#at the same time though I also don’t want to have to commit to it? if that makes sense?

[randomfoggytiger]

hiii do you have a rec list for emily au where they get married so scully can adopt Emily? I know of 2 already but i couldve sworn there were more

Collector's Edition: Emily Sim, Marriages of Convenience, and Other Ever Afters

I have a couple that fit the bill, actually-- and there are likely more, though not as many as cancer arc "marriage of convenience" fics, surprisingly enough (or not.)

Also: included some fics that align with the spirit of your request, if a bit off the parameters' path; because, why not?

**Note**: Christmas and Emily’s Fate might also be up your alley.

Loose chronological order below~

@myownsuperintendent's (Ao3) All a Family

She’s quiet for a minute, and now he really wishes they had actually talked, in those couple of weeks before they came out to California. He wonders if she’s trying to work out how to let him down easy, if this is just too much too fast without adding him to the family. “I didn’t…I wasn’t thinking it would be by myself,” she says finally, softly. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything.”

“I don’t feel like that,” Mulder says.

“Because I know we haven’t talked about it, with the baby,” she says, barreling on, “and that was before Emily, too. I’m not trying to make you move in with me and get a white picket fence. You don’t have to—”

“I said I didn’t feel like I had to,” Mulder says. “And I think we should get one of those thick hedges. They’re more imposing.”

AU-- Mulder and Scully embark on the IVF journey (as an unacknowledged couple) before travelling out to San Diego.

amorfati3215/Amorfati32’s (FFN) The Proposal Part 1, The Proposal Part 2, The Proposal Chapter 3, and The Proposal Chapter 4

Mulder narrowed his eyes as he jumped to his partner’s defense. “You’re her mother Scully.”

“Biologically potentially. But I’m also a single woman working a dangerous job. There are plenty of married couples out there looking to adopt.”

“They’re not going to let you adopt your own daughter because you’re not married?”

“I also haven’t been in a relationship lately. I guess they’re concerned I don’t like commitment and I’ll get tired of Emily and abandon her after six months.” She sighed again, and Mulder noticed that his partner looked close to tears. “I guess It was too much to hope for.”

“No you can’t give up Scully.”

AU-- Mulder suggests that he and Scully get married in order to adopt Emily. Somehow, they must convince not only the social worker but also her family.

@leiascully's (Ao3) Mulder told Scully he would do whatever he could

Mulder gives the address of the house his father left to him as their address.  When the social workers ask if they’re going to continue with the FBI, Mulder tells them he’s independently wealthy and they’re both moving into the private sector.  Scully shoots him a look and he reaches out without looking back and squeezes her hand.

AU-- Mulder and Scully get married and leave the FBI, for Emily.

@foxmulders/foxmulders's au where mulder and scully get married

Her voice is new scar raw, pink and open from crying. The sea is black in the dark and she leans hard against him. Her fingers dig into the sand, to touch it feels the same as it had in Emily’s casket. Her ring is cold against his hand....

AU-- Mulder and Scully get married to better her adoption chances.

@neednottoneed/neednot's The Upside of Right

It’s been in her head since, a tune she keeps tucked in her back pocket like a worry stone, as familiar and comforting to her as the cross around her neck. She’s sung it to herself as a sort of lullaby over the years when her father wasn’t around to—at prom when her date stood her up, in college when she failed her first exam. 

And now she finds herself singing it again, but this time the comfort isn’t for her. It’s for the girl lying in the hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and fighting for her life, the little girl with Scully’s cross around her neck.

It’s for her daughter. 

AU-- Scully reminisces over the song each Scully daughter is sung.

Malibusunset's All That is Dark and Bright

“You’re looking at me like it’s the craziest idea I’ve ever had.”

She blinks several times. She can’t think of a single thing to say. Not one.

“Let’s just consider it objectively for a moment,” he presses. “You just told me that you’re being discriminated against as an adoptive parent because you’re single. And right or wrong, that seems to be the way things work. But we have the ability to change that if you want, Scully. If you could get custody of your daughter, then maybe we should consider it.”

Her hand withdraws from the purse, empty. The mint no longer seems to be the most pressing thing on  her mind. “Mulder, I…” she shakes her head, her lips forming words that are just out of reach. “We can’t just…I mean, it would be…”

A small chuckle escapes him, a hint of recklessness in his eyes. “Brilliant, actually.” The palm of his hand comes down onto the tabletop, audibly. “It would be brilliant.”

AU-- Mulder and Scully and the slow, united effort to adopt Emily. (Thanks to @two-birds-alone-together's for the addition~)

EXTRAS

Donna/donnah’s (Gossamer, mulderscreek)’s

I'm On My Way (Ao3, Gossamer)

He had crossed his arms and wiggled slightly to scratch his back and settled into the worn leather of the couch. Then the phone had rung.

"Hello?"

"M-Mulder."

Every hair on his body had jumped to attention at her voice. His glad reply had stuck in his throat. Had he heard a sob?

Post-A Christmas Carol Mulder reels from the implications of Scully's call.

@is-on-its-way/Ophelia_is_a_nun's Unnamed

“I promise Emily, Im going to come back tomorrow. Ill see you at 10am, thats when visiting hours start okay?”

The girl nodded tears staining her face.

“Oh baby.” She couldn’t help herself as she wiped at Emilys face and drew her in for a hug. This time Emily curled in and let herself be comforted instead of clinging on like she might lose her. 

“And guess what?” She looked down at her. “Tomorrow, I have someone special who wants to meet you, his name is Mu.. his name is Fox.”

Post-A Christmas Carol Scully tells her daughter about Mulder.

@i-gaze-at-scully/ i_gaze_at_scully's Chapter One: Protect

Emily has spoken two words to him: “a potato.” She has sort of smiled at him exactly once. But when they burst in the room and Scully tenderly feels the girl’s forehead, he is compelled to hold her. He picks her up from the bed instinctually, cradles her on his shoulder, vividly imagines–for the most fleeting moment–bouncing her to sleep or bringing her from the couch to bed. He feels a rush of intense emotion, something so deep and primal he isn’t sure he’s ever experienced anything like it. He has to protect this child. He will protect this child.

Mulder's thoughts as he bonds with Emily Sim.

@o6666666's (Ao3) Unnamed

“Scully,” he begs, “I just killed a man in cold blood. Please, please get in the car.”

Her heart leaves. 

Her eyes glaze. 

“SCULLY,” Mulder snaps. Emily jerks and moans at the loud noise, confirms her sentience, and Scully gasps, bursting into tears. 

AU-- Post Mulder finds Emily, alive, on his rampage for revenge.

@blossom-ofsnow/blossomofsnow65's Sick days

One night, while Emily was laying on the floor on her stomach with a colouring book and they were sitting on the couch watching T.V., Mulder proposed to Scully.

AU-- Mulder holds down the fort while Scully is out of town.

gianta's The X-daughter

Mulder was just as upset as Scully’s brother. He already made a scene at the laboratory, yelling at everybody and demanding explanations. They repeated the tests on his insistence, but the results remained the same.

He had a child.

A little girl.

AU-- Mulder, Scully, and both their biological children (adopted and IVF, respectively) have a happier-than-canon ending.

@incidental-ao3/incidental's Abide With Me

“You okay?” she asked, resting her chin on the seat as she looked back at the girl. Emily looked up, giving her that hesitant, Scully-patented smile that didn’t quite reach her anxious eyes.

“I’m fine,” she said in a little voice. Scully sighed through her nose, giving the little girl– her little girl–an encouraging nod.

“Sounds just like you,” Mulder observed from the driver’s seat with a smirk. Scully swatted playfully at his arm.

AU-- Little Emily is fearful of her first communion.

@sigritandtheelves/DarlaBlack’s Their First Girl (Ao3)

Scully’s eyes fall closed as Em’s meaning washes over her. She sits up, pulls the girl to her—all gangly arms and legs in a cutoff Foo Fighters t-shirt and Chucks. She is growing out of hugs like this, but not tonight. “Emily, you are really ours. You are completely and totally ours, mine and dad’s. The how doesn’t matter to that part of it.”

Against her shoulder, Emily sobs. “But you didn’t know me when I was born. It’s not the same.”

Scully rubs her back. “No,” she says. “It’s not. It’s different. It’s special.” Another choked sob like yeah right, and Scully can only squeeze her daughter tight. “Em, you brought us together. You made us a family.” Fingers over silky hair, knobby knees raised up onto the bedspread, resting against a rounded belly. “Without you,” she says, “dad would probably be out hunting werewolves, too afraid to even kiss me.”

AU-- Emily is there for her little sister's birth.

@ghostbustermelanieking/skuls’s 

christmas 2000/Christmas Ficlets - Chapter 2

Mulder sits on the edge of the bed and holds her hand like a lifeline. Scully tries not to worst-case-scenario. She tries to focus on Emily and Mulder, thinks about Christmas morning in a couple of weeks, Emily clutching Mulder’s hand excitedly and jumping up and down at the stack of presents, her nephew's sticky fingers when he hugs her hello, the warm familiarity of her mother's house. Her mind wanders treacherously back to being sick again, and her stomach twists painfully.

AU-- Pre-Requiem Scully nearly faints at work.

Lapsed_Scholar's Family Stories

“What’s up, Em?”

“Did you have a bar mitzvah?”

He startled and stopped typing, pulled off his glasses, and turned to look at her. “I, um, no. Why, uh, why do you ask?”

She was more confused by his reaction than the answer. “But...you’re an adult.”

He smiled a little at that. “Yes. Well, I like to think so, anyway.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “And you’re Jewish,” she pointed out.

“Ah.” He sighed and tilted back in his chair. He looked as though he were thinking.

AU-- Mulder, Scully, Emily, and William are a family, navigating fractious Father's Days, childhood curiosities, differing cultural practices, and the in-stride pangs of growing up. (Pairs well with the author's cancer-arc fic Atonement.)

where the love light gleams (Ao3)

William and Emily are siblings, somehow. Except William hasn’t been here forever - Emily still remembers the day they brought him in, a babbling baby who’d the nurses attended to almost constantly. She’d leaned over his crib and told him stories, and he’d giggled like he’d found her fascinating. When she was younger, Peter Pan had been a favorite of hers, so she’d thought fairies. Now she realizes that this is the closest they will ever have to magic in this grimy little room of theirs. Whatever they can do is not normal, but it’s definitely not magic.

AU-- Pre-IWTB Emily and her little brother escape from captivity.

AU headcanon: Scully, Mulder, Emily, and William preparing for Season 11 miracle baby

Both of the kids are a little more than surprised when they hear about it. Mulder and Scully both tell William, who is still living at home, but Emily actually finds out FROM William, when she calls him to check on him and he more or less blurts, "Did Mom and Dad tell you that they're having a baby?" Emily thinks he's kidding until her mom calls her later that night. 

AU-- Post MSIV Mulder and Scully and their kids.

@muldersfingers's (Ao3) Delirium snippet

She wondered if he received a lot of unwanted attention, extra suspicion, for his name. Fox. It was highly unusual, not the kind of name a Cured would give their child.

Dana led the man towards the room occupied by Emily and stopped him just outside.

“She’s very anxious about seeing you.”

“Okay,” Mr. Mulder said.

AU-- Dr. Scully is left little choice but to recruit Dr. Mulder.

prufrockslove/plenilune’s (Ao3, Alt. Gossamer, Geocities, Colonization HQ) Paracelsus

"I am going home, Ma'am. This time, I am not going to return. I cannot hide in the swamps forever." He hesitated, watching the sun teasing them through the weathered gray boards. "I have a house, a business. My mother is alive. Life will go on, but differently."

"I will miss you," she said without looking at him.

"I will miss you as well. Very much."

"Very much?"

"Very much. You are my friend. And Ma'am-" He inhaled, didn't think, and said it all in one breath. "Mrs. Waterston, despite what I have said, I do think I would be happy if you were my wife."

Turning her head, she stared at him. Mulder re-wrapped his arms around his knees and continued staring purposely at the hints of amber sunset flickering in from outside.

AU-- Civil War era soulmates Mulder and Scully marry and move back to Virginia after he finds her alone (and delivers her daughter.)

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[creativity-deficient]

Never know if I want to stick to just being a South Park account or expand my horizon to other fandoms too

[moonstruckme]

Hello! Could I request a poly!marauders and reader where both reader and Remus are laid up in bed or on the couch with migraines together? And the other boys have to convince them to relax and call off work so they can coddle them please?

Thanks for requesting!

cw: migraines, mention of nausea and...hypothetical vomit? no one vomits but it's brought up as a possibility, reader has hair long enough to touch her neck

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Sirius,” James calls in distress, “they’re revolting.” 

“Mmygod,” Sirius thinks he hears Remus groan, at the same time as you beg, “Shut up.” 

Sirius rounds the corner to your sitting room to find you curled up in one corner of the sofa, your face pressed harshly into a throw pillow, while James has his finger hooked in Remus’ belt loop to prevent him from walking away. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” James says much more quietly, looking terribly contrite beneath Remus’ glare (which is really quite pathetic, considering Remus seems hardly to have the energy to put much bite into it). “Come on, just sit down.” 

“James,” Remus warns. 

Sirius fans out the two cold gel packs in his hand enticingly. “Can’t have one of these if you’re not lying down.” 

Remus turns his glare to Sirius, but Sirius doesn’t have James’ soft heart. After a few moments, Remus sits down. 

“There you are, lovely,” James praises as Sirius bestows Remus his cool pack, encouraging his head forward so it can lay across his nape. Remus plainly tries not to show his relief, but Sirius hears the soft breath that leaves him as he folds toward his knees. 

You’re silent as Sirius does the same for you, moving your hair away from your neck to smooth the cool pack in its place. “I have to go get ready soon,” you mumble dejectedly. 

“Unless,” Sirius says lightly, “you didn’t.” 

Remus lets out another sigh between his knees. “Time s’it?” 

James checks his watch and shoots Sirius a half-smile. They both know that the closer the two of you get to being late to work, the more persuasive their argument will become. “It’s not important,” James says, victory ringing in his tone. This makes you remove your face from its pillow to look at him suspiciously. 

“It’s not important,” Sirius agrees, “because you’re not going anywhere.” 

You bury your face again. “Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“I have to.” 

“Says who?” 

“My boss.” 

“Well, I say you have to stay.” 

Sometimes, when you’re as exhausted as you are now, this firm tone will work on you. Sometimes. Unfortunately, this is unlikely to be one of those times, because Remus is also here. 

Remus, who gets up with a ridiculously pitiful old man sound, holding the cold pack to his neck as he starts toward the bedroom. James gets in front of him quickly. 

“Baby,” he says, and Sirius’ eyebrows raise. James is really pulling out the big guns; Remus has to be feeling really poorly to respond well to that one. But James has committed, his eyes big and imploring. “Please. You’ll be miserable at work.” 

“I’m going to be late,” Remus argues, though he doesn’t try to move past James. 

“Well, if that’s the case anyway, why bother?” Sirius shoots him a grin. “You won’t be late if you call out now.” 

Remus lets out a sigh, like he’s sick of making his own argument. “I can’t.” 

“Rem.” Your voice is taut with pain. It makes Sirius want to scoop you up and squeeze you, if only that wouldn’t make everything worse. “I think you should stay home. It’ll make them shut up.” 

“Are you staying?” Remus asks. 

You’re quiet. 

Sirius tsks, placing a hand on your head so he can make circles in your temple with his middle finger. “I’m not shutting up unless you both stay,” he threatens. Albeit in a soft, considerate tone. 

“You don’t even have to call out yourselves,” James tries. Remus looks to be wavering. “We’ll do it for you, since you’re not well.” 

Neither you or Remus reply. You seem to be out of arguments, but Sirius knows better than to think that’ll stop you from walking out the door anyway. He can hear you breathing deep, even breaths into your pillow. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, knowing, “are you feeling sick?” 

A long breath out. “A little.” 

“Do you really want to throw up at work?” 

“Please shut up.” 

James gives one final push. “Sirius started a hot bath.” 

Remus looks ready to break first, which Sirius didn’t anticipate. He and James really deserve some sort of medal for this. Sirius holds your boyfriend’s gaze. 

“It’s probably almost full,” he confirms. “I have to go check on it in a second. You can’t go to work and have me put that minty shampoo in your hair at the same time, love.” 

Remus sighs, and Sirius knows they’ve won. “Dove,” he mumbles. You turn your head from the pillow once more, looking so terribly unwell that Sirius has to bite pack a whine. Remus says with an air of resignation, “I’ll stay if you do.” 

They all look to you. 

“We have triptans here,” James coaxes. “Cold packs. Bed. Peppermint tea.” 

Your eyes shut. “Fine.” 

It’s a testament to how well trained James and Sirius are that they don’t jump up and cheer. They do a version of that, exchanging giant smiles that make Remus look at them like he’s regretting his choice already, but James starts ushering him away before he can change his mind. 

“Let’s go have your bath,” he says. “That warm water will feel nice, yeah?” 

“I’m begging you to be quiet,” Remus replies, not unaffectionately. 

Sirius watches you watch them go. “Hey,” he says softly, waiting for you to look at him. “Can I kiss you?” 

You make a low hum of complaisance. Sirius bends, touching his lips gently (but quite fervently) to the corner of your mouth. 

“Thank you for looking after yourself,” he murmurs, “and after Remus. We’ll make it worth your while, I swear.” 

“M’not really doing anything,” you mumble in reply. “You’re the ones looking after us.” 

Sirius smiles at you, fighting hard to repress the urge to kiss you again. “Good of you to let us. What do you need, lovely? Something for your stomach? Peppermint tea?” 

You make a quiet, plaintive sound at the idea that he might get up to go and retrieve any of those things, closing your hand around his wrist. “Keep doing this, please?” 

“This?” He drills his finger into your temple more firmly. 

You melt, your grip slackening. “Yeah,” you sigh. “That.” 

Sirius’ heart swells. He gives into a tiny indulgence, pressing a kiss over his own finger. “You got it.” 

[acmeangel]

I think about this dialogue from S1 all the time; to me, it succinctly sums up the differences between Erwin and Levi’s perspectives and motivations.

When it comes to Erwin, it’s much like what Armin said in S1: the people who are capable of making change have to be able to throw everything away and abandon their personal humanity in order to save the greater humanity. Erwin embodies this perfectly—he never hesitated to sacrifice the lives of others on behalf of a greater cause, and even knew how to inspire them into willingly self-sacrificing.

What was that greater cause? For Erwin, it was his dream of finding out the truth and avenging his father—it just so happened that this aligned with what was best for Paradis. If it weren’t for his own personal ambitions, I don’t believe Erwin would have had the same level of commitment or drive.

Erwin knew that all of the deaths of his soldiers and the civilians caught in the crossfire were potentially pointless (and we eventually see that catch up to him right before his death); but at the same time, he knew each death and sacrifice was a necessary step in uncovering the truth.

That’s not to say he saw no value in human life or that he was an evil person—it’s just that he saw more value in the bigger picture and the greater cause, and he didn’t have time to consider his personal humanity in that pursuit. Erwin knew that he needed people like Levi and Hange to stay alive in order to achieve this bigger picture goal since they filled in the gaps of skills he lacked himself.

This also isn’t to say Erwin is purely selfish, nor is he the only one with personal motivations—Eren was motivated by his mother’s death, Mikasa was motivated by protecting Eren, Hange was motivated by learning about Titans. The list goes on.

Levi is uniquely one of the few characters without selfish motivations and dreams (which is ironic since people view him as cold and heartless). Levi had no ulterior motives pushing him to the other side of the war, and nothing personal to gain.

He chose to follow Erwin because of that look Erwin had in his eye—the same look Armin had in his eye—hope for the future, like he could see something no one else could. Levi, simply, didn’t want to make choices he would regret, even though he openly admitted that he never truly knew or understood what the outcome of those choices would be. He believed that following Erwin’s command—and eventually choosing Armin—was the best way to do this.

Levi doesn’t view the lives of his comrades or squad members as disposable. He has a fiercely protective and loyal nature. We see this time and time again—when he adamantly tells a dying soldier that his death wasn’t in vain and that he’d made a difference, how he doesn’t ever truly forgive Annie and Reiner for the lives they took from the Scouts, and his incessant need to avenge Erwin’s death, to name a few.

To me, Erwin and Levi are somewhat of a yin and yang in this way—Erwin was willing to do everything it took to achieve his dream, no matter the sacrifice, and Levi was willing to do everything it took to make sure those sacrifices weren’t made for nothing.

Erwin had to be willing to send people to their pointless deaths; Levi had to make sure those deaths weren’t pointless in the end.

This is a little bit of a half-baked ramble, but I always found this exchange so interesting and telling.

[esote-rika]

the memory of your lips | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Flangst. Summary: At the end of a great date, you have to deal with the realities of dating a BAU agent. Content: Mentions of alcohol, reader is tipsy and flirty and LOVESICK, Spencer is a gentleman, kisses, no use of y/n, reader is called angel. I had s3 or 4 Spencer in mind when I was writing, but it works for any season.  Word count: 1.4k A/N: Here’s the fic for the Lovesick by Laufey (listen to it right here, PLEASE I BEG!!!) poll I did a while back. I know I originally planned for it to have smut, but I opted out because it didn’t feel right with the tone??? Anyways, this was just really fun to write, and I hope you enjoy! 

Three dates are an embarrassingly short amount of time to have fallen in love with someone, but in your defense, you have not encountered anyone quite like Spencer Reid in all your years of dating. 

Never have you met a man so intensely focused and attentive, so intelligent without any hint of pretense. His arrogance is founded, but he never used his genius to make you feel less; instead, he’s committed everything you’ve told him to memory, from your favorite book to the throwaway comment you made about liking a specific shade of lipstick. Two dates and he’s already memorized you like a poem. It’s exhilarating. 

This third date had been the one to seal the deal. 

Sure, the anxiety is still there, and it might have caused you to have one too many glasses of wine over dinner, but still. Everything had gone so beautifully. A stroll around the art gallery where Spencer had eagerly shared the history behind the paintings. When you’d paused at a particular hallway, he stood right by a window and was hit just so by the golden afternoon sun that his eyes turned to the color of moss, you could have sworn you’ve forgotten the ability to breathe. You’re convinced you were the walking equivalent to the heart eyes emoji at that point, staring up at him with a starry gaze, all throughout the following dinner at an intimate restaurant, where you allowed yourself to indulge in some wine. 

