‘That’s better,’ he hummed, distracting himself by resuming his previous position, thick fingers sliding between your folds.

‘Please,’ you gasped, trying to rock against his palm.

He liked that. A pang of guilt bubbled low in his gut again, but arousal washed it away when your fingers circled his wrist and clenched around it.

‘Jesus, you’re wet,’ he said. It was husky, and just surprised enough for you to notice.

Did he really expect you not to be?

‘All for you, bub,’ you replied playfully.

The smile dropped from your lips as he shifted from casually circling his slicked up finger over your clit to sliding a finger inside.

Logan watched closely, the way your eyes fluttered closed and your cheeks powdered red, the way your breath fell from between your parted lips in hungry little pants.

You felt warm and familiar, and his dick throbbed as he curled his finger inside you, deliberate and precise. His head dropped to the crook of your neck and he clenched his jaw to keep from nuzzling there.

‘Gonna cum for me?’ he panted, hot against your throat.

‘Gonna- ah!- f-fuck me?’ you managed between heaving breaths.

Logan didn’t answer, just chuckled against you as he fucked his finger into you faster, and lifted his head in time to watch you unravel, his eyes alight with wonder and arousal.

He didn’t rush you as you came down from your back-arching high, he simply slowed the movements of his hand. The aftershocks of your climax clenched deliciously around his finger as he massaged you down, relishing in every squeeze.

He still had it.

‘Still want me after… what do they call it these days? Post-nut clarity?’ he asked, trying hard to sound unbothered, but you heard the way his voice cracked with doubt.

‘More than ever.’

He dropped his forehead to yours as he carefully eased his finger out, relishing in the small whine that told him you felt empty without it.

‘Mmh, you feel so good,’ he dared admit as he lined himself up and gradually pushed inside to give you time to adjust, ‘so warm, so wet- oh fuck-’

You were glad he’d removed his mask. As much as the sweet burn of his cock stretching you had you clawing at his back, the blissed out look on his face was making your toes curl the most.

He rolled his hips so slowly you thought he must be holding back, being too cautious, either with you or for his own performance. Either way it didn’t matter, it was so different from what you’d expected your core throbbed.

‘You won’t break me,’ you whispered, ‘I’m yours, however you want.’

‘Feels good just like this,’ he all but whimpered, hiding his face at your shoulder again groaning, low and drawn out while his fingertips dragged over the parts of you he could reach.

He gazed down at you through those tired eyes, no longer bothering to fight the tears that slipped from the corners. 

‘Come for me,’ you breathed, and somehow it was the most romantic thing he’d ever heard.

With a low groan rumbling from his chest, he snapped his hips, once, twice. Three uneven, hurried thrusts and he roared, fists strategically moving the mattress either side of you as his claws extended with a muffled snikt! as he emptied inside you.

He pumped you so full that his release dripped back out, hot and thick around his softening cock and onto the sheets beneath.

‘Fuck-’ he growled, collapsing beside you.

 . ۫ ꣑ৎ   .  

You woke a few hours later, resting on his chest, and glanced up at him. 

Logan was still awake, deep in thought. He huffed.

‘What is it?’ you yawned, pushing yourself up to get a proper look at him. You assumed you’d wake to him long gone with his seed drying on your thigh, but he was very much still here. 

‘Just… don’t tell anyone, alright?’ he said, as if imparting a secret.

‘Tell them what?’ 

‘Yknow. That I-’

‘That you’re secretly a big softie and you fuck good? Yeah, ok,’ you mocked, ‘my lips are sealed. So long as you keep the mask on next time.’

Logan shot you a withering look and with a subtle smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, closed his eyes as you settled back against his chest.

[cryingpariah]

I know that we (Usopp Nation) love to discuss the multiple different ways the eventual meeting between Usopp and Yassop could go but today I wanted to discuss how I think the Strawhats would react to Usopp having/wanting/feeling like he needs to meet his father but hesitating for [Insert reason here].

Luffy: Likes Yassop obviously and would be excited to see him again! But our emotionally intelligent king would pick up on Usopp's vibes and just outright ask him what’s wrong. Would respect his decision to go or not go. If it’s a no though, he'd go and break the news but do it much too bluntly (“Yeah, Usopp didn’t want to come!”). Honestly the whole time there he’s unintentionally making Yassop feel like the biggest piece of shit.

Zoro: Pretends to not care/not have an opinion when he in fact has plenty of both. Zoro's just not the kind of person to care about blood connections, not his own anyway, so he'd probably veer on the side of not going but acts neutral. Regardless of Usopp's decision though Zoro is there to make sure he sticks to it, no wussing out! If he says he’s going he’s going, even if he’s got to hide behind Zoro the whole walk there.

Nami: Usopp's BFFL. She’s there to hype him up! No shitty absent father is allowed to make him feel like shit! She’s helping him get ready, picking a killer outfit and hairstyle for him, everyone knows looking good is the best social armour! If he decides not to go she’s still dressing up him but this time to go and paint the town red! If he does want to go she’s heading there right alongside him! Even if it looks like she’s engaged with something else best believe she’s keeping a hawk eye on Usopp.

Sanji: Guy who is so anti biological father. Is staunchly against Usopp going but tries to hide it behind neutrality and fails miserably. Ultimately though having had some emotional catharsis with facing his own father he’ll accept Usopp's decision no matter what. Absolutely tags along and brings a dish because he was raised a proper chef. (“Oh this? It’s Usopp’s favourite. Not that you had any way of knowing.” *faux polite customer service smile*)

Chopper: Little fella is CONFLICTED. On one hand he’s literally only heard good things about Yassop from both Usopp and Luffy so obviously this guy must be great! But if that was true why did Ussop look so..scared? He decides to approach this from a doctor perspective first by sitting Ussop for a checkup and letting him ramble all his thoughts out. If Usopp decides not to go Chopper's making an official announcement that Usopp's got ‘can’t-leave-the-boat-disease and has to stay for his own good.

Robin: Notices Usopp's discomfort immediately and whisks him away. Sits him down with a cup of her secret stash of soothing tea and lays down all the facts for him. Yes, he has no obligation to go see his father just cause he’s here. No it doesn’t make him a bad person if he doesn’t want to. Despite how wildly different they are, she’s the best at understanding his feelings right now and all that come with it. If he decides to not go, she’ll go in his stead to explain (and also to make sure Yassop doesn’t try to go himself).

Franky: He’s about as emotional as you���d expect. He’d probably be encouraging Usopp to go, not for his dad but for himself. His dreams of being a ‘proper man’ and ‘brave warrior of the sea’ means he shouldn’t live or die with regrets or what ifs. Regardless of Usopp's decision, Franky just wants to make he won’t regret for one reason or another. Will tag along and hype up Ussop to anyone and everyone.

Brook: Like Robin he’s taking Usopp somewhere else to calm down and think. He’s also playing him some soft violin to relax to. They don’t talk much, just let the music guide them for a bit. In a moment of violin driven vulnerability, Brook would tell Usopp that regardless of what does or does not happen, he has a place and a family right here, and that won’t ever change. Places neutral but would prefer if Usopp stayed and didn’t risk getting hurt.

Jinbei: Probably knows Yassop on a semi-causal level and therefore knew of Usopp long before FMI. Was really stunned upon hearing this would be Usopp's first proper meeting with his father. Jinbei's got plenty of sage of advice and can wash away Usopp's parental insecurities by reminding him of who he is and how any man worth a damn would be proud to call him his son. Stays behind if Usopp goes but only because he’s worried of overstepping if he does.

BONUS! (Argue with your mama, your daddy and your congressman Vivi will be the final Strawhat!!)

Vivi ft Karoo: They’re absolutely gobsmacked. Vivi's the one that brings out some latent anger Usopp doesn’t even realize he’s been holding in. I can definitely see Vivi wanting to go even if Usopp's not, she’s very confrontational after all but she defect to what Usopp wants ultimately. If he does want to go she’s right there with him and is totally throwing some shade Yassop's way. Karoo is there as a supportive friend and a quick exit strategy if Usopp needs it.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Patience is a Virtue ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter Four)

Masterlist

A/N: Smut finally! We all chant in unison

Pairing: Geta & Caracalla x F!Noble!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, +18 MDNI, Macrinus is a rat fr, tensions rise, both the Emperors patience snaps, teasing, dirty talk, caressing, masturbation (M), making out, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking/breast sucking kink, pure infiltered want, caracalla being upset and pouty :(

Summary: Tension rises as you carry the heavy burden, when you tell the Emperors, they reward you for your good behavior.

