#because they do different things in both! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daryltwdixon · 1 day ago

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Summary: Cracks begin to show in the life you were building with the Miller brothers, the weight of the third trimester pressing down as Tommy lashes out in a way you didn’t see coming. Seeking comfort and clarity, you leave with Joel—where tension, tenderness, and long-buried feelings finally surface behind closed doors.

|| smut MDNI 18+, arguing, Tommy is an ass, pinv, fingering, pregnancy kink?, dirty talk obvi, breeding kink, possessive joel, some longing and angst, no outbreak, they still cant f'ing communicate ||

notes: I promise I actually like tommy in the show / game lmao. sorry this took me so long! was traveling to see family and literally had no downtime. enjoy!!!

The nursery was only half finished.

The bassinet was still in its box, unopened, up against the wall. Paint cans were stacked in the corner, samples painted haphazardly on the walls that had been dried for weeks. It was like dust had settled over everything—over the plans, the promises, the parts that were supposed to come next.

You sat in the recliner, the one meant for late-night feedings and early-morning lullabies. One hand rested on your belly, your thumb moving in slow, steady circles— something to do, to keep your breath even.

You were supposed to be building the crib today. Joel had followed Tommy home from the job site, both of their boots still dirty with sawdust, just to make it in time. They’d barely stepped inside before it was clear something was wrong.

Tommy stood by the window, arms crossed so tightly across his chest it looked like he might splinter from the pressure. His jaw was locked, shoulders coiled. Joel mirrored him from the doorway—hands tucked under his arms, weight leaned against the frame like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or go.

Whatever was between them wasn’t being said, but you felt it all the same. Thick in the air, pressing down like humidity before a storm. Crawling across your skin, making you itch in places you couldn’t reach.

It had started weeks ago. Subtle, at first. Tommy pulling away in small, quiet ways—forgetting appointments, brushing past you with less warmth, keeping his kisses chaste and short. The bigger your belly got, the more he seemed to disappear.

Maybe now that it was real—your body changing more by the day, the shape of this future becoming something tangible—he was seeing it differently. Maybe he was seeing you differently.

You hadn’t wanted to believe it at first. Maybe it was nerves. Maybe it was stress. But as your due date crept closer, it became harder to ignore. He barely touched the baby clothes, the packages that came for the nursery. Or you.

Something had cracked, and no one wanted to look at the pieces. Now, whatever this was—this silence, this standoff—it felt like the final leak in a dam. Like the whole thing was about to burst open.

You tried to ease the pressure. Something small. Something safe.

“Have either of you thought more about names?” your voice came out lighter than it should. Like a peace offering. “We should probably decide before he gets here.”

Tommy didn’t even look at you. “You mean you and Joel should decide.”

You exhaled. Of course.

“Tommy… you’ve been avoiding every conversation about the baby lately,” you said gently. “For weeks. Can’t you just…talk to us? To me?”

“Maybe that’s because every time we talk,” he snapped, “I’m the one who’s unreasonable. I’m the one who’s supposed to suck it up and smile.”

“You are being unreasonable,” you said, too fast, too sharp. Then, softer—more careful. “You keep shutting Joel out of everything. You won’t let him have a say in any of the decisions or plans. He’s supposed to be part of this.”

Tommy laughed—a short, humorless bark. “He was part of this. We needed him to help. That’s what this was. A favor. You and me—we were gonna raise this baby. He’s not—” he shook his head, letting the end of his sentence hang between the three of you.

You rose from the chair slowly, pressing your palm into the armrest as you shifted your weight, the other hand supporting your swollen belly. Joel moved instinctively, ready to help, but you lifted a hand without looking at him. I’m fine.

Your knees ached. Your back pulled. The baby shifted under your ribs, like he knew something was wrong.

You crossed the room, stopping just a few feet from your husband. “Tommy,” you said, voice calm but full, “we agreed he would be part of this. We agreed to try it this way. We’re supposed to be a team. He’s not just some uncle. He’s the baby’s—”

“Don’t fucking say it.”

His voice cracked halfway through the word, and for a second you saw it. The grief. The way it was wrapped around his anger like barbed wire.

Joel pushed off the doorway. “Then what the hell am I, Tommy?” His voice was calm, but there was steel under it. “What, just a stud you called in when things didn’t go your way? You think I’m gonna stand here and act like none of this matters?”

Tommy scoffed as he looked at his brother. “You think it does matter? What—you catch feelings after a couple fucks and now you think she’s yours?”

Your heart lurched at the venom in his words. Joel stepped even closer, his voice low and even and deadly calm.

“I think I was there when she couldn’t stop throwing up for three days straight. I think I was the one bringing her crackers and Pedialyte at two in the goddamn morning. And where the hell were you? Out with Frank again?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just kept his eyes locked on his brother.

“I was there when she had those dizzy spells. When she got scared something was wrong. When she cried through the whole damn glucose test because you were too busy to answer your phone.”

He stepped forward in front of you. Steady. Final. “So yeah. I think I’ve earned the right to stand here. And I think you better watch your damn mouth when you talk about her like that.”

You stood frozen, heart in your throat, Joel’s words echoing louder than the silence that followed. You hadn’t expected him to speak—not like that. Not so plainly.

But maybe what scared you more was how much it meant to hear someone fight for you.

And then Tommy looked at Joel. Really looked at him. “Tell me the truth. You wanted her the whole time, didn’t you?”

Joel’s voice was tight. “That’s not fair.”

“Answer me.”

Joel looked down, breathed once, then met his brother’s eyes. “It didn’t start like that.”

“But it is like that now, huh?” Tommy’s voice broke. “You think you can just stand in my house, in my life, and pretend this is yours now?”

Joel’s voice cut in, sharp. “That’s enough.”

Tommy shook his head, face red. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“I’m not leavin’ her,” Joel said. “Not when you’re actin’ like this.”

“You don’t get to—”

“She’s pregnant,” Joel bit out, stepping into Tommy's space. “And you’re standing here yelling like she hasn’t been carryin’ all this on alone for weeks.”

“Alone?!” Tommy exploded—but you stepped between them before either could say another word.

“He’s right.” Your voice wavered, but it didn’t break. “That’s enough.”

You pressed a finger into Tommy’s chest, trembling with everything you hadn’t said.

“You’re the one who asked for this, Tommy. You’re the one who said you could handle it. And now you want to punish me–what? For trying to make this work even when you barely look at me anymore? I’m trying, Tommy.” You shook your head, blinking back tears. “Don’t rewrite this like I betrayed you. I already took the blame for my mistakes. We moved forward, we agreed this would be the three of us.”

Tommy stared at you like he didn’t recognize you.

“You want him here?” he asked, voice hollow. “Playin’ daddy, picking names for our baby in our house? Fine. But don’t act like I’m crazy for wanting my wife back.”

He didn’t stop when you called his name. He turned, shoved past Joel—hard enough to make it known—and stormed out.

The door slammed.

And just like that, the nursery was silent again.

Before

Joel never had a party phase.

He never did the college thing. No keg stands, no spring breaks, no waking up in someone else's dorm bed not remembering how he got there. Never packed into a room with three roommates and a GameCube. By the time most guys his age were skipping class and shotgunning beers, he was knee-deep in diapers and formula receipts.

He graduated high school, married his pregnant girlfriend, and tried to do the right thing. And within a year, Sarah was born—and Jess was gone. Real gone. Not a slow unravel. More like a door slamming and a trail of dust behind her.

He told himself she was never meant to be a mom. Hell, they were both still just kids at the time.

But that didn’t make it right. Didn’t make it easier, either. She left the baby. Left him. Just checked out and never looked back.

So when one of Tommy’s friends invited them to some frat party, Joel didn’t see the point. He tried to beg off, mumbled something about Sarah needing him, even as valid as that was. But Tommy had already lined up a sitter and wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

“You need a night, man,” he’d said. “Just one damn night to remember what it’s like to have a pulse.”

So Joel went.

And now, he stood just inside the front door of a house packed with strangers, wondering what the hell he was doing here.

The place smelled like beer, sweat, cheap cologne, and microwave pizza. Every surface was sticky. A girl brushed past him, laughing too loud, perfume trailing behind her like cotton candy and alcohol. Guys with shaggy hair and flip-flops shouted over the blare of some terrible pop track, slapping each other on the backs like they’d just survived war.

Joel felt old. Not in years. In miles.

These kids weren’t that much younger than him, technically. But they weren’t people who'd held a screaming newborn at 3 a.m. They weren’t worried about overdue bills or busted radiators. These were the types who’d call home if they overdrew their account and had money wired to them in an hour.

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and slipped through the crowd, trying not to bump into anyone. A couple was making out against the fridge in the kitchen as he grabbed a red solo cup of beer. Someone was throwing up in the sink. There were Doritos crushed under his boots.

He needed air.

The back door stuck a little when he pushed it open. He stepped onto the porch, the screen door slapping shut behind him with a squeal. Out here, it was quieter. Cooler. The music still thudded through the house like a pulse, but it was distant now—muted by the walls and the steady hum of crickets in the yard.

A few people lingered at the far end of the porch, passing a joint back and forth, slouched on the railing and talking low. One guy stood off to the side with a cigarette between his fingers.

Joel walked over, nodding once.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “Can I bum one?”

The guy didn’t say anything, just held out the pack and a lighter.

Joel took both. Lit the cigarette and handed them back with a quiet thanks.

He hadn’t smoked since Jess told him she was pregnant. He quit cold turkey that day—barely even missed it. But tonight? He needed something to bite back the tightness in his chest. Something to ground him. He’d shower the second he got home anyway, throw his clothes straight in the wash before checking on his sleeping toddler.

God, he wished he was already there.

The smoke burned a little as it hit the back of his throat. He exhaled slow, watching it curl up into the porch light.

Time passed. People wandered back inside. The weed-smokers disappeared. The porch emptied out until it was just him.

Joel leaned against the railing and let his shoulders drop. He pulled out his old blocky cellphone, flipped it open with a quiet snap. No missed calls from the babysitter. No voicemails.

He stared at the screen a second longer than he needed to. Just making sure.

He almost wished there was something. A reason to leave. A reason to get the hell outta here and go home. But everything seemed fine. He closed the phone and slipped it back into his pocket, jaw tightening as he took another drag of the cigarette between his fingers.

Just as he was settling into the quiet, the back door creaked open again. He didn’t look to see who it was, just figured it was some more potheads needing to get their fix. But he was surprised when he looked up, that his sudden gravitational pull felt off balance.

You stepped outside, fingers gripping the neck of a beer bottle, bringing it to your lips that shined in the moonlight from whatever gloss you had swiped across them tonight. Your black tank top clung to every inch of your chest and your mid-drift peeked below until your jeans that hung low on your hips, hugged you perfectly.

When you made your way out onto the porch, you looked like you didn’t owe the world shit, that you didn’t give a shit if anyone noticed you. But he noticed you. Everyone probably did.

Joel couldn’t stop staring.

When your eyes met his, it was like the world blinked. Just a beat—long enough to catch, short enough to question. And then you didn’t look away.

You tilted your head, your eyes glancing down at the beer and cigarette in his hand.

“That cheap stuff tastes like shit,” you said, “Like it came outta someone’s shoe. You’re better off with the good stuff.” you dangled your beer bottle up, shaking it just a little to show off you weren’t drinking from the keg.

“Not really one to drink it for the taste,” Joel said. You moved forward with a small smile.

“Mind if I take a hit off that?” you said smoothly, pointing to the cigarette.

He handed it to you wordlessly, and watched, entranced despite himself as your glossy lips wrapped around it, the ember burning at the tip.

“Told my parents I quit,” you said, blowing out the smoke, “Which is true. But nights like this make me a liar,”

Joel liked the way you talked. Dry, confident, like you were letting him in on your world. You weren’t fawning, weren’t giggling. You were sharp. Maybe a little reckless. Probably younger than him by a year or two, but smarter than half the house of partygoers combined.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around,” you said, handing him back the cigarette.

He shrugged. “That’s probably a good thing.”

You sipped your drink. “So you don’t go here?”

“Nah. Not exactly the academic type. Friend of a friend invited us out.”

You nodded, still watching him. The cigarette passed quietly between the two of you.

“And by ‘us,’ I’m guessin’ you mean...?”

“My brother,” he answered, “He’s around here somewhere. He’s better at this kinda scene than me.”

“I don’t know,” you said. “You seem to be doing just fine.”

Joel looked at you then—really looked—and felt something low in his chest shift, just slightly off-center. Your hair was pulled back in a pony-tail, big eyes that had no business looking at him like you were.

He huffed, barely a smile. “Don’t know about that.”

You shrugged, but didn’t look away. “You’ve got that whole brooding-loner thing going for you. Girls eat that shit up.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

“Mhm.” You took another sip of your beer, slow and deliberate. “I’ve been out here, what—five minutes? I can already tell. Not even trying, and yet you look like you’ve got some kind of tragic backstory.”

He snorted, caught somewhere between amused and flustered. “Not sure that’s a compliment.”

“It is,” you said, leaning in a little, just enough that your voice dropped slightly. “You wear it well.”

Joel swallowed once, felt the heat crawl up the back of his neck. You were watching him like you already knew how he’d taste. Like you were just deciding whether or not it’d be worth the trouble.

He cleared his throat, looked down at his boots for half a second, then back up.

“What about you?” he asked. “You come to these things just to psychoanalyze strangers with your imported beer?”

“No, silly.” You smiled, slow and confident. “I come for the free cigarettes and hot strangers to psychoanalyze.”

Joel huffed a soft breath, smirk faint but real. He flicked ash off the end of the cigarette, not quite looking at you when he said, “Don’t know if I fit the bill on that second one.”

Your eyes didn’t leave him. “On the contrary, mystery man, pretty sure you’re tickin’ all the boxes.”

And Joel—God help him—he forgot his own name for a second.

He leaned a little closer, felt the pull of you like gravity. His fingers twitched with the urge to touch your waist, to tuck a piece of your hair that fell from your ponytail back just so he could feel what it was like between his fingers. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Maybe ever.

You were about to say something else, he could sense it, that moment between beats when something clicks open, but then a girl stumbled out the back door, making you turn as she grabbed your arm.

“Hey!” she slurred, glancing between the two of you before locking eyes with you. “I need you—seriously, Stacey’s throwing up and she just called freaking Mark, and she’s, like, sobbing—please come help.”

You looked over, face twisting with reluctant affection. “Shit. Yeah, okay.” you turned back to him, apology written all over your face, handing him back the nearly burnt out cigarette.

“Duty calls,” Joel said with a short nod.

“I’ll find you later?” you offered, a little breathless, and before he could reply, you were gone–swept back into the house, the music blaring for the moment the door was open, then leaving him out in the quiet again.

He stood there like a damn idiot, heart still pounding. He couldn’t even remember what he’d said to you—just a blur of cigarette smoke and smart little smiles.

You didn’t ask his name.

He didn’t ask yours.

But you’d looked at him like you already knew him.

The porch felt quieter now. Emptier, somehow, like you’d taken the oxygen with you when you left.

He took one last drag from the cigarette, flicked it into the yard, and let the silence wrap around him. Music still pulsed faintly from inside, muted now, swallowed by the thick summer air. A few fireflies blinked out by the fence. The sky above was dark and low, stars peeking through the haze of humidity and porch light glow.

He braced his hands on the railing and stared out at nothing for a long minute.

Eventually, he straightened up, ran a hand down his face, and turned back toward the house. He hadn’t seen Tommy in a while, and if he didn’t check in soon, he might completely lose track of his little brother.

Still… he glanced at the door once more before heading inside, like maybe you’d reappear if he looked hard enough.

You didn’t.

So he opened the door and stepped back into the noise. The music hit harder now—bass thrumming straight through his chest, like it was syncing up with his pulse. Everything felt louder, warmer, just a little off-kilter. The crowd moved in flashes—glimpses of faces, glitter, teeth, hands in the air—and Joel moved through it like he wasn’t fully there.

Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was you.

He made his way through the crowd slowly, eyes skimming over the living room couches, checking the faces of couples tangled together, wondering if Tommy was caught in some sort of lip lock with a random girl by now.

“Joel!”

He blinked and turned toward the sound.

There was his little brother, shoving his way through the crowd, hair messy, cheeks flushed from beer and the thrill of whatever he’d been up to. He looked like he’d just won a bet or found twenty bucks on the sidewalk.

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You good?”

Tommy grabbed his arm, grinning like an idiot. “Better than good.”

Joel gave him a look, dry. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m in love,” Tommy announced.

Joel snorted. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m serious, man.” Tommy’s eyes were gleaming. “I just met the girl I’m gonna marry.”

Joel shook his head, a smile creeping over his face. Only his little brother.

“Where?” he asked, playing along.

Tommy spun, rising on his toes to look above the crowd. “She went back that way. Wait—hold up—there.” He pointed past the kitchen, toward the hall that led to the bathrooms and the back patio.

Joel’s eyes followed his hand.

And landed on you.

You were standing beside your drunk friend, your brows knitted as you held a water bottle to her lips, gently brushing hair back from her face. Still impossibly beautiful. Still glowing in a way that had nothing to do with the lighting or the beer or the gloss on your lips.

And Tommy was pointing at you.

Joel didn’t move. Couldn’t.

“D’you see her?” Tommy said. “Little tank top, high ponytail—God, man, she’s—fuck. She smiled at me and I swear I felt it in my spine. I’m gonna find her after her friend’s chill. She said she’d come back.”

Joel’s mouth opened. Then closed.

Because what the hell was he supposed to say?

Joel nodded once, slowly. “Yeah. I see her.”

Tommy clapped his back. “She’s everything, man.”

Joel didn’t answer. Just took a long drink of his beer.

And said nothing at all.

Present Day

You were silent as you climbed into Joel’s truck, his hand reaching for yours—rough, steady, warm—lifting you carefully onto the bench seat with your full belly.

Tears still clung to your lashes, blurring the view out the passenger window as you looked up at the house. At the window just above the garage. The one that led into the nursery.

The one where it all fell apart.

Your heart ached—not just from the fight, but from the truth in it. The worst part was… you understood Tommy. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Maybe not about everything, but enough. Enough to leave a sting that wouldn’t fade anytime soon.

But that man inside the house—yelling, jealous, eyes full of something that looked too much like hate—he didn’t feel like the Tommy you knew. The man you married filled the house with music and laughter, who sang off-key in the shower and danced you around the living room with a beer in one hand and your waist in the other. He made late-night grilled cheese and kissed you with his whole heart, like he couldn’t believe you were real. He was your best friend. The one who stayed up with you talking nonsense into the middle of the night. The one who brought you coffee just the way you liked it. The one who made everything feel like the two of you were in it together—always.

He used to listen. Really listen. He was open. Curious. Soft where you needed softness and strong where you didn’t even realize you needed strength.

Where had that man gone?

Where had you gone?

“He just needs some time,” Joel said softly as if hearing your thoughts as he started the truck. It rumbled to life, and all you could do was bluntly nod, your throat too tight.

“Thanks–” you choked out, “For…I don’t know.” You shook your head. What the hell were you thanking him for? Sticking up for you to your own husband? Getting you out of your own house? Sitting beside you like the only steady thing left while everything else went to hell?

Maybe just… being here.

Joel didn’t answer. He just kept driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting palm-down on the bench between you. Like if you needed it, his hand, his steadiness, his silence…it would be there.

You sat in it—the hum of the engine, the wind coming through the windows, the muffled ache in your chest—while familiar streets gave way to unfamiliar ones. Houses changed. Yards grew wider. You passed the sign for Joel’s neighborhood, only a few miles away, but it felt like crossing a border into a different world.

“Do you remember,” Joel said, breaking the silence, “when we first met?”

You blinked, looked over at him, trying to come back to the present. “Huh?”

He didn’t look at you. Just kept his eyes on the road, but his voice was warm and comforting. That southern drawl like velvet. “You were in school. Tommy and I got dragged to some party by a buddy of ours.”

“Oh… right.” You blinked through the cobwebs of the memory. “Back when I thought I was cool for liking even grosser beer.”

Joel let out a quiet laugh at that. Just a puff of air through his nose, but it softened the edges of the truck’s cab.

“Yeah.” he sighed heavily, hand coming up to his chin as he leaned against his side door.

“What about it?”

He shook his head a little, jaw working, his fingers regripping the wheel. The leather creaked.

“Just funny how it all…” He trailed off. Exhaled. “I don’t know. Nevermind”

You studied him, brow furrowing. “What were you gonna say?”

At the next red light, he finally looked over.

His eyes met yours across the bench seat—deep, quiet, and full of something raw. Something you had been seeing more of since whatever this was had started.

A part of Joel no one else ever saw.

Your heart kicked at the look on his face. Like he was standing on a ledge and just now realizing how far the drop really was.