Not that you needed it. At that point, you felt so relaxed and at ease with him that you were afraid you might float away. The alcohol only served to heighten the giddiness, casting the world in soft hues of sparkling gold. Like Spencer’s eyes. Which reminds you—

“You’ve the prettiest eyes,” You’re giggling as he walks you to your door, a lean arm firmly wrapped around your waist  to steady you. Head angled up, all of your attention is on him while you walk up the stairs, which isn’t helping your stumbling gait in the slightest. 

Despite his attempts to fight it, a small smile pulls at his lips. He’s obviously trying to seem stern, but his eyes look upon you with fondness. “I should have cut you off sooner.”

“Mhm, no, I wouldn’t have let you.”

“You’re gonna feel this tomorrow,” he warns as he stops at your doorstep, “Keys.”

You fumble through your purse, quickly locating them and pressing the keys into his palm. He slots it easily into the lock, and turns. 

He hesitates. Your hands shake as you wait.

“Can I trust you to make it to your bed in one piece?” he murmurs, fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

“Probably not. You might need to help me out,” you whisper, even though you’re not really that drunk. It’s a (very thinly veiled) attempt to get him inside your apartment, in your bed. You’re not sure where you got the confidence.

But it’s Spencer, the sweet man who frequents the same bookshop in which you also spend a lot of time. The same man who’d been so shy about making a move that he decided to buy you a book and slip his number into the pages. 

So there’s no pressure, he had scrawled in messy, rushed letters. Embarrassingly, the note is in your wallet, kept as a memento.

It’s him, and the entire date has been a series of signs that simply validated the small (massive) crush you’ve had on him. You don’t want it to end yet. Or ever, really. If he’d let you keep him forever. 

Ever the gentleman, he nods and guides you inside. You stumble onto your couch with a low groan, an arm flung over your eyes as the harsh overhead light flickers open. Quick, shuffling footsteps, and then the couch dips beside you.

“Here, have some water.”

You accept the glass with a lopsided smile. The way his eyes linger on you would be enough to make you melt when you’re sober, but right now, with alcohol coursing through your veins, it’s downright cruel. “Your eyes are so pretty.”

“You’ve mentioned that already,” he says, urging you to drink, “Thank you. You have very beautiful eyes too.”

Once the glass is empty, he sets it on your coffee table and kneels down. With gentle hands, he eases the heels off of your feet, fingers pressing into the ankles carefully. 

“Come on,” he helps you to your feet, and you all but become deadweight in his arms as he walks with you to your bedroom. 

Spurned mainly by alcohol, you lift yourself to your tiptoes for a kiss. His surprise makes him pause, but he kisses you back gently, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. It makes you sigh, this tender way he likes to kiss, cradling your face as though it’s the most important thing he’s ever held. When your tongue sweeps across his lower lip, he pulls back.

“What—”

“You’re drunk,” his lips move to your forehead, “You need to sleep.”

“But Spence…” it’s childish to whine when he denies you, but it’s the only thing your dejected, alcohol-addled brain is capable of doing.

He chuckles, slowly walking you backwards onto your bed. “No, angel, it wouldn’t sit right with me.”

“I’m giving you all my consent right now.” you pout as he hands you a disposable towel from your bedside table. With a huff, you set on wiping away your makeup as he rummages through your drawers for pajamas. He finds some shorts and an old tshirt, and helps you out of your dress, shaking his head as you try (and fail) to seduce him into sleeping with you.

“Shouldn’t have had that last glass if this was how you wanted the night to end.” he says,  a teasing smile on his lips.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

He kisses your temple as a response, and gently pushes you to lay down. Chuckling, he sits on the edge of your bed, a hand on your knee. “I just don’t want you to be inebriated if we’re going to be physically intimate. Especially not the first time.”

You pout, “Boo, you’re too sweet for your own good.” It earns you a laugh from him, and it’s enough to wipe the pout off your lips, “Will you at least sleep over?”

He seems to consider it, running his hand up and down your thigh. However, it is as though the universe is conspiring against you, and his phone rings. You watch as his brows furrowed in concern as he checks whatever message he’s received. “I have to go in, we have a case.”

Your heart drops. The pout returns, “It’s Friday night.”

“I know, angel.” he leans forward and kisses your forehead again, almost in apology, “I’m sorry, I did tell you I don’t work traditional hours.”

Your hands close around his shirt and you pull him down. He surrenders to your eagerness this time, kissing you deeply, hands tangled in your hair, before he stops, breathing ragged. “I’ll make it up to you when I return, I promise.” he kisses you again, languidly, savoring the last few moments before he has to leave. 

You don’t have his eidetic memory, but you memorize the feeling of his lips all the same. “Stay safe,” you whisper when he finally pulls back, feeling oddly sobered up now that the reality of him leaving you is more present, “Text me when you can.”

“I will, angel.” he gives you one last kiss on your forehead before he stands up, “Drink lots of water tomorrow, okay? I’ll see you soon.”

You nod, and stare at his retreating back with a sad smile, blinking away the tears when you hear your apartment door click into place, signaling his departure. You try to tell yourself you’re being silly. It’s been three dates and you’re already acting so clingy. You chalk it up to the alcohol, twisting your feelings. Earlier, it had made the world seem effervescent, but now that he’s left, it only exacerbates your loneliness.

Is this how it’s going to be when you date him? He’d laid it out quite clearly during your conversations, that sometimes they get pressing cases that require them to drop everything else.  You aren’t sure you’re prepared to have dates be interrupted with one phone call. Morning afters without him beside you. With a sigh, you sink into bed, eyes closed, and only the memory of his lips to tide you through the night.

[raevpng]

bags

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

a/n: happy pride! this month is so special — my birth month and first pride as a bisexual 😝 what better way to celebrate than a clairo fic 🩷 i tried really hard to get this up to my standards but i fear i’ll have to edit it more tomorrow morning … anyways i hope you still enjoy the read <3

ALSO PAIGE W CAREER HIGH IKTR 🙂‍↕️

one.

every second counts, i don’t wanna talk to you anymore.

all these little games, you can call me by the name i gave you yesterday.

–

paige would say she was pretty good at this.

this being attracting people, turning heads.

though she would never admit it, she knew she was…somewhat attractive.

she knew how to style her blonde hair that toed the line between effortless and done with enough effort. she knew her blue eyes looked a little deeper and a little more irresistible under the sun.

she also knew that she was attractive in a way that drew people, boys and girls alike. that her undeniable athleticism contributed to her already attractive looks, and that her height definitely drew attention from girls the same way her soft giggles drew in guys.

so yeah, maybe she’d practiced a few pickup lines in her time. maybe she had a look. a signature smirk. a way of leaning in, just enough to catch people off guard — to blur the lines of friendly and flirty.

and yeah, she’d say she’s pretty confident that she’s got game.

but right now? she was seriously rethinking it. because there's only two options.

either she’s not as attractive or smooth as she thought she was.

or azzi’s just fucking clueless as hell.

–

gone were the facetime calls stretched thin over different time zones, the half-asleep whispers just to stay connected for another five minutes. no more quick weekend trips that ended too fast, or half-unpacked bags by the door.

azzi had finally committed. to uconn, to her team, to paige.

and now she was here. with her vanilla-scented shampoo that somehow lingered in every room she walked through. with her soft curls and oversized hoodies and the exact brand of laundry detergent that paige used but somehow smelled more fragrant. and god did it make paige’s heart hurt in a weird, intimate way. she’s everywhere, burrowed in every surface and corner of paige’s life and she didn’t know if it was a good thing or if it was genuinely gonna kill her.

and yeah, maybe paige has been subtly flirting since that plane ride back to minnesota, but that was all in the past. when she didn’t have the confidence she did now, before all the nights they spent getting to know each other, before she had confidence that azzi felt the same way.

now, they were older. they had their own space, their own schedule, their own life.

now, paige wants.

achingly, embarrassingly, and disgustingly desperate in the middle school crush kind of way.

and honestly, she thinks she deserves some kinda recognition cause she’s really been trying here.

she brought up azzi’s boxes the second her car pulled in. helped build her furniture, even when it gave her splinters and a mild breakdown. she complimented her every chance she got during practice—sweet, casual comments laced with a longing she hoped azzi might finally pick up on.

“you look pretty with your hair like that.” she had said after a team workout, paige pressed up azzi’s side. the younger had braided strands of her hair back into a soft crown. and despite being sweaty and flushed, still she looked like something straight out of a daydream. it was unfair really.

azzi barely blinked. “thanks, paigey,” she said, casual and light, chugging her water before patting paige’s knee like she was a dog who just did a trick.

what the fuck?

she tries to ignore the flare of annoyance at the nickname, remembering how she only called her that when they wanted to tease each other or piss each other off a little.

but she tried again, a little braver. a little more direct.

“no seriously, az. did i ever tell you how pretty you are?”

this time, azzi looked a bit startled.

paige thought, finally. she’s catching on. she sees it.

see me. please see me.

“i literally look like shit paige.” she rolled her eyes playfully as her attention drifted, pulled toward caroline laughing over a dumb tiktok.

paige blinked, trying to ignore the sting behind her eyelids and the pang of hurt that bubbled in her chest.

azzi: 1, paige: 0

—

two.

can you figure me out? just doin’ to waste more time on the couch.

the second time paige really tries was their second year together, and she thinks she actually might lose her mind. or kill someone. or both.

they’ve found their rhythm now. azzi wakes up first, padding into paige’s dorm with her hoodie sleeves swallowed over her hands, whispering “wake up” like it’s a secret just for them. then it’s morning runs, team practice, and a stop at 7/11 for their excuse of a breakfast: beef jerky, chocolate milk, and whatever chip brand they were currently obsessed with that week. afterwards, they head back to paige’s dorm to shower and complain and half-nap before dragging themselves to class.

they were practically stuck to the hip, even having their night routine together down. after class and any obligation they had for a day, it was almost an unwritten rule between the two that they would take turns sleeping over at each other’s dorm, eating sugary snacks that cd would absolutely murder them for eating and passing out during a movie, limbs intertwined and breathing in sync.

it’s predictable. sacred. comforting. theirs.

and if paige’s heart stuttered a little every time azzi leaned into her side on the walk to class, or when their hands brushed accidentally-on-purpose at the vending machine – well. she told herself it was normal. it was fine. they were best friends.

the team had a name for it. they called it “the thing.” paige and azzi’s thing. a relationship that wasn’t a relationship, but also very much was. an entire ecosystem of soft looks, inside jokes, and brush-of-the-hand flirts.

and yeah paige would elbow whoever said it out loud, but everyone knew.

azzi fudd was untouchable. off-limits. claimed.

and paige bueckers?

hopeless. head over heart, down bad.

–

that night, they go out to celebrate the start of the season. just the team, their partners, and a plan to let loose before their lives get swallowed by the practice, travel and press they’ve grown to be thankful for yet still despise. they’re at some packed bar with too-loud music and neon lighting, and paige is already two drinks in when azzi slides up next to her, cheeks flushed and eyes bright from laughter.

“hey, stranger,” azzi says, nudging her shoulder. “been looking for you.”

paige blinks, thrown off for half a second. her pulse spikes. “yeah?” she asks, teasing, turning toward her fully. “you miss me or something?”

azzi doesn’t answer, just grins while she looks up at paige.

paige doesn’t know if she's turned on or in pain.

cause azzi looks good. a simple crop top that showed smooth skin, mascara that accentuated the brown eyes paige has been wanting, needing, begging for.

azzi looked like sin.

“you’re glowing,” paige says, voice low and soft like she means it. because she does. god, she does.

azzi just snorts. “it’s the vodka soda.”

paige grins and leans closer, breath warm against her ear as her lips brush the skin ever so slightly. “nah, it’s just you.”

azzi laughs, easy and bright, like paige’s words are harmless. like they don’t mean everything.

“you’re so drunk, paige.”

“am not!” paige says, pouting now, bumping their knees together. “but even if i was, i’d still say you’re the prettiest person here.”

azzi paused for a second, lips apart and an unreadable look in her eyes and for a second, paige indulges – lets herself embrace the dangerous hope bubbling up in her chest.

her heart actually stutters.

but then azzi giggles, ruffles her hair, and sips her drink.

“you’re actually ridiculous.”

like paige is a joke. a pet. a harmless, harmless crush.

paige laughs along, like her chest didn’t just cave in a little. she turns to aubrey and joins in their conversation, pretending not to feel the slow, quiet crack deep inside her.

still, she tries. because she’s stubborn. because azzi’s worth it. because maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance. she sticks by the younger’s side, buying their drinks, slipping her water every now and then, slipping her arm around azzi’s waist lightly like it was the most natural thing in the world – like paige’s arm belonged there

god, it does. and maybe that’s what made it worse.

because maybe that’s the problem. maybe it’s too easy. too natural. maybe paige’s touches don’t register as more because they’ve always lived in this space between friendship and something deeper. a line that azzi never seems to notice, even as paige teeters right on the edge.

nonetheless, she stays close, whispering dumb jokes in azzi’s ear just to see those deep dimples and her melodic laugh that for some reason, paige could never get sick of. she lets her fingers linger, lets her eyes do the talking. flirts with a kind of quiet desperation.

and azzi? she just smiles, taking the affection like it's casual. like paige isn’t holding her breath every time she reaches for her hand.

and paige? she doesn’t know what the hell is happening.

maybe azzi was just so comfortable in their friendship she didn’t second guess paige’s motives, and god paige would feel really fucking terrible if that was the case. or maybe she felt the same and was scared to show?

or if azzi knew what she was doing, and cared about their friendship and the team to let her down.

fuck.

still, paige believes. there has to be something behind the way azzi always comes to her—her dorm, her bed, her arms. the way her cheeks flush across the court when their eyes meet. that has to mean something. it has to.

maybe, just maybe, there’s still a chance.

so paige heads to the bar, heart buoyed by vodka and stubborn hope, intent on grabbing them one more round. she’s halfway through ordering when she glances over her shoulder and freezes.

azzi’s still at their table, but she’s not alone.

beside azzi, perfect azzi with her stupidly pretty cheekbones and stupidly pretty smile and stupidly perfect curls sat a guy. tall, muscular, with dark, unruly curls that fall over his eyebrows and clear blue eyes. and he’s close—too close. his hand rests casually at her waist like it belongs there. like he belongs there.

and the worst part?

azzi was laughing, her smile wide and effortless. her posture relaxed. her body tilted just slightly toward him, just enough to say she’s interested. just enough to hurt.

oh.

and suddenly, the cool bar was too warm, and she could feel her throat dry.

her grip tightens on the edge of the bar, knuckles white. it’s too hot, too loud, too much. her chest aches. her throat is suddenly dry. she watches as azzi brushes a curl behind her ear, the way she always does when she’s flustered or shy. she’s seen that look a hundred times.

she used to think that look was meant for her.

fuck, she was gonna be sick. all over this disgusting counter top.

she turns back to the bartender, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

“just one drink,” she says quietly. “for me.”

she doesn’t go back to the table right away. instead, she finds a quiet corner near the back of the bar and lets the music drown out the sting of everything. her drink sits untouched in her hand, condensation running down the sides as she blinks back the sudden burn in her eyes.

maybe she has been ridiculous. maybe azzi’s been this close all this time, and paige never actually had her.

she physically shook her thoughts away like they pained her.

cause honestly? they really did.

“caroline!” she calls out, voice hoarse from emotion and noise. “i’m heading back. tell azzi if she asks.” she ignores the way her friend’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“paige, what-”

she slams the glass down the counter too harshly, weird glances thrown at the sudden noise. but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she marches down the dance floor to the exit.

past the dance floor, past the tables, ignoring the curious glances and concerned stares from her friends, chest hollow.

she doesn’t look back.

the worst part?

azzi doesn’t either.

later that night, azzi pushes open the door to paige’s dorm, adrenaline still buzzing from the night out. she expects the usual: paige half-asleep on her bed, tv playing something they’ve seen a dozen times, snacks scattered across the sheets.

but she stops short.

paige was curled up on the couch, her blanket pulled high over her shoulders like armor. small, still, silent.

which only meant one thing.

paige didn’t want to sleep beside azzi tonight.

didn’t want to see her.

and that realization hits harder than it should.

—

three.

can you see me? i’m waiting for the right time. i can’t read you but if you want the pleasure’s all mine. can you see me using everything to hold back?

–

they never talk about it.

not the distance.

not the moment at the bar.

not the way paige disappeared and never came back to the table, like vanishing would make the ache disappear too.

the tension settles between them like a fog, quiet and dense, too thick to cut through. it lingers in the way paige stops cracking as many jokes. in how her texts come a little slower, a little shorter. how she starts replying with one emoji instead of three. it lives in the space between their shoulders when they sit next to each other on the locker room bench. it’s invisible, but it’s everywhere.

and yeah, maybe it stung, but paige was nothing if not loyal.

and maybe stupidly in love.

so she lets it go. or at least tries to.

a week after the bar, she invites azzi over like nothing happened. like she didn’t feel her heart splinter watching someone else touch what she’d spent years silently longing for. she says everything she usually says, they start their routine again like nothing had happened. hell, she even starts touching azzi again.

platonically, of course.

they slip back into routine. barely. paige tells herself it’s fine. and when she let herself touch azzi again, people noticed the scripted familiarity in place of actual closeness.

everyone sees the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes anymore. the way she pulls out of azzi’s hugs a beat too early. how she watches azzi like she’s memorizing something she’s about to lose.

everyone could feel that something had changed. that the bar broke something open.

because that night didn’t just sting. it splintered something deep and raw inside her.

watching azzi laugh with someone else didn’t just hurt, it shattered her.

except azzi.

azzi who lived in her own world, who apparently, was the most oblivious person in the planet. azzi who smiled at paige like she hung the stars but never saw paige quietly looking, no, admiring her in the locker room after each game. azzi, who dances in paige’s orbit, always just close enough to warm her but never close enough to hold.

paige doesn’t know what it is—if it’s her, if it’s the way she loves too hard, too quietly. but no matter how badly she’s been hurt, she can’t bring herself to leave. it’s like gravity. like she’s caught in azzi’s orbit and doesn’t know how to break free.

and yeah, maybe the love of her life was painfully oblivious. or maybe she just didn’t reciprocate her feelings. paige tried not to think about the latter for too long or else she would actually have a breakdown and never stop.

so she stays.

and she tries.

and as she looks at herself in the mirror with her hair in her signature game day braids and ponytail. she takes a deep breath trying to gather every piece of her heart and soul she could bear.

one last time.

and this time, she’s not gonna hold back. she’s gonna get a reaction – an answer.

one last time, no holding back.

–

from the second they step into the locker room, paige is already reaching for her.

trying like her heart didn’t shatter just a few weeks ago, like she didn’t feel absolutely bat shit terriffied. and frankly, that she didn’t feel a little exhausted of the constant rejection that wasn’t rejection? maybe? who the fuck knows at this point.

her eyes find azzi as soon as they broke their team huddle, coach going over their strategy and his usual “don’t fuck up” talk.

and it should be a crime really, how azzi managed to look absolutely radiant under the fluorescent lights, her headphones on and hoodie pulled over her head. her long lashes brushed her cheeks as she scrolled through her phone, probably trying to find a playlist to blast before they start their shoot around.

she walks straight up to her like a magnet being pulled in.

paige bumps their shoulders together, “you’re walking around lookin’ too pretty, gonna distract everyone from the game.” she said slowly, her eyes locked on azzi’s with everything she’s too scared to say aloud.

she didn’t expect much, she’s been knowing this was gonna absolutely crush her. so really, it was only a slight sting in her heart when azzi laughed dismissively, “you’re the one with thousands of thirst edits under her belt, be serious.”

paige masked it all with a smirk, “i’m always serious.” she leaned in closer, making sure the distance between their body screamed anything but platonic, “especially when it comes to you.”

they were close. closer than paige had ever dared trying. she could feel azzi’s breath stutter and see the telling pink slowly colour her cheeks.

and god, she really was down bad. cause after all the heartache she’s been through, she still finds her heart stuttering at the sight.

nearby, kk hears it and mutters under her breath to caroline, “god, she’s trying so hard.”

caroline raises an eyebrow from across the court. “do you think azzi knows?” she whispers.

“no,” aubrey sighs. “and it’s kinda sad. i’m starting to feel bad for paige.”

“starting?” caroline mutters. “girl’s been down bad since freshman year.”

paige ignores them all.

her focus is zeroed in on azzi,s tanding so close and still somehow so out of reach.

who had the nerve to fucking giggle like paige hadn’t just casually flirted like her whole heart wasn’t in it. like it was just another day.

paige wanted to die.

it stings. again.

but she pushes through.

they run through warmups and shooting drills. paige’s eyes keep drifting. her fingers brush azzi’s when they stretch side-by-side, and her breath hitches every time their arms bump. she laughs louder around her. lingers longer.

and this time, she means to be obvious.

because tonight, she’s tired of guessing. tired of almosts. tired of being brave in a way that doesn’t count.

so the moment coach’s final pregame huddle breaks, paige tugs azzi’s wrist gently and pulls her just outside the tunnel, into the quiet shadow of the hallway.

“hey,” she says, eyes soft and unreadable.

azzi tilts her head. “what’s up?”

paige hesitates. her fingers tremble at her sides, heart knocking against her ribs so loudly she swears azzi can hear it. she opens her mouth. closes it. opens it again.

“i like you,” she blurts. “no, i love you.”

azzi blinks.

paige pushes forward, voice steadier, “i love you, azzi. like, can’t think straight, can’t breathe right kind of love. like, every time you walk into a room, it’s like my entire world resets around you. and i’ve been trying to push it away, really i have. but i just… i just need to know.”

and then.

azzi laughs.

paige’s chest drops.

“paige,” azzi says, bumping her shoulder like it’s all one big inside joke. “you’re so dramatic. is this like… one of your locker room speeches? you tryna pump me up before tip-off?”

“no,” paige says, voice low, raw. “i’m not kidding.”

but azzi’s already turning back toward the court, pulling her arm gently. “c’mon, let’s go. we’re gonna be late.”

paige stays frozen.

she watches azzi jog ahead, her ponytail swaying behind her, completely unaware of what she just did.

and just like that.

paige thinks that was her answer.

—

the game goes on. and paige plays like a woman possessed.

she’s on fire from the jump. every three-pointer hits. every steal turns into a fast break. she’s moving with a kind of controlled rage that the opposing team can’t figure out how to contain. she drops twenty by the half. thirty by the fourth. and when the final buzzer sounds and uconn takes the win, the whole bench erupts.

the locker room is chaotic joy. music blaring. gatorade everywhere. aubrey filming a live stream. kk’s dancing in the corner. even geno cracks a smile.

paige doesn’t. doesn’t smile, doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even spare a glance at her team mates.

she slams her locker shut so hard that it echoes, the metallic clang slicing through the music.

everyone goes quiet.