Word count: 2.7k

A tingly feeling had spread across your skin, face still painted with a reddish hue, all evidence of the wine you had consumed an meager hour ago. Your eyes felt glossy as you stared at the Praetorians marching over to you, Macrinus was still posted at your side. Nerves and impatience knotted in your stomach, the information you had retrieved tonight was sensitive and you wanted to inform the Emperors immediately.    

“My Lady, come with us, we have been searching for you.” A taller Praetorian said, before he was joined by six others, all were ordered to take you to the palace. The fresh cooler wind of the night cleared your head a bit, something you were quite grateful for. The wine had been so potent, and as it had been your first and only cup, it had a strong effect on you. Macrinus followed you as you were escorted by the guards to Palatine Hill, not speaking a word along the way.

The thought of what you were about to tell the Emperors made your skin cover in goosebumps, you had no idea how they would react to this information, this insurrection. But you knew you had no choice but to tell them, it was your goal after all. From the start Macrinus had been off putting, a little too kind and serving. Now you know why, it was all to gain their trust, to distract them with a new toy so he could manipulate them. You just hoped that Macrinus fell for your trap. 

Upon arrival at the hall near the throne room it was eerily silent, and for a moment you wondered if anyone was there. However when you turned the corner, you were met with those four pairs of familiar eyes. “Where have you been?!” Your father stressed while he walked towards you with long strides, arms open to hold you close. “I’m so sorry-” Your voice got muffled when your face met his shoulder. 

“It’s all right, I was so afraid, but you’re safe- you’re safe.” Acacius whispered, his strong arms almost squeezing the life out of you. “I forgive you- for everything, just please don’t ever just leave again.” He continued. “I promise, I won’t.” You vowed, tears stinging your eyes. Mind now clear, you realised how stupid it had been, to just leave like that. But mistakes were made and now all that could be done is to forgive. 

“She had sought me out, General. For advice, although, perhaps next time it would be better done accompanied- and during the day.” Macrinus spoke up, stepping closer to the Emperors before bowing. “Daughter.” Lucilla murmured before embracing you as well. When she let you go, it was then you noticed the state of the Emperors. 

Geta’s hair was messier, his robes as well, his makeup smeared and distraught. Caracalla did not look much different, both looked like they had been fighting. “Your majesties, I beg for your forgiveness. For just... leaving and not saying a word. I hope you too, can forgive me.” You pleaded, curtseying lowly. “Everyone out.” Geta ordered, he didn’t yell this time. No one opposed him as they all quietly left the room, leaving you with the twins.

“Did- did you try to escape? Our company?” Caracalla croaked. Immediately you rose, “No! No, not at all!” Your voice rose as well while you hurried over to them. “No?” Geta asked, he was clearly not very convinced. “No please, it is nothing like that.” You begged, accidentally getting closer to them then would be considered appropriate. “Then what? Why would you just leave us like that? We had a thousand Praetorians searching for you, we thought that you had been taken- or worse, killed!” Caracalla yelled, his voice breaking more with each word. 

“I cannot speak about it here, I don’t think. It is very sensitive information, where would the most secure and private room here be? Caesar?” You spoke with widened eyes. Geta looked at you as if you had gone as mad as his brother, perhaps he had infected you. “What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?” Geta scoffed. You could feel defeat wash over you but you knew that for the sake of the Emperors, you had to push them.

“Please, Caesar, trust me.” You had a feeling you would be begging even more tonight, but if that was what it took, you would. Caracalla nodded at his brother, Geta looked from his twin to you, and your pretty pleading eyes- and gave in. They did not tell you where you were going, but as you passed doors and wandered through hallways, you could guess. The decorations turned more and more expensive and grand with every step. 

The hallway that led to a dead end was riddled with guards. There was one large gold double door that was opened for the Emperors, you behind them. As you stepped inside, the large bed chamber must belong to Geta, it was neat, organised and a large four-posted bed stood in the middle of the room, all kinds of fabric adorned it. Geta gestured for you to join them in the sitting area of the room, they each sat in a large cushioned chair, while you settled on a settee that matched them. 

“Speak.” Geta said a little too cold and curt for your liking. “The reason why I left so abruptly was not only because of the fight I had with my father, but also because I had to follow my gut. So I followed Macrinus to his estate. And I know it was stupid and ill considered but I was right. From the moment I met him, something about him seemed so sinister and so off putting. So when I had successfully followed him inside, there was a man visiting him. They talked about some plan Macrinus has, a plan to one day rule Rome- he did not give specific details as he didn’t want to involve the man, but he has definitely been plotting.” You rambled as the memories came back to you. 

Geta and Caracalla were speechless, both stared at you intensely. “However, on my way out. I ran into guards, so I lied to them that I was seeking advice from Macrinus so he wouldn’t suspect anything, hopefully that worked-” Geta suddenly interrupted you. “What kind of advice did you speak of?” He asked with narrowed eyes. “A-about you, Caesar. Both of you, I uhm...sort of told him or rather asked him how I could- charm you? All to make him believe that I was there for that of course, to make him think I’m just...a girl with an affection for the Emperors.” You mumbled, it was clear your face was flushing red again.

“Hm.” Was Geta’s only response. Caracalla bit his lower lip. As if they hadn’t heard you talk about the treason you had discovered. “What will happen to him now?” You decided to ask, breaking the ever growing silence. “I want to make sure that I have multiple sources that can confirm...some sort of conspiracy being formed.” Geta spoke while he ran a hand through his hair. “Exactly, for now, we might reward you. For your loyalty and devotion to your Emperors.” Caracalla added.

“I just wish to serve the empire- and my Emperors of course.” You smiled, adjusting the bracelet on your wrist. You were slightly afraid to look at them, even though you wanted to know so badly how they would reward you- how they would maybe touch you. “What do you think, brother?” Caracalla asked, looking to his side. “I agree, you are so very devoted, and you have our ear, and trust. For that we must thank you.” Geta grinned. 

Your heart sped up as Geta then stood from his seat, walking over to you. Caracalla was quick to join him, afraid of missing out. “Has a man ever kissed you?” Geta asked with a lowered voice. “Well yes,” You answered, the brothers both sucked in a breath, trying to hold in their anger, “on my hand. Is...that what you mean?” They almost both released it at the same time too before Caracalla laughed. “No, not quite.” Geta smiled. 

“Let me show you, show you how good we can make you feel.” Caracalla breathed heavily, each word dripping with want. Geta licked his lips, his stare was captivating but terrifying at the same time. You nodded at his words, you could feel your skin grow hot, breathing feeling more laboured. It was then Caracalla lost all resolve and surged forward, pressing his lips hard against yours. His tongue then forced open your lips and you couldn’t help but moan in both surprise and desire. 

Geta joined you on your side, letting his hand roam your body before settling on your breast. Caracalla put one of his hands at the back of your neck to keep you in place while he moved his tongue inside your mouth, he couldn’t help but let out groans of relief. Finally they had you alone, and finally they could take what they wanted. It was then you felt Geta’s mouth in your neck, his warm tongue licking your skin. His mouth sucking the flesh from time to time. 

Caracalla then was forced to come up for air, to which he pawed at your toga. You noticed how he now had a bulge at his groin and wondered if that was because of his excitement. Geta helped his brother with your clothes, unclasping it at the middle while Caracalla worked on the clasps at your shoulders. “What are you going to do?” You almost whimpered out, you still felt the need to know their next moves.

“Geta is going to make you feel very very good, for everything you’ve done for us. And then- perhaps you can make us feel good too. Would you like that?” Caracalla almost heaved out, finally he had undone the clasps and his hand was quick to tug down your toga to reveal your bare chest. Nipples hardening at the cool air that blew through the room. “Fuck.” Caracalla whined. “Gods I need to taste you-” Geta rushed out before he slid off the settee and knelt before you, forcing Caracalla to sit at your other side. 

Lust completely overtook your senses and all you could think about was them, more importantly their hands on you, what they looked like bare and what they would do next. “Please- I want more-” You confessed, forgetting all your manners. Geta chuckled lowly as he spread your legs, lifting up the skirt of your toga slowly as if to not tease you, but himself. Geta could feel how hard he was, something he hadn’t been around anyone but you ever since you met. You did not only just leave their company earlier, you left them aching, with full balls and unmet needs.