“It’s just…” Joel’s voice dropped. “I knew you first.”

You blinked, your brow furrowing deeper. “Tommy introduced us that night.”

Joel shook his head, eyes back on the road now, but there was a small smile twitching at his lips. “Nah, if I remember right, you bummed my only cigarette off me on the back porch. Spent ten minutes tryna figure me out like some sort of shrink.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh, the corner of your mouth lifting. You didn’t fully remember it, not clearly—but it felt right.

“Sounds like me, I guess.”

Joel’s fingers drummed once against the wheel, then stilled. “I just… I wonder sometimes.”

“Wonder what?”

The light turned green.

He didn’t answer right away. Just stepped on the gas. The truck lurched forward.

The golden hour light slanted across his face, catching the hard lines of his profile, the scar at his temple, the way his jaw twitched like he was biting down on something he’d been holding back for years.

“I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d had the guts to tell my brother I saw you first.”

You didn’t say anything.

There wasn’t anything to say.

The cab filled with silence. The kind that settled in your chest and turned tides in your stomach. The kind that said more than words ever could.

Outside the window, the trees blurred past in a haze of dying light.

And neither of you reached to turn on the radio.

When the truck pulled into the driveway, the sky was streaked in burnt orange and lavender, the last light stretching long across the hood. Joel was quick to hop out, moving around to your side before the engine had fully ticked quiet. He opened your door and held out his hand without a word.

You took it gingerly, wincing as your body shifted with effort. Six months in, everything took a little more.

He helped you down slow, steady, his hand catching at the crook of your elbow before it slid down to the small of your back as you found your footing. He kept it there as you walked toward the house—not holding you up, not rushing. Just… there.

When you stepped inside, you blinked at the silence.

“No Sarah?”

“She’s studyin’ at her friend’s. They got their exams comin’ up now,” he said, pulling the front door shut behind you. He toed off his boots near the mat, and you followed suit, groaning as you kicked yours off. Your feet were beyond swollen.

“Can we order a pizza or something? I’m dying,” you muttered, pressing a hand into the small of your back and arching until it cracked. The relief was minimal, but it was something.

Joel glanced over. His eyes skimmed your face, down to your belly, then back again. “Why don’t you sit down,” he said, already heading toward the kitchen. “I’ll make somethin’. It’ll be quick.”

You hovered near the table, one hand resting on the slope of your belly. The house was quiet. You hesitated, unsure.

“I don’t mind,” he added. “Just relax a minute.”

You wandered to the table and eased down into a chair, the weight of the day heavier now that you weren’t pretending it wasn’t. The silence of the house pressed in at the edges. You stared at the wood grain in the table. Breathed in the faint scent of garlic still lingering in the air from whatever he was fixing up. It all felt… normal. Which made it worse.

Joel moved around the kitchen, pulling things from the fridge. A box of pasta. A jar of sauce. His movements were easy, practiced.

You didn’t speak until he was chopping something—onions maybe, the soft rhythmic knock of the knife filling the space.

“I don’t know what happened,” you said quietly.

He glanced up.

You weren’t even sure where the words had come from, but they were out now.

“Things were okay. Good, even. Me and Tommy. Me and you. It felt like we were getting into a rhythm. But the last few weeks…”

Joel didn’t say anything. He just kept chopping. Listening.

You pressed your hand over your belly. “Feels like the closer we get, the more he pulls away. Like he’s finally seeing what this is gonna look like and—” Your voice cracked. You swallowed. “—and I don’t think he likes it.”

Joel set the knife down, wiped his hands on a towel. He didn’t push. Just looked at you across the counter.

“You don’t have to figure it all out tonight,” he said. “You can stay here, if you want. I’m not sure when Sarah’s gettin’ home, but… we can watch a movie or somethin’. Just… take your mind off it.”

You nodded slowly, eyes burning. “I’m just really tired, honestly.”

He understood, turning back to his cooking on the stove. You sat there, eyes unfocused, listening to the low simmer of the sauce, the clink of dishes, the soft scrape of silverware being laid out. So domestic and easy.

Before long, dinner was ready. Nothing fancy—just pasta with a little garlic, some toasted bread, and water poured into mismatched glasses.

You sat across from each other at the table, the kitchen bathed in that soft in-between light, not quite night yet.

The food was warm. The silence was easy. Neither of you said much, and that was fine. Joel wasn’t the type to fill quiet just to hear himself talk, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend you were okay. So you ate. Slowly. Each bite keeping you tethered to reality a little more.

He looked up once, just briefly, like he was checking on you without making a thing of it. You caught it but didn’t say anything. Just kept eating, your hand resting against the curve of your stomach.

By the time your plate was mostly cleared, the exhaustion was creeping back in full force—behind your eyes, in your limbs, settling deep.

Joel stood and grabbed your empty dish without a word. Washed it. Dried it. Set it aside.

Then he turned to you, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Come on. Let’s get you upstairs.”

You didn’t argue. You just stood, slowly, your joints stiff from sitting too long. His hand found your back again, that same steady pressure, guiding you through the quiet house like it was muscle memory.

When you reached the bedroom, you sat on the edge of his bed, the familiar scent of his cologne and detergent wrapping around you like a weighted blanket. Usually, it stirred something electric in your blood—lit a fuse that burned hot and fast. But tonight, it was grounding. Comforting. A balm for something deeper.

Joel gave you the softest smile, the kind he rarely let anyone see, then knelt in front of you and began to pull your socks off—slow, careful. His hands were warm, calloused in all the familiar ways, but his touch was gentler than usual. Reverent, even. He slid your pants down next, then your shirt, peeling each layer away without rush or heat.

This wasn’t the same kind of hunger he’d shown you before—wasn’t the fierce, consuming need that usually lived in the space between these sheets. This was something else. Something quieter. Worship without fire.

He stepped away for a moment, grabbed one of his sleep shirts from the dresser. You raised your arms, and he pulled it over your head with care, letting it fall over your bump and thighs. It smelled like him. Made you feel like you were wrapped in him.

Then he started to undress—slow and casual, unbothered by your gaze—and turned toward the bathroom as he unbuttoned his jeans.

“I’m gonna shower,” he said softly, voice low and rasped from the day as he shucked off the last of his clothing. “You go on and get comfortable.”

You nodded, watching him go.

And God, that view.

Joel’s bare back was broad, solid, built like it belonged to another time—hewn from marble and made to be seen on Greek statues of Achilles or Aries. You couldn’t help but stare at his tight, perky ass that always looked like it was made just for your hands.

He was so thoroughly masculine. So undeniably made from earth and sweat and quiet strength, it made something low in you ache—blood warming, mouth going dry. Even now. Even after the day you’d had.

That pull toward him never let up these days. Not really. It just shifted, simmered, and waited.

After a moment of sitting in patient silence, you eased yourself into the bed, shifting slowly beneath the sheets until the pressure on your hips and back lightened. You reached for the remote and turned Joel’s TV on low—just enough sound to fill the quiet without pulling you in. A dull hum. Something to keep the thoughts from circling too tight.

You pulled your phone out, thumb hovering before you typed the message. A small knot formed in your stomach, tight and uneasy.

I love you. I still want this with you. Can we talk in the morning?

You stared at it for a second longer than you should’ve. Then you hit send.

With a quiet sigh, you turned the phone face-down on the nightstand. You weren’t sure if you expected a reply. You weren’t even sure if you wanted one. But he deserved to know where you were, even if probably already assumed. You didn’t want him thinking you’d just given up or disappeared.

The door to the bathroom opened a few minutes later, a wave of steam curling into the bedroom as Joel stepped out, toweling off his hair. A dark towel hung low on his hips, drops of water trailing down his chest, catching in the lines of muscle carved from years of labor.

He moved toward his dresser, rifling through a drawer for something clean to sleep in.

You shifted onto your side, the tension in your belly easing with the change in position. One arm tucked beneath your bump, the other bent under your head. You watched him move, quiet and unbothered by your gaze.

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he asked, not even looking up, his voice thick with amusement.

You heard the smile in his voice before you saw it, that boyish grin flicking over his shoulder as he turned toward you.

His eyes caught yours from across the room. Your smile mirrored his.

“Definitely,” you said, voice soft but sure.

Joel chuckled under his breath, the sound low and rough as he pulled a clean shirt over his head and stepped into a pair of loose flannel sleep shorts. He didn’t rush—never did—but there was something different in the way he moved now. Something quieter, like the air between you had thickened just a little.

He turned off the bathroom light and crossed the room, climbing into bed behind you without a word. The mattress dipped under his weight, and then his arm was sliding around your waist, pulling you gently against him.

His chest pressed to your back, one of his legs curling around yours. His body was warm from the shower, and the scent of soap clung to his skin—clean and comforting, with that lingering hint of spice that was just him.

You exhaled slowly, letting yourself sink into the feeling. Into him.

Joel’s hand rested low on your belly for a beat, thumb brushing absent circles against the soft cotton of his shirt stretched over it. It felt instinctual, protective. Like his body had already memorized the shape of yours, the places that needed soothing.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, lips close to your ear.

You nodded, not trusting your voice just yet. “Yeah.” you said, swallowing dryly, “Just… nice to not be alone.”

He hummed in agreement, nuzzling the back of your neck gently. “You’re not,” he said. “Not tonight.”

His hand slipped up beneath the hem of his shirt you were wearing, fingers grazing your bare skin—light, curious, like he was just reminding himself of the feel of you. That he was still allowed to touch you like this.

You shifted slightly, giving him room. The smallest invitation.

Then—he stilled.

You felt it too. A soft nudge from inside, low and to the left. The baby moved again, a firm little kick right against Joel’s palm.

His breath caught. He didn’t pull away.

“Was that…?” he asked, voice low and rough, like he couldn’t believe it.

You smiled into the pillow. “Yeah. Think he’s saying hi.”

Joel didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just stayed there, hand wide over your belly, chest pressed to your back. You felt him swallow, the rise and fall of his breath slowing as he processed it—really felt it.

“That’s…” he exhaled, the sound brushing the back of your neck. “Wow. He’s strong.”

“Tell me about it,” you murmured with a soft groan, shifting your hips to ease the pressure. Then your hand reached back, finding his cheek, fingers curling gently as you turned your head to look at him. “Those Miller genes must make tough boys.”

Joel gave a quiet huff of a smile, but his eyes stayed on your belly. On his hand, still moving slow under your shirt, like he was memorizing every curve.

“I wouldn’t… this wouldn’t be real without you,” you said quietly, your thumb brushing his jaw. “No matter how messy it gets. You’re part of this. He’s here because of you.”

His gaze flicked to yours then—steady, searching, something unreadable in it. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t pull away either. His fingers spread wider over your belly, grounding himself in the feel of it. Of you. Of him. The little life shifting beneath his hand.

Then he leaned in.

His lips met yours, slow and sure. The brush of his beard tickled your chin, your lips, your shoulder as he breathed you in. Your mouths molded together easily, unhurried, familiar.

The hand on your belly shifted—sliding lower, then wrapping around your hips to pull you closer into him. His body curved around yours, heat pressing into your back, chest to spine, hips tucked tight flush against yours. You could feel him against you as the moment turned heated, solid and wanting beneath his pants.

Still, he kissed you like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers curled behind his neck, pulling him closer as your tongue brushed his. A soft, low sound slipped from his throat, almost like a whimper.

He kissed you more and more, each second growing a little needier. His hand slid further beneath the hem of the shirt you wore—his shirt—palm grazing your stomach, your ribs, until his fingers found the soft underside of your breast. He cupped you gently, thumb stroking over the sensitive skin, slow circles that made your breath stutter.

“You tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he murmured against your mouth, but his hands stayed steady and gentle against your soft skin.

Your breath caught, but not from surprise. It was the way he said it—low, honest, a little desperate under all that restraint.

“I don’t want you to,” you whispered back.

That was all he needed. He groaned softly, deep in his chest, and kissed you again as you arched into him, pressing your chest against his palm, the ache blooming fast and low inside you. His touch grew firmer, more certain, squeezing and caressing, dragging another soft gasp from your lips.

Joel shifted, rolling his hips against you slowly, deliberately. You felt him thick and hard through his shorts, grinding into the curve of your ass with a low exhale.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with heat. His mouth trailed down the side of your face, beard scraping your cheek, your jaw, your neck as he kissed you slowly. “Belly all big and swollen with our baby, like it was always supposed to be this way.”

You moaned softly, your breath catching as your hips rocked back to meet him, chasing the friction. His hand slid from your breast down to your belly, splaying wide as he held you there, possessive and tender all at once. You whimpered, the heat between your legs only growing as he ground into you again, deeper now, his cock rubbing right against your soaked core through your panties and his shorts. The friction was maddening, so close, but not enough.

Joel groaned, voice breaking as he rutted against you. “You feel that? How bad I want you? How much I need you?”

His hand drifted down, slow and greedy, rubbing his calloused fingers over your covered mound. Then he pushed the fabric aside, dipping into your folds—slick and aching—and swore under his breath.

“Christ,” he muttered, thick with awe. “You’re soaked, honey. Already drippin’ for me.” His lips brushed your ear. “Already knocked up with my baby, and you still need more, huh?”

“Yes, Joel—please,” you gasped, your voice breaking. You lifted your knee, spreading your legs wider for him, offering everything.

“I know, darlin’,” he rasped, fingers gathering more of your slick, moving in slow, delicious circles around your clit. “Gonna make you come so many times before I even get my cock in you.”

You cried out softly as two of his thick fingers pushed inside with no hesitation, just the perfect stretch as he filled you. Your head dropped back against his shoulder, mouth falling open as pleasure bloomed bright and hot beneath your skin.

His lips grazed your neck, then your shoulder, the scruff of his beard scraping gently as his tongue licked a slow line over your pulse. He growled into your skin, low and deep, like he wanted to sink his teeth into you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, fingers curling deep as you pulsed around them. “You feel that? That’s me takin’ care of you. My girl.”

“So—so good, Joel,” you moaned, hips rolling to meet each thrust of his fingers. “Please. More.”

He hummed behind you, the sound dark and indulgent. He pulled his fingers out, slick and shining, and brought them up to circle your swollen clit, slow and firm.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Completely fucked out and I haven’t even touched you properly yet. You love this, don’t you? Show me how much you need this.”

Your only answer was a moan, ragged and high as your body arched for him, chasing every stroke like it was oxygen. Joel kissed your neck again, then your jaw, voice rough and trembling. His fingers didn’t let up the slow, steady circles over your clit, so firm and perfect. His other hand had slid beneath your body, wrapping and anchoring you against him.

The pleasure climbed fast, stealing your breath, your thoughts. Your hips rolled helplessly, grinding into his hand, chasing that friction, that pressure, desperate to crest at the edge.

Your back arched against him, and your head tilted, lips parting on a ragged moan, “Joel—oh god—”

Your orgasm hit sharp and sudden. Your body seized, fluttering around nothing, thighs clenching tight as his fingers kept moving, easing you through it. He didn’t stop. Not when your hips jerked, not when your breath stuttered into sobs. Not even when your legs started to shake.

“C’mon, sweet girl,” he growled against you, “Again. Know you can do it.”

His mouth was everywhere as he said it—your neck, your shoulder, your cheek—kissing you with a reverence that bordered on ruinous.

You barely had a moment to breathe before his fingers dipped back inside you. Two again, deep and slow, curling just right, the heel of his palm offering friction against your aching and sensitive clit. Your body responded instantly to him, your back curling further into him.

You whimpered, hand fisting in the sheets. He curled his fingers again, thick and warm as they pushed against the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. The second wave crept up slower, thicker, your limbs going soft and heavy even as your core tightened like a coil wound to the point of snapping.

You moaned, louder this time, body trembling in his arms.

“Joel—Joel, I—”

“I know, sweet girl,” he rasped, his mouth brushing your ear, fingers still working you with unrelenting care. “Can feel your pussy grippin’ my fingers. Be a good girl now and give me another.”

Your breath caught on a sob as your body shattered again—this one deeper, longer, stealing the last of your strength. You came with a choked cry, thighs trembling, hips bucking against his hand. Your muscles clung to his fingers like they were the only thing tethering you to the world, your body instinctively holding onto him, knowing he was the one who did this to you.

Joel held you through it. His palm stayed firm and grounding over your belly while the other hand slowed, easing you down from the high. His fingers remained inside, stroking you with reverence as your body twitched and shook with the aftershocks.

Then he brought his fingers up—slick and shining with your arousal—and kissed your cheek, slow and warm.

His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper at your ear, full of control and hunger.

“Open.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a honey-laced command, thick with heat and tension.

You obeyed.

Your lips parted, and his fingers slid into your mouth. The moment his knuckles brushed your lips, you closed around them, tongue flattening beneath as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him in. The taste of yourself on his skin was heady, electric.

A low rumble of satisfaction vibrated deep in Joel’s chest.

He pulled his fingers free with a slow drag and gripped your jaw with that same hand, still wet, turning your face toward him as he leaned in and kissed you—hungry, consuming. Your hand flew to his hair, twisting in the dark hair at the base of his neck as his tongue pushed into your mouth, both of you moaning into each other like it hurt to be apart for even a second.

His body pressed tighter to yours, and you felt him—thick and heavy, and his hand moved between you, tugging your panties down your thighs, off entirely, leaving you bare for him.

One hand wrapped around the base of his cock, guiding himself to your soaked entrance. He rubbed the swollen head through your folds, slow and teasing, gathering your slick as your breath hitched.

Then he lined himself up, the broad head pushing against your opening. The stretch made you gasp, even after everything he’d already given you. You wondered for a moment if you’d ever get used to the stretch of him splitting you in two.

You reached for him instinctively, needing him closer, deeper. Joel’s hand returned to your belly, spreading wide, anchoring you again as he sank into you.

Slow. Deep. Devastating.

You moaned, the sound trembling out of you, as he filled you inch by inch—no rush, no mercy. He buried himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, your walls fluttering around him in helpless welcome.

Your eyes fluttered shut, body arching back into him, completely surrounded by him. He held still for a beat, just feeling you pulling him in deeper. You whispered his name, and he exhaled shakily against your neck.

He stayed there for a moment, fully buried, like it took everything in him not to come right then as he let you adjust. He was so thick, stretching you as your walls fluttered with every uneven breath you took. And Joel felt it—every twitch, every pulse. His hand splayed across your belly like he needed to hold onto something solid before he lost control entirely.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice torn and low. “You feel that? Feel how deep I am inside you?”

You whimpered, barely able to speak, body already fluttering around him in overstimulated waves. Your hands clutched at the sheets, at his arm, at anything you could find.

He pulled back just an inch and pushed in again, slow and heavy, dragging another desperate moan from your throat.

“Mine,” he growled, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it, but it slipped out as his cock felt you gripping him, quivering around him. His hips rolled into you again, grinding deep, making you cry out.

“You were made for this,” he rasped, kissing your neck, your shoulder, his hand gripping your breast now, fingers toying with your nipple. “For me. Made to be full of me—my cock, my cum, my baby.”

You gasped, arching into his touch, your body trembling from how completely he owned you in this moment. He thrust again—harder now, still slow but deeper, rougher. You could swear you could feel him in your stomach as he rutted into you.

You sobbed his name, overwhelmed, wrecked, clinging to him like he was your gravity.

His mouth dropped to your ear again, voice dark and shaking.

“You don’t even know what you do to me,” he whispered. “Can’t stop thinkin’ about it—how sweet you look like this. Belly round, tits heavy, pussy so fuckin’ wet for me I could drown in it.”

Another deep thrust. Another broken sound from your lips.

“Fuckin’ mine,” he growled, hips snapping harder now, losing rhythm in his need. “All of it. Every inch of you.”

He wrapped his arm under your belly again, lifting just enough to hold you steady, like you were something precious, fragile—his.

“I don’t care what happens tomorrow,” he said, thrusting slow and deep, burying his cock to the hilt. “Right now, you’re mine. This body’s mine. This pussy—” he grunted, grinding into you until your toes curled “—fuckin’ belongs to me.”

And you could only nod, barely breathing, gasping his name as the heat built again, faster this time, rising wild and uncontrollable between your legs. It was nearly Pavlovian how fast this man could bring your body to the edge within minutes.

Your body was already trembling again, every nerve stretched to its breaking point, and Joel felt it. He sensed it in the way your breath hitched, your thighs tensed, your walls fluttered around him. He thrusted deeper, slower, the weight of him unbearable in the best way. His hand slid between your legs, fingers circling your clit with practiced, devastating precision.

“You’re close again,” he muttered, lips at your ear. “I can feel it. Pussy’s already startin’ to milk me, like you need it. Need to come on my cock, huh, baby?”

You whimpered something incoherent, your nails digging into his arm as your hips rocked into every thrust, chasing that final wave. The pleasure was blinding, your body overstimulated but desperate. His voice. His hands. The way he filled you like nothing else ever could.