“paige?” caroline calls.

but paige doesn’t answer. doesn’t look at anyone. just grabs her bag and storms out of the room, jaw clenched, eyes stinging.

and still – she doesn’t let the tears fall.

not yet.

a beat of stunned silence.

“…what just happened?” ines asks.

azzi’s still pulling off her shoes, confused. “she’s probably just mad about something else.”

“mad?” aubrey echoes, incredulous.

“yeah,” azzi shrugs, unbothered. “she pulled me aside earlier and said she was in love with me or something. tried to make it all deep and dramatic.”

the room falls completely silent.

caroline drops the water bottle she’s holding.

“what.” aubrey said lowly, as if she didn’t know if azzi was being serious or not.

azzi blinks. “what?”

“azzi,” caroline groans. “that wasn’t a joke.”

“you can’t be serious,” aubrey mutters.

“she’s been in love with you forever,” caroline says, exasperated. “how do you not know that?”

azzi’s smile falters.

“that was her confessing,” caroline says, stepping forward. “god, azzi. you haven’t noticed how down she’s been every since that night at the bar? when you were flirting with a guy in front of her?”

the bar?

azzi feels a flare of confusion and guilt, remembering at how shrunken and small paige had looked that night. when she entered her dorm to a sleeping paige.

“no, i–” azzi starts, suddenly unsure.

“she’s been trying for weeks,” she continues, “you think paige – the one who consistently begged you to come here just so she could play with you, the one who literally will not let you carry anything heavier than a fucking newborn, the paige that’s been loyal and lovey dovey to you for years now – you think that paige bueckers flirts like that with anyone?”

azzi’s breath catches.

and there it is.

that moment.

that horrible, gut-wrenching, oh.

the realization that she misunderstood everything.

that what she thought was playful banter was actually someone – paige – her best friend, handing over her heart.

and she didn’t know whether she should cry or sit and marvel at the realisation that paige liked her.

paige likes her. azzi.

“i… i didn’t know,” azzi says quietly, voice suddenly small.

aubrey sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. “well, now you do.”

and somewhere down the hallway, past the chaos and celebration and confusion—paige is gone.

and this time?

azzi feels the distance.

and she’s terrified it’s final.

–

four. – azzi’s one.

i don’t wanna be forward, i don’t wanna cut corners.

savour this with everything i have inside of me.

—

azzi doesn’t sleep that night.

her bed feels unfamiliar. hollow. the faint scent of paige’s body wash lingers in the sheets, like even her bed misses her.

she couldn’t remember the last time she fell asleep without someone warm beside her. without soft whispers, or a weight curled into her side. without paige. without the quiet reassurance of her presence, the grounding comfort of her voice when azzi’s thoughts got too loud.

and god, how could she be so dense? how did she miss the ache in her chest when paige was an inch too far? how did she miss the giddiness she felt when paige’s eyes zeroed in on her? the way she saw her, really saw her, and not who people wanted her to be.

paige. of course it’s paige.

she loves paige.

of course she does.

the paige who had stuck with her through sweaty practices, sticky summer visits, mental breakdowns and insecurity that came with her acl injury. the paige that was the first to compliment her form and the first to give her pointers on how to improve. the paige that was so gentle with her it practically ached, but the first to make a stupid joke just to see her laugh.

the paige who’s been her constant. her person.

the paige who was so beautiful she had been pushing herself so far. that maybe if she tried hard enough to pretend that this was all a joke, that what she felt was just a silly crush – a figment of her teenage, hormone filled brain, that she could stay in the safety zone they called friendship.

but instead, she ruined it.

her phone sits heavy in her hand now, the screen dimming in and out of sleep. paige’s name glows at the top of their empty thread.

she keeps typing. deleting. typing again.

paige i’m sorry.

can we talk?

please.

call me back, please p.

nothing. no bubbles, no typing, not even a read.

nothing.

and now it all clicks into place: the way paige would pull her closer, only to retreat the moment azzi leaned in. the way her jokes hid something deeper. the way she looked at azzi like she was scared of being seen, but more afraid of being invisible.

god. she’s been breaking paige’s heart without even knowing.

and paige had still tried. had still stayed.

the silence feels like punishment.

cause fuck, she’d been so sweet. she’d been patient with her and she laughed? brushed it off like it meant nothing.

fuck, she really messed up this time.

azzi sits up in bed, blanket around her shoulders, and finally lets the tears fall.

“i didn’t know,” she whispers to no one. “i didn’t know, i didn’t know, i didn’t know.”

but that doesn’t stop the image of paige’s face from playing on repeat. that look in her eyes when she said i love you. the way her voice broke. the way she stood still while azzi walked away. the way her voice broke, the way her hands stayed at her sides like she was bracing for rejection.

and azzi gave it to her.

and now all azzi wants is to run back.

–

it’s raining when azzi stirs.

she doesn’t remember when she fell asleep. the night stretched on like a nightmare, and it was clear she was dragged through it and back. her face felt sticky with smeared mascara and tears, her hair still in her game day braids, now frizzy and messy.

she couldn’t find it in her to even care.

she throws on a hoodie – paige’s, she realizes when the familiar scent hits her, and her chest cracks open all over again.

she walks across campus in her hoodie and slides, socks soaked, barely feeling the cold. her heart’s pounding so hard she thinks she might puke. she doesn’t even stop to think, just walks straight to paige’s dorm, praying she’s there.

she knocks once.

twice.

then harder.

“paige,” her voice is shaky. she tries to steady it but fails. “paige, please. can you open the door?”

nothing.

and azzi can’t even blame her. but still, she feels her heart crack a little more.

“i know i don’t deserve anything more.” azzi starts, sniffling as she attempts to steady herself. “i get it, i wouldn’t wanna talk to me either after… everything.”

she leans her forehead against the door, her voice cracking.

“i just wanted to say, i’m sorry. i’m sorry i kept pushing you away. i’m sorry i didn’t let myself feel.” azzi’s hands were trembling at this point.

but no.

paige has always been the brave one.

paige loved her, even when azzi didn’t make it easy.

paige gave and gave and gave.

and now it’s azzi’s turn to give something back.

“i didn’t let myself believe it was real because… i think i’ve been in love with you too, and i was scared.”

a beat.

and then another.

“you’ve been in my life for so long, and you’ve always been this… bright, golden thing. and i thought if i let myself feel it, i’d lose you.”

her voice drops to a whisper, tears sliding down her cheeks.

“and i don’t know. maybe i already did. but i don’t wanna lose you paige. i can’t.” she couldn’t help the soft sob that leaves her mouth as she crumples to the floor.

she sniffles, wiping her sleeve across her face. “i’m sorry i laughed. i was nervous and caught off guard and i didn’t mean to make you feel like that. if i could go back and do it over, i’d tell you the second you looked at me that i’ve been so stupid in love with you too.”

for a moment, all she hears is her breathing.

god, she must look so pathetic right now.

but then.

a click.

the door opens.

paige, in the hoodie azzi has stolen a hundred times, eyes swollen and glassy. her expression folds at the sight of her, and azzi can barely breathe.

“azzi.”

and god, azzi doesn’t know how to handle this. the way paige breathed out her name, like it was the only thing keeping her alive. like she was her everything.

like she was in love.

“you mean it?” she says, voice barely a whisper.

azzi nods through her tears, already standing, already stepping into her arms. “i mean it. every word.”

and then paige’s arms are around her, warm and trembling and so desperately needed. azzi wraps herself into her like she was always meant to be there, like it’s the only thing that makes sense. she lets herself inhale paige’s scent, lets herself burrow her face into the blonde’s chest like she’s always wanted to do.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” azzi rambles before she could pull herself back, shaking as paige pulls her tighter.

“i know. i know, baby.”

fuck.

azzi looks up, gazing into the blue eyes she’s known for forever.

and she looks, really looks.

and maybe it’s the nickname, or the rain, or the way paige still holds her like she’s everything, she has absolutely no fucking clue.

but her body knows before her brain can catch up.

her fingers reach up to cradle paige’s jaw, soft and hesitant at first. she lets her thumb brush the damp curve of her cheek, tracing the warmth of skin that’s always felt like home. and paige just gazes down, awe in her blue eyes – and doesn’t pull away. and when she leans into the touch like she’s been starved for it, azzi moves closer, closer, until there’s no space left between them.

her breath stutters. her heart’s in her throat.

and then she closes the distance.

it’s not perfect. it’s messy and tear-slicked and trembling. their lips crash more than meet at first, azzi’s hand shaking as it curls around the back of paige’s neck, as if afraid she’ll disappear.

but she doesn’t.

she stays, rooted in place at first, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening. like this was another one of her dreams and she was terrified to wake up.

but then she melts.

she melts into azzi like she’s been waiting for this forever. like she’s been holding her breath for years and finally, she’s allowed to exhale.

the kiss deepens, slow and aching. paige lets herself soften under azzi’s fingertips, lets her hand wander to the younger’s waist as she pulls her closer, the kiss turning eager yet desperate. she kisses her like azzi is the only thing in the world that makes sense. like this is everything she’s ever wanted.

it feels like breathing for the first time.

like finally coming home.

when they finally pull apart, foreheads pressed together, breaths shared in the quiet space between them, azzi’s hand is still resting over paige’s heart.

azzi feels herself smile, “so, we’re okay?”

and god, paige feels herself fall deeper.

“we’re more than okay,” paige says, smiling for the first time in days. “but next time i confess my love, can you maybe not laugh in my face?”

azzi groans, burying her face in paige’s neck. “i will never live that down, huh.”

“not a chance.”

and when they finally close the door behind them, curling up together in the quiet warmth of paige’s room, it feels like everything that’s been aching finally finds peace.

and this time, no one’s holding back.

—

ps: talk to me thru the inbox w your thoughts :) makes me so happy after posting a fic to see reactions hehe

[rhaenyraeri]

Forevermore - Remmick

minors dni, 18+!!

Pairing: Remmick x fem!Reader

Summary: During one of his nightly visits, you prompt Remmick to make a hard decision.

Warnings: blood play, oral (fem!receiving), dirty talk, biting, scratching

Word Count: 1.7k

Tonight, like most nights, you let him in. He’d came to your house, leaned up against the wooden post at the top of your steps, using that charm he had to impress you. He didn’t have to most nights. You’d grown particularly found of this vampire, and he’d the same for you, a mere human that he should want to kill. But you were different, and the both of you knew that the dynamic wasn’t good for either of you.

But here you were now, laid face down on the bed as Remmick ran his hands up and down your body. You’d been at it for a few hours now, and you were exhausted. He never got tired, but he understood that someone like you needed a rest every so often. He laid beside you as his hands worshiped the body you let him have every night, the occasional vampiric drool seeping out. Your blood was different to him. It called out of his name like a song, luring him in. intoxicating in a way that others weren’t. Maybe he just convinced himself of that, maybe it was actually different, or maybe he’d been too blinded by his star-crossed love for you. Part of him wanted to turn you, to have you forever, but the other didn’t want to rip you from the life you had. One that had an ending, had trials and tribulations. It would be selfish to change you. At least it’s what he thought. Had he had a choice, he wouldn’t have taken it.

“You’re awfully quiet, Rem. What’s on your mind?” You broke the peaceful silence, knowing that usually he’d had a lot to talk about but tonight he was silent.

“Oh, nothin’, darlin’. Just takin’ in the silence, is all.”

You knew him better, though. For Remmick to not have anything to say, especially now between your nightly sexual sessions. You loved him, and you could swear you felt that he loved you too. You wanted to spend your lifetime with him, as much as he’d probably reject the idea.

“I know you better than that. Come on, tell me what’s going through your mind.”

He sighed, moving to lay beside you on the bed. You matched his movements, turning onto your side to nestle into his body.

“I just.. Well.. I.. Darlin’, I wanna have you forever. I can’t rip you from this life you got, though. It’s too perfect, too taken for granted when you’re cursed to eternity like me.”

You looked up to him, eyes locking onto his face. For the first time, you saw a perturbed look on it, the sense of longing furrowed his eyebrows.

“Oh, Rem. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, too. But, we don’t have to be like this. Each day I die a little more, years from now I’ll be all old and wrinkled, and you’ll still be you. Maybe, I.. maybe you’d..” you now took your left hand to push some of his short hair behind his ear, “maybe you could change me?”

His eyes shot to yours. He was shocked, a look you didn’t see very often from him. He couldn’t steal that from you. He also couldn’t bear to lose you, either.

“Darlin’, I.. I don’t want you to lose out on life like this. You’d be here forever, you know that, right? I-I’ve spent centuries here, and it was loneliest damn thing I ever experienced. But then I met you, honey. You’re special to me, more than you know.”

“Rem.. I-I.. I love you. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, a human committed to a creature of the night like you. It’s true, though. And I think, or at least hope, you feel the same way. I’m serious. I want to spend eternity with you.”

You felt your heart start to race at the thought of that. Eternity. Thousands of lifetimes, millions of people living and dying, experiencing things that makes humans.. human. All happening while the two of you were here on this earth to stay. Forever.

He sighed again, this time one dripping with debate. He couldn’t bear the rest of his life without you with him. The hours of daytime he waited in caves and old abandoned houses for the sunset to come, all spent thinking about you. The time between each fuck that you spent resting as he adored you. The times even, that you were most human. The nights you were sick, so you just laid in the bed as he held your sleeping figure. The nights where he got to just spend time with you, appreciating you in more domestic ways. He’d came around your house many times by now, more than you could count. He’d grown immune to the hunger that your blood caused in him. Some nights he wondered just how you would taste, if given the chance. An intrusive thought that refused to leave him.

“I wanna spend it with you too, sweetheart, I do,” he finally spoke, “but are you sure? I want you to be absolutely certain you want it. Everything you know will change. It’s gon’ be hard to get used to.”

“I’m sure, Rem. Sure as I could ever be.”

He gave you a slight smile, he was still unsure about it, having to kill you for you to turn. If he were to do this, he was to do it right. He kissed your forehead, and turned you onto your back. He sat up to hover over you, eyes now red and drool seeping from the corner of his mouth. He kissed you deeply, one filled with love and passion. He moved away from your mouth to kiss your cheek. His teeth grazed down your neck, piercing just enough to feel like a cat scratch but not enough to inflict pain. Almost as if he wanted to take his time teasing you, antagonizing you. He dragged his teeth back up your neck, the thin scratch he just made had become a little more painful as it was being irritated. Slowly, the blood seeped out of your neck and barely touched his tongue. A course and carnal moan erupted from him. The taste of your blood drove him insane. It was sweet, like you. Almost like the sweets he could remember from his childhood, days of many centuries past. He sucked the blood a little more out of your neck, savoring the flavor, then kissing it. One of his hands now had claws, something you’d never seen before. He placed light kisses on your chest down to your stomach, and then your hip bone, right above your core.

“Your blood is so sweet, darlin’. Lemme see how sweet your pussy will taste with your it, too.” One of his hands slid up your leg and up to your stomach. The claws came out as he laid his hand between your breasts. You’d only heard about them in some stories he’d told you. They slightly pierced your skin, dragging little scratches from your chest down to your hip bone. The blood seeped out quick, and he leaned up to lick his way back down your body, taking each droplet in with a moan. He swallowed deeply, drooling a little harder now as he looked up at you.

“You ready for me, sweetheart? I know she is.” You nodded, eagerness churning in your stomach. His mouth met with your pussy, lapping at it like it was his last meal. To be fair, it was his last meal of your humanity. After tonight, you would be a creature of the night alongside him, reigning terror amongst the unexpecting together. He hummed against you, savoring the sweetness of your blood and the intensity of your slick. Before you could grab his hair, he stops his movements and looks up at the scratches on your stomach. He goes up to taste the fresh blood and returns to your pussy, humming in content, then back up to kiss you. Now you’ve tasted what he desired, and it’s all intoxicating for you. He breaks from the kiss to flip you around on your hands and knees, and he puts a clawed hand on your hip, using the other to line himself up with you, before slowly pushing in. His pace is slow at first, taking in the last time you would have this dynamic. You moaned into the pillow, before giving a muffled, “faster.” His speed picks up, his hands on your hips to guide you back to his. Moans filled the room now, reverberating off the walls. It’s all either of you could hear aside from the slapping of your bodies together. You wanted him deeper, so much more deeper than he was now, something you knew couldn’t be acquired but you couldn’t get enough. He fucked you with a different aura tonight, you could feel the love and desire in each thrust. “Fuck, darlin’, you feel so damn good. You like it, huh? You like havin’ me inside you? Fuckin’ you like this?”

All you could do was moan in agreement, the sensualness of it all stealing your words from you. His sounds now turned filthier and rough, each one getting louder and louder the closer he got. “Fuck, Rem, I’m gonna.. fuck, I’m almost..” “I know, honey, let it out sweetheart, come on.” He twirled your hair around his hand and pulled you up so that your neck was level with his mouth. His tongue danced along the old scratches from earlier, tasting the dried blood. As soon as your orgasm hit, his vampiric teeth bit hard onto your neck, sucking on the delicious blood you offered up to him. Your right hand reach up to his face, pressing his teeth harder into you. He came right after, his orgasmic moans rumbled through his teeth and into the puncture wounds. You emitted sounds so ethereal to him, the pain and pleasure of him turning you was unlike anything he’d ever heard before.. almost heavenly. He sucked just a little more of your blood out of you, before slowly pulling out of you and lowering you back down onto the pillow. He laid down beside you once more, pushing hair out of your face as you looked at him. You weren’t in discomfort, no, but you were more at peace? He wasn’t sure how you didn’t react with pain, but the smile you showed him as your eyes fluttered shut gave him all the reassurance he needed. This was the correct choice.

You were his, and he was yours. For now and forever.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

AITA for being proud of my job as a regional Nightmare?

My sister told me she’s making her own post and that if I was so sure I wasn’t TA then I should make my own so here I am.

I’m a regional Nightmare. I’m very proud of how hard I worked to get here. Not many terrors in their 20s get this high up and it’s because I do the work. I get up at 8pm and I’m out in the woods grinding out those quotas until dawn. Sometimes I sleep out there in my uniform just so I can be the first on scene for the multi-part jobs. I’m efficient, I’m punctual, and I’m committed. My goal is to be a Cyptid by the time I’m 30 and, to do that, I have to stay on at all times.

As a result, I work a lot. I’m often not home for days at a time. I have a very strict training regimen and my time for friends and family is virtually nonexistent. That’s why when I do get the time to hang out, I prefer to spend my time intentionally. What I mean by that is that I don’t want to sit on a couch when I could be lifting weights. I don’t want to chill in the pool when I could be volunteering for new scares. I especially don’t want to gossip over tea when I could be getting overtime.

Last Saturday, my sister invited a bunch of family over to her house. My job in the Virginia woods fell through, so I decided to go. Silly (her childhood nickname) said she had something important to tell the family so I thought it wouldn’t be a waste of my time.

Key word: thought.

When I got to Silly’s house, I was surprised to see so many cars out front. Our parents were there and our older brother. The house was packed. There were cousins, aunts, uncles and a ton of people I didn’t know.

At first the event was fine. Silly’s always been a good cook (see, I know you’re reading this, Silly, and see? I do compliment you when do something actually good) and everyone was really enjoying the flank steak (though I did have to save it before she cooked it medium well). But as the day wore on, I could tell people were getting bored. Silly and Mom were focused on cleaning up and said that dessert would have to wait until her fiance got home. Which was kind of rude to be late and I felt really bad for Silly. It seems like my soon to be brother-in-law (BIL for short) is never around when she needs him.

In an effort to help, I engaged some of the people I didn’t know in conversation because the party was getting a little dead and I didn’t want one of my sister’s parties to fail. I was trying hard not to think about the time I was wasting waiting for my future BIL so it also served as a distraction.

It turns out one of the guys was a fellow terror. He worked a corporate job and we talked for a while about the pros of being freelance like me. He asked me a lot of questions and I was happy to mentor another terror.  Corporate can suck the art out of what we do. My clients only care if the quota for their mission is met and don’t enforce such strict timelines. They come to me for quality. Poor guy barely had time to mend his uniform between scares (his cloak was tattered and his hook hand was rusty) so I recommended my tailor and blacksmith.

The guy and I exchanged information. I gave him my business card and he looked for one of his. While he looked, I felt nature calling so I headed upstairs to use my sister’s bathroom (like hell I was going to use the same one as my Uncle Joe). From up there, I saw my future BIL pull into the driveway.

 Being a regional Nightmare is a tough job. Like I said, I have to train a lot to keep my certification. So I thought it’d be a good idea to get a scare on my BIL both to punish him for being late and to make up for all the time I’d already wasted at the party.

So I waited for him to come upstairs to change and, when he did, I pulled out the works. I darkened the room and fell back into the shadows. Then, while he groped for the light switch, I stretched out my leg (I have an extra joint in them) and tried to nudge him. I honestly didn’t expect for him to trip and I DEFINITELY didn’t expect for him to fall backwards. I’ve been practicing this skill on my family since I was sixteen and got the leg extension mod and none of them ever fell like that.

My future BIL fell down the stairs. I panicked and raced over to look over the banister. He was fine! He wasn’t bleeding or anything and, when I saw that, I started to laugh.

Everyone freaked out though. They all said I was being immature and bullying my BIL. I told them it wasn’t bullying, it was my actual job. I said that I was just joking and didn’t know my BIL, a former “Cryptid”, would take it so hard.

My mom jumped in and backed me up, but my sister has always been the Queen of the castle. Silly and Dad kicked me out ( I mean, I let them, I’ve got enhanced strength and I didn’t want to hurt them). Dad called me a disgrace and to not come back home.

I asked him if he was really kicking me out just because I wanted to show off my skills a little? And he said yes. And Silly said I had it coming to me for a long time.

I don’t even know what went wrong.

 So AITA for taking pride in my work?

---.

SillyCreeper says: Oh my god, you actually made this post? You’re an actual idiot. For anyone who believes this story, read mine before you vote. My brother left out a few details like how the party was my GENDER REVEAL PARTY and that he’s not a regional Nightmare, he’s a  Slasher for hire.

OP replies: I am TRAINED to operate as a regional Nightmare. That makes me an independent regional Nightmare.

SillyCreeper replies: Regional Nightmares don’t steal failed missions from corporate Slashers

OP replies: Get your own post, Silly

SillyCreeper: Oh, I already did. Have fun being torn apart on yours, dumbass.

-----

Thanks for reading! If you'd like to read Silly's AITA post a week early, please consider becoming a patron (X)!