Caracalla turned your head to face him again, before he kissed you hungrily once more. It was now his hands that groped at your breasts. “Such, irresistible tits-” He panted between kisses, when he broke off, you could feel Geta’s hands caressing your now bare thighs. “An irresistible cunt too brother- so fucking wet and swollen-” Geta mumbled before he spread your legs further and dove in. A cry left your lips when he licked your folds with his tongue. “Yeah? Does that feel good?” Caracalla teased, still massaging both your mounds. “Perhaps I’ll have a taste of these while my brother feasts on your cunt.” He whispered in your ear.  

You nodded impatiently, you had no words for how Geta was lapping at your pearl. Strings of moans and cries left you, you felt like pushing Geta away while at the same time pulling him closer. Geta whined and shuddered himself, while his mouth sucked and licked at you, not wanting it all to be over too soon. Caracalla couldn’t resist anymore and kissed from your mouth down your neck. Sucking on the skin at your collarbone before he took your left nipple in his mouth.

A loud whine escaped you at the feeling of one brother between your thighs while the other sucked at your breasts. You didn’t even notice how Caracalla was touching himself over his toga, he couldn’t help it- all the excitement and teasing had made him so hard, his own arousal started to leak on his thigh. Caracalla sent vibrations over your skin while he moaned around your nipple, his own stimulation adding to his arousal.

“I can’t- I-” Your back arched and you instinctively gripped Geta’s hair, your breath stuck in your throat as your first orgasm sucked the life out of you. Your soul felt like it was departing with the way Geta did not cease his actions, instead he lapped at you faster. “No! Please-” You choked on air as your legs began to shake, Geta noticed then how overstimulated you were and ended his torment. His own scalp was aching from how you pulled it but he was desperate to feel it again. 

Caracalla was still suckling at your breast, his hand massaging his cock over the fabric covering it. Geta came up to kiss you now your lips had a break from his brother. Pausing before he spoke, “Do you taste yourself on my tongue? Such a delicious cunt you have- all ours- only ours.” Geta rambled. He didn’t even give you time to answer before he resumed kissing you, his tongue now lapping inside your mouth instead. Then Geta moved your hand to his bulge, encouraging you to squeeze it, massage it. He hissed when you did, whispering praises in your ear as you jerked him over his clothes. 

He was about to remove his toga to resume your activities when three heavy and loud knocks pierced the room. “What?!” Geta screamed, making you flinch as his voice penetrated your ear. Caracalla paused his movements too, looking up with ragged breath. “I apologise your majesty but General Acacius is asking for his daughter, he would like to take her home.” An unknown voice explained on the other side of the large doors, probably a Praetorian. “Not now! Fuck off!” Caracalla then screamed. They were both good at that.

“I’m afraid he is insisting, Caesar.” The voice continued. You had almost completely forgotten your father and Lucilla were still somewhere in the palace, waiting for you. “Perhaps, we could- continue... this, when we have more time?” You meekly suggested. Geta looked at his brother who shook his head no, but Geta knew better. He did not want his best General to know yet what he and his twin were doing to his precious daughter, if he decided to send you away or even leave with you, it would ruin everything. 

Geta knew the best course of action was to have you return later, to avoid suspicion and to keep you around. “You will come back later, perhaps tomorrow.” Geta decided, you nodded. “No, no, no! We have not finished yet!” Caracalla almost cried, he finally had you, and now you were being ripped away from him? “Brother, she will come back, now to avoid further suspicion, she should come back tomorrow.” Geta insisted. Caracalla let go of you and sat back with a scoff. 

“I’m sorry Caesar, I will come back, I promise.” You told him sweetly, before making the bold move to kiss him on his cheek. That little goodbye kiss was not enough for him, he turned you and kissed you on your lips before reluctantly letting go. Geta then helped you with your toga while Caracalla definitely pouted next to you, refusing to help. And you knew you were in too deep when Geta finished dressing you, helped you stand and kissed you softly before caressing your cheek and bringing you back to your father...

[dahlibae]

your blog is sooo 🫠🥵 so good!!!!

Jealous sugar mommy Wanda has been so on my brain!! Every event you go to she makes sure you look stunning but it’s always an excuse to make sure people stare and flirt so that she can haul your ass out to the car and punish you. Just to take you back in with your head hanging blushing and sore as you try to socialize now. Just. Yes.

warning(s) — drabble: mommy wanda, brat!reader, kissing, punishment, spanking, choking (18+)

AHHH THANK UUUU SWEETIE :P

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

i won’t lie i’ve been thinking about mommy wanda and how she wouldn’t tolerate brattiness. or back chat. or any kind of attitude towards her. like at all. 100%… but pushing buttons would be soo much fun, especially when you know all you’d have to do is bat your lashes at someone in front of mommy, and she’ll have you spread over her lap in no time lmaoo.

at first, i think she wouldn’t go so hard on you though just bc you like to “bat your slutty eyes at anyone with cleavage” as she would put it. but it would be the fact you don’t cave into submission after she’s already told you off for your behaviour.

it would drive her mental.

you would say something simple like: “well at least she’d treat me like her gf and not a show pony” or even worse, “bet she’d probably fuck me better too” bc let’s face it, at these events wanda has to be all serious and more than often if she doesn’t need you to win her favours she leaves you to your own devices. it’s not rlly your fault you’ve managed to find someone else to keep you company.

but that is exactly what would do it for the older woman.

and the fact that she’s already spanked your ass red and yet you still have an attitude.

she’d push you off her lap and head for the drivers seat, not saying a word to you and not waiting for you to climb into the passenger seat. she’d just drive home as fast as she could without care if you were in the back or the front or even the roof of the vehicle.

even after you arrived home, she wouldn’t say anything, immediately heading to the kitchen to pour another drink. the silence would kill you, and you knew you were in deeper shit than you wanted. it was supposed to be just a little fun, something to rile her up. not exactly hurt her… so to make it up to mommy, you’d go upstairs and undress before kneeling on the bed waiting for her to join.

when she finally arrived upstairs, you could tell she had began unzipping her dress. her eyes were cold and drifted over your bare frame before heading towards the wardrobe where she watched herself in the mirror as she slid the dress off her frame.

“you know… i got all dolled up just for you baby.” she’d caress at her sides as you took in the sight of the red lace against her alabaster skin,“wanted to take you home after tonight and show you how much i love it when you’re a good girl for me.”

okay so… not upset. but maybe homicidal?

she looked like she wanted to eat you alive.

the dress left in a pile on the floor, she’d now stand in front of you, delicate fingers trailing over your sensitive nipples, licking her lips as she watched your skin shiver underneath her. absentmindedly, you’d raise your hands to grab onto her hips, fingers immediately reaching for the protruding bones of her pelvis you just love to kiss and bite and suck…and that snaps her out of her trance as she steps away from you.

that look of adoration she usually has on her face now replaced with the cold one from before. she’d step back into you, this time crowding your space, as her hand wraps around your throat, and she tips your head back to meet hers. you’d look so adorable, flustered with a little pout on your lips that she’d have no choice but to press few kisses, demanding entrance so she could suck on your tongue, before refocusing on the task at hand.

you had been such a bad girl for her.

and wanda doesn’t like when her girl misbehaves.

“oh baby,” she’d release your lips with a loud smack, “it’s too bad mommy now has to beat the brat out of you, huh?”

[ladykailitha]

Share With Me One Love, One Life Time Part 3

Hey, guys! We are moving right along with this story, and I think we're gonna hit 8 chapters if everything goes to plan. Fingers crossed!

So much happens in this chapter, like sooo so much it would take as long listing it as it would for you to just read it.

Enjoy!

Part 1 Part 2

~

Steve was on the walkie talkies as much as he could spare when they weren’t looking into the issue of Vecna, he didn’t want Eddie to feel like they’d forgotten him.

Nancy had gone to Wayne first thing in the morning.

“Mr. Munson?” she asked timidly. “I’m Nancy Wheeler.”

“Ah,” Wayne said dryly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back. “I don’t have my shot gun or you’d be facing its double barrel, I’m afraid. I know what you did to Steve, you and I aren’t gonna get cozy anytime soon.”

Nancy winced. “Yeah, I know. But I’m here about Eddie.” She inched forward, nervously picking at her fingernails.

Wayne glared at her and took a step back. “Dr. Owens has already been in touch and I’ve been forcibly removed from my home. They think this another Upside Down fuckery.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking at the ground. “Steve and Eddie sent me because if the police or anyone else are watching you, then it won’t link back to them. They’ll just see some nosy Parker hoping to get her first big scoop.”

Wayne licked his lips nice and slow. “I can see sense in that, I suppose. So my boy is safe?”