Then—barely above a whisper, like it wasn’t meant for you at all, “He could never give you this.”

Joel’s voice cracked around the words. Still deep. Still raw. But it shook.

“What I give you… how I make you feel...”

You sobbed out a moan, and that was it. Your body shattered, pleasure exploding through you so violently your legs kicked and shook, your cries muffled by the sheets. You clenched around him, tight and relentless, pulling him with you.

“Fuck—fuck, baby—” Joel groaned, losing himself, grinding deep into you as your orgasm ripped through you.

He cursed again, low and guttural, his hips jerking as he spilled into you with a strangled moan. The sound of his voice, wrecked and unguarded was enough to send another shiver down your spine.

He didn’t stop moving, not at first. Slow, instinctive rolls of his hips, keeping his cock deep inside you, like he couldn’t stand to pull away just yet.

You lay there, both of you trembling, still joined, his chest heaving against your back, his arms locked around your belly like you might disappear if he let go.

You hummed softly as he slid out of you, the loss of him making your body twitch with oversensitivity. He didn’t go far, his arms just curled tighter around you, pulling you into his chest like he couldn’t get enough of your skin. His face tucked into your neck, breathing you in like oxygen.

You closed your eyes and let him hold you, your hand resting on top of his where it lay over your belly.

“Joel?” you asked gently once your breath came back to you.

He hummed in response, tired and wrecked, lips brushing your skin.

“What did you mean earlier?”

You felt him tense—just barely. A flicker of hesitation. His breath slowed, deepened, like reality was creeping back in and neither of you could stop it.

“When?” he asked, low and cautious.

You swallowed hard, your voice quiet but certain. “You said… you wonder what would’ve happened if you told Tommy…”

I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d had the guts to tell my brother I saw you first.

You could feel the words hanging there between you, unspoken but known.

Joel sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly before shifting, pulling away from your back and settling against the pillows. His arm draped over his eyes as he laid back, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that told you he was thinking. Too much.

You turned carefully, your body sore and boneless but needing to be near him. You laid your head on his chest, your belly pressing against his side, fitting awkwardly but close. He didn’t stop you. Just let you come to him.

His hand dropped from his eyes a moment later, resting on your back, his thumb tracing over your spine.

“I shouldn’t’ve said that,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Not tonight.”

That was it. No elaboration. No apology, either. Just Joel’s version of walking the line—saying something and unsaying it all at once.

You looked up at him, searching his face. “But…what did you mean? Did you…have you always have feelings?”

He didn’t look at you. Just stared at the ceiling, jaw working.

After a moment, his hand slid to your belly, resting there like it always did.

“I don’t know what any of it means." he said finally. “I just know it ain’t simple.”

Your throat ached, but you nodded anyway. Because it wasn’t.

Not with him. Not with Tommy. Not with this.

You laid your head back on his chest, his heartbeat steady in your ear. And neither of you said anything else.

Because maybe silence was safer than the truth.

taglist: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @alidiggory92 @pinkylouise @izzy698 @doblasftcisco @devotedlypaleluminary @elsplayground @puduvallee @victoriaholland @legoemma @leenieweenie12 @possiblyafangirl @alitaar @mads198-9 @emmaoc10 @auteurdelabre @the-last-twin-of-krypton @lilasskicker2 @levislegislation @flowercrowns-goodvibes @starmurdock @94namkooksworld

#family matters #joel miller #tommy miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x reader #joel miller tlou #tommy miller tlou #tlou fanfic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut

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lucidlabyrinthine145 · 1 day ago

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Yandere Batfam x Neglected!Elle Woods!Reader (Part 1)

- You're another one of Bruce's illegitimate children, and he took you in after your mother's death

- In the family you stuck out like a sore thumb. While everyone was an edgelord to some degree, you were bubbly and ditzy, liking pink and all types of feminine things, you also loved shopping and fashion, which led to everyone believing you were a spoiled brat

- As such, no one in your family took you seriously

- Bruce prioritised everyone else over you, since you were the only child of his that wasn't a vigilante and thought you could handle yourself since the others have the added burden of being vigilantes

- This led him to unintentionally missing important events in your life, like birthdays and competitions, and dismissed any issues you might have had, since he saw you as the 'normal' child

- You never saw Dick much since he was off in Bludhaven, but when he was around he was nice but distant. He'd ruffle your hair but his attention would quickly go to other things

- "Hey [Name]! Sorry, but I need to go look for Damian."

- Tim and you never really spoke much despite being closer in age, you were both just too different, and when you did try to engage with him and his hobbies he'd get annoyed and wave you away

- "Can you leave me alone? I'm busy." he said in annoyance as you tried asking him the details of his research on a current case

- Jason is jealous of you because in his eyes, you were a spoiled brat who had everything handed to them on a silver platter, what gives you the right to complain? He's always aggressive when he's around you, so you took to avoiding him whenever you could

- Damian was arguably the worst to you. When you first met, he attempted to kill you since he thought he had to kill the other biological child to get a place in the family, leaving a scar on your neck

- The worst part was having to listen to Dick and Bruce justify his actions

- "He's just a child, [Name]. He's been raised by assassins his whole life. Tim forgave him, why can't you?"

- It wasn't just that he tried to kill you, it was mainly that he never apologised and actively took time out of his day to belittle you for being the 'weak link' of the family

- You were largely okay with Cassandra and Barbara, but Stephanie was kind of a bully, she belittled you for your interests, calling you a 'pansy' and a 'wuss'

- Duke and Alfred were the only ones who showed you a shred of human decency, but they were busy, and you could tell that even they somewhat underestimated your intelligence

- Despite your pink-loving bimbo get-up, you knew damn well what everyone thought of you. It hurt, but it wasn't going to stop you. You used your brains to get into college while you were still a minor, studying to get your degree in Cosmetology

- It all came crashing down when your boyfriend, Warner, broke up with you

- "W-What do you mean you're breaking up with me?!" you stammered, feeling tears prick your eyes. "I'm sorry, [Name]. You're just too...pink." Warner said with faux apologetics.

- As you were left there crying, you swore to yourself that you'd win your boyfriend back. That you weren't just some bubbly girly pink airhead. You got into college while you were still underage. It's time to go to Harvard.

- And maybe your family will finally notice you, but that's more of a secondary objective.

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

Taglist!

@cantfindmelol @princesscosmo @1abi @helloitsmeeeeeee @tojisluttttt @simpingpandas @cruzerforce4256 @sirenetheblogger @simpingmyassoff @icefox8155 @emotional-otter @aetheriis

#yandere batfam x neglected reader #gender neutral reader #neglected reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x reader #this is my first post

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effinbirds · 3 days ago

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Your pal Effin' Birds did a cover for issue #5 of Sweet Paprika: Open For Business, out June 4th from Image. Tell your local comic book shop that you want Cover D, aka the Dog In Heaven cover, order code 0425IM410. https://imagecomics.com/comics/releases/mirka-andolfos-sweet-paprika-open-for-business-5-of-5

Huge thanks to Steve Orlando for wanting me on this project, and to Mostafa Moussa for his inks that pulled the whole thing together.

Here's me 'n Mos at Dragon Con last year, when he delivered the finished inks. Feel free to identify my excellent cosplay.

Here's the lucky Effin' Birds fan (whose name I do not remember and I feel really bad about it) who snagged the original just hours hours after I saw it for the first time.

And here's a photo from last summer at Freddy Beach Fan Fest in New Brunswick, Canada, where, if you look closely, you can see me figuring out the dog.

computer, enhance

TECH NERD SHIT: Someone is gonna ask, so that's a ReMarkable 2 with a Staedtler Mars Lumograph Digital stylus. This was my go-to combo for both writing and drawing until recently when I upgraded to a ReMarkable Paper Pro. It's an upgrade in almost every way: colour, storage, speed, battery life. I'm a little bummed that the Paper Pro uses a proprietary stylus, though, because one of the joys of the 2 was this wide world of input devices that have different feels in the hand and different tactile feedback (harder and softer tips, different barrels, etc). The combo of the Staedtler barrel, a hard Mitsubishi / WACOM tip (stolen from the Mitsubishi Hi-Uni Digital stylus, my second-favourite, just a little too short for my big hands), and the pebbled glass of the ReMarkable 2 convinced my body that I was working with a pencil on paper and made me instantly comfortable.

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landoughnut · 20 hours ago

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Simply Lovely - MV1

masterlist - request

pairing: max verstappen x ferrari driver!fem!reader

summary: the power couple of the grid dominating the season

w/c & a/n: smau | I keep changing my format

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, scuderiaferrari, f1, charles_leclerc, and 4,197,027 others yourusername exciting pole for the 1st race this season!! ❤️🏎️

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user1 LETS GOO FORZA FERRARI ♥︎ by author

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yourusername THANKS LANN

maxverstappen1 first is always best, but if getting second place means seeing you in first then we're both winners

yourusername omg I'm tearing up that is so sweet 🥹 I love you so so much

maxvertstappen1 yourusername I love you more mijn kampioen 💙

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user4 that's like the highest compliment max could give

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user5 the way ferrari and red bull put their rivalry aside and both support max and y/n is the cutest thing ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 user5 the only difference is, is that ferrari supports me cause I'm dating her, red bull supports her cause she's good 😸

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maxverstappen1 user6 and proud of it 🧎‍♂️♥︎ by author

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, lando, and 4,197,027 others yourusername AND THATS POLE POSITION 🏆❤️ maxverstappen1

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user7 YESSSSSSS QUEEN 👸

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yourusername I LOVE YOU MORE

maxverstappen1 how do you look so beautiful getting covered in champagne? ♥︎ by author

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user9 max caught in 4k 📸

yourusername lando it's alright I like to ogle him too 🥰

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user10 imagine both being such good drivers that you can make heart eyes at each other on podium after each race 🥲

user11 user10 relationship goals

lando yourusername max told me not to say but I saw his eyes watering during the national anthem

yourusername maxverstappen1 all good tears I hope

maxverstappen yourusername happy tears for you 💙 lando big mouth 🖕 ♥︎ by author

lando maxverstappen1 HEY

lilymhe CONGRATULATIONS MY WIFE ♥︎ by author

yourusername THANK YOU SM LILY BABE ILY 💍

alex_albon .....

maxverstappen1 ........

user12 AND THATS ON GIRL POWER 🎀 ♥︎ by author

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user13 QUEEN OF FERRARI 🤭

user14 the tifosi's savior 🙏

charles_leclerc .............

user14 charles_leclerc did you will 13/24 races last year and the first two races of this season??

charles_leclerc user14 🧍🏻‍♂️

yourusername charles_leclerc LMAOAOAOAO YOU GOT HUMBLED AF

user15 awhh the pic of her and max driving next to each other 🫠

redbullracing congrats yourusername!! you know what they say, blue is the color of success! ♥︎ by author

scuderiaferrari literally no one says that ♥︎ by author

mclaren some people say papaya brings luck 😁 ♥︎ by author

redbullracing mclaren leave

scuderiaferrari mclaren leave

mclaren I guess I'll see myself out then..... 😪

maxverstappen1 why don't the teams fight over me like this 🥺

user16 maxverstappen1 cause your girlfriend is just better 🥺 ♥︎ by author

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maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, redbullracing, f1, lando, carlossainz55, and 4,197,027 others maxverstappen1 simply lovely drive tonight 🏆 yourusername

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yourusername THAT'S MY BOYFRIENDDDDD ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 😘💙

yourusername YOU LOOKED SO HOT NEXT TO ME ON PODIUM 😩 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 and you'll so hot next to me in bed later

lando EW YOU HORNDOGS GET A ROOM 🤢

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scuderiaferrari 🥶 ♥︎ by author

user18 BROO THE WAY HE RAN TO KISS HER AFTER THE BOTH FINISHED THE RACE 🥹

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maxverstappen1 lando 🫢🫄

user19 UGHH THEY LOOKED SO FINE TOGETHER ON PODIUM

lewishamilton 💪 ♥︎ by author

user20 max's radio message being him dedicated this win to her had me getting emotional

user21 REALLLL

user22 he does this every win yet every time it gets me

yourusername I'm so so proud of you 💞 ♥︎ by author

alphinef1team pink for alpine⁉️⁉️

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redbullracing alphinef1team leave ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 yourusername thank you, mijn liefde, you're my greatest trophy 💙

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elfwreck · 18 hours ago

Text

This. So much this.

Look. I love my job. I have a great job. My coworkers are talented and friendly; my manager understands my work and runs interference between our team and the people we work with who don't. We have a good benefits package. I work 7-hour days and have both vacation time and substantial sick leave. (For people not in the US: Paid time off is not required by law, except that my state requires up to 5 days a year paid sick leave. My job has a lot more than that.)

We have weekly open video chats on DEI topics. We do a whole month of Black History topics, then Women's History; June will cover Pride topics. And we have other things - chats about what movies we're watching, holiday meal plans, favorite music - it's very much "come hang out with your coworkers, maybe learn something, enjoy each other's company." And that's paid time.

They have a mentorship program that's also awesome. Half-hour a week or so with someone supportive who helps you figure out what you want to do with your career - or just helps you be happier with your life, because the company understands that people who are happy with their jobs (1) are less likely to leave and (2) do better work.

Still.

I am damn well aware that the company does not care about me. I may have actual friends I work with - they don't set company policy. Policies were not created for my benefit; they were created to make the company money.

Some of how the company makes money, is making me comfortable enough to do good work, is making me unwilling to look for a different employer.

But "me being comfortable and happy at work" is not the goal. The goal is corporate profit. My good mood is a side effect.

They'd love all their employees to be happy and comfortable. But if they're facing a choice between profits and happy employees - there is no question which one they'll pick.

And I work for a good company, one that wants us happy, one where there is no petty cruelty in upper management.

When you're at work, don't put your thoughts into "how do I make them value me?" Put your effort into "what can I gain by being here?" Maybe that's just a paycheck and nothing else - in which case, look for skills you can use to find a new job, one where you also get pleasant coworkers and training to get a raise.

Your coworkers may care about you. Your manager may care about you. Never believe the company cares about you.

#jobbish

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yamumsyadadd · 23 hours ago

Text

hidden (2)

part one is here

For the most part, that’s how your relationship went for an entire year. Behind closed doors, hidden away from friends and family. It was truly exhausting.

There was one date out in public, the first and only one you ever went on. When Alexia asked you out, you didn’t even hesitate. The recommendation had come from Jana, it was her favourite hole in the wall restaurant that her and Jill found, she told anyone on the team who would listen.

In terms of first dates, it was awkward, the pressure to do small talk was evident but you both felt well past that. You had seen each other naked and done filthy things to each other before a date was even on the table.

The awkwardness broke when you asked about her foundation and the process of starting it. You leaned forward, fully absorbed into what she was saying. It was like a different side of Alexia was out that night, until she left you there. At the restaurant, alone.

After the waiter politely informed you that it was almost the end of your reservation, you went to the bathroom and Alexia said she’d wait at the front for you. Expect when you returned, she was gone. The waiter informed you that she settled the bill and then left.

It hurt, more than hurt actually. But once you saw Irene and her wife it all made sense.

“y/n, what are you doing here?” Irene’s gaze was intense, looking around for someone who could belong to you.

“Oh Jana finally convinced me to come here.” It wasn’t the best lie, but it was all you could come up with.

“Where is she?”

“Waiting at the car. I needed to use the bathroom, so she said she’d wait at the car, no point staying in here and being uncomfortable, right?”

“Right.” She slowly nodded.

“I better go. I’ll see you tomorrow at training!” you said your goodbyes and then left. Heading towards the carpark so your lie was somewhat more convincing. Alexia’s car was gone, she left. Truly left. No text message, no call, nothing.

Your brain was so confused. In the privacy of your apartment, alexia doted on you. She made you coffee and breakfast, even when she didn’t eat breakfast. But then at training, during the day, you didn’t exist.

As you walked home, a few tears slipped out. Was it your fault that she was like this? Was it how you looked? Were you simply not enough for her? While you walked, you sent Jana a simple message, no details, no fuss.

If Irene asks, you and I went to dinner tonight.

You thought to yourself that if alexia wanted to pretend you didn’t exist, you would do the same to her. So you did. It only lasted an entire week. It was hard for you to ignore her late-night texts and calls, even harder when she would turn up to your apartment. But she never said anything to your face. At training, you didn’t exist to her expect for as a teammate, and you made sure you treated her the same way.

Sometimes, there was a flash of hurt across her face, it would only last a second or two, but you saw it. It made you feel guilty, sad for her, even if it was the same thing she as doing to you. So on the 7th night, you caved. Answering the door when she arrived fifteen minutes before midnight.

“Why have you been ignoring me amor?”

“Me? Ignoring you?” you couldn’t help the bitter laugh that came out, “Alexia, you pretend I don’t exist outside this apartment? At training? You don’t see me Alexia, really see me.” You didn’t realise that it actually hurt that much until you vocalised it, when she reached out to wipe a few tears that slipped, you let her. “You left me in that restaurant like an idiot. You didn’t call or text. I walked home crying because I thought I did something wrong.”

“No amor you didn’t. I promise. I saw Irene and Lucinda and freaked out. She doesn’t know how I feel about you; how alive you make me feel. I didn’t want her to find out, to try and burst our bubble. I’m sorry, truly I am. I will do better.”

You let her show you how sorry she was over and over again. And over the next two weeks, she did make more of an effort. At training, she didn’t ignore you, but neither of you wanted to outwardly tell your teammates about whatever this was between you two.

For two weeks she made you feel like you were on top of the world. Sending you restaurant ideas and talking openly about you meeting her family. When she asked you to be her girlfriend, officially, you said yes right way under the pretence that things wouldn’t change.

Slowly though, she slipped back into the way she was. When you’d laugh with Jana or Cata, she’d send a dirty look your way, as if you weren’t allowed to have your own friends outside of your relationship. The coldness returned fully after you asked about her family. Her mami and sister were at most of the games, and you simply wanted to meet them.

“no.” alexia didn’t even spare you a glance.

“No? alexia we have been dating for ages, they are always at the games and- “

“no. end of discussion.”

“But why Alexia?”

“Because I said no. why can’t you understand that.”

“I’m trying to understand why you are saying no. what about me makes you so ashamed?”

“Dios Mio, you are so dramatic. You aren’t meeting my friends or my family. End of conversation. If you keep going, then I’m going home.” Your heart broke. She is ashamed of you, but for what reason you didn’t know.

“You should leave.” You said quietly. Feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

“amor- “

“No go home alexia.” You slammed your bedroom door closed, sliding down the back of it and letting yourself cry into your knees. She left quickly after that, slamming the door hard and it caused you to cry even harder.

There was no one you could talk to about this. You’d promised to keep your relationship on the downlow, your friends at home didn’t even know. So you cried yourself to sleep. Alexia was still mad when you arrived at training the next day. Everyone was on edge as their captain stomped around the locker-room.

“God what is her problem today?” Jana said as she sat down next to you.

“Maybe she got dumped?” Esme whispered, you felt your chest tighten. Theres no way that Esme could know, is there? When you went to look up at her, she was already looking at you, eyes soft with pity.

“Maybe.” You said with a shrug, looking back down at the floor.

Alexia stayed mad, all day. You tried to ignore her, to focus on training but that became impossible when you were forced to face her in the final part of training. At first it was fine; she didn’t need to mark you and you were able to keep clear.

Then Jona changed things. With every elbow and every shove you could feel yourself growing more annoyed. By the end of it you decided to play her game, you wouldn’t let her treat you like this. At home or at training.

The tackle was clean, you didn’t make any contact with her body, only the ball. But the sheer force of it forced alexia to stumble, sending her body hurling to the ground.

“What the hell was that!” she screamed in your face.

“Ale, it was a clean tackle.” Irene came in-between the two of you before you had a chance to bit back.

“Bullshit it was!”

“Enough!” Jona’s voice cut through, “trainings done. Everyone go home.”

You all but ran back to the locker-room, not wanting to deal with the questions from your friends nor the wrath from Alexia. You didn’t move fast enough though because she came bonding in.

“What is your problem!”

You scoffed at her, as if she didn’t know she was the cause of it all, “leave me alone alexia.”

“No. you’re behaving like a child! You-“

“A child? Me? I think that’s you. Ever since-“ Irene’s entrance into the locker-room stopped you dead in your tracks, this wasn’t the time nor the place for it. “Forget it. Forget everything Alexia.” You through your bag over your shoulder and left. Ignoring the pleas from Jana and cata to stop.

The fight lasted a few weeks, it wasn’t completely radio silent. You would let her come over when you needed sex but never when she needed it. It wasn’t until right before Christmas break that Alexia came over and wouldn’t leave until you talked to her.