Aita for going no contact with my brother after he pulled a Scare on my husband?

I'm working on this anthology during November and I'm having a blast with this story in particular! The family drama keeps going on and on

[wordsofwhimsy]

🅲🅾🅽🅲🆁🅴🆃🅴 🅵🅻🅾🆆🅴🆁🆂

A/N: I’ve been going BONKERS reading through all of the Mark Grayson x reader fanfics on here.  Y’all are so damn talented!!!  Got a girl having all the feels.  It really inspires me to write more myself :’).  The last thing I posted got a little bit of love & it really meant a lot to me!  I’m also going to try working on my formatting to make it more appealing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

PAIRING: [Budding] Sinister!Mark Grayson x Reader

WARNINGS: Series-Typical Violence & Gore, suggestive abusive/possessive

INSPIRED: by the song “luther” by Kendrick Lamar & SZA

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♫♪ If this world was mine… ♫♪

Something was changing in Mark.  The sweet, funny, and thoughtful guy you’d known for years was still there, but you’d noticed within the last few months that there was also something else—something much darker bubbling just below the surface.  At first you told yourself his heavy emotions were normal and made sense.  What he went through with his father was nothing short of traumatic, and he never truly had a chance to process any of it.  Not in the typical sense, at least.  No therapy, no counselors, no support groups.  Just himself, his mom, and all of the poor souls who dared to take up the mantle of being a career criminal.  Of course there was always you, but what words of wisdom could you really offer?  You were just a regular girl, working an ordinary nine to five as a library assistant.  The life he led was so fantastical and impossible for you to ever truly understand.  You loved him dearly and would always support him in any way you could, but the reality was you did not relate to his current life at all.

As time went on though you noticed that what started as a shadow within him was growing, becoming like a black sludge that would seep out of his mouth when talking about Cecil, or his father—or anything really that he disagreed with.  If you were being honest with yourself, it scared you.  You of course knew he was not his father and would never even conceive of committing such atrocities, but somewhere in the recesses of your mind you held the image of the destruction that was caused by Omni-Man, and then the knowledge that Invincible was more than capable of doing the same.  Not wanting to add the stressors that consumed Mark’s life, however, you never voiced these feelings.  But they were there nonetheless, and becoming harder for you to ignore.

♫♪ I'd take your dreams and make 'em multiply ♫♪

“I don’t understand what you’re so upset with me about [Name],” Mark stated, the irritation evident in his tone. “You wanted to become the lead librarian, and now you are. That’s literally what you asked for.”  You stared up at him incredulously, arms stiff at your sides with your hands clenched into tight fists.

“You have got to be kidding me right now Mark.” You waited a few moments, for some reason believing his senses would come back to him.  Instead, you were met with him starring evenly back down at you. Your eyes widened as you shouted, “You threatened Mrs. Crump into retiring!”

“I gave her strong encouragement.”

“Be so for real right now…” You dropped your head and covered your face with your palm, needing to regroup your thoughts. “Maybe I’m mistaken.  Did Invincible not show up at my job this morning and tell my boss that if she was smart, she would make this her last day?” His dark, slim eyes glanced away from you now as he gave no answer.  Your lips pursed as you slowly nodded your head, at a loss for words.  Mark looked back at you, his expression suddenly so soft and tender.  It almost made your heart flutter.

“Your life is so short, [Name],” he said in almost a whisper. “You deserve for every dream you ever have to become reality.  In fact you deserve even more!” All the built up tension in your muscles suddenly melted away as you instinctively reached out to take his hand in a comforting gesture.

“Oh—” Your fingers trace up the solid and muscled contours of his arm, gently grazing over his shoulder and neck to finally cup his jaw. Your eyes meet with his and you couldn’t help but feel a soft smile tug at your lips. “Mark… My life may seem short in comparison to yours, but understand that for me, it’s the longest thing I’ll ever experience.” Your words seemed to do nothing to comfort him as a look of frustration pulled at his features. You only continued to gently smile. “Besides, the fight for our dreams is the most important part of the adventure.”

This seemed to register for him, at least on some level. “I love you,” he hushed while holding your face in his calloused hands.  He leaned down to give you a soft, lingering kiss that made you weak in the knees.  This time, as was the case with every time that you began to worry about his dark tendencies, he touched you and flooded your brain with oxytocin causing you to forget all about your concerns.  Just like he wanted.

♪♫ If this world was mine, I'd take your enemies in front of God Introduce 'em to that light, hit them strictly with that fire ♪♫

This is a dream, you told yourself.  Every cell in your body was shaking in horror.  This is dream, you repeated in your mind, tears welling in your eyes.  This has to be a dream.  Mark stood facing you, donning his superhero attire.  Although the blood that heavily stained his right hand up to his elbow did not lend itself to the idea of heroism. “[Name],” he spoke your name so calmly.  Nausea churned in your stomach as you took a step back from him. “I had to do this.  His life was meaningless – he didn’t deserve to be on this planet with you.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere but at his face.  You didn’t dare see what was undoubtedly laid in a careless, bloodied pile at his feet. “You know that I’m right, [Name]. Don���t you understand? He was—”

“He was my father!” you cried, the tears now spilling freely from your swollen eyes. “How could you do this?!”

“How could I do what? Save you from his abuse? Spare you from another bruised eye or busted lip? Another horrible insult being spit at you from his vile mouth?” As he talked you could see the blackness gushing from his lips.  This was what you had feared all along but denied endlessly, until now.  And now it was far too late.  You took another step away from him and suddenly felt your back pressed into something solid and immovable.  Mark’s arms closed around you from behind, his face leaned down next to yours. “I am all you really need, [Name].  I can keep you safe.  No one else can do that for you.  Only me.” You sobbed without restraint, all of your body giving way under his embrace as he kept you on your feet effortlessly. “I know this is hard for you right now, but don’t worry, I promise you’ll understand someday.”

Having gone numb to your own senses, it took you several minutes to realize you were no longer on solid ground and instead floating above your father’s home.  It was quiet out, no sirens or people screaming.  Your neighborhood and the police were none the wiser.  And even if someone did know, what could they possibly do? “I love you, [Name].  I know you know that.  You might not feel the same right now, but I hope soon enough you will again.”  The tone in his voice left you feeling like you didn’t have a choice in the matter.  And suddenly, you could see the future clearly.  He would follow in his father’s footsteps, and this world would bend knee to his every whim.  You would be no exception.  In the name of self-preservation, you found yourself reaching up to hold onto his arms which still gripped tightly around your rib cage. 

“I love you too.”  The words surprised even you as they cracked out of your throat.  A low hum of satisfaction could be heard from Mark before he placed a tender kiss to the crook of your neck.

“I’m so glad to hear you say that.” He squeezed you even tighter, pushing the breath out of your lungs and putting a deep ache in your spine.  How could your sweet, thoughtful, caring boyfriend have changed so much? Where did the Mark you know go? Your stare fell back down to the roof of your father’s home and the sight immediately brought tears back to your eyes, blurring your vision. “Things in this world are going to be changing.” You bottom lip quivered at his words. “But don’t worry, I’ve done some things to your house just to make sure you can stay safe.  I can’t wait for you to see.” He placed another kiss to your throat, and you felt yourself slip out of your skin.  Nothing would ever be the same.

[hoshifighting]

i'm BEGGING for a collegefling! jeonghan plzz

thank youuuu 💗 love your work <33

warnings: smut, teasing, flirting, fingering, penetrative sex, cock riding, semi-public sex, library sex, loud!jeonghan, jealousy, he's such a cutie too.

college fling!jeonghan who's not the type to play around with mixed signals. if he wants something, he’s pretty direct about it. likes games—just not the confusing kind. so, yeah, when you first met him, you kind of got what he was about from day one. freshman year was chaos. the university’s big events had everyone talking—water games, shirtless dudes, bikinis, everyone all bronzed and glowing under the sun. but jeonghan— he’s not about the whole "show off my body" thing. kept his shirt on, like he didn’t need to prove a damn thing. confident as hell, and you hated how much that got to you.

he was the one who came up to you first, of course. said something like, “my friend thinks you’re pretty.” such a casual opener, like it was no big deal. but then he took it further, all smooth with a teasing smile. “but i don’t really trust his taste, so i had to see for myself.”

you remember just rolling your eyes, thinking, this guy—but also trying not to let on that his vibe was doing things to your brain. when he went on to say, “so, are we making out now, or later?”—you laughed in his face, hard. hard as fuck, actually, and told him straight up that wasn’t happening, and his response? a smirk. that smirk that would become the smirk, the one you'd start seeing every time he spotted you from across campus, during parties, even in the quiet corner of the library when you thought you were safe.

after that day, it was like this... game, but not really a game. like, you’d be minding your business, trying to get through your classes, and boom—jeonghan would be there, casually sliding in with some flirty comment, always teetering on the line of too much. but never quite crossing it. like one time, you were sitting with your laptop, probably stressed over a deadline, and he just popped up with, “you look like you could use a distraction.” you shot back, “don’t you have someone else to annoy?” and of course, he answered, “nah, i’m committed to you.” committed. like it wasn’t just a stupid flirty thing.

and it kept going. year after year. no kissing, no hooking up—just this ridiculous back-and-forth, every time he saw you, making your stomach twist up in knots. it was frustrating as hell, ‘cause even though he flirted like it was second nature, he never actually pushed you to do anything more. he knew the game. he knew exactly how far to take it before pulling back, leaving you wanting more but hating that you even did.

one night, you were at some random house party, loud music, too many people, and of course, there he was. leaning against the kitchen counter, looking all too comfortable in a place that was way too crowded. he saw you first, waved you over with that lazy smile that you wanted to ignore but couldn’t. “you lost or just looking for me?” he asked, knowing damn well you weren’t looking for him.

“neither,” you lied, grabbing a drink from the counter just to have something to hold. but he wasn’t buying it, stepping a little closer, crowding your space just enough to make your breath catch.

“right,” he said, that teasing lilt in his voice. “so you’re not here just to finally kiss me?”

you laughed again, but this time, it didn’t feel as easy. “jeonghan, you’ve been trying for years. give it up.”

“noo sweetheart,” he pouted, voice smooth like honey. “i’m just playing the long game. i like it..”

the long game. because even though you never kissed, never took it past flirting, there was always this tension, simmering just below the surface. you’d catch yourself thinking about him sometimes when you weren’t even around him—wondering if he ever thought about you the same way.

but he never made it weird. never tried to make you feel like you owed him anything, which was maybe why you didn’t hate him for it. because at the end of the day, it was fun. infuriating, yes. but fun. he’d make a comment, you’d brush it off, but deep down? yeah, there was always a part of you that kinda wanted to see what would happen if you let the game go on a little longer.

and jeonghan... he was patient. too patient, if you were being honest.

there was something stupidly comforting about jeonghan always being around. like, even on your worst days—those days when you couldn’t even be bothered to try. oversized hoodie, messy hair, not a scrap of makeup. you were barely surviving, and there he was, still managing to make you feel noticed. he’d walk up, casual as hell, and say things like, “your hair smells nice today,” or he’d reach out, fingers grazing your hand, just to say, “new nails? they look cute.”

and then there was that one time, oh god—you remember it clear as day. you’d barely rolled out of bed and showed up to class, hoodie pulled tight around you, and jeonghan slides up beside you at the cantine, glancing down at your hand. “you know what would look cute wrapped in there?” he’d said, all casual. and for a split second, you didn’t catch on. you were about to ask what he meant, then it hit you—cock. he meant cock.

you felt your face heat up, your brain misfiring as you shot him a look, trying to figure out if anyone else had heard. your eyes scanned the tables, praying no one else had clocked his little comment, and when you finally turned back to him, there he was—smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “what?” he asked, all fake innocence, like you hadn’t just caught onto his bullshit. “i was talking about the energy drink can.” and he pointed at the one in your hand, the one you had just bought. “it matches your nails.”

you laughed. you couldn’t help it. he had this way of making everything lighter, even when you were convinced it was gonna be a trash day. and he smiled too, like your happiness was his mission for the day. it was always like that. jeonghan would flirt, you’d roll your eyes or laugh, and things would feel a little easier. it was comfortable. safe, even.

but then… spring party. fuck.

there was something so painfully uncomfortable about seeing him with her. it wasn’t even the fact that they were together—it was the way he smiled at her. the way his arm was casually around her shoulders, pulling her closer, and then the cheek kiss. you saw it, and it felt like something lodged itself in your chest. like, what the hell.

it hit you like a ton of bricks. you liked the game too much. you liked him too much, but you hadn’t taken the shot. you never thought it was serious enough to matter, but seeing him with someone else? it felt like you were watching something that should’ve been yours. the whole night was a blur after that. no amount of party energy could bring you back up after seeing that.

you left early. didn’t even bother sticking around when the lights got lower, the music got louder, and everyone else started to get more and more drunk. you just… left. walked back to your dorm, the sound of your flower crown jingling a little with each step, the one your friends had insisted you wear. it felt stupid now. why the hell did you even care?

and then, as if the universe had it out for you, you saw him. just walking out of the dorms. not just any dorms. the dorms. the girls’ dorms. and you knew. of course it was her. she was in there, probably waving him off after some perfect little goodnight, and here you were, walking around with jealousy you didn’t even want to admit you had.

he saw you before you could duck away. smiled at you like nothing was weird, like you hadn’t seen him with her just hours before. “mhmmm... who’s this princess, huh?” he wolf-whistled, because of course, of course, he would. his eyes twinkled when they landed on your flower crown, clearly amused.

you weren’t. “fuck off, jeonghan,” you muttered, trying to brush past him. but you knew it. he heard it. he caught the tone immediately because even when he got on your nerves before, you were never this cold.

“whoa, whoa,” he called after you, stepping in your path with that all-too-familiar smirk, though now it felt different. heavier. “where’s this coming from? what happened? don’t tell me the princess has had a rough night?”

“i’m not in the mood,” you snapped, making a beeline for your dorm. but he wasn’t letting it go. he blocked your way again, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes studying you like he was figuring out some kind of puzzle. you saw his eyes lighting up.

“wait a minute… are you jealous?”

the way he said it, like he was genuinely surprised and also deeply entertained by the thought. you didn’t even want to give him the satisfaction of looking at him, but your eyes flicked up anyway, glaring.

“you’re ridiculous.”

“i’m ridiculous?” he laughed, stepping a little closer. “so you saw me with her, huh?” he teased, and you could see the moment he clicked it all together. “oh my god. you are jealous.”

“shut up, jeonghan.”

but he didn’t. he was full-on laughing now, not even trying to hide how amused he was by the whole thing. “okay, okay. listen, that was my sister, y/n.”

you blinked. “what?”

he wiped at his eyes, still chuckling. “my sister. we had a family thing tonight, and she was visiting the campus for the spring party. she’s staying over, that’s why i was in the girls' dorms.”

you felt the embarrassment hit you like a wave. like, of course, you’d worked yourself up into a jealous mess over nothing. but still, the way he was looking at you, the way his laughter softened when he saw your expression change—it wasn’t like he was making fun of you. if anything, he looked… kinda pleased.

“you really thought i’d ditch you for someone else?” he asked, scrunching his nose. “after all these years?”

you wanted to hit him. and also kiss him. but mostly hit him. “shut up,” you mumbled, shoving past him to finally get to your door.

but as you fumbled with your keys, you heard him laugh again, this time lighter. “you know, if you want to kiss me that badly, you could just ask.”

"just ask?" you placed a hand on your hip, raising an eyebrow at him like you were calling his bluff. jeonghan just nodded, all nonchalant, like this wasn’t the moment of his life.

you took a step closer, the space between you two disappearing until your noses were nearly touching. you could see the way his eyes flickered from yours to your lips and back up, like he was trying to stay cool, but you knew better. underneath all that fake calm, he was freaking out.

you just smiled. you leaned in, just close enough for him to feel your breath on his lips, and whispered, “good night, jeonghan.”

you pulled back, turning on your heel, leaving him standing there. you didn’t need to look back to know the effect you had. you could feel the tension in the air, the way his posture faltered just slightly. when you reached your door, you glanced over your shoulder, catching his eyes one last time before you disappeared inside. he was still watching, a grin playing on his lips. as you leaned against the door inside, hand over your racing heart, you couldn’t help but smile too.

a few days later, you were at the library. it was one of those late afternoons where the campus was almost eerily quiet. most people were either at the football field, hanging out on the green, or already done for the day. you’d volunteered for this stupid school board vote thing, which meant you were stuck painting posters on cardboard, your hands covered in smudges of red and blue paint.

the library had this dim, cozy lighting, the blinds half-drawn so the soft glow of sunset was creeping in from the windows. but the table you were sitting at had this one bright, focused yellow lamp, shining right on your work as you dragged the wet paintbrush across the poster.

you were in your own world, humming softly, when you suddenly felt something… someone close. too close. a soft breath ghosted over your ear, so light you almost thought you were imagining it.

“boo!” a voice whispered, low and teasing, right by your ear.

you flinched hard, tensing up, your whole body jerking back so fast the paintbrush slipped in your hand. and of course, it was him. jeonghan stood there, barely an inch away, grinning like the asshole he was. his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, like he was trying to stop himself from reaching out and touching you.

“what the fuck,” you muttered, heart still racing from the scare, eyes glaring up at him. but he was having the time of his life, watching the way your body reacted, still all wound up.

“shhh,” he whispered, stepping even closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear this time. “we’re in a library.” the fake seriousness in his voice almost made you laugh, but you were too annoyed to let him win that easily.

“do you ever chill?” you asked, leaning back in your chair to give yourself a little space, but jeonghan wasn’t having it. he leaned down, resting his arms on the back of your chair like he was claiming it—and you.

“why would i, when scaring you is so much fun?” he shot back, his grin widening.

your heart was still pounding from the surprise, and now from him being so damn close, but you rolled your eyes, trying to act like you weren’t affected. “you’re annoying.”

“you love it,” he whispered, the teasing edge in his voice making you want to scream. but instead, you reached for your paintbrush again, ignoring him, or at least trying to. jeonghan, though, wasn’t going anywhere. he hovered over you, eyes scanning the half-finished poster on the table.

“what’s this?” he asked, gesturing to your work. “you painting a masterpiece?”

“just posters,” you mumbled, trying to focus on the brush strokes. but you could feel him there, his eyes practically burning into your skin. you hated how aware you were of him, of his warmth, of the way his breath still lingered on your ear.

“hmm,” he hummed, leaning a little closer again, his cheek almost brushing yours as he pretended to inspect the cardboard. “you missed a spot.”

“jeonghan,” you warned, glancing up at him through narrowed eyes. but all he did was flash you that familiar, maddening smirk.

“what? just trying to help.” he finally pulled back, standing up straight again, but not before letting his fingers brush lightly against your arm, just enough to send a spark through you.

you cursed under your breath, trying to focus on your work, but it was useless. his stupid little whisper and the way he hovered over you had already ruined any chance of concentration.

“you know,” he said casually, pulling out a chair next to you and sitting down like he had nowhere else to be. “you’re fun to mess with.”

“can you shut up for like, two seconds?” you shot at him, your voice carrying more frustration than you meant.

instead of taking the hint, he just wriggled his eyebrows at you, that shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. he never stops. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to gather your thoughts, but the annoyance, the tension—it all bubbled up inside you, and before you could overthink it, you opened your eyes and leaned in, kissing him.

just a quick peck, a little “shut the hell up” moment, nothing more. but the second you pulled back and caught the look on his face, you almost regretted it. almost. jeonghan was stunned. like, full-on wide-eyed, frozen in place, like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

your cheeks immediately burned, but you kept your cool, clearing your throat before going back to the poster like nothing happened. “sit down and be quiet now,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the cardboard.

for once, he actually listened. he sat down next to you, still staring, clearly trying to process what you just did. the silence that followed was awkward as hell, but it didn’t last long. because, of course, it didn’t.

he lasted about five seconds, max. then you felt his hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him. before you could react, his lips were on yours again, but this time, he didn’t hold back. it wasn’t some quick, shy kiss. no. his lips moved against yours, hungry, and then you felt it—his tongue pushing past your lips, invading your mouth like he had no patience left.

his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and before you knew it, you were completely lost in him. your body responded faster than your brain could keep up with, your hand instinctively reaching out to grab the edge of the table to steady yourself.

when he pulled back, just slightly, his breath was ragged, his lips hovering over yours as he whispered, “can i?” the neediness in his voice sent a jolt of heat straight through you.

you nodded, not trusting your voice. and that’s all he needed. his hand slipped down, fingers tracing the hem of your skirt before pushing it up just enough to get underneath. his fingertips brushed over your panties, teasing you, and you could feel yourself already getting wet.

jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, his breath hot against your skin. “you’re already soaked, cant wait to suck this pussy,” he whispered

you opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a shaky breath as he slid one finger under the fabric, barely grazing your folds. he was taking his time, dragging his fingers slowly, deliberately, over your wetness.

“so wet for me,” he whispered again, his lips brushing against your ear now. “you want me to keep going?”

you nodded again, your hand gripping the edge of the table tighter, and you heard him let out a small, pleased hum before he pressed a single finger inside you. the stretch was slow, his finger curling as he pushed in deeper, and the slick sound of your wetness filled the quiet library, pussy swallowing easily the long finger.

it was embarrassingly loud. the soft squelch of his finger moving inside you echoed in the stillness, and your head fell back, a quiet moan slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

“shhh,” jeonghan whispered, mockingly, his other hand coming up to wrap lightly around your throat. “quiet, be quiet f'me okay??”

you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible when he was teasing you like this, his finger moving slowly in and out, curling in just the squishy spot. he was taking his time, dragging it out, the wet sounds growing louder with each shove of his finger.

“you like that?” he asked, his lips brushing against your neck now. “you like when i finger you slow like this?”

you could barely answer, your voice catching in your throat as he added a second finger, stretching you just a little more. the way your body responded was automatic—your legs spreading wider on instinct, your hips rocking forward to meet his hand.

jeonghan grinned, his fingers moving a little faster now, pushing deeper, the squishing sounds even louder than before. “fuck, you’re so tight,” he muttered.

your head fell back against his shoulder, your body giving in. you could feel every inch of his fingers moving inside you, every curl, every thrust, the knuckles, it was driving you insane. you reached out blindly, your free hand finding his thigh before sliding up to palm at the bulge in his pants.

he let out a soft groan, his hips shifting slightly as you pressed your hand harder against him. “you’re really trying to make me lose it, hmm?” he muttered, his voice strained as he continued to finger you, his pace quickening.

your hand fumbled with the zipper of his pants, trying to get him out, but it was hard to focus when he was fucking you with his fingers like this, your wetness dripping down onto his palm.