“Yes,” Nancy said quickly. “But with the cops thinking he did it, I don’t know how long that’s going to be true.”

“My boy didn’t do that,” Wayne growled. “He wouldn’t. He’s not in league with whatever is doing this and you best remember that.”

“I don’t think he had anything to do with it either,” she hastened to reply. “We know what people look and act like when they’re being controlled and he doesn’t display any of the symptoms.”

Wayne eyed her suspiciously and then nodded curtly. “What are you next moves?”

~

“No.”

Robin and Nancy looked at each other in shocked anger.

“Are you suggesting that we would need a big tough guy to go to a psychiatric hospital?” Robin sneered.

Wayne crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m saying. Because what happens if he attacks one of you before the orderly can get to him? Say oops, when he snaps one of your necks?”

Nancy started stammering and um’ing and ah’ing while Robin stared at him wide eyed and in shock. Steve pursed his lips and waved at Wayne, indicating he had a point.

“If you’re not going to listen to me,” he huffed, “maybe you’ll listen to him. Because honestly that’s only the worst case scenario, but the others aren’t much better. What happens if you get caught?”

“Well,” Nancy huffed as she scrambled for an answer, “I mean...it’s worked for us in the past.”

“You’re not going and that’s final,” Wayne growled. “I don’t care if that’s how you always do things before, you’re not doing them now. I get your lot is all that is standing between the end of the world, but we’re going to do things the smart way and not blunder into the right thing by accident.”

Steve smiled and relaxed. He still cared about Nancy and Robin was his best friend, the thought of them talking to that man without help sent shivers down his spine.

“So what’s going to happen is this,” Wayne continued, “Robin and Steve will keep an eye on Max and the other kids, while Nancy and I head to Pennhurst. Is that clear?”

Robin nodded, feeling relieved. She would have gone with Nancy if she was asked to, because someone needed to keep an eye on her. But with Wayne going with her, that was a load off everyone’s shoulders.

Nancy chewed on her lip, she didn’t want anyone to get in her way, and she had deliberately picked Robin because she knew the other girl would do as she said. But judging from the way Wayne was glaring at her, he had figured her out.

“Fine.”

~

“You can’t keep me here,” Max huffed, “in this basement that smells of sweaty boys and old socks.”

“Yes I can,” Steve snapped back. “I don’t want you running off where we can’t see you and have you up and die on us!”

“I’ll call my lawyer!” Max hissed. “So either you drive me or I start walking!”

Steve closed his eyes and then buried his head in hands. He didn’t want to do this. Billy didn’t deserve the letter she was going to read to him. He still had his in his back pocket and he had no intention of reading the thing because they were going to save her. They had to.

He yanked open the car door. “Everyone in!”

Lucas got in first and scooted to the middle as Robin and Max flanked him, Dustin having beaten them to the front seat.

~

They drove out to the cemetery and parked as close as he could to Billy’s grave. He rubbed his chin as he waited.

“If you don’t shut up,” he finally growled at Dustin, who was being a little shit, “I’ll knock out those brand new pearly whites of yours.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Dustin huffed, turning to face Steve with furrowed brows. “Too far!”

“Then you knock it off,” Steve snapped back. “I don’t know what has gotten into you lately, but holy hell the lack of respect coming from that side of the car is immense right now.”

Dustin rolled his eyes as Steve turned his attention back to Max. “That’s it, I’m calling.” He shoved the car door open and slammed it shut.

Lucas was out of the car in a flash. “She said to give her time.”

“I don’t care,” Steve huffed. “It’s been long enough.” He stalked across the cemetery lawn, passed the other tombstones.

He reached her and whirled her around, but gasped when he saw her eyes had gone milky white. “Shit!” He shook her shoulder. “Max! Max!”

Dustin, Lucas, and Robin all came dashing over.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Lucas screamed as Max started to rise into the air. He jumped on her to try and keep her on the ground, but she rose with him attached to her legs.

Steve pushed Dustin toward the car. “Get Wayne and Nancy on the walkie-talkie! We need to know what they found out now!”

Dustin scrambled to do as he was told. Lucas tumbled to the ground and let out a pained cried, Robin rushed to his side.

“Hey, you okay?” she murmured. He nodded, hold his arm. He rubbed it a moment and then stood back on his feet.

“Music!” Dustin screamed. “She needs music!”

Then it was Lucas scrambling for the car, he came back with headphones and a Walkman. He turned the music up as loud as he could. Steve and Robin both grabbed Max’s ankles and dragged her down. Lucas slapped the headphones on her head and turned it down so that they couldn’t hear the music anymore, but that it was still loud enough for Max to hear.

As soon the headphones where on she dropped the rest of the way into Lucas’s waiting arms.

A beat. Then another as they waited.

Max opened her eyes and everyone was sobbing in relief. Dustin immediately replied back to the waiting members of their Party. “She’s safe, she’s safe.”

~

“Steve,” Eddie breathed into the walkie-talkie, panic rising from the pit of his stomach. “Please come in. I’m in trouble.”

“This is Steve,” Steve murmured into his device. “What’s wrong?” The recombined Party stood outside the Creel house, looking for a way in.

“Jason and his goons are outside,” Eddie hissed back. “And they don’t look friendly.”

“Shit!” Steve replied. He turned to the rest of them. “We need someone who can drive to go and get Eddie, Jason is there at the boathouse and he’s trapped.”

“I’m on it!” Wayne said digging out his keys.

“Wait!” Nancy shouted, throwing up her hand to stop him. “Take my car! Your truck will be too recognizable!”

Wayne stared at her for a moment and then tossed her his keys. She tossed him hers. He yanked open the door to her station wagon and sped off.

They all kind of stood there for a moment taking in the absolute terror of Jason coming after Eddie, before Robin broke the silence. “So are we breaking into this joint or what?”

~

Eddie made it out onto the boat in the middle of the lake when Patrick, Jason, and Andy came after him. They were about three feet from shore when Wayne pulled up in Nancy’s station wagon. He popped open the glove box and rolled his eyes. Inside was a revolver, with a sigh he pulled out and checked the rounds.

Fully loaded.

“I might like her a little bit,” he muttered as he hopped out of the car and ran up to the water.

“You boys best not be doing what I think you’re doing,” he growled and cocked the gun, the sound loud and clear on the open water. “I’mma gonna give you to the count of five to turn around, nice and slow.”

Jason and Andy turned around as they were told, but Patrick had kept going and had gotten about halfway to Eddie when he started rising in the air.

“Shit!” Wayne hissed as the boys turned around and saw their friend plunge into the water as if by some unseen force. Which considering this Vecna son of a bitch, was more than accurate.

Andy and Jason ran back into the water and Wayne dived into the open door of Nancy’s station wagon and turned up the radio as loud as it could go.

But it was too late. Patrick shot out of the water again and his limbs twisted unnaturally; the sound of them snapping would haunt Wayne for the rest of his days. Eddie started screaming and he scrambled back in the boat in terror, but he went too far and fell into the water.

“God damn it!” Wayne cursed and ran out to the water, but before he could even get to the shore, Patrick dropped like a stone.

“Shit!’ he cursed again.

Jason started screaming about the devil and how he had come to Hawkins, while Andy actually dove into the water to get their slain friend.

“Cal’s gonna kick my ass for this,” he groused, then hauled off and smacked Jason hard across his face.

Jason stopped screaming , staring at Wayne in wide-eyed shock, holding his cheek.

“Do something useful and go into the house and call the cops,” he snarled, “while I help your friend here bring the body to shore.”

Jason hurried to do what he was told and Wayne waded out to the water to help Andy bring Patrick’s body in.

~

“Wayne...” Calvin Powell growled when he saw him sitting on the hood of Nancy’s car, picking at his nails.

“I’m gonna protect my boy,” Wayne said without looking up from his hands. “And those other boys were gonna kill him.”

Powell turned slowly to Jason and Andy who refused to look at him.

“Was that what you were going to do, boys?” he asked raising an eyebrow. “Or is Mr. Munson overreacting?”

Wayne snorted. “If they were planning on bringing him to justice then why didn’t they call police when there was talk of activity up here? Because that’s why I’m here. I heard the same god damn thing.”

Powell pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily.

“You boys are coming with me,” he said, resigned. “To give your statements about Patrick McKinney’s death to start and then we’ll see about the other thing.”

“I’ll give you my statement,” Wayne said dryly, “but you try to stop from trying to find my boy, you and I are gonna tangle, Cal.”

Powell opened his mouth to argue, but knew it was futile. “Fine.”