“I’m sorry okay? Im sorry.” She pleaded through the door.

“Go home Alexia.”

“Please let me talk to you and then I’ll go.”

“Talk.” You knew that as soon as she was in front of you, you’d forgive her. You love her too much not too.

“Open the door please.” And you did. Alexia looked like shit, in one hand she held a piece of paper, and the other was tucked safely in her pocket.

You left her standing there in the hallway, walking to the couch and sitting down. For a moment, alexia hesitated. She wrote a letter with everything she wanted to say, but now that she was here, she was scared.

She cleared her throat before starting, “I am incredibly sorry for the way I have treated you for the last four months. You deserved better, the truth is that I’m scared. Because I love you, so much. Every time we are together, I never want to be separated, I want to marry you, to have a family with you. But I can’t be public with this. Not now and maybe not ever.”

“Alexia, not once did I ask you to make this relationship public. I just wanted to be seen by your friends or your family. I wanted to know them, but you refused. Never telling me why and starting fights instead.”

“I know, I know. You can meet them, my sister, Alba, she would love you. My mami too. Please just let me show you.” She came to crouch in front of you, pulling your hands apart and placing hers on top.

“Okay.” You whispered out, getting lost in her hazel eyes as she searched yours.

Her hands cupped your face, and she kissed you hard. There were only a few days between the conversation with Alexia and Christmas break. To be fair to her, she did take you out. It was only to the Barcelona Christmas festival, but to you it was something. She openly held your hand, took photos of you and with you. Laughed and genuinely seemed like she was a changed person.

even over the break, while you were in America and she was in Spain, she called, she texted, she put in effort. To you, alexia had changed, had become the person she promised you.

She kept the promise of introducing you to her sister, it was only brief, but it was enough to satisfy you for now. There was a comment she made, about how it was almost Alexia’s birthday, something you knew, but what you didn’t know was that there was a party planned. A party you weren’t invited to.

There was a part of you that held out hope, that alexia would incite you, but she was just waiting for the right time. But that hope quickly disappeared as you sat there on your couch, on February 4th waiting for your girlfriend to turn up. She had agreed, you would make a nice dinner, give her a present and sex. But as the clock ticked closer to 1am, you realised that you were being stood up.

It was a reoccurring event. Alexia would make a promise, shed break the promise, a fight would ensue and then apologies, she’d change for a few weeks, maybe even a couple of months, but then go back to how it was. You decided, then and there, you’d give her until May, after that, if she hadn’t changed probably, then it was the end.

When may rolled around, you knew what you had to do. It was just about the timing. You didn’t want to go through a breakup in the weeks leading up to the champions league final, but you also didn’t want to continue in this hell scape of a toxic relationship.

Every time you tried, you chickened out. You couldn’t even bring yourself to stop inviting her over. As you stood in your living room, looking at all the odds and ends that Alexia had left in your apartment, a knock sounded.

“Esme?” you were confused, none of the girls had really ever been at your apartment, “Are you ok?”

“I actually came here to ask you that.”

“Come in.” you moved out of the way, letting her lead the way through to your loungeroom. Neither of you spoke for a little bit, Esme was looking around the apartment, probably making note of all of Alexia’s things like you had done mere minutes before her arrival.

“I have a girlfriend.” Esme looked at you, really looked at you, “we have a private relationship. But all our friends know, occasionally we post each other on Instagram but not super often, it’s something we both prefer… but you and alexia are different?”

“How did you know?” You were shocked, truly.

“I live a few doors down. I’ve seen you, in the hallway, in the garage. I’ve heard the fighting too.”

“it’s complicated.” She gave you a look to go on, you took a deep breath and unloaded, “for almost a year we have been in this cycle. I want to meet her family and her friends, but she doesn’t want it. At training, she acts like I don’t exist, but here, at home, it’s like im the only person in the world. I’ve tried, and tried, but it only starts fights and now, well, I’m tired.”

“there’s a difference between a relationship being a secret and hidden. Yours seems to be hidden.”

“It is. I don’t want that. I love Alexia, I love her so much, but all the fighting and making up, I can’t keep going like this.”

“you’re going to back up with her?” you nodded your head, Esme raised her eyebrows, “can you like wait? Until after the champions league? I’d like to win.” You laughed at that, because you too wanted to win.

The champions league final was electric. Something you had never experienced and were so incredibly grateful that you got the chance. By the end of the game, Barcelona were the European champions.

It was probably the high of the win, mixed with the alcohol, but when Alexia pulled you into her side and dragged you to meet her family, you felt almost disgusted. It seemed that you were only now worthy of meeting them because you scored in the final.

As you looked toward Esme, Irene stepped into your line of sight. She did not look happy at all, and you knew she wasn’t a fan of this relationship which made you feel better about ending it.

After the high of the Champions League win and the end of the season looming, you knew it was time. Alexia would stay in South America after the team had left, then going to her own camp to prepare for their first Olympics, you would fly back to America and stay there until it was time.

The plan was simple, you invite Alexia over, break up with her and then lock yourself in your room. But that never worked. Every time she came over, she looked even more beautiful, there was a glow about her, something you couldn’t shattered.

So as you sat on the plane, flying the mere two hours back to LA before international break, you sent her a simple text. You knew it was fair, but she hadn’t been fair for the majority of the relationship.

To Alexia: I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry alexia.

You tucked your phone away, letting the tears fall. Just because it needed to be done doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

#woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #fcb femení #woso x reader #alexia x reader #barca femeni #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexiaputellas #woso soccer #fc barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni

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syluxs · 2 days ago

Text

shower for two

pairing: sylus/reader

summary: showering together for the first time, you expected something intense--overflowing tension, something unmistakably heated. but instead, it was easy, playful. sylus has proved once again that he wasn’t like other men, washing your hair like it was the most natural thing in the world

notes: pure fluff i wanna combust

honestly, you had expected this to be….. intense. awkward. full of charged tension. after all, seeing each other naked during that time was different--there was an urgency, a purpose. there was an unspoken heat that left no room for hesitation.

but showering together?

you were both level-headed, fully aware, with nothing to hide behind. that made it feel almost too different. also, it was a me time thing for you back then. a moment of solitude. a time to think, to let your mind wander, to just be in the calm. it wasn’t supposed to be shared--at least, not with anyone else before you started dating sylus. this was yours, something personal, something just for you.

yet here you were.

sylus was completely unfazed. with an ease that only he could pull off, he took off his towel and neatly hung it up--because of course he would. he wasn’t some unhygienic guy who would just let it drop onto the floor.

your eyes widened at his action, mouth parted slightly in shock at him being so casual abt this.

he noticed, of course, and let out a deep chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction.

"really?" he teased, tilting his head at you. "it's nothing you haven't seen before."

you frowned at him, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. slowly, deliberately, you removed your own towel--though far less smoothly than he had--and awkwardly hung it up, mirroring his movements like some kind of hesitant, poor attempt at composure.

you stood there for a moment, shifting uncomfortably, as if trying make yourself invisible. your posture was stiff, like you weren’t sure what to do with yourself.

finally, after a deep breath, you hesitantly stepped toward the shower, trying to make yourself seem as small as possible.

sylus immediately noticed your unusual sheepishness. instead of teasing, he simply let out a soft chuckle and, like it was the most natural thing to say, he said, "why are you hiding, kitten? you're beautiful, you know that."

your entire body tensed. it was such a casual compliment, but it hit you like a tidal wave. you could feel ur stomach making all sorts of movements, heat rising to your face as you struggled to keep your composure.

maybe this was just the honeymoon phase, since you had only recently started dating. but still, it had always been like this with sylus, even before you were together. the feelings were always intense, ready to swallow you whole.

he reached out and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up before stepping under the stream. you watched as he tilted his head back, running a hand through his wet white hair, his red eyes momentarily closing as he let out a deep, satisfied sigh. the sight made your heart do an embarrassing little skip. his toned muscles stood out under the bathroom light, water running over the sharp lines of his broad shoulders, down the contours of his chest. with his hair pushed back, his sharp, handsome features were on full display--something you tried so hard not to openly admire.

instead of making a snarky comment or throwing a teasing smirk on at how shy you were acting, like you expected from the dynamics where you two started out, even before dating, he just… hummed. content. relaxed.

"water’s nice," he murmured. "you getting in or just gonna stand there and stare?"

you scoffed, stepping in. "not staring. just mentally preparing myself."

"for what?" his lips twitched. "afraid you’ll get overwhelmed by my beauty?"

"more like bracing myself for the ego explosion."

sylus chuckled, stepping aside to let you under the stream. the warm water cascaded over you, washing away any lingering awkwardness. for a moment, you stood there, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation.

then--

"hey, move," you grumbled, nudging his side when he took up way too much space. "you’re hogging the water."

"i am the taller one here," he pointed out. "makes sense i take up more space."

"that’s not how this works," you huffed, shoving at his arm. "equal shower rights. scoot."

he let out a dramatic sigh but shifted over, giving you a bit more room. but just as you started shampooing your hair, you felt a hand on your head.

you blinked up at him. "what are you doing?"

"saving time." he said as he lathered the shampoo into your hair.

you narrowed your eyes. "this is suspiciously nice of you. are you planning something?"

"do i need a reason to do this?” he smirked. "besides, your height makes it easier for me to reach."

"maybe you're enjoying this a bit too much."

"maybe," he admitted, fingers massaging your scalp in slow, deliberate movements.

you almost melted on the spot. okay, maybe sharing a shower wasn’t that bad. in fact, it was actually kind of….. nice. relaxing.

but, of course, sylus couldn’t resist being sylus.

"you look like a wet cat right now."

"oh my gosh, get out." you playfully pushed at him, but he barely budged, his laughter only growing.

sylus was completely unbothered as he grabbed some soap and turned you around. "stay still," he muttered, running his hands over your back with gentle efficiency. his touch was firm but careful, working in slow, methodical circles as he scrubbed away the suds.

honestly, with how most men were, you expected this to have some kind of tension, maybe even turn into something intense, something undeniably charged with anticipation. but it wasn’t. not even close. and you felt so good about that, because once again, sylus had proven he wasn’t like other men. damn.

you huffed but let him, feeling oddly pampered.

when he finished, you grabbed the soap and grinned up at him. "your turn."

sylus raised a brow but turned around, giving you access to his broad back. you dragged the soap along his toned muscles, biting back a laugh at the contrast of how nonchalant he had been about touching you versus how stiff he got when you did the same.

then, unable to resist, you playfully smacked his ass.

he jolted, nearly slipping. "what was that for?"

"couldn’t help myself," you grinned. "prime, golden opportunity."

his ears turned red, and for the first time since you stepped in, he looked flustered. “you're unbelievable.”

"aww, don’t be shy, kitten," you teased, mimicking his earlier words.

sylus groaned, covering his face with one hand. "i regret everything."

he may have said that, but he didn’t mean it. not even a little. the way his lips twitched, the way his red eyes softened when he looked at you--it was obvious. no matter how much you exasperated him, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #sylus #sylus x reader #lads #lnds #lads x reader #lnds x reader #shin #shin x reader #qin che #qin che x reader #mine #lmk if there's any error or whatever i'm literally editing it after posting ugh #i always miss the redundant words when writing on a laptop #i only see them when rereading on mobile

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dokries · 3 days ago

Text

things seventeen take pride in doing for their partners

pairing: seventeen x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mentions of food, some kissing

author note: hello! i’m alive!! thank you anon for requesting this, and i’m so sorry it took…literally 5 months to write this 😭 i hope you enjoy it though! thank you to my awesome friends who helped me write this <3 (honestly i have no idea where so much for chan came from but extra chan love!!)

masterlist

seungcheol (s.coups) - buying you groceries

⟢ seungcheol is a provider, and he’d love to be the one getting you things, especially if it was something as important as groceries.

⟢ he’d totally just text you for a list, and expect you to just tell him exactly what you wanted—plus later, you’d get a bunch of pictures asking which brand or version you wanted of something to make sure he doesn’t get the wrong thing.

⟢ he’d want to pay for most, if not all of it—but he wants you to be comfortable with what he does, so you could both figure out who’s paying for it (though he’d definitely make sure to pay for the small things at least).

⟢ he has his card (and wads of cash) and he’s not afraid to spend it on you—in fact, he prefers it that way.

⟢ it’s even better when you’re with him, since you can spend time together and do something essential (and perhaps it gives him a glimpse of what’ll come down the line, once you’re both older).

jeonghan - getting you the hot gossip from work

⟢ jeonghan is…honestly, he’d make sure he picks up all the gossip for himself—and for you both to discuss later.

⟢ he wouldn’t be nosy per say…he’d just keep his ears open when there were people around talking, okay? it’s not his fault they’re so loud.

⟢ and of course, he’d retell it to you in such a way that you couldn’t help but be completely immersed in the drama because his manager is dating who?

⟢ there’s multiple lines of gossip that you both follow based on who you’re talking about, and each week there’s at least one debrief session where the two of you sit down on the couch and you just absorb the information he gives you.

⟢ he’s glad to see the different expressions you make, and it makes him happy to see you so interested in something he’s telling you about, even if it’s something horrendous about his co-worker—and then when you snuggle up next to him, ready to fall asleep he gives you a small smile and pats your head in contentment.

jisoo (joshua) - buying you flowers or little trinkets

⟢ i think that while joshua’s love language is more like quality time, he seems like the type of person to also buy you flowers every few weeks—or whenever the flowers he previously got you wilt.

⟢ he’d totally get a bouquet for you and a flower for himself to make sure he knew exactly when to get you some new ones.

⟢ obviously, it’ll be your favourite flowers! or just ones that remind him of you, depending on the week.

⟢ if you’re allergic to flowers, he’d get you chocolate or something else you really like—it doesn’t have to be exclusively flowers :>

⟢ he’d see little deer characters and think it would remind you of him, so he would drop them over at your place so you’d always have a way to remember him! (you’d definitely have a little deer and cinnamoroll collection at home somewhere).

junhui (jun) - cooking for you

⟢ even though jun is busy, he knows you are too, so he makes sure to make dinner for you when you get home.

⟢ he immediately rushes you out of the kitchen when you try to help and shushes your protests.

⟢ he’d beg you to just let him cook for you—unless you really wanted to cook yourself. at that point, he would make sure to be the trustiest assistant chef you’ve ever had, just to make it a little easier.

⟢ he just enjoys seeing you have something he made for you and the smile you give him afterwards always makes it worth it.

⟢ if he’s not there for dinner, he makes sure to leave a packaged meal for you in the fridge, complete with a sweet sticky note telling you to eat well and text him a cat meme when you see it.

⟢ he’d make sure to note down your favourite foods, and try to remake some of the things you’ve liked when you both go out on dates to make you happy—because it makes him happy too.

soonyoung (hoshi) - bringing you snacks when you’re busy

⟢ if soonyoung noticed you hadn’t gotten up to get food or drink water in a while, he would come in himself, giving you a plate of fruit or whichever snack you liked the most with a water bottle to keep by your side as you worked.

⟢ he’d do this even in the late hours, when you were studying for an exam or an important report for work, and give you something sweet as a treat—and a reminder that no matter what happens, he cares.

⟢ if you didn’t mind, he’d just sit with you in the same room and do something else to pass the time so you wouldn’t feel alone.

⟢ if he couldn’t be with you but knew you were working or studying long hours, he’d get food delivered to you—or deliver it to you himself again, showing up on your doorstep later at night, hoping a hug and a good meal will energize you.

wonwoo - fixing all your tech issues

⟢ honestly, this is something he’d be really good at.

⟢ like yes, he’s good at so many other things but as soon as you run into any problem whatsoever, he’d know how to help—even if he did have to watch a youtube tutorial or read a guide for your tv.

⟢ he’d fix his glasses right after he managed to fix that weird glitch where your google results were all in a different language or your phone would keep shutting down on you.

⟢ would definitely guide you through fixing anything if he couldn’t be there, and wake up sleepily to facetime so he could see the problem—his glasses askew and his bed hair on full display.

⟢ wonwoo would be proud to call himself your tech guy, especially if it made you smile—and besides, he’s happy he can help you with any challenges, even if it’s something simple.

jihoon (woozi) - planning surprise dates

⟢ jihoon, honestly, spends a lot of time on his own in the studio, and while you visit, he really knows he needs to get out of his second home sometimes—and a date with you is a good way to do that.

⟢ he’d do it shyly, calling you up to first ask if you were busy, and then ask if you could come meet him at the studio (he…can’t drive, otherwise he would pick you up.)

⟢ it’d be nothing much in his eyes: a stroll at a park nearby, learning something new, going out for dinner—simple things that were better when he did them with you.

⟢ sometimes he’d just show up at your home with flowers, his face red, since he’d been encouraged by soonyoung to do so and be “more romantic for once!” (or at least, that’s how soonyoung saw it. he didn’t really know about the archive of songs that jihoon had written inspired by you, and you had only seen a few of them anyway.)

⟢ he’d always make sure to look into places where you would be interested so you could go together, and he could watch you be entertained by something you wanted to do—even if it wasn’t something he would do himself.

seokmin (dokyeom) - notes of encouragement

⟢ seokmin’s the type of person to send long, long texts about how much he loves you and how proud he is of you every so often, especially if you’re busy and he can’t see you as much as he wants to!

⟢ he’d leave little notes around the kitchen after weekly movie night, so that when you wake up the next morning, he can see your reaction when you see his shameless puns on the colourful paper—which are all definitely related to whatever you watched. or you know, dad jokes. one of the two.

⟢ if he ever brought you lunch while you were out, he’d leave a little note telling you to eat well and message him so he knows you’re doing okay!

⟢ he wants to make sure you know you’re loved and when you write your own notes for him, he just about melts, giving you a gentle peck on the forehead and a long hug until you both end up giggling.

mingyu - fixing things around the house

⟢ yes, he may be clumsy but mingyu is always volunteering to build you new furniture or fix things you (or he) has broken.

⟢ every so often, he’ll just scan through the entire house under the pretense of cleaning for you when you’re busy, and creates a mental list of what to do. it’s like he’s trying to sneak around but it doesn’t really work because it’s so obvious where his gaze is.

⟢ he also loves to help you rearrange furniture too! like your own little interior design helper except you only pay him in cuddles on the couch…wherever you two put it.

⟢ would totally text you pictures of furniture if he goes to ikea and asks if you want them so he can just buy them for you (and so you can have a little date at home building whatever it is).

minghao (the8) - watering your plants / taking care of your pets

⟢ he would show up early at your door, ready to help out if he was available—and something he would always do is take care of your babies (plants and/or pets!)

⟢ he’d water your plants for you, leaving a note to remind you to not do the same later, and hum to them to help them grow faster and stay healthy.

⟢ he’d also make sure to help out with grooming or feeding a pet—whatever you needed so you could focus on yourself first.

⟢ if you don’t have either, well he’d take care of the sleepy you by making sure you get through your morning swiftly and happily.

⟢ he’d be proud of making sure you were alright in the mornings, despite how hard it could be some days.

seungkwan - making sure you’re active

⟢ seungkwan loves to do sports and go on hikes and the such, and i think that he would want you to be with him!

⟢ obviously, he wouldn’t force you to but hey, you do need to stay active, and it’s better if it’s with him than on your own—plus, it’s more fun by his side.

⟢ he would totally buy you matching jackets to go hiking in, and always pick activities that you’re comfortable with doing.

⟢ he lights up every time you would say you’re having fun and would run over and give you a quick kiss before continuing your badminton match.

⟢ once you’re both tired out, it’s time for cuddles on the couch…and maybe a quick cheesy rom-com where you can both make fun of the protagonists.

⟢ eventually, he can see the difference in your strength and stamina, and it reminds him to keep working hard too, because you do the same for him.

hansol (vernon) - remembering you

⟢ hansol is a bit of a forgetful guy but he would never forget you (well, for the most part at least; he still has his moments).

⟢ you’re brought up casually in most conversations he has simply because you’re so important to him that you can be brought up anytime.

⟢ everything and anything ends up reminding him of you, even if it’s not meant to. he’d tell you about most of them because he loves getting a text back full of love, or a smile on your face as a reply.

⟢ even if you’re not present, he’s always hyping you up without realizing.

⟢ with you, he’s always sending you cat memes and posts in general saying “us” or “u n me fr”

⟢ he takes pride in simply knowing you, and having the ability to be around you so much :)

chan (dino) - driving you around

⟢ we’ve all seen the dingo video where chan drives a fan somewhere, right? yeah that’s him on the daily with you.

⟢ you’re his passenger princess !! (gender neutral <3) and he makes sure you know it, always offering you a ride no matter where you need to go!

⟢ the grocery store? your friend’s house? the optometrist? [insert any ridiculous place he doesn’t need to accompany you to]? he’s already waiting for you outside.