“shit,” he hissed when your hand finally slipped into his pants, your fingers wrapping around his length. he was hard—so fucking hard—and the way you gripped him made his head fall back, eyes rolling as he thrust his fingers even deeper into you.

“you like that, baby?” he asked. “you like when i fuck you with my fingers?”

you moaned softly, nodding as your hips bucked against his hand. your walls clenched around his fingers, and the wet squelching sounds got louder, filling the quiet library.

“fuck, you sound so good,” jeonghan groaned, pulling your panties to the side so he could spread your legs wider, giving himself better access. his fingers moved faster, pushing deeper, and you felt your body start to tremble, the pleasure building so quickly you could barely breathe.

“jeonghan,” you whimpered, your hand tightening around his length as your other hand gripped the table for dear life. your hips rocked against his fingers, desperate.

“that’s it, mhmm just like that baby,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear again. “cum for your hannie.. so nasty baby, letting me fuck this pussy with my fingers...what if someone see this hm?.”

before you could stop it, your body seized up, your walls clenched tight around his fingers, your back arching as you came, the wet sounds of your release echoing in the quiet library.

jeonghan groaned softly, his hand still moving, fingers still pumping in and out of you as you rode out your orgasm.

jeonghan watched as you giggled softly, in overstimulation, your head nestled into the crook of his neck, making him smile too. his arms wrapped around you tight, holding you against him.

a single line of slickness dripping down between your legs, a translucent trail of your release that shimmered against the dim library light and hit the floor with a quiet, inappropriate drip. he stared at it for a second, mesmerized by how fucking wet you were.

before you could even react, jeonghan slid his fingers from between your legs, sticky with your juices, and without hesitation, brought them to his lips. he sucked your wetness off them like it was nothing, like this was casual. but the way he moaned softly, like he was tasting something forbidden, made your cheeks burn.

“jeonghan!” you hissed, scolding him, giving him a little slap on the arm. “what the hell?”

he just shrugged, lips curved into that cocky smile. “couldn’t help it,” he muttered, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. “you taste so fucking good.”

your face flushed even more, but you couldn’t hide the way your body still buzzed with need, even after he’d just made you come. your eyes flickered to the door—still shut, no one else around—and something wild sparked in you.

before you could second-guess it, you stood up from your chair and climbed onto his lap, straddling him fast. jeonghan’s eyes widened in shock, hands automatically flying to your hips, but not stopping you. “y/n,” he stammered, voice shaky, his breath catching in his throat, “n-no, we can’t—”

“why not?” you whined, rocking your hips forward just enough to brush his cock agasint your folds, and fuck, it felt good. you were still wet, soaked from your orgasm, and the friction was enough to make you both let out quiet, needy moans.

jeonghan’s hands gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he struggled to keep his composure. “fuck,” he muttered, biting down on his bottom lip hard, his whole body trembling beneath you. “because—shit—i can’t keep quiet.”

“please,” you begged, your voice dripping with desperation, leaning closer so your lips ghosted over his. “jeonghan, i’m so horny… been wanting you for years too.”

those words did something to him. years. and it hit him all at once—the weight of everything, of all those years of teasing, flirting, the back and forth that never went anywhere, the way he’d always kept it just at the edge, never crossing the line. and now, here you were, straddling him, begging for him like it was all too much to hold back anymore. he could feel it too—the years of tension, of watching you from a distance, making you smile just to hear that laugh, all leading up to this.

“fuck,” he whispered, voice strained as he watched you grind against him, his hands flexing on your hips. his eyes fluttered shut as the pressure built between you, your slick folds dragging against him. his body was wound so tight he felt like he could snap any second.

“jeonghan,” you whispered again, your breath hot against his lips, and then you reached down between you, a gasp escaping him when your hand wrapped around his length, teasing him.

“we can’t,” he whispered, but there was no conviction in his voice, not anymore. his hips bucked up into your hand, betraying how badly he wanted this. “we can’t do this here.”

“then be quiet,” you murmured, lips brushing over his as you guided the tip of his cock to your entrance. your wetness coated him, slick and hot, and jeonghan groaned, his head falling back against the chair as you slid him along your folds. he was so hard, so sensitive.

“fuck, y/n,” he gasped, his body trembling under your touch. his hands shot to your thighs, gripping them hard as you teased him, your slickness coating his cock, making everything feel too good, too intense.

“please,” you whispered again, pressing down just enough for his tip to catch at your entrance, and jeonghan’s whole body shuddered. “i need you.”

he bit down on his lip, his hands shaking as he tried to stop himself from completely losing control. “you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice rough with lust. “i won’t be able to stay quiet.”

but you didn’t care. you wanted him too badly, needed him too badly after all this time, all these years of unspoken tension finally coming to a head. you were practically shaking with need, your hips moving on their own as you slid his cock along your folds, teasing yourself with the tip.

jeonghan let out a low groan, his eyes rolling back as you rubbed against him, the wet sounds of your slickness filling the quiet space. “shit, baby,” he whispered, his hands trembling as they moved to grip your ass, pulling you even closer. “so fuckin good around me, fuck— i dont know if i will last.”

“then fuck me,” you whispered back, your voice desperate now, grinding down against him, your slick folds swallowing his cock inch by inch. you felt him twitch, felt how much he was holding back, and it only made you want him more.

he groaned, his head falling forward, his forehead resting against yours. “can’t keep quiet, can’t can’t—” he whispered again, his breath ragged, but the way his hips bucked up into you told you all you needed to know.

you let out a soft whimper as you finally sank down onto him, his cock stretching you so slowly, so perfectly. the feeling of him inside you after all this time was almost too much, and you moaned softly, your body trembling as he filled you up, inch by inch.

you started rocking your hips slowly, back and forth, barely pulling off him before sliding back down, letting him feel every inch of you. the way his cock filled you so perfectly made you clench around him, and you could hear jeonghan’s breath catch, a low groan slipping from his lips that he tried desperately to swallow.

his hands shot to your waist, gripping you tight as you moved. your rhythm was teasing, dragging your slick folds over him as his length stretched you with each motion. you knew what you were doing to him—the way his hips bucked up every time you slid down, his thighs tensing under your legs. he was struggling to hold it together, and you were reveling in every second of it.

you leaned forward, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “you’re so fucking hard for me hannie”

jeonghan let out a deep groan, his head falling back against the chair as he tried to keep quiet, his breath coming in short, desperate pants. “ngh—fuck—” he hissed, his grip on your waist tightening as he tried to control himself, but the way you were moving, so slow and deliberate, was killing him.

you smirked against his neck, pressing soft kisses to his skin before whispering again, your voice low. “you love how wet i am for you, hm? bet you’ve been thinking about this all of those years, huh?”

that did it. jeonghan’s whole body trembled, and he let out a strangled moan, “ahh—shit—” his fingers dug into your hips, trying to pull you down harder, but you kept the pace slow, teasing, letting him feel every second of it.

“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he threw his head back, his lips parted and eyes fluttering shut. “you—ngh—feel so fucking good.”

his reaction only fueled you more. you started grinding your hips a little faster, rolling them in circles. you leaned closer again, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered filth, your voice dripping with lust. “you’re such a good boy for me, letting me ride you like this..”

jeonghan let out another deep groan, “o-oh—fuck—” his hands slid under your skirt, gripping your ass as he helped guide your movements, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh. his eyes were half-lidded, mouth open, and you could feel him trembling beneath you, trying so hard to keep quiet, but every whisper from you had him moaning like he couldn’t control it.

“you’re such a dirty boy,” you whispered, “can feel how bad you want to cum inside me.”

“fuck—” he groaned again, louder this time, and you quickly leaned forward, pressing your lips to his to muffle the sound. the kiss was desperate, messy, his tongue immediately slipping into your mouth as he kissed you back hard, his hands pulling you down on him as you rocked your hips faster. you could feel him shaking, his control slipping with every thrust.

you pulled back, breathless, your lips hovering over his as you whispered again. “you gonna come for me, jeonghan? gonna fill me up like the good boy you are?”

his eyes rolled back, his hands gripping your ass even tighter as he thrust up into you, his cock twitching inside you. your fingers gripped the edge of the table to steady yourself, your nails digging into the wood as you rocked against him, feeling his cock throb inside you. his hands slid back up your hips, pulling you down gently as his cock twitched one last time inside you, the warmth of his release spreading through you.

you reached down between you, sliding your fingers through your own slickness and bringing them to his lips. “taste it,” you whispered, watching as his eyes fluttered open, still hazy with lust.

he groaned softly, but didn’t hesitate, his tongue slipping out to lick your fingers clean, tasting both of you mixed together. the sight of it made you shiver, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips as you watched him suck on your fingers, his eyes locked on yours.

you could feel the heat between your legs still burning, still aching for more, and without thinking, you started to move again, grinding your hips against his slowly. jeonghan’s eyes widened, his hands gripping your waist as he realized what you were doing.

“y/n—” he whispered, his voice shaky, “what the—we—fuck, we can’t—”

“shh,” you whispered, your lips brushing over his as you rocked your hips again, feeling his cock start to harden inside you. “just one more time.”

jeonghan let out a low groan, his hands sliding down to your ass again as he gave in, his body already reacting to the feeling of you moving on him again. “fuck,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you just smiled, pressing your lips to his as you whispered against his mouth, “then die happy.”

[lovelake]

In which you find out who the person leaving you continuous love letters is and return the gesture

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | 1.7k wc, fluff, reader is friendly, awkwardness, nervousness, hyugo’s very involved, deryl and geo (briefly, just in the background), tiny implication of masturbation if you squint

note: i felt a little iffy writing about lockers because they’re uni students but that’s how it is in the game so (ᵕ—ᴗ—) this was supposed to be out while most people were still in college (because i think people in the semester system are already out for break) but i didn’t make it in time </3 as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated

masterlist read on ao3

Lately, your existence has been put on the same pedestal as that of everything beautiful in the world.

You’ve been getting love letter after love letter ever since Valentine’s Day. At first, you thought it was some sort of misunderstanding—they got the wrong locker. It wasn’t until certain details in them were specific to you that you finally got the message across. This secret admirer really was yours.

You picked up on quirks in the handwriting after rereading them so many times. Separated letters frequently molded into random strings of cursive. The horizontal lines on the t’s are low, they look like upside down crosses. 

If the writing itself wasn’t sweet enough, there were also doodles left on the margins and corners. Flowers, hearts, and oddly enough, pumpkins. 

Life was more fun with romantic secrecy in the air.

Sometimes it was embarrassing, though. You’d trip, drop a paper, or miss a shot of a wrapper to a trash can—and your mind would immediately go to, did they see that?

The question hovered over your head for months like a cloud. Who are they? 

—

“Don’t eat so close to me,” Sol mumbled to Hyugo, angling himself away as he continued writing. He didn’t want the wind to blow any crumbs onto his paper.

“Another letter? You’re so romantic, Sunny! It almost makes me lose my appetite.”

Yes and no. It was a letter for you, but essentially, it was just a draft for now.

“Do you think it’s working?” Sol asked with a sigh, vulnerability in his question.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Have you seen their reaction to finding one in their locker?”

“A couple times.”

“And?”

“They were smiling.” Sol’s own answer prompted a faint one to form on his face.

Love and commitment wove through each and every word until the end result was practically a written serenade for you, and only you.

—

Whether by sheer luck or fate, you didn’t have to do any snooping to find who your secret admirer is. The answer came to you.

“Pass your homework towards the front of the class.”

Stuck in the very first row, you patiently waited until you were tapped on the shoulder and given a stack of completed homework.

As you were making the stack look presentable, you noticed a familiar looking ‘t’ on the title of the last paper. No way. Was the person sending love letters in this class? They had to be sitting at the very back if so.

Knowing their name wouldn’t help, you didn’t know anybody in this class because group activities weren’t required.

Acting nonchalant, you stretched your back from side to side and took the opportunity to look behind you. But you couldn’t really see because of all the people in your way. 

Next idea. You “accidentally” dropped your pencil and leaned over in your chair to catch a glimpse. 

Their head rested snugly against their forearm, you couldn’t see their face. Black and dark green long sleeves, that’s all you were getting. Okay, you could wait until class ended for the mystery to be revealed.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The clock mocked your excitement for approximately fifty-five torturous minutes. 

Class ended, students scrambled.

After quickly gathering your things into your arms, you (not very discreetly) turned around. There was no reason to, there were two doors and you usually went out the front one since it was close to you.

But only in this way were you able to fully look at the person who’s been making even the shittiest of weeks feel better.

Tall, pierced ears and lips, eyelashes that look long even from a distance…

Your secret admirer is handsome in a pretty sort of way. Even so, he looks like someone who would give his crush a necklace with his blood in it rather than lovey-dovey letters. 

You must’ve been awe-struck for too long, time slowed.

As soon as he caught on to your staring (gawking), he immediately walked out of the room, leaving his friend talking to no one. “…and then–huh? Sunny? Sunny! How rude…”

“No fair. You have long legs, you walk faster than me.” Hyugo eventually caught up to Sol. Their lockers were next to one another’s.

Sol’s body felt hot. You had looked at him with intent for the first time ever, not just an accidental glance or something. He tried to compose himself as he opened his locker to put one of his books away.

Were you finally noticing him? He had so much love to offer, all you had to do was embrace the soul that was so willing to give it to you.

“…I have to use the restroom.” He most certainly does not, at least not in the way it’s intended to be used.

In the midst of being over the moon, he failed to see that you were nearby.

You know where his locker is.

Now there’s only two things left to do.

—

i. WRITE HIM A LETTER

Now back at home, you felt insecure. Just a bit. All his letters were beautiful: nice expensive looking paper, sentences all in pen (somehow he never made a single mistake, there were never any words scribbled out), and lived in envelopes that had pretty dark red wax seals prior to you opening them.

Well. You didn’t have any envelopes. Your paper was college ruled with three holes on the left. Your pen was gel-point and smeared when you wrote too fast. And, you didn’t have any white-out in case you made a mistake.

“This is silly.” You tell yourself, shaking away your doubts and picking the pen back up. 

You didn’t harbor the same feelings that he did to you, how could you, when you barely came to know of his existence? Either way, his letters always left you feeling giddy. And who knows, maybe a potential future relationship awaited you.

So, you got to writing. 

ii. DELIVER IT TO HIS LOCKER (GONE WRONG)

Time passed by ever so slowly the next day, it always did when you had something to look forward to. Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach, concentrating in class was hard, especially the one you shared with him.

You waited until the end of school, the letter already in your hand as you (hesitantly) made your way there. If anything, it looked like you were holding a folded graded assignment with a big giant F on it, nobody would suspect it.

“Hey, maybe that’s another letter for you Geo! Your locker’s full again isn’t it? Have you even gone through them?”

“Be quiet.”

They couldn’t be talking about you. They just couldn’t.

Thankfully, those guys turned a corner. It would’ve been awkward if you all kept walking the same way. And who’s Geo, anyway? Is he really that popular?

You leaned against the wall, your other hand preoccupied by your phone as you waited for the after school crowd to die out. Checking the time, you had a tutoring session upstairs in ten minutes.

Eventually, the only footsteps you could hear were distant. Putting your phone away, you swallowed your nerves and approached his locker.

Well, here goes nothing.

You start slipping it in. 

Somehow, your body flinches before your hearing processes anything.

“Woah! Is that a letter for Sunny?”

Shit. 

Wide-eyed, you looked over. The letter was still in your hands, only the tip of it was rammed into the locker ventilation hole. 

Day one of trying to mimic your secret admirer and you already failed. 

Just your luck, his best friend was here too. Even so, you could only focus on him. His expression matched yours, but his was from being incredibly flustered rather than embarrassment from being caught.

You didn’t know what to say, only one word slipped from your lips.

“…Hi.” 

Hi.

Hi?

Hi?!

“Hi!” Hyugo greeted you back with a grin and wave, catching your attention for a split second. Like the good best friend he was, he nudged Sol your way. 

Looks like he was too stunned to talk, you’d have to break the ice more. All the words he held right now, you were sure you’d already read them all.

You brought the letter back down.

“I may have…figured out that you were the person sending me letters. Unless I’m wrong! And in that case I can leave and…” 

“How’d you figure out it was me?” 

Surprisingly, his voice is soft. 

“Because of your t’s.”

“…My t’s?”

“Yeah. You write them differently. Not differently in a bad way! Just…I’ve never really seen anyone write them the way you do.”

One of his brows raised. You thought you offended him until he smiled. That alone put you at ease.

“This is for you,” you handed the letter to him. His fingertips briefly kissed your skin.

The paper didn’t so much as crinkle in his hold, he was being gentle. You were grateful he wasn’t bold enough to start reading it on the spot, you would die.

He opened his locker with his free hand and fetched a crumpled-looking paper. He stammered a bit over his words as he held it out to you. “It’s…It’s not done yet.”

It was a draft full of scribbles and crossed out words. So, he did make mistakes. Just that he worked on a draft before putting everything onto the fancier paper. Somehow, that just made his gestures all the sweeter. 

“I think this one will be my favorite,” you tell him, no sarcasm present.

You were kind and welcoming, exactly what he needed in a world such as this.

"I love-" Sol's overly strong confession was interrupted by Hyugo elbowing him.

Finding a clock on the wall, you curse under your breath. “I have to go catch a tutoring session but it was nice finally meeting you. What’s your name?”

“You can just call me Sol.”

“See you tomorrow, Sol!” 

You repeated his name under your breath over and over to commit it to memory as you walked away. “Sol, Sol, Sol…” 

He was stuck in place, never taking his gaze off you until you turned the corner. Your voice echoed in his head, a catchy melody he would never tire of. 

See you tomorrow, you said. Like you would be talking to him from now on. Like you wouldn’t be put off by him casually approaching you. Like you were friends now.

Hyugo lightly pinched Sol’s arm, he got no response.

Sol looked down at the letter, he was holding something sacred—you put thought into it, something in your possession (your pen) had touched it, your fingerprints were all over it. Does this count as indirect hand-holding?

He needed to read it, and he would, once in private.

“Let me see, let me see!”

“Touch it and I’ll kill you.” 

“…Jeez, and then who’ll clean up all your messes?”

[geniusvenusxxx]

✰ VENUS is more so about what you idealistically want in a relationship and the instant attractions you have to people. It can give a basis of how you fall in love but once in the actual relationship and settled with someone the MOON is more accurate in telling the behaviors of someone in my personal opinion. This is because the Moon shows how we act when we’re comfortable and when we truly care about someone deeply. It’s about the deep emotional connections we create (in all forms not just when it comes to family or friends). I knew a person who dated a guy with a Scorpio Venus and he seemed so deeply in love with her in the beginning but he also had an Aquarius Moon and was quick to drop her as soon as things started getting too serious. He was afraid of the commitment and clearly didn’t love her as deeply as it seemed when they initially started dating.

✰ PLUTO IN THE 3RD HOUSE natives (when unevolved) may argue a lot because they want power in social interactions and have a hard time dealing with anyone trying to have power over them in any way verbally or mentally. They feel like they always have to get the last word in but the evolved ones will have the understanding that there’s more power in dismissing negative behavior than entertaining it repeatedly and will avoid arguments. Although these people sometimes argue a lot though they actually hate confrontation. It stresses them out a lot they just have trouble holding things in and get overtaken by their emotions at times.

✰ AQUARIUS MARS MEN that I’ve met are walking red flags I’m not even gonna lie. There’s few that I meet that don’t live up to the stereotypes and I do hate to stereotype but they really have such a bad fear of commitment because they just wanna mess around and do what they wanna do. They think about them and only them. Especially during conflict they can act extremely impulsive and do things without even thinking. They lowkey scare me when they’re unevolved. This is one of the few placements that always makes me jump when I see it in a chart.

✰ SAGITTARIUS AND VIRGO energy is quite similar to me when it comes to arguments. They both have strong beliefs and aren’t afraid to stand on business when they feel strongly about a specific topic. They’re also both very blunt and say it like it is. When unevolved they both have an issue with wanting to prove everyone wrong and have this weird power over people. It’s this unusual superiority complex. When evolved they can be very great debaters though and are willing to listen to others points of views without being shady.

✰ YOUR 7TH HOUSE SIGN AND LORD can tell what people you feel most drawn to in all aspects of life. This includes close friendships and romantic relationships. However this is also the house of enemies so there can be this quick change of love to hatred when surrounding yourself with these energies. There’s less emotional understanding with this house than some of the others I’ve noticed. Really risky but such an intense connection at the same time.

✰ PISCES ARE OFTEN DRAWN TO LIBRA’S a lot. They’re really compatible, especially when dating. They’re both really romantic and fall in love really deeply when evolved and often have similar interests (usually artistic ones). They also have a lot of compassion and are very forgiving when one of them makes a mistake.

✰ 12TH HOUSE STELLIUM natives are either really great people with high emotional intelligence or really awful people. I swear there’s never an in between. Unevolved ones are very manipulative and will play victim in situations where they’re not the victim a lot and try and twist narratives to have their way. They also use pity to lure in people and have others side with them. Extremely emotionally manipulative people. Evolved ones are some of the nicest and most selfless people you will ever meet though. They care deeply about others and will always sacrifice anything for the ones they love. They also are good at picking up on when their friends or loved ones aren’t feeling well and great at being there for people when they need someone to talk to or vent to.

✰ MOON OPPOSITE MARS is such a hard aspect because there’s often this battle of being overtaken by your emotion a lot and having to force yourself to not react in extreme ways over even the smallest things. If this aspect is at a lower orb especially these people can be very impulsive with their emotions and overreact a lot then after they often calm down and just feel lots of regret about the way they acted. They say things they don’t mean in conflict a lot and make stupid decisions quickly without thinking. This opposition can be worked through and a person can become more evolved with this aspect by having more self discipline and compassion for others.

[bucketbueckers]

FRESH OUT THE SLAMMER

pairing: azzi fudd x fem!reader

content: language, slight cheating (deserved? 🌚), messy, toxicity, gaslighting, angst (w a happy ending bc angst without a happy ending makes me want to jump)

wc: 9.2k

synopsis: The unspoken truth between you and Azzi was that the two of you weren’t just friends. There was always something more, something that lingered just beneath the surface, something that was so glaringly obvious to your mutual friends yet something neither of you wanted to fully acknowledge. You thought that it was safer this way – keeping your relationship with Azzi strictly platonic, saving the both of you from an eventual heartbreak. Unfortunately, it seems that a toxic girlfriend you weren’t quite committed to was actually all it took for the two of you to give up on trying to stay away from each other.

notes: this was supposed to be a lighter read but 💛 anon said i should make a really angsty fic and well. who am i to deny the people. this was not originally going to have as much plot as it did but my fics never stay on track 🌚 also this is a little all over the place so im sorry!!! as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

For as long as you’ve known her, Azzi Fudd wasn’t just your friend. There was always something more between you. Gazes that lingered a little too long, a hand on a waist that burned in the most pleasant way possible, softer smiles that seemed to be reserved only for each other.