He looked over at Wayne and then frowned. “Where’s your truck, Wayne?”

Wayne hopped off the station wagon’s hood and patted it fondly. “Nancy Wheeler was wanting to write about the murder and my boy when I heard some of the neighbors talking about lights on up at the Lipton place. So I wanted to go see if it was Eddie and wouldn’t you know it the damn truck wouldn’t start so Nancy let me take her car.”

Powell nodded, but wisely said nothing. He let Wayne get into the car and drive off, before he turned to the other boys.

“We’re going to stay put until the coroner arrives,” he said pointing back and forth between Jason and Andy, “and then you are going to follow me to the station where you are going to tell me everything!”

~

Tag List: EIGHT SLOTS REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @beelze-the-bubkiss @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @themoonagainstmers

9- @steddieislife @chaotic-waffle

[calissarowan]

Evil princess Icy headcanons

Dyamond gets restored at some point in or just after season three; Icy whips out the sob story and waterworks (she has an onion slice hidden in her gloves, she can’t cry on cue), and Bloom’s heart melts, because Icy’s not evil, she’s just sad and traumatised and a lost princess like her, she’d better save her planet! Then Dyamond is melted with the power if the Dragon Flame and Bloom’s feels so good watching Icy hug her moms and sister, and it’s all a happy, tearful reunion. Until Icy tries to impale her, because psyche! She can be evil and love her family! And her moms do precisely nothing aside from pointing out and weak spots in Icy’s defence and keeping Sapphire from trying to fight too.

All the citizens of Dyamond are behind her, and if she ever kills the Winx, she will be able to run through the streets doing that long chain of high fives thing. There will be a planet-wide holiday and a street party, and Icy will go on chat shows where they’ll replay all her best villain moments.

Icy actually cares a lot about her subjects, and is gonna make a pretty great queen one day. Everyone else can just get frozen solid, though.

Darcy and Stormy are welcome on Dyamond at the palace any time, and they both have rooms and Darcy has already got half the cute guys there wrapped around her finger. Stormy likes to try on all the crowns in the castle, and all the armour. All three Trix are expected for dinner once a month, family dinner, no exceptions. The queens had the three paroled from jail once to make dinner. Then she just never gave them back and threatened all out war if anyone tried to take her girls.

Tritannus just stared at Icy for a full ten minutes when she got off the phone with her mom having explained all her evil plans and signing off with ‘Love you too,’ and Icy had to explain the concept of a loving and supportive family. Tritannus still doesn’t get how they support her being sociopathic to everyone and trying to rule the universe. She invited him to the monthly dinner and her parents took one look at this depressed, emotionally neglected teenager with anger issues and said ‘Well, looks like he lives here now.’ Tritannus is now also an unofficial member of the family. (Also I don’t really ship them, so he’s just Icy’s friend that lives there now.) He lives on Dyamond now. I won’t offer an explanation for why no Oblivion, but he just lives on Dyamond and gets harassed by Sapphire wanting to do his hair every day.

Stormy is Sapphire’s idol; she follows her around and tries to imitate her, and Stormy loves it. Darcy’s tried to get Sapphire to idolise her, but Sapphire wants to be Stormy. Together, they’ve messed with just about every royal guard in the palace.

Icy was invited to the Summit of the Realms in season 5, and nobody could kick her out. She spent the whole time making snarky comments.

Sapphire and Miele have teamed up to help their big sisters, and they are actually friends. Flora almost fainted when Miele mentioned she’d been hanging out on Dyamond.

@elsa-fogen, I know you liked this au.

[lightsoutmatthews]

Say you won’t let go - Mikko Rantanen

summary: Mikko gets traded to the Carolina Hurricanes, what does that mean for your relationship?

pairing: Mikko Rantanen x female!reader

warnings: angst (a lot)

words: 2.4k

authors note:

* Thank you SO much for the positive response to "New Rules", I´m glad people liked it

* The Avs were on a road trip when Mikko got traded but for the sake of this we ignore that

—————————————————————————

The rain pounded heavy against the windows of your Denver apartment. The mood outside fitting to the mood inside the walls. A notification you never thought you would get. Obviously, you knew it was possible, but Mikko was the Avalanche alongside Nate, Cale and Gabe, never in a million years would you have expected him to be traded.

After the initial shock waved off uncertainty creeped up inside your head. What would happen between you and Mikko?

You had only been dating for about 9 months at this point, had never lived together or even spend more than a few nights at the same place together. Sure, you said “I love you”, you spent every second possible together and you were there for each other like no one had been there for you before, but this was bigger than being apart for two weeks when he was on the seasons longest road trip.

Messages started to ping on your phone before you could think further. The Avs better halves group chat reacting to the trade, family and friends texting. You ignored all of it. Talking to anyone but Mikko about this was the least thing you wanted to do right now.

He was out with some of the guys, enjoying a rare night off with a drink at a bar and good food. At least he was with the guys when the news hit, you thought, anxiously pacing the living room. You hated this.

The phone ringing almost made you jump out of your skin. Mel Landeskog. The screen read. You pressed the decline button. She meant well, you knew she did, but you couldn’t speak to anyone right now.

I love you.

A text sent to Mikko a few minutes after the initial news hit. It went unanswered. You wanted to text again, asking when he would be back from the bar, if he wanted you to come over but you didn’t want to seem clingy. He needed to process this too.

An hour ticked past; you didn’t hear from him. It was almost 11 now and you were getting worried. You had checked the Hurricanes schedule as soon as you processed the initial emotions. He would have to be on Long Island by tomorrow in the afternoon to play his first game.

Reluctantly you went to bed after another 30 minutes of waiting, knowing tomorrow would be emotionally even more draining than this evening. Minutes, that felt like hours, of tossing and turning, your mind racing at a mile a minute as you tried not to be too worried about the man you kept so close to your heart.

The rain was still pouring outside, the soft sounds of it hitting your bedroom window doing nothing to help you fall asleep. Another turn, another click on the screen of your phone to check if he had texted you back. A sting in your heart when the screen still came up empty.

Deep breaths, in and out, it’s going to be okay, you will be fine, he will be fine.

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

The sudden rapid knocks at your door made you jump. You checked your phone again. A few minutes after 1 am. There was only one person you expected to be on the other side of the door at this time of the night.

The image outside the door ripped your heart in a million little pieces. Mikko looked about as good as you felt. Two big suitcases next to him, his favorite backpack slung over his shoulder. He was dripping from the rain he must have walked through. Eyes shot red like he had been crying.

He said nothing as he entered your apartment after you stepped aside to let him in. The silence that filled the living room was almost unbearable, but you didn’t know what to say. Nothing that you could say would make this situation any better.

You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but you knew he was not. Why would he? He´d been with the Avalanche for 10 years. He thought he would be an Av for live and just like that it was ripped away from him. You didn’t know the details, at this point you didn’t want to know either, but it must have been bad if they pulled the trigger this fast.

A loud sigh left your boyfriends mouth before he slumped down on your couch. It didn’t matter that he was still wearing his soaking jacked and made your throw pillows and blanket all wet.

Sitting down on the other side of the couch, giving him space, you twirled your thumbs around and waited for anything to happen. For him to break the silence, to just say anything that would give you the reassurance that everything will turn out okay.

Minutes passed in silence. “Come here, Rakas.” You almost flinched when he spoke. He lifted one arm, signalizing for you to cuddle against him like you had done thousands of times before. It felt heavier this time. So much heavier than everything you had done in your relationship.

Settled against his side he began to play with your hair, tension radiating from his body like heat radiated from a heater in a cold winter night. More minutes passed with no speaking at all.

You took a deep breath, the silence becoming too much for you to bear. “I´m sorry, Mik.” Another heavy sigh from the man besides you. “It´s not your fault.” A soft kiss placed to the top of your head, almost like it was reassurance.

“When are you leaving?” You didn’t want to know. You had mere hours left before he would move to a completely different state. “They chartered a plane eleven.”

You buried your head in his side to try and fight the tears, but they were impossible to stop. He obviously noticed even though you tried to keep him oblivious. He knew you too well. “We´ll figure it out, I promise.” He whispered into your hair. A weak attempt to make you feel better about the situation.

Both of you knew that there was a question that hung in the air but neither of you wanted to speak. Each other’s company brought comfort in a time where it was desperately needed. More silence followed until you were no longer sure how long you laid on the couch.

“What now, Mikko?” Your words hung in the air for a few seconds before he shifted to sit up again and dropped his head into his hands. “I wish I knew.” His voice was heavy with sadness.