⟢ this goes even if you’re fully capable of driving yourself because he knows it can be tiring getting on the road some days, but he’ll always brave the bad traffic if it’s for you.

⟢ knight in shining armour? no, he’s your knight in a really nice car, one that, in his mind, has your name all over the passenger seat.

⟢ other than that though, he would offer to take you for a late night drive often, with your choice of music on the aux as he drives you over to a spot he researched about weeks ago because it was the perfect couple spot (at least, that’s what it is according to google).

⟢ he’d have a huge smile on his face every time you waved at him before opening the door and plopping in right next to his side, where he could sneak glances at you while waiting for the light to turn green.

thank you for reading ‎♡ - moon :>

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woninggg · 1 day ago

Note

girll i crave, I CRAVEEE opposites attract, rival coworkers enemies to lovers typa smut with cheol and i think you are only one who can write this. i love your work and live for your work. thank you sooo muchhh for decide to write here💖

🐇:ahhh ty so much my love this made my day also this was so fun yet so hard to write(since English is not my first language) but I kinda love the result hehe

bite back~ 崔胜澈 Rival!Coworker!Choi Seungcheol × Rival!Coworker!Reader

Warnings: office AU, smut, degradation, dom cheol, desk sex, unprotected sex, minor choking, and mutual obsession disguised as hatred.

ᶻᶻ..more content under the cut┈✦

The worst thing about Choi Seungcheol wasn’t that he was good at his job.

No, that wasn’t it. If anything, you would have respected him for that. You didn’t mind competition—in fact, you thrived on it. But Seungcheol was a different breed of competitor. He wasn’t just good, he was arrogant about it. A smug, self centered, insufferable bastard who made sure you knew exactly where he stood in the company hierarchy.

And unfortunately, that spot was right next to yours.

The rivalry started the moment you joined. He had been the golden boy of the company, the one everyone looked up to, until you showed up. You weren’t intimidated by his reputation, nor were you interested in playing second to anyone. And from the moment you went head-to-head in your first project, you knew neither of you would back down.

It wasn’t just competition. It was war.

You challenged every one of his ideas. He shot down every one of yours. You undercut his suggestions in meetings, he made sure to find flaws in every pitch you presented. He stole deals right out from under you, and you made sure to return the favor.

And somehow, despite your mutual hatred, the company refused to separate you.

“You two work well together” your boss had said once, completely ignoring the way you and Seungcheol were glaring daggers at each other across the conference table.

Work well together. Right. If by “well” he meant in the same way oil and water did, then sure.

And tonight was no different.

You were stuck in the office well past midnight, both of you hunched over your respective desks, working on a last minute client proposal. Management had assigned it to both of you, because of course they had—insisting that your “combined talents” would deliver the best results.

You could barely focus with him in the room. every time he shifted, every time he sighed, every time his damn pen scratched against the paper, it grated on your nerves.

“Can you stop breathing so loud?” you snapped, eyes shooting daggers at him.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t realize my existence was such a burden on you.” Seungcheol’s voice dripped with sarcasm, not bothering to look up from his own paperwork.

Your eyes narrowed at the sound of his voice, your grip on your pen tightening until you feared it might snap.

“Don’t call me that,” you spat back. The last thing you needed was for him to think he could get under your skin. But it was already too late.

He chuckled under his breath, the sound irritatingly deep. “You’re really in a mood tonight, huh? What’s wrong, project not turning out the way you wanted?”

You gritted your teeth. “My project is fine.”

“Mm. Sure about that?” He finally looked up from his laptop, leaning back in his chair with that signature smirk you wanted to slap off his face. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re struggling.”

Your eye twitched. You had never hit a coworker before, but tonight might be the night.

“For fuck’s sake” you muttered, shoving your chair back and standing abruptly. “Do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

He mirrored your movement, standing as well, and you hated that he was taller, and that he could look down at you like he was amused.

“I don’t know” he mused, taking a slow step closer. “Do you ever get tired of trying to prove you’re better than me?”

Your jaw clenched. “I don’t have to prove anything. I am better than you.”

His smirk widened, his tongue running along the inside of his cheek. “Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

The way he said 'sweetheart' was like nails on a chalkboard, and it made something snap inside you.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the way the tension between you had been building for so long, thick and suffocating.

Or maybe it was just him.

The unbearable way he looked at you, like he was daring you to break first.

So you did.

You shoved him—both hands pressed against his chest, pushing with all your strength.

He barely stumbled.

Instead, he grabbed your wrists before you could pull away, spinning you around and pressing your back against your desk.

“What the hell are you—”

“You’ve been waiting to do that, haven’t you?” he murmured, voice low.

You refused to back down. Your chin lifted defiantly. “What, shove you? Yeah. Since the day I met you.”

His fingers tightened around your wrists. “I wasn’t talking about that.”

The air grew thick with something you hadn’t noticed before—or maybe you had, but had ignored it because acknowledging it would mean admitting that you felt something other than pure hatred for him.

“You hate me, right?” he murmured, pressing in closer, his thigh sliding between yours. “So tell me to stop.”

Your nails dug into his wrists, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “Fuck you.”

His lips curled. “That’s what I thought.”

Before you could protest, his mouth was on yours. His hand moved, fingers wrapping around your jaw, grip just tight enough to make you suck in a breath.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was violent, all teeth and dominance and raw frustration.

His hands slid down, gripping your hips so tight it hurt, lifting you onto the desk as his body slotted between your legs. You yanked at his shirt, pulling him even closer, biting down on his lip just to make him groan.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you panted against his mouth.

He laughed darkly, his fingers already working the buttons of your blouse. “Of course not.”

And yet, the way he dragged his hands down your body like he needed to memorize every inch, told a different story.

Your skirt was shoved up, your underwear pushed aside, and then— a sharp gasp left your lips as his fingers slid inside you, finding you embarrassingly wet.

He groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “Fuck. This whole ? You’ve been this soaked, and you’ve been acting like you hate me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but he wasn’t having it.

“Tell me,” he murmured, curling his fingers, dragging a moan from you. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

You shook your head, breathless, defiant. “You don’t get to win.”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, I already won the moment you let me touch you.”

Your cheeks burned with fury, and you bucked your hips, trying to dislodge his hand. But it was too late. His thumb found your clit, circling it in a way that made your knees tremble.

You wanted to slap the smug grin off his face, to wipe the victory from his eyes. But as he continued to kiss you, all thought of anything other than the heat between you disappeared. Your hands moved of their own accord, reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. You didn’t want this, you told yourself, but your body had other ideas.

Seungcheol’s other hand reached up his thumb brushing against the swell of your breast, making your breath hitch. The friction of his trousers against your thighs was agonizing, the fabric rough against your sensitive skin. You could feel his erection pressing into your stomach, demanding attention.

“Say you hate me again,” he whispered against your ear, his breath hot and tickling. “Say it while you’re dripping all over my fingers.”

You bit back a moan, hating how much his words affected you. But you weren’t about to let him have the satisfaction of knowing how much you craved this.

So, you spat out the words with all the venom you had left. “I fucking hate you, Choi Seungcheol.”

His eyes darkened, his smile turning feral. “Keep saying it” he murmured, his thumb moving faster on your clit. “Let’s see if you can convince either of us.”

Your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, a whimper escaping your throat. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—”

Seungcheol’s eyes burned into yours, he cut you off by sliding another finger inside you, stretching you out, as you felt the beginnings of a climax building.

His pace was brutal, pumping his fingers into you with no hesitation, curling them just right until your legs threatened to give out.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Bet you touch yourself thinking about me.”

You swallowed down the moan rising in your throat, your eyes squeezed shut. You clenched around his fingers, making him chuckle. “That’s what I thought.”

You were so close, so fucking close, but you’d be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of knowing it.

“Fucking asshole,” you bit out, even as your body begged for release.

His fingers pulled out of you instantly, leaving you empty, and you were about to curse at him until he grabbed your hips, yanking you back against him roughly.

“You want it rough?” he taunted, the sound of his belt unbuckling making your stomach tighten with anticipation. You didn’t answer, your breathing ragged.

You hated him for making you feel like this, for reducing you to this quivering mess of need. You hated him, hated the way his hands felt on you, hated how badly you wanted more. God, you despised Choi Seungcheol, and yet here you were, letting him do whatever he wanted to your body.

He slammed into you, all at once, stretching you open so suddenly that all you could do was gasp. The words died on your tongue, your nails digging into his arms, and his low groan against your ear sent a shiver down your spine.

“Look at you” he murmured, as he pulled out just enough to thrust back in, the force pushing you further up the desk. “So fucking cocky in the office, but now? You’re letting me fuck you open without a fight?”

You smirked, breathless. “Didn’t say I wouldn’t fight.”

And just to prove your point, you lifted your leg, wrapping it around his waist and rolling your hips deliberately. He cursed, his fingers flexing against your skin before he retaliated, grabbing the back of your knee and pushing your leg higher, forcing you open even more.

“You really wanna test me right now?” he growled, punctuating the words with a brutal thrust that had your head falling back against the desk.

Your moan echoed through the quiet office, and you knew the moment he heard it that you’d lost the upper hand.

"That’s more like it,” he muttered, dragging his lips along your jaw before biting down just enough to leave a mark. “All that attitude, but at the end of the day, this is what you really wanted, isn’t it?”

You refused to give him that satisfaction. “Fuck you.”

“You are.”

Your glare was half-hearted at best, especially when he pulled back just to watch himself sink into you again, a low groan slipping past his lips. “Shit. You’re squeezing me so tight. You sure you hate me?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer, but the way your body responded to him told the truth.

Seungcheol knew it. And he was eating it up.

“I could make you cum just like this, couldn’t I?” he murmured against your ear, rolling his hips in a way that had you gasping. “Just from my cock stretching you open, fucking you deep, making you feel exactly how you’re supposed to?”

Your hands fisted in his shirt, your pride hanging by a thread. You couldn’t let him win. But then he moved his hand from your thigh to your throat, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

His grip wasn’t tight—just enough pressure to keep you grounded, and make your head spin with something you didn’t want to name.

“Say it.” His voice was a low command, rough and dripping with dominance. “Say you need me to make you cum.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing against his palm. Suddenly his other hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease.

Your entire body jolted at the contact, a choked moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. The overstimulation of his cock driving into you, his hand wrapped around your throat, and now his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles—it was too much.

“Seungcheol—”

“Say it.” His lips brushed against your jaw. “Or should I stop?”

You gasped, shaking your head immediately. “Don’t.”

He smirked against your skin, but his movements slowed, teasing. “Then say it.”

Your pride was shattered, as your body trembled with need. You couldn’t hold out anymore, not when the pleasure was coiling so tight in your stomach, threatening to snap.

“Fuck—I need you,” you whispered, barely audible.

Seungcheol groaned, his cock twitching inside you, but it wasn’t enough. “Louder.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, your face burning“I need you to make me cum.”

The satisfaction in his chuckle made you want to slap him, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Because the moment the words left your mouth, he was relentless. His thrusts turned brutal, his fingers pressing harder against your clit, his grip on your throat tightening just slightly.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, possessive and smug.

The way he said it sent you spiraling, making the pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body tensed, your walls fluttering around him as your orgasm hit you like a truck. You were barely aware of the sounds you were making—half moan, half desperate cry, until you felt him groan against your skin.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he whined, his rhythm faltering. “Look at you—fuck—so pretty when you cum for me.”

His hips stuttered, his hands gripping you even tighter as he thrust deep one last time, his own release hitting him with a guttural groan. You felt, the warmth, and the way he pulsed inside you—and fuck, you shouldn’t have liked it as much as you did.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you catching your breath, the only sound in the room the ragged inhales and exhales of two people who had just crossed a line they could never uncross.

Then, slowly, Seungcheol leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath still uneven.

“Still think you don’t need me?” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Your glare was weak, your limbs too spent to push him away. “Shut up.”

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through your chest, “So, are we going to pretend like this never happened or...?”

his fingers brushed along your thigh almost absentmindedly as he pulled out, leaving you feeling cold and exposed. You reached down to fix your skirt, your cheeks still flushed with the intensity of your orgasm.

And that’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t the end.

This was just the beginning.

more.┈✦

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bu3ck3r · 2 days ago

Text

all mine

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 10k

warnings: drinking, language, sexual content

a/n: sorry for the long wait but here it is😭 (i didnt really edit this so if there’s some mistakes just ignore it)

Before Paige knew what love felt like, she knew what Azzi felt like.

It was laughter on long bus rides, sneakers tapping against the pavement in perfect rhythm. It was midnight conversations whispered under dorm room ceilings, fingers barely brushing between them on the couch. It was an unspoken understanding—a silent kind of gravity that had pulled them together long before they even realized it was happening.

Paige had always been drawn to Azzi, even when they were just kids competing at camps, both of them too young to understand why they gravitated toward each other the way they did.

But it wasn’t just friendship. Not really.

Because Paige had never felt her heartbeat stutter when she hugged any of her other friends too long. She had never memorized the way anyone else laughed, or wondered what it would feel like to hold their hand just because she wanted to. She had never been scared of losing anyone the way she was scared of losing Azzi.

But back then, she didn’t have the words for it. So she did the only thing she knew how to do—she buried it.

Somewhere along the way, things started to shift. Not in an obvious, dramatic way. It was subtle—like the way shadows change with the time of day, creeping in slowly until suddenly, everything looks different.

It was the way Paige started pulling back without realizing it. The way she let texts sit unanswered a little too long, the way she hesitated before reaching for Azzi the way she used to.

And Azzi noticed. Of course she did.

Because Azzi had always been the one person who saw through Paige, even when Paige didn’t want to be seen.

“Are we good?” Azzi had asked one night, her voice careful, uncertain.

Paige had nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, of course.”

And Azzi hadn’t pushed.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Paige needed her to push, to call her out, to force her to say out loud what she was too afraid to admit.

But Azzi had always been patient.

So she waited.

And Paige kept running.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

The house was packed, music too loud, bodies pressed too close, heat settling thick in the air.

Paige wasn’t sure why she even came.

She wasn’t the party type. Not really. But Nika had dragged her out, insisting she needed to “loosen up,” and Paige was too tired to argue.

She had been standing against the wall, half-listening to Lou and Nika argue about something stupid, when she felt it.

That familiar pull.

She didn’t have to turn around to know Azzi was in the room.

She felt it in her chest first, like something tightening, something waking up.

And when she finally lifted her gaze, there she was.

Azzi was across the room, head tilted back in laughter, eyes crinkled at the corners, completely unaware of the way Paige’s entire world had just narrowed to her.

Paige was used to seeing her on the court—focused, determined, sharp.

But here, she looked different. Softer. Warmer.

And it was unfair, the way she did that—walked into a room and made Paige forget how to breathe.

For a second, just a second, Azzi turned.

Their eyes met.

And the moment stretched, time bending between them the way it always did.

Azzi didn’t look away.

And for the first time in a long time, neither did Paige.

The night air was cooler outside, a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the party.

Azzi stood by the railing, fingers tapping idly against the wood, her gaze fixed on the city lights.

Paige hesitated in the doorway, hands shoved into the pocket of her hoodie, uncertainty clawing at her ribs.

She wasn’t sure what she was doing here.

Maybe she should just go back inside. Pretend she hadn’t followed Azzi out here like some lost puppy.

But before she could make that decision, Azzi spoke.

Paige froze, fingers tightening around the fabric of her hoodie.

Azzi didn’t turn to look at her, still staring out at the city, but her voice was steady—too steady, like she had been waiting to say this for a long time.

“You always do this”

Paige swallowed. “Do what?”

Azzi let out a breath—one of those slow, measured exhales that meant she was trying to hold something back.

“You pull away,” she said finally, turning just enough to glance at Paige over her shoulder. “And then you come back like nothing happened.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. “That’s not—”

Azzi gave her a look, and Paige’s words died in her throat.

Because it was true.

Paige didn’t mean to do it. She didn’t mean to keep running, to keep putting distance between them every time she felt like she was getting too close.

But how was she supposed to not be scared? Azzi was the only thing that had ever felt bigger than basketball, bigger than anything Paige had ever wanted. And wanting her, really wanting her—meant risking everything.

It meant risking them.

“I just…” Paige sighed, leaning against the railing next to Azzi, close enough that their arms almost touched. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Azzi turned fully now, eyebrows pulling together. “Do what?”

Paige hesitated, staring down at her hands.

This was the moment.

The moment where she either told the truth or let the silence stretch between them again, let it become another thing they didn’t talk about.

She took a shaky breath.

“This,” she said, finally looking up. “Wanting you. Being around you and pretending it’s nothing when it’s everything.”

Azzi’s lips parted slightly, like she wasn’t sure if she had heard Paige right.

And then, carefully, so, so carefully—she reached out, fingers grazing Paige’s wrist.

Paige sucked in a breath, but she didn’t pull away.

“Then stop pretending,” Azzi murmured.

And for the first time in years, Paige thought that maybe—just maybe—she could.

It wasn’t dramatic.

It wasn’t some grand, sweeping moment like in the movies.

It was just them.

Standing on a balcony, the city stretching out below, the party fading into a distant hum behind them.

Azzi was watching her, waiting—always waiting.

And Paige, for once, didn’t run.

She just leaned in, closing the space between them, pressing her lips to Azzi’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Azzi inhaled sharply against her mouth, but then she was kissing her back, fingers curling around the fabric of Paige’s hoodie, pulling her in like she had been waiting for this just as long. It was slow, tentative—like they were both afraid to break whatever fragile thing had just formed between them. But then Paige sighed into the kiss, and Azzi’s hand slid up to cup her jaw, and suddenly, it wasn’t slow at all.

It was desperate.

It was real.

And Paige had never felt more certain of anything in her life.

They didn’t talk about it right away.

Maybe because neither of them wanted to break whatever had just settled between them.

Or maybe because words felt too small, too insignificant for something that had felt so big.

All Paige knew was that when they finally stepped back inside, her entire body was still buzzing.

Azzi’s fingers had brushed hers as they walked, and Paige had wanted so badly to reach back—to hold on, to keep them connected just a little longer.

But she didn’t.

Because as much as she wanted this, she was still scared.

What if they ruined everything? What if this didn’t change anything?

Paige stole a glance at Azzi, wondering if she was feeling the same way.

Azzi caught her staring.

And for the first time all night, she smiled. Not a small, uncertain smile. A real one.

And just like that, Paige knew.

This wasn’t nothing.

This was everything.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

Paige woke up with the memory of Azzi’s lips still burning on hers.

The morning light was filtering through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the room. Everything felt different—like the world had shifted on its axis while she was sleeping. And maybe it had.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

“You up?”

Paige exhaled, fingers hovering over the screen. Then she smiled, because for the first time, she didn’t have to think about it.

“Yeah. Want to get breakfast?”

Azzi’s reply was immediate.

“Always.”

Paige didn’t know what came next.

But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid to find out.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

Paige had always been good under pressure.

On the court, with the clock winding down and the game on the line—those were the moments she lived for. When the stakes were high, she thrived.

But this? This was different. Because this wasn’t a game.

And the way Azzi was looking at her across the breakfast table—soft, curious, like she was waiting for Paige to say something—it made her feel like she was already losing.

“So…” Azzi finally broke the silence, stirring her coffee absently. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

Paige exhaled, leaning back against the booth. “What is it?”

Azzi gave her a knowing look.

“Paige.”

Her name sounded different in Azzi’s voice—like a question, like a challenge. Like a promise.

Paige ran a hand through her hair, trying to play it cool. “We kissed. It happened.”

Azzi’s expression didn’t change.

“And?”

Paige hesitated.

And I can’t stop thinking about it. And I don’t know what to do next. And I think I might be in love with you, but I don’t know how to say it out loud.

But instead of saying any of those things, she shrugged. “And… I don’t want things to be weird.”

Azzi studied her for a long moment, fingers tapping lightly against her cup. Then she nodded, like she had expected that answer.

“Okay,” she said simply.

And that was the problem with Azzi.

She didn’t push. She never did. She just gave Paige space to figure it out.

And Paige had never wanted to figure something out more in her life.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

The thing about trying to pretend nothing had changed?

It never worked. Because everything had changed.

Paige felt it in every glance, every accidental touch, every moment of silence that stretched a little too long.

And if Azzi noticed—which she definitely did—she didn’t say anything.

She just let it happen.

Like when they were in the gym late one night, just the two of them, shooting in comfortable silence.

Paige had missed a shot she never missed, and Azzi had smirked.

“Distracted?”

Paige rolled her eyes, grabbing the rebound. “You wish.”

Azzi stepped closer, tilting her head slightly. “I do.”

Paige’s breath caught.

She wasn’t sure if it was the way Azzi’s voice had dropped just a little lower, or the fact that they were suddenly too close, but something shifted.

Azzi must have felt it too, because she hesitated—just for a second—before reaching out.