You met her during your freshman year – she was a freshman, too, a little wide-eyed and definitely out of her element at the crowded frat party. You were only there for “team bonding” and you quickly realized that “team bonding” meant your teammates were going to get plastered and you’d have to be the babysitter. You’d spotted Azzi from the corner of your eye while you were rummaging through the refrigerator for a water bottle, and, in a rare moment of smoothness where you didn’t stumble over your words because Azzi was drop dead fucking gorgeous, like stunningly beautiful, you’d asked if she wanted a water, too. She told you yes. For good measure, you stole a bowl of hummus and some pita chips from the pantry, asked if she wanted to get some air, and that was that. She told you her name under the glow of the porchlight and you told her yours through a coughing fit (which she’d been endlessly amused by) because the hummus was spicy for whatever reason – either way, you and Azzi had an instant connection, one that went a little deeper than hummus and chips at midnight and an easy conversation you’d never expected to have with a stranger, and frankly, you were a little too scared to give up what you had with her to ever think about acting on your growing feelings.

So, you never did. You never let anything slip – never gave any sort of indication that occasionally, you jolt awake late at night, your skin burning with what feels like the phantom press of Azzi’s lips against your skin. You don’t tell anyone how you’ve spent years organizing that little compartment in the corner of your brain that’s dedicated purely to Azzi – the meticulous system of filing cabinet-esque thoughts and facts about her; you know that you store her favorite color right next to her coffee order, only three rows down from vivid images of her smile, the dimples on her cheeks, the slight pout of her lips.

If anyone asked, Azzi Fudd was just your best friend, and you were hers. It seemed as though Azzi was none the wiser – or perhaps she was too polite to say anything otherwise, or maybe she’d felt the same way, too, and was just as afraid of ruining your friendship as you were – no way that was actually the truth, though. Despite your best efforts, you weren’t as subtle as you thought. Paige was convinced that you and Azzi were meant to be. Caroline always glanced at you meaningfully when you and Azzi walked into the room at the same time or when she caught you staring at her from afar. It was as though you and Azzi were just one big inside joke that everyone was in on but the two of you.

It’s a late night at Ted’s when you find yourself nursing a drink at your usual table. Paige had stolen Aubrey and Ayanna away to play some pool, KK, Jana, and Ice were dancing, and Azzi and Caroline went to the bathroom to freshen up. In times like these, you wish you were just a little better at saying no to Azzi – there’s something in the air that’s bringing your mood down and you can’t figure out what it is. It’s like a heaviness weighing down on you, a sort of dread that fills your veins. You’re sure the liquor isn’t helping either. Granted, you’re only a few sips in, not one to ever progress past tipsy, but you’re not really feeling the night out. Azzi had gazed at you with her big doe eyes, lips drawing into a pout. You figure you’d have a better chance at fighting off a bear than living with yourself after denying Azzi something.

“Hey–”

You can’t help the way you startle, lost in your thoughts. Azzi’s tinkling laughter reverberates in this small bubble of space you’ve created in the back corner of the bar; despite yourself, your lips curl into an amused smile, Azzi’s presence alone enough to lift your mood. “How’s the brooding, Batman?”

Huffing out something akin to laughter, you roll your eyes a little, sliding over in the booth to let Azzi in. She sits, eliminating the space between your bodies completely; you swallow, trying to not fixate on the way her shorts ride up on her thighs as her skin presses against yours, and Azzi? She’s the perfect picture of nonchalance, taking a sip from her drink like she’s completely unaware of how she’s turned your brain into mush. “Not brooding,” you argue. You don’t comment on how weak your voice sounds. Blessedly, Azzi doesn’t either, but she sets her drink down on the table to gaze at you. 

Her brows draw together when she asks, “You okay?” Her fingers brush across your cheek and up your temple, which makes all of the blood rush to your head. “You’re feeling a little hot. You sure you’re not catching whatever bug Kayla and Jana had?”

You try for a chuckle, but even that comes out unconvincing. “Might be the alcohol,” you deflect, knowing full well that the two and a half sips you’ve had weren’t even enough to get you buzzed. The truth of the matter is that after a while, this just gets exhausting – pretending that you weren’t completely head over heels for Azzi. She’s your best friend. It’s easy to hide your feelings during the day when you’re both occupied – Azzi with basketball, you with softball – but things change at night. You’re looser, less-restrained, and all of the walls you keep up during the day to keep your feelings at bay come crashing down. Everything just feels so much more stronger and part of you starts to wonder if it’s worth it anymore – harboring your feelings. Maybe saying them out loud would be enough for you to start working through them and finally get over Azzi. Maybe you could finally be just friends again and you could spend time with her without hyperfocusing on how each and every one of your nerve-endings light up with activity at the slightest brush of her skin against yours.

Then, Azzi’s smiling at you, something soft and warm and mischievous all at the same time, like she’s got a trick up her sleeve and she knows that you’ll spend hours trying to figure out what it is. Her next words surprise you, moreso when her hand circles around your wrist, intertwining your fingers. “Come dance with me,” she requests.

Your throat bobs as you swallow, glancing at her hesitantly. “What?” you say smartly.

Azzi rolls her eyes, standing and pulling you to her feet. “I said–” She plants her hands on your shoulders and all you can really do is let yours fall to her waist, your fingers catching on her belt loops, “–come dance with me. You’ve been sitting too long. No wonder that half a shot of alcohol is kicking your ass.”

“It was like two shots,” you shoot back, but you let Azzi drag you across the room. You catch Paige’s eye as she leans over the pool table, lining up her shot, and she gives you a knowing look that just makes your cheeks heat up all over again. If you never got the chance to tell Azzi how you’d felt, you were sure that Paige Bueckers and that big ass mouth of hers would find a way to slip up and tell Azzi herself. “And you know that bartender uses that strong tequila.”

“I think you’re just a lightweight, babe,” Azzi states, pulling you into her space as she leads you to the beat of the music. You try to not focus too much on her words, but babe has begun to circulate through your mind on repeat, bumping into things haphazardly. Before you know it, one of your last remaining brain cells has caught the word in a jar like a butterfly and has stored it in that compartment in your brain next to everything you know about Azzi. The jar is tucked onto a shelf, only a few rows down from your filing cabinet system; one day you’ll worry about just how much space in your brain is dedicated to Azzi Fudd, but as her hands burn marks into your skin, guiding your body against hers, you find that you don’t really care.

Neither of you say anything as you dance along to the song. You can feel the bass in the ground, reverberating through your body as it races up your spine. You feel Azzi’s hand splayed across your waist, her grip firm, like there’s some sort of unspoken promise that she’d lose it if you weren’t in her personal space at all times – she spins you around, your back to her front, and the drag of her fingertips against your skin makes your head dizzy. Her breath tickles the back of your neck, her voice sweet as she hums in tune with the singer through the crackling speakers.

It’s in times like these that everything fades away – your hesitation, your insecurities, the worries that Azzi may never truly reciprocate what you feel for her. All you can truly focus on is the gradually lessening space between the two of you, the cloud of her perfume in the air, each and every one of her whispered lyrics and the smile she presses against your temple. You’re not sure if there’s a chance in hell that you’d be able to get over her. But for now, that’s the least of your worries, far too lost in the warmth of her palm against your bare skin where your shirt has ridden up – until you’re dragged back into the real world.

Azzi’s grip has tightened on you, but you barely register it as you open your eyes to see who has interrupted you. It’s a girl, probably around your age, hair dyed a red so dark that it’s nearly brown. She’s wearing a form-fitting black dress, and sure, she’s conventionally attractive, but Azzi has had your attention for nearly four years; you can’t think or look at anyone that’s not her. When the redhead asks Azzi to dance, a hopeful smile on her face, you feel your stomach churn immediately. It’s enough to sober you up fully – drunk not because of the alcohol, but because you’d allowed yourself to fall into Azzi as if the two of you were actually together. You’re reminded of the fact she’s just your best friend. The way she’s holding you means nothing. You feel Azzi’s gaze on you, but before she can say anything, you extract yourself from her hold, smiling unconvincingly at her, and you’re too unfocused to notice the way her face falls.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you say, nodding meaningfully to the redhead as bile pools in your throat. “You have fun, okay?”

You’re gone before Azzi can say anything else, unwilling to look back. You push your way through the crowd to the bar, swallowing back the humiliation and the fact that despite everything, a part of you still yearns for Azzi, and you motion to the bartender, requesting another drink. You dig through your wallet for your card, fingers trembling, cursing under your breath when it refuses to slide out of the little pocket it’s nestled in.

“I got it,” someone else says. You glance up to see an unfamiliar woman offering her card out for the bartender to swipe. She flashes you a charismatic smile and in return, all you can do is raise your brow.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say, but you slide your wallet back into your pocket, anyway.

“Seemed like you needed a pick me up,” she says, shrugging a shoulder. “Saw you dancing with that girl over there – I was hoping she wasn’t your girlfriend, because I’ve been wanting to buy you a drink all night.”

You take a cautious sip, glancing back into the crowd of people, your eyes finding Azzi immediately. She’s dancing half-heartedly with the redhead, a generous amount of space between the two of them, and she seems to feel your eyes on her because she turns her head, locking eyes with you. You stare for a beat, then avert your gaze, making eye contact with the woman before you. She’s blonde, easy on the eyes, and she seems nice enough. Why not? “We aren’t together,” you state – although you wish you were – and her smile seems to grow.

She tells you her name – Alex – and the two of you dance for about fifteen minutes until Jana, with the grace of a bull in a China shop, interrupts to complain about a tummy ache and that everyone needs to go home. You weren’t sure where she got the logic on that one, but Jana had seemed desperate, and you weren’t going to tell her off in front of Alex.

You and Alex exchanged numbers. Still, she was nice enough, but she wasn’t Azzi. Maybe she was what you needed to get over Azzi, though. Conversation flowed nicely between the two of you and you had some things in common. Maybe you could grow to like her. Maybe you just needed to find someone the opposite of Azzi – blonde, boisterous, and short – to get over the crush you had on her (though you weren’t stupid enough to actually think it was a crush).

Azzi drives you home after Ted’s that night. You’re both silent for the first few minutes until she speaks up. “Did you have fun?” she asks cautiously. You don’t need to ask her to clarify – you know what she means.

You also know that you can’t lie to Azzi. You’ve never been any good at it. She glances at you from the corner of her eye and you feel yourself sink a little further into her passenger seat. “Would’ve had more fun with you,” you confess, watching as some of the tension melts from her shoulders.

“Then why didn’t you?”

You shrug a little, picking at your cuticles. You know exactly why you pushed her away. You just weren’t strong enough to admit it to her. “The redhead seemed to like you,” you say softly. “You don’t have to spend all your time with me. You can like…see other people. Do shit. Have fun. I don’t wanna be your clingy best friend.”

Azzi’s jaw ticks as she signals left, coming to a stop in the turn lane as she waits for the light to change. “What if I want to?” she murmurs. “Spend time with you, I mean. It’s not clingy. It’s just us.” That’s kind of the issue. You don’t voice that thought out loud, trying to ignore the rapid pounding of your heart, too. She speaks again before you can, her voice coming out in an almost petulant huff. “I don’t even remember her name.”

At that, you choke on a laugh, finally lifting your head to look at her. “Whose?” you ask. “The redhead?”

“Yeah,” Azzi confirms, pressing on the gas once the light turns green. “She wasn’t you.”

You swallow thickly. “Alex’s not you, either,” you whisper.

Azzi makes a soft noise in the back of her throat. “Alex,” she repeats, like she’s in disbelief. “Do you like her?”

You shrug again, noncommittal. “She’s…nice,” you say. “And she bought me a seven dollar drink, so…” Azzi doesn’t find that as humorous as you did, her lips drawing into a pout, one you would have teased her for had the situation been less tense. “Az, what’s the issue? I was with her for like, twenty-five minutes. I’m not getting married to her.”

That makes Azzi fall silent again, contemplating her next words. “No issue,” she says, clearing her throat, as if sobering back up. “I’m sorry. I think the alcohol made me moody.”

You don’t comment on how she barely made it through her first drink before switching to water, but she didn’t comment on your lies and deflections, either. “It’s okay,” you say, summoning the courage to nudge her gently. She glances at you once more, a soft look on her face as you say, “Who’s brooding now, Batman?”

That makes her roll her eyes, giggling under her breath before she refocuses on the road. The tension in the car dissolves as she turns on your shared playlist, continuing to drive. For a moment, it feels like nothing is wrong. Tonight was just weird. There’s nothing going on between you and Azzi. Then, your phone buzzes in your lap, the screen lighting up with a text notification from an unknown number. It’s Alex – letting you know that she enjoyed getting to meet you and that she’d like to see you again. You feel the unmistakable feeling of dread wrap its iron fist around your heart. Too caught up in your own reaction to the message, you don’t notice how Azzi’s knuckles turn white as they grip the wheel.

Against your better judgement, you do see Alex again. You stared at her message for a few hours, trying to come up with one good reason why you couldn’t give her a chance, but your mind came up blank every time. She was nice, attentive, had a good sense of humor, and she was wholly focused on you when you’d spend time together. Still, no matter what, you couldn’t shake the image of warm brown eyes from the forefront of your mind. You tell yourself that it’s not supposed to be an overnight change. You don’t love someone for four years and expect it to go away. So, you give Alex that chance (even though it feels so wrong), and she treats you to a few dates over the course of three weeks.

You get to know her. At the very least, she’s a good friend and a charismatic date. She tips well, makes you laugh, and she has an adorable little weiner dog named Bruiser (“Legally Blonde style,” she’d said jokingly, which did make you laugh, mostly because Bruiser, despite his name, was dressed in a cute pair of pink pajamas). By the third date, you start to feel a little hopeful that you’re finally making progress. Alex doesn’t push you – she seems to understand that you want to take it slow, which is something that you’re grateful for. She hasn’t asked you to be her girlfriend yet, either, which is also something you’re grateful for. Becoming her girlfriend this early feels too real, like the idea of you and Azzi is something that you’re fully leaving in the past. Keeping up the facade around Azzi does weigh on you, but it’s become something that feels like a core part of you and being without it feels wrong.

Speaking of Azzi, you don’t tell her too much about the Alex situation. She doesn’t ask much about her, either, a barely concealed look of irritation clouding her features whenever her name is mentioned. She hasn’t told you that she doesn’t like Alex, but at this point, you think her telling you is more of a formality than anything else. It’s clear as day that she hates Alex’s guts, although you don’t suppose Azzi will ever tell you why.

Maybe you’ll be better off this way – having one part of your life that doesn’t revolve around Azzi – well, doesn’t revolve completely around Azzi. Hopefully this little bit of independence will be good for you. This feels more like blind reassurance than actual confidence, but you’ll take what you can get at this point.

As you and Alex spend more time together, something changes with Azzi. At first, it’s nothing serious and you hardly even notice it. Azzi’s texts come a little more frequent, your FaceTimes a little longer. It’s miniscule especially because you and Azzi already text frequently and you spend hours on FaceTime together, but it’s more like a concerted effort to keep you with her and talking to her for longer periods of time. You’re not exactly sure why, although you’re not complaining; you’ve always enjoyed your late night phone conversations where Azzi loses her filter and rambles on and on for hours about the funny things that happen at practice or the latest picture of Stewie that her mom had sent her. You do have to admit this change in behavior makes it a little more difficult to get over Azzi – the constant proximity and speaking isn’t doing you any favors – but you can’t just abandon Azzi because you’re talking to Alex now. Your goal is to go back to a complete, platonic friendship with her, not ice her out completely.

Azzi’s behavior does progress, though. Still, it’s subtle – she’ll come over to your apartment more often or invite you over to hers more frequently. You’ll spend the night watching movies, giggling over the shitty acting or singing along to the Disney movies that Azzi ropes you into watching with her (as if you’d ever say no to her). It ends with her convincing you to stay over or her coming up with a slick excuse how she should just stay the night since her apartment is so far away (that you see right through – Azzi Fudd is a lot of things but a good liar is not one). Sometimes she’ll leave behind a shirt or a hair tie at your apartment; when you ask if she wants you to bring it over, her response is always the same: “Nah, keep it. I don’t have enough space in my closet for that shirt,” or “I noticed you were running out of hair ties anyways – you should just keep it.”

(When Alex comes over, she’ll notice each and every new addition, her nose wrinkling slightly. “Azzi left her sweatpants this time?” she asks, gingerly moving them from the foot of your bed to your desk chair. You don’t notice the bothered look on her face as you hum.

“Yeah,” you say, not thinking much of it. “She said she has too many.”

“Right,” Alex hums, not quite convinced. “You don’t want any of mine?”

Confused, you glance at Alex, busy folding your own laundry. “Your what?”

Alex huffs quietly. “...Forget about it.”)

Then, the behavior ramps up. Azzi is touchier, borderline clingy, which is different because you’re usually the clingy one between you and Azzi. It’s not that obvious when the two of you are watching movies at night – she’ll just lean against you, her head on your shoulder and a leg slung over yours, but in public? She’s almost possessive, always needing to be in contact one way or the other, a firm arm wrapped around your waist at all times. When tipsy randoms approach you to ask to dance, she doesn’t even let them finish their sentences before she’s tightening her arm around you, shaking her head with faux sympathy, and saying, “Sorry, she’s spoken for.”

In public is one thing. But in public when Alex is around is when Azzi really shines. You and Alex aren’t official yet, which is something that Azzi seems to take advantage of. Azzi buys all your drinks, glancing at Alex when she smiles that honey-sweet smile and says, “C’mon, you know I got you, right?” She always whisks you away to dance before Alex can get the chance to, and to be honest, you let her. Deep down, you know that you’d rather be doing this anyway – dancing with Azzi, letting her pull you close like she’s trying to stake a claim or prove something to someone, letting her whisper the lyrics in your ear and the both of you laughing when she starts making up her own words because the actual ones don’t make any sense.

You don’t think much of Azzi’s behavior until Alex calls you that night when Azzi’s in the shower. Alex offered to drive you home, but Azzi stepped in to let her know that you’d be staying over with Azzi to watch a new movie that had recently come out – you weren’t aware those were the plans, but you didn’t mind, either. You’re doing your skincare at Azzi’s vanity when your phone rings. Part of you is tempted to let it go to voicemail, but Alex had seemed bothered, and while the two of you weren’t official yet, you didn’t want to be an asshole.

“Hello?” you greet, pressing the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you rub in your moisturizer. 

“Hey,” Alex says. You hear her exhale sharply. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I don’t really know how to, like, explain this, but I feel like you keep blowing me off for Azzi,” Alex states, which makes you pause in your movements. “I feel like Azzi is jealous – of me – and she keeps trying to, fuck, I don’t know, worm her way in between us to keep you away from me? And you just let her do that shit.” You’re silent, letting her words echo in your brain, but she keeps speaking before you get the chance to. “I know she’s your friend. But ‘friends’ don’t behave like that. She’s one day away from pissing on you like a dog to mark her territory and I just need to know – do you even like me? Is this going anywhere? Because I feel like I’m going fucking crazy. I’m trying to be nice about it but at this point I can’t tell what you want from me.”

You open your mouth, then close it, looking vaguely fish-like in the mirror. You can hear Alex’s breathing from the other end of the line as you try to gather your thoughts. Finally, you settle, and gently you say, “Azzi is my best friend.” You can almost visualize Alex’s eye roll, the soft huff that she thinks the microphone doesn’t pick up on. “She’s not jealous. Just…protective, I guess. She’s not trying to get in between us – we’re just always close like that.”

“Then tell her to chill,” Alex says frustratedly. “It’s making me feel like I’m the other woman – like I’m just something you’re stringing along in case Azzi gets bored. Did she ever act like this before I started taking you out? Why is she suddenly so obsessed with being all over you now that she doesn’t have all of your attention?”

“Alex,” you say calmly, surprising yourself. “I am not your girlfriend.”

She laughs bitterly from the other line. “Oh, it’s like that? What, I take you on a few dates and it didn’t mean shit to you?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you hiss. “You don’t have a claim over me. You’re acting like a dog trying to mark its territory. You are not the other woman. There isn’t even a woman. Ask me to be your girlfriend – or don’t – but leave Azzi out of this.”

Alex doesn’t say anything for a few beats until she scoffs. “Okay. Whatever. Have a good fucking night – I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up without a second word. You roll your eyes, huffing, dropping your phone face down on the surface of Azzi’s vanity as you continue your skincare routine.

“Trouble in paradise?”

Azzi’s voice startles you, which causes you to groan and Azzi to giggle. She murmurs an apology as she comes up behind you, resting her palms over your shoulders, her thumbs pressing into your shoulder blades pleasantly. “Everything okay?”

You shrug, sighing again as her fingers work out the knots in your back. “Alex is just being weird,” you say, grunting when her fingers dig in harder than intended at the mention of her name. Azzi whispers another apology, softening her motions.

“What’d she say?” Azzi coaxes.

You meet her eyes through the mirror, seeing nothing but concern and a willingness to help on her features. “She just…I don’t know. She said you’re ‘one day away from pissing on me like a dog trying to mark its territory.’”

Azzi’s jaw drops, pausing in disbelief for a moment until peals of giggles fall from her lips. Her amusement makes you feel a little bit better about the situation. “Gross,” she says.

“I know,” you agree. “She thinks you’re trying to get between me and her. I told her there wasn’t even a ‘me and her.’ She hasn’t asked me to be her girlfriend.”

Azzi snorts. “How’d she take that one?”

“She told me to have a good fucking night and that she’d see me tomorrow.”

“Yikes,” Azzi says.

You hum again. “Yeah. I’m not really bothered, though. Don’t really wanna deal with it right now. She thinks you’re obsessed with being all over me and that you’re possessive. I said we’re just best friends, like we’ve always been like this?” It’s then that you catch onto Azzi’s sudden silence. Concerned, you turn in your chair to look at Azzi directly. “Az? You good?”