“I will move to Raleigh. They´re setting me up with an apartment that should be ready by the time the road trip is over. I need to contact movers to pack up all the stuff from the house. I need to figure out what I will do with the house in the first place.” He was rambling. You let him because you were glad he was talking.

“I need to get my stuff from the team tomorrow. I didn’t even get the chance to say bye to most of the guys.” His hand smacked down on the soft fabric of one of your decorative pillows. “This whole situation is just so frustrating.”

You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend in an attempt to take some of the frustrations away. You didn’t know if it would help but when he relaxed into your hold you knew he appreciated it.

“It will turn out okay. You don’t have to do everything now. The house can be a problem for the off-season.” A slight nod that you only felt because his head was pressed against your shoulder.

“Raleigh is a nice city. I heard only good things about the Canes players. Sebastian and Jesperi are there. So are Tyson and Sean. It´s not all bad, honey.” An unrecognizable grunt from him. You knew that would not make it better.

“What will happen to us, Mikko?” A heavy question. You knew you had only been dating for a few months. You weren’t expecting him to ask you to move with him. Right in this moment, you weren´t even sure if you wanted him to ask.

Your job, your friends and family, everything you had built over the years before you met him were in Denver. Were you prepared to leave it all behind for a man you didn’t even know a year ago?

On the one hand you were. You loved Mikko, obviously. You could not imagine a life he wasn’t in anymore. On the other hand, you wondered what would be if this is not working out. What if you broke up? You didn’t want to imagine breaking up but, in this scenario, you had to.

You would have to build a whole new life in Raleigh. New friends, new work. No work? You didn’t even know if it was worth it. The season would be over in a few months and who knew if he would re-sign with the Hurricanes or if you had to move again by July.

With each second that passed without an answer from him your heart grew heavier. Of course, it was a lot to consider but you secretly hoped he had already made up his mind when he ghosted you for hours earlier in the night.

“Your whole life is here.” You heart sank. “I don’t want to be selfish and take you away from it.” Your hands started to tremble. “Mikko…” You were prepared to argue, to show him that he should reconsider, but he stopped you by raising his hand.

“Sweetheart I love you, but I would never forgive myself for taking you from your friends and family.” Tears once again filled the rims of your eyes. You couldn’t breathe. Words that you wanted to say kept getting stuck in your throat.

His big hand reached out and touched your cheek so tenderly that it only made you cry harder. “Don´t do this.” Your voice merely above a whisper. You weren’t even sure that he heard it.

“I want to stay with you until we´re grey and old. I don’t care if you make me move halfway across the world, I just want to stay with you.” Sobs ripped through every other word you said.

His expression was painful, heartbreak written all over his face. He didn’t want to do this; you could see it in his eyes. “Ask me to come with you.” Words filled with desperation, your eyes stained with tears.

“Baby…” You didn’t want to hear what he had to say, it hurt, knowing he didn’t want to move in life with you. At the same time, you knew that you were not dating for a long time. His reasoning probably would make sense if you heard him out, but you didn’t want to.

“Leave.” The word left your mouth before you could even think about the consequences this would imply. He was taken aback. “Rakas…” The Finish term of endearment burnt in your heart. “No, if you´re just here to break up with me you did just that, you can leave now, have fun in Carolina.”

The reaction was harsh, an attempt to protect yourself from the heartbreak that would undoubtedly still follow. “Leave, Mikko.” Heartbreaking sobs were tearing through you as you got up and walked out of the living room. You couldn’t stand the heartbreak in his eyes.

Back in your bedroom you laid on the bed. Face buried into the mountain of pillows you had acquired over the years. Half of them smelled like him, the countless times the two of you had slept in this bed together coming back to you.

His presence filled up the room as soon as he entered. “Baby…” He repeated his words from a few minutes ago. Turning away from him you grabbed your phone as a distraction. He slammed his hand to the frame of your bedroom door, so hard you were afraid the neighbors would hear. “Would you just hear me out, please”

“What´s there to hear?” Silence. “That´s what I thought.”

He sat down at the end of the bed just like did on mornings where you had woken up together. When he got back from the shower, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and brushing your hair out of your face with the other before placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.  

“Would you just listen.” He almost spit the words in your face, frustration clearly on his tongue. This time he didn’t wait for a reply, he just kept talking.

“I would never forgive myself if I would take you from your family and friends, but I would also never forgive myself if I wouldn’t ask you to come with me. I love you so much, sweetheart. I don’t want to do life without you. There´s nothing more that I want than for us to build a home together. Wherever it might be.”

His words had you facing him again. Eyes open wide from the confession he just dropped on you. “Why didn’t you say that earlier? Why did you hesitate?” Questions over questions pooled into your head.

“Seeing your heart break in real time had my heart break to. You could say I was too stunned to speak, or whatever the expression is.” If the situation wouldn’t have been as serious as it was, you would have laughed.

He got back up and sat down right next to you. His hands found your cheek again and he brushed soft circles over your skin. “Move to Raleigh with me?”

A small smile spread on your lips before it turned back to a serious expression. “Are you really sure?” you questioned. “We haven’t been dating for that long.”

“I have never been surer about anything in my entire life.” You sat back up, facing him directly this time. “Yes, Mikko, I will move to Raleigh with you.”

He put both hands on your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. A kiss you had been waiting for ever since he stepped foot into your living room earlier in the night. “There´s no one I´d rather move states with.”

[sturniololuvz]

you should do a fic about the sturniolos sister being in high-school and she's going through a hard time or something that they help her through. or maybe one where they catch her with a vape or someone like that and have to have a talk with her?? love your work!!💕💕

i hope yall like this !!!🩷

“A Breath of Truth”

Sturniolos x sister reader

Warnings : vaping , confronting, and i think that’s it…

It was a typical afternoon in the Sturniolo household—Nick was editing a video on his laptop, Matt was mindlessly scrolling through his phone, and Chris was rummaging through the kitchen for a snack. Everything seemed normal until Matt’s voice broke through the quiet.

“Yo, where’s Y/N?” he asked, looking up from his phone.

“Probably in her room,” Nick replied, not looking away from his screen.

Chris, grabbing a bag of chips, shrugged. “She was acting kinda weird earlier, though. Like, dodging eye contact and stuff.”

Matt furrowed his brows. “You think something’s up?”

Before anyone could answer, Chris’ eyes narrowed. “Hold on.” He sniffed the air, his expression turning dark. “Do you smell that?”

Nick and Matt exchanged glances, then sniffed. There was a faint, sweet scent lingering in the air—one that definitely didn’t belong to anything in the house.

Chris didn’t wait for a consensus. He was already walking toward Y/N’s bedroom, his jaw clenched. The other two followed quickly behind him.

Chris knocked once before swinging the door open. And there she was—Y/N, sitting by the window, a sleek vape in her hand.

Her eyes widened in shock. “Crap,” she muttered under her breath, scrambling to hide it, but it was too late.

Chris’s face turned red with anger. “Are you kidding me?”

Matt blinked in disbelief. “Y/N, what the hell?”

Nick sighed, rubbing his temples. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

Y/N looked down, ashamed. “It’s—it’s not a big deal.”

Chris scoffed, his hands on his hips. “Not a big deal? You’re sixteen, Y/N. Do you even know what’s in that thing? What it does to you?”

Y/N crossed her arms, avoiding their stares. “It’s just vaping, Chris. Everyone does it.”

“That’s the worst excuse you could possibly use,” Matt muttered, shaking his head.

Nick sat down on the edge of the bed, his expression softer but still serious. “Y/N, we’re not trying to gang up on you, but this isn’t okay. Why are you even doing this?”

Y/N hesitated before mumbling, “I don’t know. Just stress, I guess.”

Chris exhaled sharply, pacing the room. “So you think the way to handle stress is inhaling chemicals you don’t even understand? That’s not control, Y/N. That’s the opposite of control.”

Y/N finally looked up, frustration flashing in her eyes. “You don’t get it, Chris! It’s not like I’m doing drugs or something crazy—”

“Vaping is still bad for you!” Chris snapped. “And yeah, maybe it’s not ‘crazy,’ but that doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous! You’re better than this.”

Nick reached over and placed a hand on Y/N’s arm. “Look, we all get stressed, alright? I do, too. But this? This isn’t the answer.”

Matt, who had been quiet for a moment, finally spoke. “Y/N, you’ve always been the smart one. The one who calls us out on our dumb decisions. And now you’re acting like this isn’t a big deal?”

Y/N bit her lip, her defenses starting to crumble.