Her fingers barely grazed Paige’s wrist.

And Paige? Paige didn’t move. She couldn’t.

Because Azzi was looking at her like she knew. Like she knew exactly what Paige was feeling and was just waiting for her to admit it.

And for a moment, Paige almost did.

But then the gym doors creaked open, and the moment was gone.

Azzi stepped back.

And just like that, they were back to pretending.

Pretending only worked for so long.

It was after another game—a close win, adrenaline still buzzing in Paige’s veins—when it finally happened.

They were in the locker room, most of the team already gone, when Azzi leaned against the lockers and said, “I’m done.”

Paige frowned. “Done with what?”

Azzi sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “With this.”

Paige’s heart clenched. “Azzi…”

“No, listen,” Azzi said, stepping closer. “I don’t want to be something you keep running from. I don’t want to keep pretending this is nothing when we both know it’s not.”

Paige swallowed hard.

Azzi reached out, fingers ghosting over Paige’s jaw—barely touching, but enough to make Paige’s breath hitch.

“I want you,” Azzi murmured. “But I need to know if you want me too.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Not with words.

Instead, she surged forward, kissing Azzi like she was trying to make up for every second they had wasted.

It wasn’t like their first kiss.

This was desperate.

This was hungry.

Paige backed Azzi into the lockers, hands fisting in her hoodie, pulling her closer and closer—until there was nothing between them but heat and want and every unspoken word they had been avoiding.

Azzi let out a soft sound against her mouth, fingers tangling in Paige’s hair, and Paige melted into it.

Into her.

And suddenly, nothing else mattered.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

The thing about keeping a secret like this?

It’s exhausting.

Paige could feel the weight of it every time she saw Azzi—across the court, in the hallway between classes, during practices.

The stolen glances. The lingering touches. The way their eyes would meet for just a second, a silent promise between them, and then they’d both look away—acting like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

Paige would catch herself at night, her body still humming from the way Azzi’s fingers had brushed her cheek, the way their lips had melded together in that locker room, desperate and fierce.

And she’d want to reach out, to text Azzi, to say anything.

But no.

They couldn’t.

At least, not yet.

There was something thrilling about it—about the secrecy. The knowledge that, for now, only they knew the truth. But it was also maddening. And Paige knew she couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay for long.

They found ways to be close without anyone noticing—whispers in dark hallways, brief moments where their hands would brush when they passed each other.

But it was in the quiet moments when they weren’t supposed to be touching that Paige felt it most.

Like when they were at the team’s dinner, everyone gathered around a long table in the dimly lit restaurant, eating and laughing.

Azzi was across from her, but their eyes locked, and suddenly the noise around them faded into a soft buzz, like the world had shrunk to just the two of them.

Azzi’s leg brushed against Paige’s under the table, slow and deliberate.

And Paige’s heart skipped a beat.

She looked up, and Azzi’s eyes were on her, dark and intense. A small, secret smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

We shouldn’t be doing this, Paige thought. But the rush of heat that shot through her told her that she didn’t care anymore.

When the dinner ended, Paige walked out behind everyone else, head spinning, pulse racing.

Azzi stayed just a little too close, their shoulders brushing as they exited the door.

Azzi’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “Meet me later. My place.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat. What was she doing? What was she getting herself into?

But the tension between them had reached its breaking point, and all she could do was nod, her voice barely audible. “I’ll be there.”

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

Paige had always been good at staying in control. She was the leader on the court, the one who made the calls, the one who always had a plan.

But when she stepped into Azzi’s apartment later that night, everything changed.

Azzi’s place was warm, soft lighting casting gentle shadows over the space. It felt different—softer than the world they had built around themselves. Paige felt the familiar pull in her chest, but this time, there was no hiding from it.

Azzi closed the door behind her, locking it, the quiet sound echoing through the room.

Paige turned to face her, nerves buzzing under her skin.

Azzi stepped forward, her eyes dark, intense, but her touch gentle. She cupped Paige’s face, thumbs grazing over her cheekbones, and Paige leaned into her touch without thinking.

“I’ve been thinking about this… about you,” Azzi whispered, her voice rough and low.

Paige swallowed hard. “Me too.”

And then, without warning, Azzi kissed her—slow, deliberate, the way they both had been craving but never allowing themselves to fully indulge.

Azzi’s hands moved to the back of Paige’s neck, pulling her closer, her mouth hot and insistent. Paige moaned softly, the sound caught in her throat as she wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, drawing her in.

It was slow. It was a blur of emotions and tension. Every touch felt like it could be their last moment together like they were both daring each other to cross a line they knew they shouldn’t yet.

Azzi’s fingers slid down to the hem of Paige’s shirt, and for a moment, they just paused—standing there, breathless, as if they were both trying to remember how to move in each other’s space.

Paige met Azzi’s gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “Are you sure?”

Azzi didn’t answer with words. She just pulled Paige into another kiss—deeper, more desperate.

And that was the moment Paige stopped caring about anything else.

It wasn’t just about the kiss.

It was about everything that led up to it.

Paige’s hands were on Azzi’s now, fingertips brushing against her bare skin, igniting a fire she hadn’t realized was there. The moment was unraveling, both of them caught between desire and the fear of what it meant.

Azzi’s breath came in shallow bursts, her body aching for more. “Paige,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Paige’s lips trailed down her neck, teeth grazing her pulse, and Azzi moaned softly, hands sliding into her hair, pulling her closer, urging her on.

Paige paused, her lips hovering just above Azzi’s skin. “You sure?” she asked, voice low and thick with desire.

Azzi shuddered, nodding, her fingers curling into Paige’s shirt. “I want this.”

And that was all Paige needed.

She moved slowly, deliberately, taking her time, making sure every touch, every kiss, was burned into Azzi’s memory. The tension built between them, charged and electric, until it felt like the whole world had disappeared. There was only the way Paige’s hands moved over her, the way Azzi’s body responded—every inch of her skin reacting to Paige’s touch as if it had always been meant for this.

Paige’s name escaped Azzi’s lips in a breathless gasp, and Paige responded with a soft growl, kissing her deeper.

Paige reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the outline of Azzi’s jaw, her touch feather-light yet igniting a fire within. Azzi leaned into the caress, her breath hitching as she closed her eyes, savoring the moment.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Paige whispered, her voice a sultry murmur that sent a thrill through Azzi.

With a soft smile, Azzi opened her eyes, locking onto Paige’s gaze. “Show me,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with longing.

Paige leaned in closer, their lips almost touching, the warmth of their breaths mingling. Their lips met softly at first, a gentle exploration that quickly deepened as they lost themselves in each other.

Paige’s hands found their way to Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat radiating from her body. Azzi responded by tangling her fingers in Paige’s hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. It was a dance of passion and tenderness, each movement igniting a spark that spread through them both.

As they pulled away, breathless and flushed, Azzi eyes sparkled with mischief.

“I want to feel all of you,” she said, her voice low and inviting.

Paige’s hands roamed down Azzi’s sides, exploring the curves of her body, tracing the delicate lines of her silhouette. Azzi shivered at the touch, her skin alive with sensation. She leaned back slightly, allowing Paige to explore further, her heart pounding with excitement.

With a gentle push, Paige guided Azzi back onto the soft bed, their bodies entwined. The world outside faded even more, leaving only the warmth of their skin and the rhythm of their hearts. Paige’s lips traveled down Azzi’s neck, planting soft kisses that made her gasp and arch her back, craving more.

“Tell me what you want,” Paige murmured against her skin, her breath hot and tantalizing.

Azzi’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with need. “Everything. I want everything with you.”

Paige smiled, her eyes dark with desire. She captured Azzi’s lips again, pouring all her longing into the kiss, as their bodies moved together in a beautiful symphony of passion and love.

Paige’s hands slid beneath Azzi’s shirt, fingers grazing the soft skin of her stomach, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. Azzi’s breath quickened as Paige’s hands traveled higher, brushing against the lace of her bra. With a deft movement, she unclasped it, letting it fall away, exposing Azzi’s breasts to the cool air.

Azzi gasped, her body responding instinctively as Paige’s warm mouth enveloped one of her nipples, swirling her tongue around it. The sensation sent waves of pleasure coursing through Azzi, as she pressed herself closer to Paige.

“Yes, just like that,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair, urging her on.

Paige’s other hand explored Azzi’s body, trailing down her sides and slipping beneath the waistband of her pants. She could feel the heat radiating from Azzi’s core, and her fingers brushed against the soft fabric of her panties. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Azzi’s breath hitched as Paige’s fingers found their way inside her panties, teasing her with gentle strokes. “Paige baby, please,” she gasped, her body pressing into the touch, craving more.

Paige’s fingers moved with purpose, exploring the slickness of Azzi’s arousal, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. “I want to make you feel good,” she whispered, her eyes locked onto Azzi’s, filled with a mix of love and lust.

Azzi’s body responded fast, her hips moving in rhythm with Paige’s fingers. “Yes, just like that,” she moaned.

“Mmm, i love hearing you like this.” Paige whispered in Azzi’s ear.

“I love the way you touch me” Azzi whispered with a look full of desire.

As Paige continued to work her magic, Azzi felt herself teetering on the edge and the pleasure building within her.

“Fuck you feel so good baby.” she whispered in Azzi’s ear.

Azzi was grinding on Paige’s fingers slowly. Paige’s hand was lazily squeezing her butt and the other holding the side of her neck as her thumb stroked her cheek.

“You’re driving me crazy Az.” Paige whispered with a smile while putting her fingers deep inside.

“Baby please i need you so badly right now, don’t stop.” Azzi responded with a breathy moan.

“I got you princess.” she said as her hands moved faster.

“You’re being so good for me, pretty.” she praises Azzi once again helping her roll her hips against her fingers while gripping tighter around her sides.

“Look at me while you do that.” Azzi said with a needy tone.

“You like that, don’t you gorgeous?” Paige replied with a smirk on her face.

“Omg Paige im close…don’t stop..go harder baby” Azzi’s moans getting louder as she pulls Paige to her.

Paige comes closer to Azzi as she whispers in her ear. “So fucking hot taking it so good”

Azzi wrapped her legs around Paige’s waist as her hips rocked faster. Azzi’s so close, her legs are starting to hurt but Paige keeps up the pace, working Azzi through her orgasm. Her entire body shakes as she becomes incredibly sensitive and slows the movement of her hips.

Azzi takes both of her hands to cup Paige’s face. “I love you” she looks deep into Paige’s eyes.

“I love you to Azzi” Paige says as she brings Azzi in for a passionate kiss. Her tongue sliding across Azzi’s bottom lip. After they pull away she smiles at Azzi bringing her forehead to hers.

It wasn’t just passion, it was something more.

Something they couldn’t name yet, but something they felt deeply.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

There were nights when Paige couldn’t sleep.

Nights when the world outside her window was still and silent, but her mind was anything but. She’d find herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the moments with Azzi—the way her lips felt against hers, the gentle but persistent touch of Azzi’s hands as they navigated the lines between wanting and needing.

It was overwhelming, this thing between them. A slow build, layered with emotions they weren’t sure how to unpack.

She wasn’t used to this—being vulnerable.

Being seen.

Every time she saw Azzi, there was an undeniable pull. A gravity that kept them both tethered, even when they pretended not to notice.

One evening, after another late practice, Paige found herself standing outside Azzi’s apartment building. She had told herself she wouldn’t do this—wouldn’t show up uninvited, wouldn’t cross a line they both knew existed—but her feet carried her here anyway.

She texted Azzi with shaking fingers: “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

A moment passed before Azzi’s reply lit up her screen: “I know. Come up.”

Paige’s heart raced as she hit the elevator button, then made her way up to the familiar door.

When Azzi opened it, she didn’t say a word. She just pulled Paige inside, closing the door behind her.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, quiet and heavy, both of them standing close, but not quite touching.

“Azzi,” Paige said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to do this.”

Azzi met her eyes, searching, and for a moment, Paige felt like she was about to unravel in front of her.

Azzi didn’t respond with words. Instead, she stepped forward, her fingers brushing Paige’s jaw. It was a gentle touch, a silent question.

And then, she kissed her again.

But this time, it wasn’t frantic. It was slow—soft. They moved together like they had all the time in the world, as though they were both trying to savor the moment.

Paige let herself fall into it, every nerve in her body alive under Azzi’s touch.

They didn’t rush. Instead, they explored. The heat of their closeness, the electricity of their connection, was enough to make the world outside disappear. And in that quiet apartment, Paige began to realize that she wasn’t just falling for Azzi—she was letting herself be found.

The next few days passed in a haze—small touches, lingering glances, conversations held in hushed tones. They didn’t talk about what had happened. They didn’t even acknowledge the weight of it, not really.

But it hung in the air between them, palpable and thick.

One afternoon, after a long practice, they sat together on the steps outside the gym, the warm evening air wrapping around them like a blanket. They were alone, the others already gone, but it was never the right time to speak the words that had been building between them.

Azzi stretched out her legs, leaning back slightly against the steps. Paige sat beside her, her shoulder grazing Azzi’s. The touch was fleeting but meaningful.

“You know,” Azzi began, breaking the silence, “I’ve never really understood how to do this.”

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. “Do what?”

Azzi glanced over at her, her eyes serious, but there was a softness there too. “Let someone in. Let someone stay.”

Paige felt a flutter in her chest. “I didn’t think you had that problem.”

Azzi’s lips curved into a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I do. I think we both do.”

Paige shifted closer, the weight of her words heavier than anything she had said before. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Azzi turned her head to look at her then, her gaze intense, searching. “You sure about that?”

Paige nodded, her breath catching in her throat. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

They were quiet for a moment, the weight of what was unspoken between them settling into the space. It wasn’t just about physical attraction—it was about trust. About the willingness to give yourself to someone else and let them have a piece of your heart, even if it wasn’t perfect.

Azzi leaned in then, closing the distance between them. It was soft, tender—this time it wasn’t the frantic passion of before, but something deeper. Their lips met gently, and Paige let out a sigh, closing her eyes and giving herself up to the feeling.

They pulled apart, but Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s cheek, thumb brushing against her skin as if memorizing the curve of her face.

“I want to believe you,” Azzi whispered, “but I’m scared.”

Paige leaned into her hand, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m scared too.”

And in that moment, Paige realized that maybe fear wasn’t something to avoid. Maybe it was a sign that they were both invested—both willing to risk it all for something they couldn’t explain but didn’t want to let go of.

The next few weeks were a blur of stolen moments and quiet intimacy. They’d meet in secret—behind closed doors, in dark corners where no one could see them, and it felt like they were living in their own world, separated from everything else.

But as much as they both craved each other’s touch, there was always the lingering tension—the fear of what might happen if anyone found out. Paige couldn’t help but wonder how much longer they could keep it a secret. How much longer they could keep pretending that nothing was different.

One night, after an especially intense game, they found themselves alone again. It was late, the gym empty, and the only light came from the overhead lamps casting long shadows on the court.

Azzi was waiting for her near the locker rooms, leaning against the doorframe. Paige’s pulse quickened when she saw her, the magnetic pull between them almost tangible.

Azzi pushed herself off the wall and walked toward Paige, her gaze never leaving hers.

“You’re always so quiet,” Azzi said softly, her voice a little teasing, but there was something more in it. “But I know you’re thinking about something.”

Paige couldn’t help but laugh, the sound almost nervous. “You’re impossible.”

Azzi smirked. “And you like it.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi was close again, her lips brushing against her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat. “I want…” She paused, unsure of what to say. How to put into words what she felt—what she needed.

Azzi’s hand gently cupped her jaw, lifting her face so their eyes met. “Tell me.”

And in that moment, everything felt clear. No more pretending. No more uncertainty.

“I want you,” Paige whispered, her voice thick with desire and truth. “I want this, Azzi. No more running.”

Azzi kissed her then, slow and deep, as if they were both finally allowing themselves to feel what they had been hiding for so long.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

The hardest part about a secret relationship wasn’t the stolen glances or the quiet kisses.

It was the constant strain on your chest—the pressure that built up every time you had to hide how you truly felt.

For Azzi, it was getting harder and harder to keep her distance from Paige when every part of her wanted to be closer.

They couldn’t just exist in their own little world. No, the weight of their secret was beginning to bear down on them. Every time someone looked at them, she couldn’t help but wonder: Did they know?

At practice, when they passed each other, the air between them was thick with unspoken tension. She could see the way Paige would catch her eye for a moment, only to look away quickly. How the hint of a smile would flicker across her lips, like a confession she wasn’t ready to make.

Azzi wanted more.

She wanted more than just stolen moments. She wanted to be able to hold Paige’s hand in public, kiss her in broad daylight, feel the rush of the world around them. But each time she let herself think about it, a knot would form in her stomach. There were too many things at stake.

She had to keep reminding herself—this was for the best. This was safer.

But even that comfort was starting to fray.

Paige had been different lately. More distant. Azzi could feel the shift, the cracks in their perfect little bubble. She had caught Paige looking at her with something in her eyes, something searching. And that look always unsettled her.

Paige wasn’t the type to hide things, and Azzi feared that at some point, Paige would ask questions they both knew they weren’t ready to answer.

The worst part was the fear that Paige might start resenting the secrecy. The fact that she was constantly forced to pretend.

One night, after an intense game, they found themselves alone in the locker room. The air was thick with exhaustion, sweat clinging to their clothes, but the exhaustion didn’t feel as draining as it had before. It was a different kind of tired now—the kind that came from pretending to be something they weren’t.

Azzi was just taking off her jersey when Paige spoke.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Azzi froze, turning to look at Paige, who had her back to her, staring at the floor.

“Do what?” Azzi asked, her voice rough, betraying the fear that was growing in her chest.

Paige didn’t turn around, but she spoke in a voice Azzi could hear cracking. “This. The secret. The hiding.”

Azzi’s chest tightened. She knew it was coming. She had known it all along. “You knew this was the only way,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, but it wavered.

“I know,” Paige replied, her voice softer now, and Azzi could almost hear the pain in her words. “But it feels like we’re lying. Like we’re pretending to be someone else every time we’re around other people. It’s exhausting, Az.”

Azzi stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She reached out to place a hand on Paige’s shoulder, urging her to turn around.

“Look at me.”

When Paige turned, Azzi saw the conflict written all over her face. It was a mix of frustration and longing—an emotion Azzi knew all too well.

“I want this. I want you,” Azzi said, her words barely a whisper. “But I’m scared. I’m scared of losing you, Paige. Scared that if I let myself want you, we’ll ruin everything.”

Paige’s eyes softened, and for the first time in days, Azzi could see the vulnerability in her gaze. “You’re not going to lose me,” Paige whispered back. “But I need you to trust me, too. I can’t keep doing this in the shadows.”

Azzi’s heart raced, but she pulled Paige into her arms anyway, holding her close. “I trust you,” she murmured into Paige’s hair. “More than anything.”

They stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the weight of everything slip away—if only for a few minutes.

The days that followed felt like a slow unraveling. There were still moments of closeness—those brief but intense touches that spoke volumes, a look exchanged across the room that felt like a secret all on its own. But it wasn’t the same.

Paige was struggling with the fact that they couldn’t share their love with the world. She wanted to be able to call Azzi hers. To show everyone that she was the one who had her heart. But Azzi, on the other hand, felt like she was protecting them both by keeping things hidden.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been the same lately,” Paige said one night, sitting on the couch beside Azzi, her hands nervously twisting a blanket.

Azzi looked over at her, brushing her hair back. “I know. I get it. You’re frustrated.”

“I just—I just want to hold your hand when we go out. I want to kiss you in front of people, not hide in corners like we’re doing something wrong,” Paige said, her voice cracking with emotion.

Azzi reached for Paige’s hand, holding it tightly. “I know. I want that too. But we’re not ready. If anyone found out, it could—”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks,” Paige interrupted, her voice firm, but the uncertainty in her eyes told a different story. “I care about us. And I can’t keep pretending anymore.”

Azzi let out a deep breath, her thumb brushing over Paige’s hand. “I’m scared too, you know. Of what might happen if we go public. It’s not just about us. It’s about everything else—our careers, our friends, our families. We’re not in control of the way people will react. If it’s too much…”

Paige’s eyes softened as she squeezed Azzi’s hand tighter. “I know. But I can’t keep pretending it’s easy when it’s not. I can’t pretend I don’t love you.”

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat..

“I love you too,” Azzi whispered, the words leaving her lips with a mix of relief and fear.

They were silent for a long time, just holding each other, knowing that the weight of their feelings had only grown heavier with time. But there was no going back now. The love they shared couldn’t stay buried forever.

The days after their confession were a blur of emotions. It was like they were both waking up to a reality they had been avoiding. They couldn’t hide from each other anymore.

And they couldn’t hide from their fears either.