“You know you could do better than her, right?” Azzi’s words surprise you. Your jaw falls slightly, brows drawing together in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Azzi emphasizes, “what’s so good about Alex?” She spits her name like it’s poison. “She danced with you one night at a bar and thinks that makes you exclusive. She’s jealous, possessive, and she doesn’t even try to be cordial to me, Paige, Jana, or anyone. You could do so much better than her. You know you don’t have to settle.”

“I’m not settling,” you argue, even though you know you 100% are settling because you can’t have Azzi.

Azzi gives you a knowing look, one that softens when she sees the confusion in your features, the angst, the insecurity that no matter what, the decision you’re making isn’t a good one. “I just feel like I’m losing you to her,” she admits in a whisper. “That you’re gonna choose her over me.”

“Az,” you breathe out, your heart aching. “I’d never do that. You’re not gonna lose me.”

“I feel like I already have,” Azzi says. She swallows, her eyes searching yours, and she takes a deep breath like this conversation is physically destroying her. She shifts, staring at the wall instead of you, and the way her next breath comes out in a shudder makes you feel like she’s realized something damning. “I don’t… I like being us. Before there was an Alex. And I know I don’t have a claim over you – but it feels like things are changing faster than we realize. That we’re changing and I can’t even figure out why or what’s different because you’re with Alex.”

You soften, standing to face her fully, and you cup her cheeks, pulling her attention back to you. “We aren’t changing,” you promise. “You’re still you. I’m still me. Alex won’t change that.”

“Do you even like her?” You falter, not expecting Azzi to ask you that, and your silence is all the answer she needs. “Why are you with someone you don’t even like?”

“I’m not with her,” you say weakly, but Azzi is shaking her head, pressing on.

“You don’t have to settle,” she reminds you again. “She is not your only option.”

You can’t tell if Azzi is trying to convince you or herself of that. You don’t have the courage to be honest with her, to tell her the real reason you’ve spent so long trying to make yourself believe that you truly liked Alex. So you don’t. Instead, you whisper, “Do we have to talk about this tonight?”

Azzi’s face falls slightly, but you hardly notice it, too caught up in the way your heart nearly pounds out of your chest. She nods, stepping back, and she clears her throat. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”

You can recognize the look in Azzi’s face from a mile away. Softening again, you reach out, wrapping her in a tight hug, one that she immediately melts into. “Thank you,” you murmur into her neck, her skin still a little warm to the touch from her shower. She doesn’t say anything in response to that, instead tightening her arms around your waist, and exhaling deeply.

Alex asks you to be her girlfriend the night after your conversation with Azzi. She’d showed up to your apartment unprompted, bouquet in hand and an apologetic expression on her face. “I was out of line,” she’d said, sincerity in her features. “It wasn’t right of me to get upset or accuse you and Azzi of what I accused you of.” Your heart was pounding out of your chest while she explained herself, apologizing and making it right all in one, but the way your heart raced wasn’t out of anticipation. It wasn’t because you’d spent so long wishing that Alex would ask. Your pulse thrummed because of pure dread and adrenaline coursing through your veins. This wasn’t what you wanted. Not at all. You wanted Azzi – you’ve wanted nobody else but her for close to four years.

But Alex wanted you. Azzi didn’t. You needed to get over her. So, feeling as though you’re making a terrible decision you may never be able to come back from, you say, “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

For a while, things are okay. Azzi clearly isn’t happy with you and Alex now being official, but your friendship stays the same. You try to split your time between the two of them, not wanting to feel as though you have to make a choice between your best friend and your girlfriend, and for the first month that you and Alex are together, it works well enough.

At least it does until Alex decides that it’s not enough.

It’s a Friday night, and you’re supposed to go over to Paige’s dorm to hang out with her and the rest of the team. They’d had a nailbiter game on Thursday and between practices and exams, you all just wanted to take the time to spend together and relax. KK was supposed to be bringing her Switch and you were looking forward to beating Paige’s smug ass at Mario Kart.

“You’re seriously going out?” Alex says from her bed, where she’s been watching you touch up your make-up in the mirror.

You resist an eye roll, not really wanting to argue, so calmly, you explain, “I’m just going to Paige’s to hang out with the team.”

“Feels like you never want to make time with me anymore,” Alex complains. You don’t respond to that, focusing on your mascara, until she speaks up again. “Is Azzi gonna be there?”

Your hand falters, smudging against your cheekbone, and you sigh in frustration as you dig through your clutch for a makeup wipe. “She’s on the team, so yes, Azzi will be there.”

“You do know you’re not with her, right?” That makes you stop moving completely, sliding the wand into the applicator. You turn to meet Alex’s gaze, who seems proud at having elicited a reaction.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not with Azzi,” Alex repeats, as if you needed a reminder. That’s the reason why you’re in this fucked up mess anyways, trying to make yourself like someone who’s not actually the woman you love. “So why do you keep running back to her at the end of the day? You’ve been friends for, what, four years now? If she wanted you, don’t you think she would have done something about it by now?” Despite the anger bubbling in your chest, embarrassment also blooms on your cheeks. “I want you. She doesn’t. Stop chasing her and running away from me – it’s not going to change anything.”

For that, you have no true response, your heart racing. You just feel trapped now. This isn’t what you wanted at all, but you feel like you’re too far in to quit now. “Stay in with me,” Alex states. It’s not a plea, not a request. It’s a demand – and for a moment, you think maybe she’s right. You’re still her girlfriend. You have to spend time with her. 

You text Paige, letting her know that you can’t make it tonight. Her response is swift, an over dramatic series of crying emojis followed up by a message that makes your heart constrict – “Az was lookin forward to this all week, she’s gonna crash out lol.” You don’t really know what else to say, so you just send Paige another apology before powering your phone off, knowing that as soon as Azzi finds out, you’re going to be the first person she calls.

You and Alex curl up on her couch, browsing through Hulu for a show to watch. Her arm wrapped around your shoulders feels wrong. It’s too stifling, too possessive. It’s nothing like the way Azzi would wrap her arm around you – making you feel safe and grounded all at once. Alex is nothing like Azzi and in the beginning, you thought that was just what you needed to let go of Azzi. Now, it feels like giving up Azzi feels like giving up a part of yourself.

Another month passes by in a blur of daily disappearances, shitty excuses, and daydreams of soft brown eyes and a dimpled smile. Anytime you’d try to make plans with Azzi or her teammates, Alex would remind you of all the reasons why you shouldn’t. You’re with me – not them. Why did you pursue me if you were just going to discard me? And at a certain point in time, the edges start getting blurry. You can’t even remember if you’d truly made those promises to Alex in the first place.

Azzi tried to reach out a few times, but Alex’s watchful eye had creeped into every facet of your life. She was there to pick you up from your practices. There wasn’t a single plan you’d made that she hadn’t carefully looked over and approved – most of them she invited herself along for, just to make sure you wouldn’t stray too far away. Weeks passed and you couldn’t remember the last time you had a life to yourself that wasn’t corrupted by every inch of the woman you’d danced with at the bar.

Escaping feels too difficult. Lately, it feels as though Alex knows more about you than you know about yourself. She strings you along just to yank the chain, leaving you unmoored and choking around a collar you were sure you’d fastened yourself. She’s devoted and loving one moment, cold and apathetic the next when she feels as though you hadn’t done enough to earn her affection. She’s attached at your hip for one week, then leaves you drowning the next when she suddenly ghosts, leaving you wondering if you’d truly had a girlfriend at all.

The irony isn’t lost on you. Alex had accused you of stringing her along for the ride to get over Azzi, and now here she is. You don’t think she’s trying to use you to get over someone, but perhaps she’s punishing you for the way you’d chosen Azzi at every opportunity at the beginning of your relationship. You’re doing the time now, you suppose, although every morning you wonder if and when your sentence would end; you hope that Alex would grow tired of you one day and finally dispose of you. You weren’t sure if you had the confidence to drag yourself out of this mess despite how easily you threw yourself into it.

“You know Azzi’s like, in love with you, right?” Alex asks you one day. You’re sitting at the table, poking at your chicken and spinach mindlessly. Your girlfriend sits across from you, arms crossed and plate clean. Her words make you falter, your fork stilling, and you don’t glance up, not wanting to confront the expression on her face. “I recognized it the first night at the bar. She was all over you while you were dancing, holding you like she owned you. When she went to dance with someone else, it was a complete shift – she didn’t even want that other girl. Just you.”

At that, you glance up finally, searching Alex’s eyes. They’re cold, nothing like the Azzi’s warm brown that you’d spent years memorizing the exact hue of. “What are you trying to say?” you ask, because you truly don’t understand her point. Doesn’t she understand that she’s won? That she’s broken you down, separated you from your friends, that she’s interwoven herself into the very fabric of your life? What else could you have for her to take?

Alex shrugs, a picture of nonchalance, but you see the tension in her shoulders anyways. “I just want you to know why I’m doing this,” she says, which makes a cold feeling course through your veins. “I don’t want to be the bad guy. You know that, right? I just want to protect you, from someone who wants to take you from me. Azzi couldn’t take care of you like I could. She always had this agenda from the very first night we met. Do you understand that?”

Your fingers are trembling around your fork. “Alex,” you whisper, drawing her attention to you. Her head cocks like you’re a wounded animal on the side of the road and she’s studying you to determine if she should leave you – or at the very least, move you out of harm’s way. You know her, though. She’s the type of person to keep on driving. “I’m tired. Can we not do this right now?”

Her lips curl into a smug, self-satisfied smile, because she knows. She knows she’s elicited a reaction, even if it’s not as obvious. She knows that she’s won this round. She stands, leaving her plate behind, and she looms behind you as her hand trails across your shoulders. Then, she leans in, planting the barest of kisses to your temple that makes your body tighten with barely concealed fear and dread. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she whispers, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “One day you’ll understand what I’ve done for you.”

She leaves and it’s only then that you allow your body to relax. Exhaling deeply, you bury your head in your hands, feeling tears of anguish and frustration building at your waterline. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You don’t need to look at it to know who it is. Azzi has been trying to reach you for a while. She hasn’t given up, but you haven’t had the energy to text her back, to tell her about what’s going on. Now, you think you might have to take that chance.

That night, while Alex snores unknowingly next to you, you collect your bag and all of the clothes stored in her drawers. With quiet footsteps, you exit her apartment, already reaching for your phone with trembling fingers as you dial the one number you know will pick up at any time. It barely rings once before the line clicks through.

Azzi’s greeting is a murmur of your name, both in disbelief and ever present relief. “Azzi,” you say back, your voice barely reaching her. “Please come pick me up.”

“Do you want water? Juice?”

Azzi’s voice cuts through the haze in your brain. When she picked you up, neither of you had said anything, but you’d hugged her tight enough that she groaned a little, which made you smile for what feels like the first time in forever. She let you into her apartment wordlessly, took your bag to her room, and sat you down on the couch.

“I’m okay,” you say. All you really wanted was to feel comfortable in your own skin again, but being in Azzi’s presence is doing wonders for you. You can’t help but feel a bit of residual guilt – all of this could have been avoided had you been braver, if you’d denied Alex from the start or if you could just muster the courage to tell Azzi that you’ve been in love with her for four years. “Can we just…can we go to bed?”

Azzi nods quickly, murmuring an affirmative, and she links her hand with yours as she leads you down the familiar hallways. It shouldn’t bring you as much peace as it does, but holding Azzi’s hand makes you feel like you’re a sailor coming home after a long voyage and finally spotting the lighthouse in the distance. Azzi’s bed is a welcome comfort and you fall into place next to her, feeling the tension melt out of your shoulders.

You can feel her next to you, the warmth of her body, the smell of her perfume in the air, and you feel your heart ache all over again. This was where you were supposed to be. Not with Alex. Even if you and Azzi remained friends forever and you kept your feelings for her close to your chest, it would still be better than going through these past few weeks with Alex on repeat.

“I missed you,” Azzi admits, her voice cutting through the darkness in the room. She shifts. You can feel her eyes on you, so you shift, too, coming face to face with her.

“I missed you too,” you whisper, watching as a soft smile spreads across her face. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You swallow thickly. “For everything. For Alex. For leaving you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Azzi promises. Hearing those words is like coming up for air after being submerged for so long. You don’t know if she knows just how healing it was to hear her say that. Her hand finds yours, squeezing you gently. “I’m sorry for not doing more to help you.”

“It’s not your fault,” you shoot back, a coy smile on your face, which makes Azzi giggle.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Azzi murmurs.

You think that you should – that you owe it to yourself and to Azzi to be honest about the last few months. So you do. Azzi listens to you as you start from the beginning, outlining the course of your and Alex’s relationship and where it derailed. When you finish, Azzi’s face is full of concern, sadness, and a slight determination. She’d apologized again. You told her it was okay, mostly because it was okay. You would be okay.

“Do you love her?” Azzi asks a few beats later, perhaps a bit selfishly. 

“No,” you confess, feeling Azzi relax against you. “I never did.” She nods, and you both fall silent for a moment until you speak up again. “Az?” She hums, her fingers brushing against your skin. “If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth? Alex said something earlier and I’m…I’m just tired of feeling like I’m crazy.”

“Anything,” she promises. 

“Do you love me?” The words come out less composed than you’d been trying for, your voice cracking at the end, but you don’t really care. You need answers. You’d spent so many years loving Azzi from afar, but for Alex to say she’s confident in Azzi loving you back? This could change everything.

“Of course I do,” Azzi says, her words a little jilted. “You’re my best friend.”

You feel your heart drop, but you press forward. “Not in that way, Az.”

You can hear her breath hitch. At first, you’re not sure if you’re going to get a response, but she tightens her grip on your waist, and admits, “Yeah. I love you.”

Silence encompasses the both of you. Azzi doesn’t push – she never does, and that might be one of the things you love most about her. She lets you process that revelation on your own. At first, a part of you wonders if it was truly that easy in the first place, if all you ever needed to do was ask Azzi. The fear of her saying anything but yes outweighed the hope. Now that you’ve heard it, you can’t deny how much lighter your chest feels, the hope that swells in your chest. “Say it again,” you request.

“I love you,” Azzi swears, her voice a little firmer this time, her hands holding onto you like she’s afraid you’re going to disappear completely. “I love you. I have for years. Seeing you with Alex almost destroyed me.”

Feeling a little braver, you sit up, moving your legs to straddle her waist. There’s nothing inherently sexual about it, but the sheer closeness makes you feel a little more grounded, especially when her hands steady you by the hips. “I’m sorry,” you say again, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning.

“Don’t be,” Azzi murmurs, her thumb brushing against your hip bone.

“I was only with her because I thought I could get over you,” you confess, which makes her jaw relax, her face soften. “God, Az, I’ve been in love with you forever. I didn’t think I could have you.”

Despite the heaviness of the moment, Azzi’s lips quirk into a fond, relieved smile. Her hands leave your hips, fingers brushing your arms as she trails them up. She hooks a finger into the collar of your shirt, pulling you down to her as she whispers, “You have me. Completely.”

You’re not thinking about the consequences as you finally kiss Azzi Fudd – you’re not concerned about the fact that technically, you have a girlfriend that you’re technically cheating on, nor are you concerned about what this means for you and Azzi. The logistics are a problem for you tomorrow. Azzi sighs against you, her lips insistent, fingers tangling in your shirt – and to be honest, it’s a pleasant paradox. Alex is a taker in every definition of the word, but Azzi swallows each little sound you make against her lips, pressing firmer against you to take everything you’ll give her, but there’s a bit of mutualism in the way you and Azzi simultaneously take and give.

One of her hands releases your shirt to cup your cheek, her palm warm against your skin as it rapidly heats. You’re both passionate, a little desperate, but despite it all, the love between the two of you is palpable – you can feel it in your heart and the way it swells; it courses through your veins, leading you home, reminding you that this is a love you’ve spent years harboring and cultivating. 

People always say your first kiss with someone you love is a little earth-shattering, that it’s like fireworks or coming home. To you, this kiss with Azzi feels something like freedom. It feels like you don’t have to keep any more secrets from her or yourself.

Azzi breaks away, her chest heaving and her breath warm against your lips. “I love you,” she whispers again, holding you tighter, insistent. “Leave her. Please.”

You’re nodding before Azzi has even finished her plea. “I will,” you swear, kissing her again. You grin when Azzi chases you, pressing one last kiss to your lips before a soft smile spreads across her features. “I love you.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything in response to that – she doesn’t have to. She presses a kiss to your temple and you stretch out across her body, her arms wrapping around you once more. You fall asleep next to her feeling free and at peace – you’re not quite out of the woods yet, but you’re almost there, and you have more moments like these to look forward to with Azzi.

She has an early practice that next morning, so she’s gone before you’re awake, but you know what you need to do. You walk the short distance to your apartment, make yourself a coffee to mentally prepare, and you send a quick text to Alex – ignoring the fifteen unread messages she’s sent between the hours of 2am to 7am – telling her to come to your apartment so you can talk. You don’t wait around for a response. You get a trash bag and start collecting all of the shit she’s left at your apartment during the time you were together – clothes, toiletries, a lone coffee mug (that you’re sure shatters once you drop it into the bag, but you don’t really care).

All of Alex’s belongings are secured in the trash bag when there’s a knock at your door. You take a deep breath to calm yourself, dragging the bag behind you as you step up to your door. You open it halfway, raising a hand and making an annoyed noise when Alex tries to walk in. “No,” you say firmly, “stay outside.”

A look of annoyance flashes across her face, but she does as you’ve commanded, crossing her arms. You reach for the bag, throwing it haphazardly behind her. “So, here’s what’s happening,” you begin. “We’re breaking up.” She opens her mouth to say something, but you cut her off with a raised hand again. “I don’t really care what you have to say. We’re done. This is all you’re getting from me. Lose my number and get fucked.”

Unceremoniously, you slam the door in her face, locking it immediately. You bury your head in your hands as your pulse pounds against your ribcage, but as you listen to the sound of her footsteps fading away, that familiar feeling of freedom returns tenfold. You could cry with relief, although you don’t, pulling your phone out of your pocket. You’re free now, and you know who your first call will be to.

Azzi picks up on the first ring, sounding a little out of breath as she greets you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you respond, feeling the smile creep up onto your lips – you’re sure she can hear the excitement and the relief in your voice.

And she does. She laughs a little, sounding relieved, too. “I’m on my way,” is all she says, bidding you one last goodbye before she hangs up.

You can’t get rid of your smile, and thankfully, she only keeps you waiting for about fifteen minutes. She opens your door with her key and walks in like she’s been here hundreds of times before – which she has, because there’s no part of your life that is complete without Azzi in it. She spots you immediately. You stand up from the couch, dropping your phone on the cushion, and you meet her in the middle.

Azzi is a little sweaty, disheveled from practice, but you don’t care as her arms encircle your waist, pulling you flush into her with pure relief in her laughter. You wrap yours around her neck, standing on the tips of your toes to reach her. You kiss her, something softer than the first one you’d shared the night prior. You feel her smile against your lips, which only makes you smile, too, your noses brushing against each other as you both share a breathless little laugh. She tightens her grip around you and you can’t find it in yourself to mind – you know that Azzi is always going to be there to protect you, and finally being hers after all these years is something you know that you’re not going to screw up – you did your time.

[circesastro]

Solar Return Observation Pt. 1

Circe's Notes: Hello loves I'm back! Following the New Year, I decided it would be fun to make a solar return observation to kickstart 2025 (even though I am 12 days late but that's besides the point). Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this post as much as I did creating it!

Note: These are just my own observations, ideas, thoughts and theories. This is just for entertainment purposes. Also, please be respectful of my observations! It is perfectly understandable to not resonate with some of my personal observations but please do not leave any disrespectful comments! Lastly, please don’t plagiarize/copy/steal any of my works! Without further ado, enjoy!

**All photos are from Pinterest**

MASTERLIST

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ Pluto in 1st

✿ I'm experiencing Pluto in 1st house this year in my SR chart and lemme tell you the observations about Pluto in 1st house is sooo true. I've experienced a drastic change in appearance and so many uncalled for comments about my body and look in general. But I also have moon in 1st this year so majority of the comments were made by women (mostly older woman). Also I experienced a major shift in mindset or outlook in life.

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ Jupiter in 2nd

✿ When you have Jupiter in 2nd house in your SR, you may earn more money that year whereas if you have Jupiter in 10th, you might focus on finding a career instead.

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ Mars in 10th

✿ Mars in 10th in your SR could indicate having more ambition when it comes to your career and wanting to do more.

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ 11th house sign

Your 11th house in your solar return chart can show the signs you attract in friendships that year. I have scorpio in my 11th house this year and one of my friends is a scorpio venus and the other one is a scorpio moon.

Last year I have my 11th house in Leo and I had two other friends with their venus in Leo and the other with Leo moon.

When I had my 11th house in Cancer, my roommate was a cancer stellium and my other friend in college was a cancer sun.

Same thing again, when I had taurus in my 11th house, my only friend in college was a taurus sun and mercury😭.

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ Uranus

Uranus in 10th/Conjuncting MC could indicate a change in career path... I had Uranus conjuncting my MC in 9th house and I switched majors that year.

The year my sister had her Uranus in her 10th house, she changed her goals and ambitions too which influenced her career path.

Venus-Uranus aspects or Uranus in 1st can indicate a change in aesthetics that year. Or just experiencing with one's style.

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ Scorpio Moon

✿ I don't know if it's just me, but every time I have a scorpio moon there's always that one period where I feel very unmotivated and lethargic...

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ Venus in 1st

✿ For Venus in 1st house in your SR, you may start to focus more on your appearance that year. You may also want to do more self care, learn makeup, skincare, etc.

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ 12th house placements

Stellium in your 12th house could indicate diving more into spirituality (tarot, divine messaging, astrology, intuitive dreams, etc.) and/or doing shadow work.

Having Sun in 12th house = identity confusion or just taking more time out to understand yourself more that year... it's the year you figure more things out about yourself?

Venus in 12th house can indicate dreaming of your crush frequently that year.

Mercury in 12th house retrograde? Not for the weak!!! IT MADE ME FEEL SO STUPID😭 like I was questioning my own IQ because I would be jumbling over my own words...also, I was always questioning if I should say certain things during conversations and whatnot.

⋆。·˚ʚ☀️ɞ˚‧。⋆ SR and Relationships

Having 5th and 7th house placements that year can indicate being in a relationship and actively going on dates together.

However, having only 5th house placements that year can indicate going to many dates and not taking relationships too seriously. Prone to having more flings instead of being committed.

Uranus, chiron, or Pluto in 5th or 7th can indicate a break-up in SR.

Uranus = change in relationship status so it's 50/50. If you're currently single you could enter a relationship. If you're taken it could mean breaking up with a current partner. It can also indicate a change in your partnership dynamic.