Chris ran a hand through his hair, his voice softer now but still firm. “You need to take care of your body, Y/N. You only get one. I just—” He sighed. “I don’t want to see you mess that up.”

A long silence stretched between them before Y/N finally whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Matt nodded. “We’re not mad at you. Well, Chris is, but—”

Chris shot him a look, and Matt put his hands up in surrender.

Nick smiled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. “We just want you to be okay. That’s all.”

Y/N took a deep breath and nodded. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

Chris crossed his arms, eyeing her carefully. “You better mean that.”

Y/N cracked a small smile. “I do.”

Matt clapped his hands together. “Alright, now that we’ve had our dramatic intervention, can we all go get food? I feel like we need comfort snacks.”

Nick rolled his eyes but stood up. “That actually sounds like a good idea.”

Chris hesitated for a second before sighing and ruffling Y/N’s hair. “Just don’t scare us like that again, okay?”

Y/N smiled. “Okay.”

And with that, the four of them headed out, the weight of the conversation lingering but the bond between them stronger than ever.

[tayswife]

— braid my hair, kiss my lips

☆ glinda upland x elphaba thropp

☆ summary: glinda gets frustrated with her hair. elphaba ends up braiding it for her. or, glinda spirals over not being able to braid her hair and gay witches end up kissing.

☆ a/n: when i’m talking about them getting reading for fencing training class im talking about that one clip in what is this feeling but i have no idea if that’s actually fencing or not helpppp…

glinda sat at her vanity, across the room from elphaba who was sitting on her bed with a book opened in her lap. she was waiting on her recently new friend, glinda, to finish getting reading so they could head off to fencing training class. arriving together to class had been something that they had began doing without even discussing it. they seemed to be constantly together lately.

glinda groaned, loud enough for anyone outside of their dorm room to hear, and she threw her face into her hands. elphaba looked up at her frustrated friend and closed her book. even though they were friends now, elphaba was still skeptical of glinda. she wasn’t entirely sure what the girl’s intentions were quiet yet. she didn’t hate her, she was just unsure.

elphaba stood up off of her bed and slowly walked over to her. when glinda heard the delicate clink of her heels against the wood floor, she looked up and carefully watched elphaba through her vanity mirror.

she still looks very angry but her face seemed to soften when she saw elphaba.

“you okay?” elphaba asks.

glinda sighs, and looks down. elphaba’s expecting the blonde to start yelling about whatever problem she is currently facing, but instead, her voice is quiet and defeated, “no. my stupid hair won’t braid. i don’t know what’s wrong with it today.”

elphaba closed the large distance that was between them and stood right behind glinda. glinda’s hair was unkept and messy. elphaba thought she looked most beautiful like this. it was the glory of being roommates and seeing a side of each other that nobody else gets to see.

“would you like me to braid it for you?” elphie says it quietly as if she’s still talking to the old glinda that would cringe at her offer.

instead, glinda’s eyes widened. a soft smile appears on her pink lips. she nods, “you’d do that for me?”

“of course.” glinda’s played dress up with elphaba now that they’re friends; attempting to find her a new style, but elphie hasn’t yet been the one to help out glinda. people typically don’t go to her for fashion, and makeup, and beauty. however, to their disbelief, elphie really is great at braiding hair.

glinda gave her a smile and nod of consent and hands her friend a bright pink hairbrush. elphaba brushed through the golden locks, being extra careful to not hurt her when she brushed through the knots that glinda created from her multiple attempts at braids.

“you’re really gentle,” glinda says, “i like you brushing my hair.”

elphaba blushed. and she didn’t know why she blushed at glinda’s words either, but she did, and now she needed to compliment the blonde witch back. “well your hair is very soft so that helps a lot.”

“thank you,” glinda says softly. and that’s all either of them say, but both girls sit there thinking about the exchange and how intimate this moment feels.

elphaba eventually puts down the brush when glinda’s hair is perfectly untangled. she picks up one section of her hair and, for a moment, all she can think about is how this is the first time that her hands have been on glinda’s hair and she tries to ignore the flutter feeling in her chest.

she then separates that section into three more and starts crossing them over each other. having elphaba’s hands thread through her hair makes glinda so sleepy but her heart beating a mile a second keeps her awake.

eventually, she gets to her ends and ties it off with a tiny clear elastic that glinda handed her. it’s when she’s about to go to the second section of her hair that glinda hands her a string of baby pink ribbon. of course glinda wasn’t going to not have any accessories in her hair. that would be very un-glinda like.

elphie smiles at her through her vanity mirror and glinda smiles back. “how could i forget,” elphaba says, and then ties a perfect bow at the end to hide the elastic.

she then does the exact same thing on the other side of glinda’s head; three strands, cross them, elastic, and then the pink ribbon. frankly, she wishes she wasn’t finished. she wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she enjoyed spending time like this with glinda. unbeknown to her, glinda felt the exact same feelings. unfortunately though, they had to get to class and glinda didn’t have any more hair to braid.

“for once it’s you giving me the makeover,” glinda teases and turns around in her stool to face her friend. they’re now very very close and elphaba thinks she should probably take a step back but her brain and feet seem to be unconnected right now.

“i actually didn’t mind it,” she says, and they both giggle. she wanted to say that she actually very much enjoyed it but she couldn’t blow her cover. “you look nice in braids,” she then adds and immediately regrets it right as it falls off her tongue.

“yeah?” glinda challenges with a teasing glimmer in her eyes, but tones it down once she sees elphaba’s slightly frightened face that she’s trying so hard to suppress after giving out that compliment. “thank you. i like the way you do them.”

elphaba smiles, waiting for the silence that’ll be full of tension. yet, it doesn’t happen. glinda continues on talking. “everyone expects me to be perfect. but i’m not. i can’t even braid my own hair.”

“we all have flaws,” elphaba chimes in, though thinks to herself how she has many more than others. and how glinda is completely perfect besides the fact that she struggled to braid her hair this morning.

glinda sighs and then turns back around to stare at herself in the mirror. “i gave you so much trouble when you first got here—”

“glinda…”

“no, elphie, i did and im not even perfect. i acted like i was. like i was better than you.”

“you’ve changed,” elphaba counteracts. shes still skeptical about glinda, however, her acts at the ozdust make her believe that the pink witch might truly be different than their first encounters.

“but it’s not fair,” she says louder, almost like she’s fighting with herself, “you have to deal with it! everyday! but really, i’m the imperfect one yet i’m the one everyone follows.”

elphaba then sighs. she walks away, and glinda thinks she might’ve upset elphaba and struck a nerve. but then she sees the witch pull up a chair beside her and then she’s grabbing glinda’s hand and holding them so tightly yet so gentle.

“it’s not your fault, glinda. i’ve been dealing with it since the moment i was born and i’ve mostly learned how to deal.”

“but it’s not fair,” glinda says very quietly and then looks down at her lap; at their green and pale hands intertwined. glinda thinks, they clash so nicely with each other.

“it’s not,” elphaba agrees. she doesn’t know where she’d found this current confidence deep inside her but she puts her fingers under glinda’s chin and tilts her head up so they’re face to face again. “but it’s the way it is.”

this sudden gesture from elphie sparks something in glinda. her big brown eyes are open wider than usual, and right as elphaba speaks the last syllable, glinda’s leaning forward and deeply kissing her.

elphaba’s entire body freezes and she doesn’t kiss back because, frankly, she doesn’t entirely process what’s happening at first. she actually isn’t sure it truly is happening.

glinda quickly pulls back and she’s quick to start moving her lips to speak rather than to kiss, “oh my— i’m so so sorry. i don’t know what—” glinda goes to stand up, or at least attempts to, but elphie grabs her wrists and brings her back down to her stool. at this point, glinda doesn’t even bother to finish what she was saying.

elphaba had never kissed anyone once before, but everything feels so easy with glinda. and that’s the most surprising of it all, she thinks. she leans in before glinda can say anything else and starts kissing her for real this time.

she’s impossibly close to her that she can strongly smell the sweet notes of fresh flowers and vanilla that always radiating off of glinda. the blonde witch then places her hand on elphaba’s thigh as to steady herself, or maybe to even work elphie up.

elphaba’s green lips are so incredibly soft but she really didn’t expect any less of her. despite what everyone else thinks, glinda is with her all the time and can argue that elphaba isn’t a disgusting monster but rather a beautiful girl that isn’t any different besides the green color on her flesh.

they finally pull away and stare at each other, both with puffy lips. some of glinda’s pink lipstick had rubbed off onto elphaba’s lips. pink goes well with green, she quickly thinks back to the morning after the ozdust. it so does. she doesn’t even want to tell elphaba because she looks so pretty and she doesn’t want her to wipe it off.

just then, while glinda’s reminiscing, does elphie remember the reason she has braided her hair in the first place, the reason they even ended up in this position. they had to get to class. elphaba’s never late to class but by the looks of the clock, it started five minutes ago.