Azzi had always been good at keeping control of her emotions, but now they were threatening to spill over. She could feel herself unraveling as the pressure of keeping everything secret began to weigh down on her.

One evening, during a team event, Azzi’s patience snapped. She had been watching Paige from across the room, unable to tear her eyes away, and it was too much. The way everyone around them acted like they had no idea what was going on between them—it felt suffocating.

Azzi pulled Paige into a quiet corner, away from prying eyes, and before she even had time to think, she found herself kissing Paige, desperate for the touch, the release from the tension that had built between them.

But it wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough.

Azzi pulled back, breathing heavily. “I can’t keep doing this, Paige,” she said, her voice breaking. “I can’t keep pretending everything is okay when it feels like it’s killing me inside.”

Paige’s eyes were wide with shock, but she didn’t back away. “I’m not pretending, Azzi. I’m not pretending anymore.”

Azzi took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “Then what do we do now?”

Paige reached for her hand, holding it tightly. “We face it together.”

And for the first time, Azzi realized that maybe they didn’t need to hide anymore. Maybe they could build something stronger than the fear of what might happen.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

The gym was eerily quiet.

The usual hum of sneakers on the court, the sounds of whistles, and the rhythmic thud of basketballs bouncing had long since faded away. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting long shadows across the hardwood floors, giving the place an almost serene feeling.

Paige and Azzi were alone now.

There was something about the empty gym that had always made Paige feel exposed and vulnerable, yet tonight, as she stood beside Azzi, she felt an undeniable sense of calm. It was as if the quiet made it easier to breathe—to finally exist outside of the constraints they had put on themselves.

They had stolen moments like this before—quick, fleeting touches when no one was watching, stolen glances in the hallways, quiet laughter shared in passing. But tonight felt different.

Azzi stepped closer to her, brushing her hand gently against Paige’s. “You feel that?” Azzi asked softly, her voice low. “It’s like we’re the only two people in the world.”

Paige’s heart skipped a beat. She looked at Azzi, her eyes filled with something she couldn’t name—a mixture of longing, excitement, and something deeper, something she had been afraid to acknowledge.

“I know,” Paige replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s nice… being here with you, just the two of us.”

Azzi leaned in, her lips just a breath away from Paige’s ear. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she murmured, and the words sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

There was no more need for words, not now. Slowly, gently, Azzi pulled Paige in, capturing her lips in a kiss that felt like the world had finally aligned. It wasn’t rushed, it wasn’t frantic. It was slow, deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world to savor each moment, each touch.

Paige’s fingers traced the curve of Azzi’s neck, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath her fingertips. Azzi’s hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, the heat between them building with every second. They were finally letting go of the fear, the restraint that had held them back for so long.

For a few minutes, there was no one else in the world but them. Just the soft sounds of their breathing, the rhythmic beating of their hearts, the gentle rustling of their clothes as they pressed closer together.

But as the moment stretched on, they both forgot something.

They forgot that they weren’t truly alone.

The door to the gym creaked open, just slightly.

Paige and Azzi didn’t notice at first. They were too caught up in each other, too wrapped up in the intimacy that had finally blossomed between them. They kissed deeper, their bodies instinctively moving closer, and for a brief moment, the world outside their bubble seemed to disappear entirely.

But then, a voice broke through the silence.

“Really? In the gym?”

Azzi froze, her lips still hovering inches from Paige’s. She pulled away slowly, a mixture of shock and embarrassment flashing across her face.

Standing in the doorway was none other than their teammate, Ice—eyes wide with disbelief but a knowing smirk slowly forming across her lips.

“Well, well,” Ice teased, “look at you two. Never thought I’d see the day. But honestly? I’m not even surprised.”

Paige’s face turned crimson, and she instinctively pulled away from Azzi, as if she had been caught doing something wrong. But then she glanced at Azzi, and to her surprise, Azzi was smiling—softly, but with a hint of amusement.

“What? You’re not surprised?” Azzi asked, raising an eyebrow, her voice a mix of playful curiosity and gentle teasing.

Ice crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Please. You two have been so obvious for weeks now.” She laughed softly. “I mean, the way you look at each other? Come on. It was only a matter of time.”

Paige felt a rush of heat rise to her face, and for a split second, she wanted to disappear into the floor. But Azzi, to her surprise, didn’t seem fazed at all.

“So, you’re not gonna tell anyone?” Azzi asked, her tone casual, as if they were discussing something trivial.

Ice shrugged. “Why would I? Honestly, I think it’s kind of cute. I’ll let you two figure things out. But don’t think you’re fooling anyone.” She gave them both a knowing smile and turned to leave.

Paige stood there, stunned, as the sound of Ice’s footsteps faded. She glanced at Azzi, who had her arms crossed now, a small smirk still playing on her lips.

“You’re not embarrassed?” Paige asked, her voice quieter now, the weight of the situation sinking in.

Azzi shrugged, stepping closer to Paige again. “Honestly, no. I think it’s a relief.” She ran a hand through her hair. “We’ve been hiding this for so long, it feels like a weight has been lifted. And now, we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

Paige looked at Azzi, her heart thumping in her chest. “You really think that?”

Azzi nodded, her gaze steady. “Yeah. I mean, sure, it’s going to take some time to get used to. But we don’t need to hide. We can be ourselves around our teammates. They already know. And if they want to make fun of us? So be it. But at least it’ll be our truth, you know?”

Paige felt something shift inside her—a sense of relief she hadn’t realized she needed. They didn’t have to keep hiding. They didn’t have to live in the shadows anymore.

“I’m kind of scared, though,” Paige admitted, her voice small. “What if things change? What if it becomes…awkward?”

Azzi took a step forward, closing the distance between them again. She cupped Paige’s face gently, her thumb brushing across her cheek. “I get it. But that’s the thing—we’re doing this together. We can handle whatever comes. And if people have a problem with it? That’s their issue, not ours.”

Paige nodded slowly, feeling the tension in her chest ease. Azzi was right. They had spent so long worrying about what everyone else would think that they hadn’t given themselves the chance to just be.

Azzi leaned in and kissed her, slow and tender, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t about hiding—it was about claiming each other, letting go of the fear that had held them back for so long.

They pulled away, both of them smiling now, the weight of their secret finally lifted. The room felt lighter, the space between them finally filled with ease.

“You’re right,” Paige said, her voice soft but filled with newfound confidence. “We don’t have to hide anymore.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes shining with a mixture of relief and affection. “No. We don’t.”

As they stood there, surrounded by the echo of their teammates’ laughter, they both realized that this was just the beginning. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. They didn’t need to hide. They didn’t need to pretend.

What they had was real.

And nothing could change that.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions for Paige and Azzi. The awkwardness that both had feared didn’t seem to materialize, though. Their teammates had already caught on, and despite the teasing and jokes, there was an unspoken understanding. Everyone seemed to accept that they were together, and as the days passed, the atmosphere around them started to settle. The team wasn’t shocked, they had all seen the connection between Paige and Azzi for weeks, if not months.

Yet there was a quiet moment that kept replaying in Paige’s mind: the kiss in the gym, the way Azzi had held her, the way she had confessed her fears and vulnerabilities. That was the moment she realized how much she had longed for this—to stop hiding, to be herself with the person she loved. And it was a feeling she was beginning to cherish, not fear.

But that didn’t mean everything was easy.

There were still moments when Paige found herself worrying about how the outside world would perceive them. What if the media got a hold of it? What if their fans—who loved them both—couldn’t understand? What if it changed their dynamic on the court?

Azzi, on the other hand, was more relaxed about it all. She knew the rumors were already swirling, but for her, the idea of being with Paige openly outweighed the potential complications. She had always been someone who believed in authenticity, even when it was hard, even when it required vulnerability.

That night, they sat together on Paige’s couch, their shoulders lightly touching. The TV was playing something in the background, but neither of them was paying much attention to it. They had just finished dinner, and the conversation had drifted to more personal things—things they hadn’t shared before, things that felt too important to leave unsaid.

“Do you think it’ll get weird?” Paige asked, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Azzi looked at her, eyes full of warmth. “What, being out in the open? You mean, with everyone knowing?”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. Like, will things change?”

Azzi smiled softly, her gaze steady. “We can’t control how other people react. But we can control how we handle it. And as long as we’re honest with each other, I think we’ll be fine. Besides,” she added with a mischievous grin, “I’m not really one to hide who I’m with. Never really was.”

Paige couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, I figured. You’ve always been kind of fearless.”

Azzi leaned in, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear. “Only when I know what I want,” she whispered.

The closeness between them was electric, a silent acknowledgment of everything they had been through to get to this point. It wasn’t just about the physical attraction—it was about trust, vulnerability, and understanding. It was the quiet moments like this that reminded Paige why she had fallen for Azzi in the first place.

But not everyone shared the same calm demeanor that Azzi seemed to carry so effortlessly. As the days passed, the team began to show more curiosity. Some of them were supportive, some of them gave gentle teasing, but others, like Ice, took to joking around in a way that felt less than kind at times. Still, Paige had come to terms with the fact that people’s reactions were beyond their control.

It wasn’t until the team was having a post-practice dinner at a local restaurant that Paige felt a twinge of discomfort. The group had settled into their usual booth, the chatter and laughter filling the air as the evening wore on. Paige and Azzi were sitting beside each other, sharing a basket of fries, trying to ignore the occasional sideways glance or whispered comment.

At one point, Ice made a remark about how “cute” the two of them looked together. The others chimed in with their own teasing comments, but it wasn’t in a malicious way—it was more playful than anything. Paige, however, could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She tried to brush it off, but it was hard not to feel exposed.

“Do you think they’re staring?” Paige whispered to Azzi, her voice low.

Azzi, sensing her discomfort, leaned in a little closer. “Don’t let it bother you. People are always going to have something to say. But you and I know what this is, right?”

Paige met her gaze, and for a second, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. “Yeah,” she said, her heart full of certainty. “I know.”

And for the first time in a long while, Paige realized that this was the moment where their relationship was no longer about secrecy. It wasn’t about hiding in the shadows. It was about them, about their love, and about how much stronger it had made them both.

The team’s joking continued, but it no longer had the sting it once did. As time went on, Paige and Azzi grew more comfortable being together. They no longer felt the need to hide or downplay their connection. In fact, Paige found herself standing a little taller when they were in public, walking with a confidence she hadn’t realized she lacked before. Azzi’s quiet support and unwavering belief in them gave her the strength to carry that confidence.

It wasn’t just about being open in front of their teammates. It was about opening up to each other in ways they hadn’t done before. They started sharing more than just their feelings for each other—they shared their hopes, their fears, and their dreams for the future.

One night, as they sat together in the quiet of Paige’s apartment, Azzi spoke about something that had been on her mind for a while.

“I’ve always been afraid of… of not being good enough,” she admitted, her voice soft. “Afraid that if I give myself fully to someone, I’ll let them down.”

Paige’s heart ached at hearing this. She reached for Azzi’s hand, gently squeezing it. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to do anything but be you,” Paige said, her voice firm, yet tender. “I love you just the way you are. And I trust you with everything I have.”

Azzi’s eyes softened, and she leaned in, pressing her forehead against Paige’s. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know.”

In that moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift off their shoulders. They no longer needed to be afraid of the outside world or the things they couldn’t control. What they had was theirs, and nothing—no matter how difficult it might be—could take that away.

The next morning, as they walked into practice, it was different. They were still the same Paige and Azzi that their teammates knew, but there was something new—a sense of peace between them. No more secrets. No more pretending. They didn’t have to hide their feelings anymore.

As they lined up for drills, Azzi caught Paige’s eye and gave her a small, knowing smile. Paige smiled back, her heart light.

For the first time in a long while, they both felt like they could breathe easy. No matter what came next, they had each other. And for Paige, that was all that mattered.

──────────── ౨ৎ ───────────

It had been a month since Paige and Azzi had stopped hiding their relationship. The team had largely accepted it, though there were still moments of teasing. But Paige no longer cared. She wasn’t hiding anymore. Neither of them were.

Tonight was different, though. The team had been invited to a party to celebrate the end of the season, a mix of teammates, coaches, and friends. Paige was looking forward to it in a way she hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just a team event. It was an opportunity to finally enjoy the freedom they had earned, to let loose without worrying about being watched.

Azzi had been in her element all evening—laughing, chatting, and looking effortlessly stunning in a sleek black dress that clung to her body perfectly. The fabric shimmered under the lights as she moved through the crowd, her long legs highlighted by the high heels she wore. Paige couldn’t help but stare, her gaze tracing every curve of Azzi’s form. There was something about the way she carried herself tonight—the confidence, the grace—that made Paige’s heart race.

“You good?” Ice asked Paige, noticing her distracted expression.

Paige didn’t immediately respond. Her eyes were locked on Azzi, who was chatting with some of the other girls from the team. Azzi’s smile was radiant, her laughter contagious, and the way she threw her head back in amusement made Paige’s heart flutter.

“I’m more than good,” Paige finally said, her voice a little breathier than usual.

Ice smirked. “I see how it is,” she teased, nudging Paige’s shoulder. “You’re looking at her like you can’t wait to drag her home.”

Paige flushed, but she couldn’t deny it. The desire was there, unspoken but undeniable. Azzi had always had that effect on her. And tonight, it felt different—like the air between them had thickened, like the weight of their love was becoming too much to ignore.

As the night went on, the alcohol flowed freely, and the atmosphere became more relaxed. Paige and Azzi found themselves in a quiet corner of the room, away from the crowd. They weren’t as concerned with the party as they were with each other. The music pulsed in the background, and the dim lighting set a sultry mood.

Azzi took a sip of her drink, her eyes meeting Paige’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. “You look amazing tonight,” she said, her voice low, filled with warmth.

Paige could feel the heat rising to her face at the compliment, but she smiled softly. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Azzi. Every part of her wanted to reach out, to touch her, to feel that closeness again.

Azzi’s gaze didn’t waver. She set her drink down and took a step closer to Paige. “It’s hard to focus when you keep looking at me like that,” she whispered, her lips brushing Paige’s ear as she spoke. “You make it impossible to stay composed.”

Paige’s breath hitched. She was intoxicated, but it wasn’t the alcohol that made her dizzy. It was Azzi. The way her presence consumed Paige entirely, the way she made everything else fade away.

Before Paige could respond, Azzi gently cupped her face and pulled her in for a kiss. It started soft, tender, a slow exploration of each other’s lips. But as the kiss deepened, it became more urgent, more needy. The heat between them surged, the way it always did when they were together.

“Paige,” Azzi murmured against her lips, “I want you.”

The words hung in the air, raw and honest. There was no hiding anymore, no games. In that moment, everything was laid bare between them.

Paige felt herself melting into Azzi’s touch, her hands sliding around Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers slid beneath the fabric of Azzi’s dress, tracing the smooth skin of her back. It felt electric, and every kiss sent waves of desire crashing through her.

Azzi’s breath was shallow now, and Paige could feel the tension building between them. They weren’t alone anymore. The world was still spinning around them, but for once, they didn’t care. It was just the two of them in this moment, their bodies speaking the language they had been waiting to share.

Somehow, they found their way to a quiet room upstairs. The noise of the party seemed distant now, almost irrelevant. In this moment, they were just Paige and Azzi—no teammates, no expectations, just two people who had finally let go of everything that had been holding them back.

Azzi’s hands were all over her now, pulling at the hem of Paige’s shirt, tugging it over her head. Paige’s breath caught in her throat as the cool air of the room brushed against her skin. She had never wanted anyone like this before—never felt this needed.

“Are you sure?” Paige asked, her voice a little unsteady. She could feel the intensity of the moment rising, but there was still a part of her that wanted to make sure they were on the same page.

Azzi’s eyes were dark with desire, but there was no hesitation. “I’m sure,” she whispered, her voice a low growl.

Before Paige could say another word, Azzi kissed her again, this time with a fire that had been simmering for far too long. Their bodies were pressed together, heat radiating between them, the world outside forgotten.

The kiss deepened, and Paige felt a wave of passion surge through her. She reached for the zipper of Azzi’s dress, tugging it down slowly, feeling her pulse race with each inch of skin revealed. Azzi’s hands were on Paige’s back now, guiding her toward the bed. They had crossed a line, and neither of them could stop now.

Azzi’s hands roamed across Paige’s body with an urgency that matched Paige’s own need. Every touch felt like a revelation, every kiss a promise. There was no holding back, no need for words. Their bodies spoke a language of their own—a language of love, of trust, of desire.

And in that moment, nothing else mattered. They were each other’s, completely.

The morning after was a haze of tangled sheets, soft light streaming through the windows, and the weight of what had happened settling in. Paige woke up first, her body still tingling with the aftershocks of the night before. She turned to look at Azzi, who was still asleep beside her, her hair tousled and her breathing soft and steady.

For a long time, Paige simply watched her. She never imagined herself here, with someone like Azzi—someone so strong, so confident, yet so vulnerable in their own way. The way they had connected, not just physically but emotionally, had transformed something inside Paige. She wasn’t afraid anymore.

Azzi stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and when she saw Paige looking at her, she smiled—soft, genuine, filled with love.

“You’re still here,” Azzi murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

Paige smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Azzi’s face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They had crossed a line the night before, and yet, for the first time in their relationship, Paige felt completely sure of herself, of them. There was no fear now—only love. A love that was deep, real, and undeniable.

Azzi reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been,” she whispered.

Paige kissed her forehead softly. “Same here.”

It was the beginning of something real, something that couldn’t be broken by the judgment of others or the pressures of the world. They were in this together, and nothing was going to tear them apart.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn huskies #pazzi fics #wbb #fiction #paige x azzi #pazzi

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mangocurist · 20 hours ago

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hiiiiiii jet @jumped-for-the-yaoi @daylilie (idk which acc to tag so i just did both) . guess who decided to write wincezam (i fucking love that name so damn much can you Tell)

cw they do like makeout and wemmbu is implied to have a boner at some point? idk lol i wrote most of this in a rage last night while i was still post limited it hasnt been edited

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖥧⚶⋆⭒˚｡✧𖦹✮𖤓✮𖦹✧˖°⋆⭒˚｡⚶𖥧𖥧𖤣.𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖥧⋆⭒˚｡✧𖦹✮𖤓✮𖦹✧˖°⋆⭒˚⋆

“Ugh. Dude, this is like, the third time this week, Wemmbu. Can you like, try and be a little more normal about me?”

Zam rolls her eyes at him when his guards drag Wemmbu into the throne room, the clothes he'd borrowed (well, stolen, but on Lifesteal, there really wasn't much of a difference) from his doppelganger slightly stained with soot and redstone.

Zam’s smiling as he looks down at Wemmbu, a brilliant light glowing from the sunny halo that encircles his head. He wants to rip it from Zam’s skull and use it to slit his throat— but Flamefrags is standing just a block away with a netherite sword, and while Wemmbu could probably survive it with the same exploits that got him on here in the first place, he'd really rather not reveal his hand immediately.

Also, Zam’s rather nice to look at when he’s acting all confident like this. It makes Wemmbu wonder if he could've pushed his own Zam into acting a little more like this, if he just turned up the pressure a little more, pushed her buttons until she could no longer deny the blood on his hands.

Hm. Well, maybe not, on second thought.

Wemmbu wasn’t sure if he liked that pacifist Zam who refused to raise her sword at any cost, but would send her guard dogs at any person who crossed her. At least this Zam was willing to get his hands dirty.

“You're— you're like, embarrassing yourself at this point. Seriously. Give it up, you're not gonna do anything with your… what was it? Orbital cannon? That’s a stupid name.” Zam blinks, one hand sweeping a strand of curly golden hair out of his eye, and stands up, walking closer and closer to Wemmbu until she stops right in front of him, motioning for Flamefrags and Manepear to leave them alone.

He's expecting the sword to his neck, sure, but the point of the blade pressing into his skin and the warm feeling of her fingers against his face, gently tracing the length of his cheek are unexpected variables— and, oh god, is that fucking perfume or blood? It smells like iron, so it could be either, but there’s also a tinge of some floral scent that he can’t quite place. Either way, Wemmbu shifts uncomfortably on the ground, silently hoping and willing Zam to come just a little closer.

When she does, another unexpected thing happens. The sword falls to the ground, completely forgotten, as she settles on her knees, lowering herself to the same height as him. Oh, wow. It usually takes longer than this, but Wemmbu certainly won’t complain. “You are actually so stupid. Did you know that?”

To Wemmbu’s credit, he doesn't immediately jump forward and try to eat Zam’s face off. He’s not quite sure the prince-emperor would appreciate it if he ruined his makeup this early into the day. Then again, he did try to bomb the Prince Zam Empire earlier this morning, so surely she wouldn’t be too mad about her makeup compared to the attempted nuking?