Pluto = transformations so similar case to Uranus.

Chiron = wounds or healing in romance houses can indicate a breakup or moving on from a relationship

[barbiiecams]

doubts

drew starkey x younger!reader (like 19/20 sorry not sorry 😭), reader calls drew “papa” *not in a weird way*, smut, in love w the age gap concept cus of @native2princess ! <3

you watched yet another video on the internet of drew down at disney world without you, but with his friend group that all had a few years on you.

he would send pictures of everything that was cute or that reminded him of you, and you really did appreciate it. but it still didn’t swallow the lingering feeling in your gut.

you weren’t even invited. it was obvious why since you couldn’t even buy a drink legally, let alone not even close with half of them, but for some reason it still hurt and had you questioning things even further about everything.

you swore that you guys were drifting apart.

not only did that make you sad, but it also left you scared and questioning everything.

the only thing that made you wonder why you two were drifting like you thought you were was because of the age gap.

was he getting tired of you? was the age gap starting to become a burden? were you just too immature?

and let’s not even get started on how drew acted around his female friends — that were once again a lot older.

all you could do was just cry. it was a dumb reason to cry about, but you don’t wanna lose drew yet you really think you are. he was your first and you hoped he’d be your last, but who knows where you two may end up?

seeing how he acted with his friends currently was already ruining you. now you found yourself down a rabbit hole of searching through old videos of him before you were even dating.

it was crazy, of course you were aware of that. but it did nothing but further increase your worries seeing how he would act around these girls. all older than you and all more outgoing.

so now here you were, stalking your own boyfriend while you sat in your bed, silent tears streaming down your face.

currently, drew was now in paris for the fashion show. he wanted you to come, but it would be too difficult for you. plus school had just ended and both of you knew that you were planning to spend more time with your family this summer.

regardless of that, this feeling was awful. you’ve had old puppy-love heart breaks during highschool with guys you dated just to say you were in a relationship, but this is real. a real committed relationship you’re in with a guy a little over 10 years older than you.

he’s so mature. so are you, but not entirely. you still had a lot more to experience and learn, and he was always so patient.

but maybe now that patience was wearing thin.

you sniffle one more time before closing out all your apps and throwing your phone on the nightstand next to you. wanting to sleep it off and praying you’d wake up feeling better, your insides just were not letting that happen. not to mention you couldn’t fall asleep without at least getting a goodnight text from him.

laying down was no use. as soon as you tried to lay your head down on the pillow and just relax, the overthinking just continued to grow. there was no escape from these thoughts and it was just eating you straight alive.

you huff while turning over, switching sides and seeing if that would help. spoiler: it didn’t.

all you could do now is groan while sitting up. a certain thought ran through your mind that you really didn’t want to go through with, but did you have a choice? you already felt as if the end of things are near, so why let him break your heart (even though you’d be expecting it) when you can just do it the hard part first?

with a sigh, you reached over to grab your phone and open drew’s contact. everything was making you sick. you just stared at the screen, skimming over the conversation you had earlier.

it was the usual. ‘hows your day’, ‘i miss you’, ‘this reminded me of us’, all the cute stuff.

but it just didn’t hit the same. that feeling of him leaving you because of your age wasn’t going anywhere, and it was making you feel insecure on extreme ends

your fingers started typing. there were no real thoughts, just your pure raw emotions. you hit backspace a couple of times, you sat there and thought about the next few words you were going to say, but eventually you got it all put together it pained you type, but it pained you even more contemplating on whether or not you should send it.

‘hey drew. i’ve been missing you a lot recently and i know it’s weird and you’re going to question why i sent this after you read it, but im sorry. i really do feel like you’re leaving me soon and it’s taking a toll on me badly. i don’t want this to end but i can tell that it is and i just know + feel like we’re drifting apart. i feel like it’s because of my age so i really do understand and respect that. we can talk more once you get back because i hate to do this over text but i can’t just bottle my feelings anymore. goodnight 🩷’

a few more seconds of contemplation, you hit send and stared at the screen. you didn’t know how he would respond so you should’ve been shutting off your phone and running away.

but you didn’t. you stared at the screen and waited until he read it.

thankfully, it didn’t take him any longer than three minutes to open your message, and soon after, the dots were bubbling.

drew himself was lost. confused wasn’t even the word for the long paragraph you just sent him. he even started triple texting you.

‘???’

‘what are you talking about baby?’

‘i’m so lost’

you sighed reading his texts. he didn’t get it, realistically you shouldn’t have expected him to. it was out of the blue, and little to your knowledge, he didn’t think for a second anything was wrong between you too.

when you didn’t answer him as soon as you read it, he went back to typing.

‘answer me’

‘i’m really confused and worried. it’d be nice if you stopped leaving me on read’

‘call me now’

you didn’t even have a chance to start typing because you had an incoming call with drew’s name on it. you didn’t wanna pick up, but you knew you had to because if the roles were reversed, oh you’d definitely be throwing a fit.

swallowing quickly, you hit the green answer button to drew’s facetime call but moved your face out of the camera.

he’s walking, most likely back to his hotel with furrowed eyebrows and an expression that you think showed… annoyance?

drew’s the first one to speak up, “y/n, what the hell are you talking about?” he says sounding very confused and very upset as well.

“i feel like we’re drifting apart apart i don’t know.” you replied. your voice isn’t even a third as stern as his. it’s not stern at all nor convincing.

“where is that coming from? what are you talking about it’s our ages?” he questions you again.

you really hoped a fan wouldn’t come up to him. not because it would interrupt the call, but because they would be walking up on him pissed off and getting a taste of his very apparent bad mood.

you sighed, “it’s just how i feel. maybe i’m not mature enough for this.”

his face scrunches with confusion even further. he then looks down to his screen to see the ceiling you were showing.

“why do you all of a sudden feel this way? you are mature. if you weren’t, this relationship wouldn’t be a thing in the first place.”

this was something else you wanted to avoid; him being mad at you. you hated making him upset and now that you were already upset, and he was just getting annoyed with you, it wasn’t helping and it made you feel worse.

“show me your face baby. you know i don’t like talking to walls.” he says once you don’t respond to his actual voice this time.

reluctantly, you put your face in the screen. sitting up and cuddling onto your bed sheets.

“y/n, nothing is wrong. we aren’t drifting apart at all so i don’t know why you feel otherwise. we’re okay and you know this, baby. stop overthinking.” he reassures you.

before you could finally respond with anything else, you heard a few girls calling his name from the other side of his phone. good luck to them!

“i’ll call you back. we’re not done talking.” he says, then swiftly hangs up.

you wanted to puke. you hated being in any type of conflict with people, let alone being in one with drew.

a headache was starting to form, and it forced you to lay back down and sleep. you kept your phone right next to you on your bed, just in case drew woke you up by ringing your phone again.

—

you weren’t sure when the previous night you fell asleep, but you didn’t wake up until 12 the next day. and that was due to your doorbell ringing multiple times at once.

you whined at the fact you had to leave your warm bed, but you slowly made your way down your apartment’s stairs, rubbing your eyes and forcing yourself to wake up.

opening the door ready to curse out whoever had the nerve to wake you up at this hour, it was drew standing at the door with flowers in one hand and his stuff in the other.

now this is what really woke you up.

“how are you here…?” you questioned.

he exhales, “soon as we hung up yesterday i checked out and booked a flight here. we really need to talk in person.

you step to the side to let him in, then he shuts the door behind him and hands you the flowers.

both of you take a seat at the table. “i need you to fully explain what you’re feeling. that paragraph honestly made no sense and as soon as i read the whole thing i knew i had to get down here.” he says.

you press your lips together before speaking. “i’m sorry.”

he makes a face of puzzlement and also motions for you to keep going.

“maybe im not mature enough for this, drew. i don’t know.”

“what makes you think that? what happened or what did i do that has you questioning everything?” he asks, reaching out for your hand.

you sniffle before continuing, “i just feel like im holding you back. you’re buying drinks, going to clubs and hanging out with your friends who are all around your age and im still in school. it’s not working-”

he cuts you off before you can finish that. “those aren’t reasons, baby. it is working. do you feel left out or something?”

“no it’s just,”

there’s a pause before he says something again, “just what? i don’t understand what’s got you so in your head.

“i don’t know how to explain it. i just think you’re drifting from me because of where we’re at in life and i hate it.” the words finally form, and you can feel a little bit of weight being lifted off your chest now that you’ve got it out.

his expression now shows a face of understanding, then he’s standing up and swiftly making his way over to you, lifting you up before securing your legs around him.

you let out a squeal at the action. when he was balanced, he made his way upstairs to your room with you in his arms.

stepping into your decorated room, he throws you down on the bed then hovers over you. “i’m gonna prove to you that you deserve this relationship.”

his lips make their way to your jaw, leaving little lovebites on them, then down to your neck and chest.

your hands fly to his buzzed head. you let out soft sighs at his lips being on your body, a feeling you loved the most.

his hands travel to your pajama shorts then dipped into the waistband of your panties. as hes taking them both off at the same time, he distracts you by now placing his lips on yours, slowly making out with you.

now your hands are taking action, working to get is shirt off to see his toned body once again. when it’s off, one hand is still on his head while the other goes down to his abs, feeling on him.

now he’s starting to get quick, fumbling with his belt and pants, ready to do you into the mattress.

sooner than later, both of your clothes are off and in random sports throughout the room.

his middle and ring finger are inside you, stretching your out as you moan and grind into his hand.

drew’s cock is laying there on your stomach, practically reaching your ribs. this was just another reminder of how deep he really goes when fucking you.

you could barely keep your eyes on him while his fingers worked you. “that feel good?”

you moan out a “yea.” you definitely couldn’t let him go. the way he could make you fall apart with just his fingers is crazy as it is.

“i bet, baby. already so wet. you know what you want huh?” he coos.

this makes you nod. “want your cock, please.” you reach your hand down to where it rested on you, but he moves your hand away.

“i know you do. but i need this pussy stretched and ready for me.” he responds

“i can take it! promise! just give it to me,” you whine.

drew gives in at your begging. he removes his fingers from inside you before sticking them in your mouth.

he grabs his cock before lining it up with your entrance. he slowly pushes in, making you whimper around his fingers. it hurt a little bit, but the pleasure overrode the pain.

“shhh,” he hushes you, putting his cock in all the way and forcing you to take all that he gave you.

you continued to let out sounds because of the pleasure he was giving you. drew was letting out groans of content himself.

“feels so good, baby. so fucking good.” he throws his head back.

his words did nothing but turn you on more. your eyes squeeze shut before you guide his hand out of your mouth and onto your throat, signaling what you want from him.

he smirks before moving his other hand to your throat, choking you slightly but enough that you can still breathe.

“yea you like when i go hard on you, right baby? this pussy just loves when i go rough on her, doesn’t she?” he teases.

“mhm!” you squeak, loving the feeling of just taking all of him so deep and so rough.

he makes your legs cross completely around him before leaning down into your neck.

this was your favorite position. you being on your back, him groaning in your hear and putting hickeys on your neck, it was so much at once and you loved it real bad.

his lips are right next to your ear. “i’m not going anywhere, yeah?”

he lets out another sound before continuing, “you’re not leaving me either. neither of us are going anywhere.

your breath catches in your throat when he says this. maybe this was all you needed. some reassurance, and a good pounding to go with it.

he sits up before pulling out to turn you around. now that you’re flat on your stomach, he slides right back in with a hand on your lower back right before your butt and the other pushing your head down into the pillows.

you screamed out when he started thrusting all over again. it hurt so good, you just wanted to do this forever him.

you tried to move away slightly because he was just going ham on your poor hole. but all it took was you reaching one hand up, gripping the sheets and trying to pull away before he yanked your head back by your hair. he then brought your back up to his chest and held you by your throat.

“stop running, baby.” he growls into your ear.

“it’s so deep tho, papa.” your eyes squeeze shut as your mouth hangs open.

he kisses right below your ear, “you’re fine.”

that bubbly feeling started to form again. you were about to cum, and somehow drew could always tell too.

“know you’re gonna cum, mama. hold that shit.” he tells you as he pushes you back into the sheets.

right now that request just didn’t seem possible. “i can’t!”

he gives your right cheek a firm slap. “you can and you will. don’t make me say it again.”

you guys stay in this position for a while. him just hitting it from the back deep and all you needed to do was lay there and take it like a good girl.

his good girl.

suddenly, he flips you back over, then lays down himself setting you on top. now he’s got his feet planted on the bed, thrusting up into you.

at this angle, you guys can see the belly bulge happening from how deep his cock was. just proving how big he really is again.

“see that baby? that’s me. all up in those guts.” he says to you.

you throw your head back, but he cups the back of your head to bring you down into him, chest to chest.

“y’the only one who gets fucked like this. y’know that? only one who deserves it too,” his arms wrap around your waist now. “only fucking one.”

his lips are practically on your ear as he says this. you’re only able to nod, but he wants to hear your voice.

“tell me you understand that baby, say it.” his thrusts slow down, but there still deep, and he’s angling it to make sure he’s hitting that good spot.

“i…”

another slap hits on to your cheek. “say it, princess.”

“yes! i understand!” you finally moan out.

“yes who, baby?”

“yes papa!” your voice is weak now.

he smirks at your submission and continues to fuck you hard. more than just a few thrusts later, he’s letting out a lot more groans than what he already was.

“shit baby… y’gonna make me cum soon. you gonna let me put it in you, hm?”

“drew…”

his hips are starting to stutter. “know you’re ready to cum too. been holding it in like papa told you too, good girl. fuckk.”

his arms are really really squeezing around your waist, keeping you still so you can’t try and move from his brutal thrusts.

“cum with me baby girl. got a big load for you.” he moans.

“don’t knock me up.” as good as the moment felt right now, you were dead serious about that.

he chuckles, “i won’t baby. know you wanna feel that cum all in your stomach tho.”

you moan one last time before finally cumming around him. you couldn’t hold it back anymore, no matter how much he told you to wait for him.

but your own orgasm sent his off. he felt you come undone around him, and two seconds later you felt his hot sperm fill you up.

drew’s arms moved from around your waist to seriously gripping your hips down, not letting you waist a drop of what he had to give you.

moans and deep breaths were coming from the both of you. that was the most intense sex you guys had for a while, not to mention the first time he’s actually came inside you.

when he finally came down from his high, he slowly pulled out of you and just let you rest on his chest.

“thank you,” you quietly speak up.

he doesn’t respond, but he smiles and kisses your forehead.

minutes after just sitting in silence, he sits up against your headboard and takes your face into your hands.

“baby, when i say youre what i want i mean it. if you weren’t mature enough for me, i wouldn’t still be here.” he says. you don’t actually answer, you want him to keep going.

“i love you so much, sweetheart. nothing about that is going to change and nothing can make it change. i don’t know what you saw or if i did something, but im sorry. okay?”

you nod with a smile. “okay.”

he smiles back at you then pressed his lips against yours, giving you a nice firm kiss. which slowly turned into a makeout.

you guys pull away just to catch your breath, “we gotta get you packed up, sweetheart.”

“for what?” you ask.

“i’m taking you back to paris with me.”

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Four

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warning: Obessive behavior, Yandere tendencies, su*c*de/death.

A/N: Finally adding warning labels. We’re getting somewhere. I’ve had some of this written out, but had to add some stuff in to drive it home. Reader’s coping skills are failing, but everyone’s starting to get obsessive. Also, I’ve been fighting myself on drawing art for this. (I’m a bit out of practice.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader has basically called befriending Damian and Jason a lost cause.

Bruce still avoids reader. And, everyone else is still busy with what Reader assumes is Batwork. (Which is fine, Reader is fine. It’s not like they’re stuck in the manor pacing the halls every damn day.)

Cass and Duke’s get back from their respective missions. They weren’t gone too long, but they’re come back a bit roughed up. They debrief with Bruce and then have to go back to being civilians.

Reader is waiting to comfort them. Not to confront them. Reader’s more concerned with how Duke has a mild limp and how Cass’s knuckles have some bruising than them ditching. Plus, reader is still not completely sure that her family is Gotham’s vigilantes. They need to confirm.

But, Duke and Cass both appreciate Reader checking on them and not asking questions. Cass suspects Reader suspects something, judging by Reader’s body language. But, it’s nice for someone who’s naturally soft to be soft with you.

Duke appreciates how Reader treats him so, normally. In a way it reminds him of his childhood, when things were easier. He has a normal friend now, completely mostly free of Gotham’s crazy.

Reader is happy their back, but disappointed that they won’t be going to the school gala. In fact, a few family members make comments about how it sounds like a waste of time.

Bruce, however, is actually happy Reader is excited. And, Reader gets even more excited when one of their new friends ask to be their date. Reader’s date is so genuinely excited about going to this Gala with Reader. (Uh-oh, that’s not good.)

Some of Reader’s other friends, the more haughty and wealthy ones, tell Reader that they should’ve picked someone more… refined. Which Reader defends that their Date is perfectly sweet and good looking to boot.

But, this leads Reader to decide not to tell anyone in the family about their date. They don’t want to hear the same thing from their Gotham family. Reader does inform BFF, younger brother, and Nana of their date. For some reason, BFF was a bit disgruntled, and even Nana tried to convince them it was probably best not to go. Younger Brother was encouraging reader to have fun. (But he was whispering into the phone, and asking Reader if he could come visit them soon. Please. People are acting weird here. Is everything okay, do you need me to come home. No. No. Don’t— It’s fine. I just wanna come visit you.)

But, reader was committed to going and enjoying their date and wearing their custom made outfit.

That night, Reader was given Bruce’s permission to get ready at one of their friends’ houses. Reader was practically spoiled by their friends, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Their date meet them at the Gala escorting them inside and having a wonderful time. (I hope it last. It’s not going to though. How sad.)

At the end of the night, their Date escorted them home. To end a near perfect night Reader got a kiss. A long and pretty heated kiss. Right in front of the Entrance camera.

Tim had pulled up the camera feed when Reader got home, at Bruce’s request, just to check on Reader. (He was going to do it anyway.) The entire family was winding down from Patrol in the Batcave when the feed came on. Leaving them all to get a front row seat to Reader’s little act of rebellion.

(That’s all this was, right. Just a little act of rebellion. This won’t happen again, obviously. They won’t fucking let it.)

Bruce is livid. It doesn’t help that Jason wolf-whistles to further enrage him. (Jason is making plans to break someone’s leg though. Possibly the Dates. How fucking dare they corrupt you, that’s his job.)

Stephane is honestly impressed, didn’t think Reader had it in them. (How cute! I wonder what we could get up to together.)

Duke, sweet Duke, didn’t want to see that. His (best) friend getting tongued down on camera. He’s going to need bleach and therapy. (Why would you do that? When you can just game with him. You’re his bro. Gross.)

Cassandra is… understanding. Reader has needs. Reader wants affection. That’s fine. But, not that one. Pick someone else. (Llet her pick, actually. You can’t read people like her, you need someone better. Someone you she can trust. She needs to approve of them first.)

Dick is more disapproving, but he understands. Still, this changes how he sees Reader. Sweet innocent helpless Reader has a wild side. (But still reader is clearly helpless, obviously they don’t know what they’re doing.)

It also changes how Barbara sees Reader. Or confirms. Barbara runs under the assumption that Reader is more like Bruce than anyone realizes. (She’s not wrong, but it’s not in the way she thinks.) Bruce is a bit of natural flirt, he just hides it in his ‘Brucie’ persona. Reader apparently takes after that. (Damian sure didn’t.)

Damian, is disgusted, disappointed, and disapproving. He doesn’t doubt Father will scold you, but your date needs to be dealt with and all other suitors as well. (He’ll take care of it. He’s your brother, that’s his job.)

Tim, however, is legitimately jealous. He wanted to see this side of reader first. He got a glimpse of it before, but he wants it for himself now that he sees the full thing. (Also, right in front of the camera? Did Reader know it was there? If they did, would they be okay with Tim filming them more? Just to observe, please.)

Tim immediately starts pulling up all the information he can about Reader’s date. Without Bruce’s prompting this time. Bruce does nod in approval before marching to the entrance. Intent on putting an end to this and giving Reader a firm talking to.

It goes, horribly. Date is forced to leave and Bruce tears into Reader. (What happened to the outfit I bought you? Why didn’t you tell me you had a date? I didn’t approve of this. I don’t care that you’re back on time or that you’re old enough, you’re my child! Mine! You get my approval first.)

Reader stays composed, barely. The good news is that the brutal scolding is the only consequence Reader faces. (Bruce is more upset about Reader not seeking his approval than doing something he disapproves of. He’s your father. He should have a damn say. Would you have done this to D̴̖̞͑̊̓a̷͎͗̇d̸̜͍̩̓̎d̸̪̩̟̆̎y̶̛̼̌? Why are you doing this to him?)

The bad news, Reader’s date’s life is over. With just a few clicks from Tim and approval from Bruce, Date’s family company falling apart. Reported to the government, lawsuits filed by third-parties. Hidden debts needing to be collected NOW. Any misfiled taxes? Found and reported. And, most importantly, all calls and ways for Date to contact reader again, blocked.

Socially and financially, Date’s life is ruined in less than twenty-four hours. Worst of all, Reader doesn’t know. They’re still on cloud nine about the night, despite Bruce’s lecture. But, come Sunday morning, two days later, things fall apart.

Date is reported dead. Apparent suic1de just the night before. The financial implosion of the family was named the apparent reason.

Reader is distraught, confused, and hurt. What happened? What’s going on? This can’t be happening. I don’t want to lose anymore people I care about. I don’t want to lose someone like Momma and Daddy again.

Reader’s Gotham friends console Reader, saying it’s not their fault. That Date struggled with thought before. Don’t blame yourself. (They weren’t worth your time.)

Surprisingly enough, it’s Dick that finds reader having a borderline breakdown.

Dick clings and coddles and coos, but this time. Reader clings back. Reader clings back tight. Desperate for comfort. Which is surprising for Dick.

Most of the family tends to brush off his attempts at comfort until they hit rock bottom. For once, this isn’t someone hitting rock bottom before they need him. This is someone that’s just genuinely sad and overwhelmed and needs wants him.

Dick also ran under the assumption that Reader was allergic to affection, like Damian and Bruce. But, apparently, that wasn’t the case. It’s a nice feeling. To have someone not fight him when he tries to be comforting. Someone who is happy to take it. Of course, he doesn’t stay long. Once Reader pulls themselves together he’s got to get back to Buldhaven, but this time he leaves a bit slower. (But, him leaving somehow makes Reader feel worse.)