“glinda,” elphaba says, as if they didn’t just practically eat each others faces off.

the blonde hums a yes, oblivious to where they should be right now.

“we were supposed to be to class five minutes ago.” glinda smirks at her, clearly not as worried. frankly, this wasn’t her favorite class and kissing elphaba seems way more important than fencing training.

“can’t we skip?” glinda asks, knowing what the answer was going to be and so she put her best puppy dog face on and continued, “i wanna keep kissing you.”

“glinda, i can’t afford to miss class. you can’t either!”

“you’ve never missed a class in your life. i think i can get us out of it.”

glinda stares at her with big pleading eyes. elphaba stares back as if though she’s internally fighting with herself. she’s a perfect student yet then again, what would missing one fencing class do?

“alright fine,” she says, and the other girl squeals in excitement, “but we aren’t making this a frequent thing.”

“can we make the kissing a frequent thing?” glinda asks, biting down on her bottom lip as if she were trying to stimulate the feeling of elphaba lips.

“i think we can make that work,” elphaba says, and once again, pulls glinda back in for more. it certainly wasn’t going to be the only time glinda’s charm made her absent for class.

[the-lord-confessor]

Daemon watched his son turn away, stripping off his shoes and doublet with a determination so focused it was almost comical, if it didn’t make his heart ache. Gods, Viserys was young. Too young to carry this weight, this shame that had no place in their blood. Hadn’t he been careful? Hadn’t he done everything to ensure his children never felt the chains that once bound him? And yet, here they were.

“You know,” Daemon drawled, stretching out in his chair as if this were nothing more than idle supper talk, “I’d like to meet this lad you kissed. If things get serious, that is. Can’t have just anyone sniffing around my son, prince or not.”

Viserys stiffened, his shoulders locking tight. Daemon grinned. He would definitely like to meet the guy now.

“Don’t worry, I won’t give him the talk about mounting his head on a spike if he ever wrongs you. Not unless you want me to.” He tilted his head, considering. “Though, between us, I prefer a clean beheading, neater that way. Or maybe a bonfire. I hear it’s the traditional method for dealing with certain types of arseholes.”

He expected a huff of laughter, at least, but Viserys only ducked his head lower. Daemon let out a slow breath and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.

“Listen to me, boy.” His voice was quieter now. “There’s not a damned thing wrong with you. Not for this. If anyone ever tries to make you feel otherwise, I’ll happily introduce them to Dark Sister, and you can help me decide which part to take off first.”

That got him something caught between a groan and a chuckle but still, Viserys didn’t turn. Jokes wouldn’t soften this blow. Not entirely.

“Alright, fine. Serious talk, then.” He raised a hand before his son could protest. “I know. You weren’t planning to throw yourself into bed with anyone just yet. But better you hear this now than later. And trust me, your mother is the last person you want giving you this talk.”

That earned him a glance. Daemon smirked.

“There’s oil, for one,” he said, ever the pragmatist. “You’ll need it if you don’t want things to go terribly. And if you ever—”

Viserys made a strangled noise and buried his face in his hands. Daemon chuckled, rising to his feet. He’d figure it out in time.

With easy strides, he crossed the room and settled beside his son, pulling him into a firm embrace. One hand found the back of Viserys’s head, fingers threading through silver hair just as they had when he was small enough to fall asleep against his chest. Still his little boy.

“You’ll have to tell your mother eventually,” he murmured. “But you’ve got nothing to fear. She’ll be nothing but proud. She loves you more than anything, and she’ll tell you the same thing I have: Targaryens don’t waste time fretting over what others think. We take what we want, and to hell with the rest.”

A nod, small but certain, against his shoulder. Daemon exhaled, ruffling his son’s hair. Can’t you stay little a while longer?

“You’ll be alright, boy,” he promised—and Seven help him, he’d make damn sure of it. “You’re clever. And clever boys always land on their feet.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ HOW TO (NOT) SPEND AN EVENING IN KING’S LANDING ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

(Starter with @princeviserystargaryen00)

Daemon had seen battle. He had taken heads, stormed cities, and carved his name into history with blood and dragonfire. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaited him inside The Moon and Mirth.

His son—his thirteen-year-old son—sat stiff-backed on a velvet settee, red as a dawn-lit sky, looking very much like he wished Caraxes would come swooping down and end his suffering then and there.

“Prince Daemon,” purred the madam, inclining her head with a knowing smile. “As requested, none of my girls laid a finger on the young prince.”

Daemon exhaled through his nose, rubbing his jaw as he took in the scene. The room was thick with the scent of rose oil and expensive perfume, cloying enough to choke on. Silk draperies billowed with the evening breeze, lanterns cast flickering shadows along the walls, and the women lounging nearby were valiantly—yet unsuccessfully—hiding their amusement.

Viserys, meanwhile, looked as though he’d been doused in boiling wine.

The boy had always been precocious, unnervingly so. His mind was too quick for his years, sharper than his brothers’, and yet this had managed to catch Daemon off guard. He had hauled Jace and Luke out of taverns before, drunk on stolen Arbor gold and clinging to one another like half-drowned sailors. But this?

This was new.

Daemon hummed, stepping forward with deliberate ease, arms folding over his chest. “Tell me, pup,” he drawled, letting the silence stretch. “Was it the silks that lured you in? The wine? Or were you just hoping for a lesson before your old father got around to it?”

Viserys made a strangled sound but said nothing, his eyes trained resolutely on the floor.

A red-haired woman in a scandalously low-cut bodice smirked as she traced a teasing finger down his arm. “Oh, he was very polite, my prince… very curious, too.”

Daemon leveled her with a look. Not helping.

Viserys flinched but, to his credit, did not bolt. Yet. Daemon could see the way his eyes flicked toward the window beside him, weighing his chances.

Daemon sighed. “Alright, lad. On your feet.”

Viserys obeyed without hesitation, hands clasped behind his back so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His head was bowed, but Daemon knew better than to mistake that for shame. No, the boy was thinking, turning over every word and movement, storing it away for later. He always did.

Daemon reached out, ruffling his hair as he guided him toward the door. Predictably, Viserys bristled at the touch. Daemon smirked.

“We’ll talk about this on the way home,” he said easily. “You’re not getting out of that so easily.”

Viserys only nodded, still crimson.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Daemon cast a last glance over his shoulder. “You did well to send word,” he told the madam. “A round on me.”

She winked. “We’ll be sure to toast the young prince’s health.”

Viserys made another strangled noise, and Daemon chuckled as he led him toward their waiting horses.

“You should be grateful, pup,” he mused, swinging himself into the saddle. “When I had my first brothel misadventure, there was no one to save me from it.”

Viserys climbed up stiffly, looking one step away from gnawing on the leather of the reins.

Daemon smirked, adjusting his grip as their horses turned toward the Red Keep.

“But I’ll tell you this, son: had it been your mother who came to fetch you, you’d be praying for the Stranger’s mercy.”

Viserys swallowed dryly.

Daemon let the silence hang just long enough before adding, far too cheerfully—

“Now. About the flowers and the bees…”

Viserys groaned, and the sound was swallowed by the steady rhythm of hooves on cobblestone.

[jeanboulet]

Not feeling great.

[lionblaze03-2]

sometimes I think about writing and singing music not because I’m an incredible singer but because no one has my fucking voice, especially in popular music, and its disheartening to be born a girl, told you’ll only get girl roles or try to voice match other girls, or ‘sing with the girls’ and then only be able to match male voices because you’re a fuckin tenor and not anything higher. I can’t think of any girl Broadway roles I can hit all the notes on. Most songs I love I have to pitch down for myself or use falsetto for singing along to. It bothers me a lot less now because I’m an adult who’s more secure in myself but as a teen in kids musical theatre it FUCKED with me, BAD style. And I know for a fact that even now when I hear people with a voice like mine singing I get excited and immediately invested in their work because they’re like ME, finally, for once. A brother in this world of being afab and having the voice of a recently pubescent boy forever. Maybe I should be that brother too.

[ziracona]

I’m finishing White Collar a decade later and it’s ruining my life

[fitpacs]

,