He doesn’t have to worry about that, though, because as it turns out, it’s Zam who ruins it first, yanking Wemmbu forward by his fitted shirt collar and smearing lipstick across his mouth as she cups the back of his head, teeth nibbling on his lower lip as he tries to wear down Wemmbu’s defences. At some point during the kiss Wemmbu thinks he can taste blood, and when he dares to look at Zam in the eye she’s grinning like the little yellow smiling freak she is.

When Zam finally pulls away, Wemmbu is left practically reeling, glaring up at the prince who just smiles sweetly at him, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket to dab at the blood staining her face. “You lost this time,” Zam says, then, as an addition, “And also twice before that. Three in a row is a pretty bad track record, dude.”

“Oh, shut up,” Wemmbu rolls his eyes.

He’s about to say more— point out the fact that he’s never really actually won, because that would require him to level the Prince Zam Empire to the ground and honestly he doesn’t really want to do that, not if it means that Zam won’t be around to match him anymore; or maybe the fact that he hails from a server where murder is the norm and it would be so much easier than Zam thinks to shove a sword between his ribs, make him choke on a poisoned meal or gouge his eyes out with Wemmbu’s bare hands— but then Zam is sitting on his lap, soft, ungloved hands pulling his face down to level, and Wemmbu—

Well. It’s pretty hard to think with a prince in your lap.

It’s harder (haha) for Wemmbu specifically because this isn’t just any prince, this is Zam, and his blood is still crusted at the corner of her lips where the handkerchief hadn’t reached, and it’s just difficult for him to do anything but stare up at Zam reverently.

“You’re the one who’s going to shut up,” Zam says, voice dripping with honey, and then he bites Wemmbu again, tongue darting out to lick away the blood before she’s on him again, practically trying to smother Wemmbu with the taste of his own ichor. He can honestly barely think with the weight of Zam in his lap and the feel of her touch on his face, but Wemmbu is a self-saboteur in the best of times and he thinks himself a comedian, so when Zam reaches behind him to undo the chains binding his hands, seemingly bored by his limited reciprocation, the first thing he does is reach into his inventory for a small stick of TnT and put it in his hotbar.

Zam doesn’t notice what he’s doing immediately, which is good, if a little worrying. Seriously, for someone who faces so many goddamn assassinations (and he would know! He’s been the attempted assassin no less than 28 times, and it’s been only a month or so since he’s found his way onto Unstable) she really has no sense of self-preservation when in the middle of a makeout session.

Speaking of. Wemmbu snakes his hand underneath Zam’s shirt, revelling in the fact that she shivers at his touch. He traces along the flat planes of Zam’s back, then slowly inches his way back to the front of her shirt, and— oh, God. Is he not wearing a fucking—

Okay. Cool. Wemmbu has his hands on Zam’s boobs. That’s… cool. The prince doesn’t seem particularly nonplussed about it, either, he actually sounds quite happy about it, but this is a little bit too out of Wemmbu’s depth, and when he’s feeling a little bit out of his own depth, he makes stupid decisions.

He switches his hotbar item, and it takes only a second before Zam is wrenching himself away from Wemmbu, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Wemmbu,” Zam says slowly, as if she's sounding out his name. He blinks at her, trying to emulate that kicked puppy look that always worked on his Zam. It's a losing battle, but he figures he may as well try. At least he’ll look cute while dying with a sword stuck in his gut. Or maybe Zam will put it in his dick, which will look less cute, but it’ll be funnier, for sure. “Did you just try and put a stick of TnT up my shirt?”

“Well, I wasn’t actually going to do it, I think, but I kinda stopped thinking when I touched your boobs,” Wemmbu says, shrugging when Zam turns an almost murderous glare onto him. He sounds much more casual than he feels, still reeling a little from the unexpected experience. A little voice in his head mocks him for getting so riled up at touching boobs for the first time, and Wemmbu ignores it to try and face Zam properly. He’s going to pretend that TnT slipup was on purpose, starting now. “Give me a head start?”

“You have ten seconds to get out of my sight,” Zam says, the rage in his voice practically palpable. Wemmbu laughs shakily, even as he stumbles his way out of the palace, weaving past each and every guard Zam sends running after him.

“Bye-bye, your highness!” He blows a kiss to Zam as he leaves, grinning when he notices the begrudgingly amused smile he sees her trying to hide. Hey, at least he didn’t fumble as spectacularly as that other him did. Speaking of which… he hadn’t framed his doppelganger in a while, had he?

Well. At least he had that to take his mind off things.

(Somewhere halfway across the world border, a different Wemmbu sneezes. “Please don’t tell me I’m about to be banned from another country.”)

#📖 oz writes #wincezam #zammbu #IMGOINN A LOSE IT HELAHHWHGD #it is so fucking funny to look at that ship name WINCEZAM ON TOP YEAHHH #mutiny duo #princezam #wemmbu

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dangerous-button · 3 days ago

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I read Stone Butch Blues when it was first published. I was 18, just barely out, and a sophomore at a liberal arts women's college 45 minutes from my parents' house. That would've been... 1993? Yup. 1993.

The book fundamentally changed my understanding of... pretty much everything.

My great-grandparents were all working class. On my dad's side (his parents were cousins), they were farmers. On my mom's maternal side, they were European immigrants and union bricklayers. On her paternal side, Jewish immigrants. Her dad and his sister were raised by their mom, who was not, I believe, religious, and didn't raise them in the faith. She was a shopkeeper.

My grandparents' generation were college-educated (possibly except for my dad's mom). My dad's father was a math teacher and my mom's father, educated at Caltech, was a civil engineer. My mom's mother ran my grandfather's business, including a real estate office for a while.

Both my parents graduated from Stanford and taught English (my dad, who had a Ph.D., eventually went into corporate management to make more money).

So... I grew up surrounded by both the privileged world of aspirational academia and the, much more resonant for me, family stories about immigrant lives, trade unions, and beautiful craftsmanship.

I can do the academic thing, and do it well, but I have always preferred making things to studying them. I have always felt a bit out-of-sync with my family’s "evolution" towards increasingly academic pursuits. I like using my brain, but I like to keep my hands dirty while I do it.

Leslie Feinberg's writing became, for me, the first place where my own queerness and my identification with my family’s immigrant and working-class roots, made sense to me as parts of a single whole.

The summer after my junior year, I went through a directory I'd gotten my hands on of lesbians working in the arts, and sent out letters to those who seemed interesting, compatible, and far enough away from my childhood in California to let me try my hand at becoming something more than my parents' daughter. I asked for an apprenticeship.

As such things do, the end result wound up being... very different from what I'd imagined. I got a gig in New Hampshire helping a musician and her trans partner, who made their living busking on hammered dulcimer. I was meant to go live in a tent on their land, help with the straw bale house they were building, help babysit their 3 year old daughter, and join the busking on my harp. As it turns out, I have absolutely NO musical improvisation ability and had no clue what to do when there wasn't sheet music. The harp spent the summer in its case. Also turns out that my social anxiety made not having my own, completely private, space to retreat to unbearable. I wound up renting a tiny apartment in a nearby college town. And then... well, it turned out that the weather wasn't great for house building, and my girlfriend, spending the summer outside DC with her parents, was miserable, and so she came to join me, and...

Well. Before my girlfriend arrived, I did a lot of hiking and lake swimming, went to Boston Pride and cheered on my busking "bosses," joined them and their friends for a summer solstice ritual at which I was introduced to the concept of herbed butter and the back-breaking problems of invasive blackberry, and rode in their decomposing old subaru wagon (it's fascinating to warch the road go by through clusters of tiny, rusted out, salt-holes in the footwell) all the way to New York, specifically to hear Leslie Feinberg speak.

I was the most awestruck, hero-worshipping baby dyke imaginable, the youngest person in the room by at least a decade, and I still remember the sensation of blushing for *three hours.* Because. I was. In. The. Same. Room. As. Leslie. Feinberg.

That summer broke me wide open. It was the first time I ever felt like I, as an individual being, might hold power, make something that changed things, in the world.

That feeling, of urgent, hopeful agency, swells and recedes in my life, but I never experience it without thinking of Stone Butch Blues and of Leslie Feinberg. And yes, I still blush. Every damn time.

Happy (early) Nov 15th! Remember that Stone Butch Blues is free now and always to read here

Leslie was a communist, a butch lesbian, a nonbinary and transgender activist, and the person who made me who I am today. Consider checking out Stone Butch Blues if you haven’t already 😘 Do it for Leslie, and for hir surviving partner, Minnie Bruce Pratt 💕

#stories #leslie feinberg #stone butch blues

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meinii · 1 day ago

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“I love you”

summary: Sylus loves you, and he was ready to tell you… but it seemed to never be the right time ໒꒰ྀི ੭-ࡇ-꒱ྀི੭

content: fluff, mentions of food

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

Sylus had never been the kind of man to hesitate. ruthlessness, precision, and control—these things came naturally to him. he could break a man with a word, send empires crumbling with a command, and yet…

three simple words had him struggling

“I love you.”

he had never said them before. never needed to. but with you, he wanted to. he needed to

he just… couldn’t.

the first time he tried, you were curled up beside him on the couch, watching some movie he wasn’t even paying attention to. your head rested against his shoulder, his arm lazily draped around you, fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your wrist. you were warm. soft. comforting in a way he didn’t know how to describe

the words pressed against his throat. all he had to do was say them. three words. three stupid, simple words

he opened his mouth—

“do you want more popcorn?” you asked, sitting up slightly

he closed it. inhaled through his nose. forced a smirk “tch, i don’t eat that cheap stuff”

you rolled your eyes “liar. you had a whole handful ten minutes ago”

“that was different”

you snorted, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. he caught it between his fingers, flicked it back at you, and just like that, the moment was gone.

the second time, you were half-asleep in his bed, tangled up in the sheets with one of his hoodies drowning your frame. he watched you, his fingers brushing over your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear

the words sat heavy on his tongue

“I love—”

you made a soft sound, shifting slightly “mm… Sylus?”

he swallowed hard “yeah?”

“stop staring. creepy.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, pressing a kiss to your temple instead. you drifted back to sleep within seconds, and he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair

what the hell was wrong with him?

the third time, he almost had it

you were sitting on the balcony, the night breeze ruffling your hair as you gazed out over the city. he stood behind you, leaning against the railing, watching the way the neon lights reflected in your eyes

“I love y—”

“hey,” you interrupted, turning to look at him “why do you keep staring at me lately?”

he stiffened “what?”

“you just seem like… you wanna say something. but you don’t”

Sylus clicked his tongue, forcing his usual smirk

“maybe I just like watching you”

your brows furrowed slightly, but then you smiled, shaking your head

“you’re weird”

he watched as you turned back toward the skyline, his hands curling into fists

coward.

he didn’t get another chance

because the next time, you beat him to it

you were both in the kitchen, doing absolutely nothing special. he was leaning against the counter, watching you stir your coffee, and you just… said it

“I love you, Sylus”

just like that. so casually. so effortlessly.

his brain short-circuited

you blinked at him, waiting. then, slowly, a frown crept onto your face. “…Sylus?”

he swallowed, gripping the edge of the counter. he had waited so damn long to say it first, and now you had stolen the moment right out from under him

his expression must’ve given him away, because you suddenly broke into laughter

“oh my god were you trying to say it first?”

his eye twitched

you covered your mouth, still giggling. “I can’t believe you’re actually pouting about this. you’re so cute”

his scowl deepened “shut up”

“no, really, it’s adorable. the big bad Sylus, all sulky because I said it first”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face “this is a disaster”

you stepped closer, resting your hands against his chest “hey,” you murmured, smile softening

“it doesn’t matter who said it first, you know. you don’t have to force it. just say it when you’re ready”

he exhaled slowly, eyes dropping to yours. something in his chest squeezed tight, and finally

“I love you”

you beamed “see? that wasn’t so hard”

he sighed, tugging you forward, burying his face against your shoulder “shut up”

but he was smiling

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lilianne-tarot · 13 hours ago

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PICK A PILE: What do people feel when they look into your eyes?

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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My Masterlist🫶🏻

── .✦ PILE I

cards pulled: The world reversed, 10 of wands, Ace of wands, 3 of pentacles, 2 of pentacles.

Hello pile 1! So starting off with your reading, your eyes hold weight. Like, people stare into them and feel this deep, almost overwhelming pull—as if you know things. You know when someone makes eye contact and immediately looks away? That’s why. Your gaze makes people feel exposed.

Maybe, Your eyes look different depending on the mood you’re in. It’s almost supernatural. When you’re deep in thought, they can look distant—like you’re somewhere else entirely. But when you’re focused on someone? It’s game over for them. Your gaze locks them in place, and they suddenly forget how to breathe. Another hit I’m getting—your eyes glow in certain lighting. Like, maybe in the golden hour sun, or under dim lighting, there’s this otherworldly sheen to them. People notice it and get caught in a daze. You could be walking past someone, and they’ll turn back just to check if they really saw what they think they saw. (Hint: They did, and now they can’t stop thinking about it.)

But here’s the thing - your energy isn’t necessarily intimidating; it’s just unfiltered truth. People sense that you carry wisdom, resilience, and maybe even some silent battles that have shaped you. The World reversed tells me that people feel like you’ve seen life’s highs and lows, and it shows in the way your eyes hold untold stories. Some might feel comforted by that, but others? Oof—they go into a full-on existential crisis when they meet your gaze. people look into your eyes and get this weird mix of heavy emotions and admiration. Like, they see a depth that reminds them of their own struggles, but at the same time, they see someone who is still standing, pushing forward, making things happen. But (and this is interesting), people also feel a need to prove themselves to you. The Three of Pentacles tells me that when people lock eyes with you, there’s this unconscious pressure to be better, to work harder, to impress you. Your eyes challenge people, like, “Are you really putting in the effort? Are you really stepping up in your life?” And some people LOVE that—they want to earn your respect. But for others? They shrink. They can’t handle being held to a silent standard.

Now, let’s talk about the fire in your gaze. Because it’s not all deep emotional weight and existential reckoning—your eyes also ignite something in people. The Ace of Wands is passion, energy, inspiration—your gaze has this spark that wakes people up. It’s like staring into pure potential—people look at you and suddenly start daydreaming about big moves, wild possibilities, and even risky choices they never considered before. Also... I HAVE TO SAY IT—some people get lowkey obsessed with you because your eyes make them feel ALIVE. Like, they weren’t even thinking about you that way, but now? They’re pacing their room at replaying that one glance you gave them. 😭. People can’t pin you down, and that drives them INSANE. Your gaze shifts between calm and intense, warm and unreadable, steady and playful—people never know what’s coming next. And THAT? That’s dangerous. They start overanalyzing, wondering, “What did that look mean? Did they just read my mind? Do they hate me? Do they secretly love me??” And now they’re in a full-blown mental crisis because of you.

Your eyes have this almost ethereal, timeless quality—like they’ve seen things beyond this lifetime. The Soft yet piercing contrast is WILD. Your eyes can look gentle one second, then suddenly hold a gaze so powerful it makes people nervous. They flicker between warmth and unreadability, and that unpredictability makes people obsessed. I hope this reading resonated with you, Thank you for reading till here, i hope you have an amazing day! Sending you all the love and good vibes!

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── .✦ PILE II

Cards pulled: 9 of pentacles, Queen of swords, 9 of wands, Page of swords, Wheel of fortune.

HELLO pile 2! Okay, listen. Your eyes? They do NOT play around. Your eyes carry this deadly mix of wisdom, confidence, and just a little bit of "don't mess with me" energy. There’s an air of control—like you’re the one observing, assessing, deciding whether someone is worth your time. And BABY, people feel that. They know they have to come correct with you, or not come at all. Your eyes are DANGEROUSLY ATTRACTIVE.

Your eyes have that “I see through you” energy. I am seeing so many words to describe you eyes, like Passionate, rebellious, playful but intense. These eyes command attention. They’re the type that makes people flustered or lose their train of thought mid-sentence. There’s also something undeniably seductive about them—not just in a romantic way, but in a “I can’t stop looking at you” way. Your gaze slices through the BS like a sword. People who are fake, insecure, or hiding something? They literally can’t hold eye contact with you for too long because they feel exposed (and maybe even a little judged). They are also Elegant but lethal. Your eyes have that old-money, untouchable confidence. You don’t even need to say "I told you so"—your eyes already did. I feel like, yall know HOW to use your eyes in your favour, and if not, i beg you besties to learn that😭you would literally unlock another whole level of magic.

I also see that your eyes scream self-sufficiency, like you know exactly who you are and what you bring to the table. People get the sense that you’re impossible to own—they either meet your standards or they’re dismissed. your eyes are so freaking sharp and observant, it’s almost unnerving. People feel like you pick up on everything—tiny changes in their tone, subtle body language shifts, the way their hands fidget when they lie. The wheel of fortune signifies the unpredictability of your energy. Your eyes don’t just see people—they make them feel like anything could happen. This tells me the mystery your eyes hold is a huge part of your personality. There’s a karmic pull—people don’t just glance at you and move on. Your gaze leaves an impact that lingers long after they look away.

Your eyes could Mysterious most of the times, even if you don’t try. Some people have deep, soulful eyes that pull you in and whisper secrets. YOURS is the king That tell people, “Try and figure me out. Good luck, though.” There’s a challenge in your gaze, and it drives people CRAZY. Just like pile 1, your eyes could also look different depending on your mood. When you’re calm, they’re collected, regal, and unreadable. But when you’re passionate about something? They light up like fire, and suddenly, everyone is hyper-focused on you. But they ALWAYS hold that sense of mystery to them. I’m getting cat energy—sleek, unpredictable, untouchable. If you stare too long, it feels like you’re reading minds.

People feel drawn to you, not just for your looks but for the energy you carry, one that’s both mysterious and captivating. There’s a quiet confidence in your gaze that makes people want to know more, yet they also recognize that you don’t let just anyone in. Whether it’s admiration, curiosity, or a little bit of intimidation, one thing’s for sure—people don’t forget the way you look at them.That was intense, but I LOVED every second of it. 😭 Thank you for reading till here, i hope you have an amazing day!

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── .✦ PILE III

Cards Pulled: 2 of swords, the moon, 8 of pentacles, page of cups, 9 of swords.

Omg. Okay. When people look into your eyes, it’s like they’ve suddenly stepped into a thriller movie. No, seriously. There’s a hypnotic depth here, which is too obvious. Pile 3, your eyes hold a mystery that people can’t quite put their finger on. There’s something dreamy, distant, and almost otherworldly about them

Let’s start with the obvious: People feel confused, intrigued, and just a little bit haunted when they look at you. Babe, you radiate the type of energy that makes people second-guess what they are doing. Like, they’re staring at you, trying to figure out what’s going on behind those eyes, and suddenly, they’re re-evaluating their whole existence. 💀 Your eyes hold secrets. Unspoken words. Feelings that can’t be named. They might see flickers of sadness, nostalgia, or even a past life connection that lowkey freaks them out (in a good way). But let’s be real—you don’t let people in easily. That 9 of Swords here tells me you’ve seen things. You’ve felt things. Your eyes carry the weight of emotions you don’t always verbalize, and people feel that heaviness, even if they can’t explain it.

But here’s the thing, they’re not just drawn to your depth; they’re drawn to your creativity, your softness, your quiet hope. The Page of Cups is giving, “There’s a dreamer behind these walls.” And omg, people can SENSE that. Your eyes have this soft, artistic melancholy, like someone who writes poetry or listens to sad indie songs while staring at the stars. There’s something about your gaze that commands respect. People see work ethic. Strength. Determination. Your eyes say, “I’ve worked for everything I have,” and people feel that energy before you even open your mouth. It’s giving silent resilience. Like, someone could stare into your eyes and KNOW you’ve had moments where you were tired, drained, on the edge of breaking down—but you never did. And That’s powerful.

Some people, They straight-up don’t know what to do with your energy. They look into your eyes, and suddenly, they’re questioning if they should run towards you or run away. (The Moon + 2 of Swords energy is no joke.) There’s this magnetism, but also uncertainty. You give off that, “Come closer, but only if you’re ready to see the real me” vibe. And bestie, not everyone is ready for that level of depth. Now, I HAVE to say this: If you’ve ever been told, “You’re hard to read” or “I can’t tell what you’re thinking,” just know that it’s so real. People might assume you’re guarded, mysterious, or distant, but that’s just because they don’t realize how much is happening beneath the surface. And the funniest part? Even when you do show emotion, people still question if they’re seeing the full picture.

People don’t just look into your eyes—they get lost in them. this pile is literally the most poetic and softest of the all the three. Some people see sadness, some see secrets, some see silent strength. But everyone? They see something. I hope this reading resonated with you, Thank you for reading till here, i hope you have an amazing day! Sending you all the love and good vibes!

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! If my reading resonated you, you may consider buying my paid reading as it would really help me out financially♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not fixedly predict the future. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

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