#been a bit too long since I got one of those

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: UNSPOKEN

paige x azzi

word count: 10.8k

A/N: Alright this one is a little different from what I usually do. I was struggling with ideas so I decided to try to mix it up 🫣. I also know everyone thinks Paige fell first so I wanted to switch it up a little bit in this. Let me know what you guys think please 🫶🏼

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“Unspoken” is a story about the quiet tension between two people who’ve spent years running from the truth—because sometimes, love isn’t about grand declarations or perfect timing. Sometimes, it’s about the fights, the moments when words fail, and the painful silence that surrounds all the things we’re too afraid to say.

Paige and Azzi had been best friends for as long as they can remember, but somewhere along the way, things started to change. The friendship they shared slowly morphed into something more complicated, something neither of them was ready to admit. The arguments, the jealousy, the misunderstandings, all became the backdrop for the truth they weren’t brave enough to confront.

This is the story of the moments that broke them down and built them up again—of the words that should have been said and those that should’ve never been spoken, the love that was hidden beneath the surface, and the way they both had to learn to fight for each other. Through every argument, every misstep, and every tear, they would come to realize one simple thing: they were in love with each other, and no amount of fear or uncertainty could change that.

These are the fights, the messy situations, that led them to the one thing they never expected to find—each other:

3rd Person POV - 2018 (DMV)

Azzi was sitting cross-legged on her bed, leaning back against the headboard while Paige lay sprawled on the floor, tossing a basketball in the air and catching it with lazy precision. Soft music was playing from Azzi’s speaker, filling the comfortable silence between them.

“You know,” Azzi said as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone, “I still don’t get how you eat so much junk and don’t feel like absolute trash afterward.” She was referencing how Paige didn’t seem to follow any diet, didn’t eat any vegetables, and just consumed whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted.

Paige snorted, keeping her eyes on the ball as she flicked it up again. “I’m built different.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “That’s not a real answer.”

“It is if you accept it.”

Azzi grabbed a pillow and chucked it at her, but it landed nowhere near Paige causing the blonde to laugh while still focused on the ball. “You’re annoying,” Azzi muttered.

“Whatever bro. Why you beg me to come visit you then?”

Azzi sighed dramatically. “Clearly I gotta start setting higher standards for my friends.”

“Best friend,” Paige corrected.

Azzi grinned but didn’t argue. They’d been calling each other best friends since they met on Team USA, but sometimes—more recently than before–there was something underneath it that neither of them acknowledged. A weight in the way they talked to one another on FaceTime every night, the way they never went a day without talking, a different kind of warmth in the way they looked at each other.

In the midst of their conversation Paige’s phone buzzed. Then again. And again. She didn’t even glance at it, but Azzi heard it. “Damn,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Who's blowing you up?”

Paige kept her focus on the ball. “Dunno.”

Azzi smirked. “What, you too famous to check your phone now?”

Paige caught the ball and held it against her stomach, hesitating just long enough for Azzi to pick up on it.

Azzi sat up a little. “Wait. Who is it?”

Paige took a long exhale, staring at the ceiling for a second before mumbling, “It’s probably this girl.”

Azzi blinked. “This girl?”

Paige pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Yeah, prolly. She got my number from somebody and she just been texting me lately.”

Azzi’s lips twitched, her smirk faltering for just a second before she masked it with a laugh. “Ohhh, so Paige Bueckers has a girl on her line.” She nudged Paige’s leg with her foot. “Who is she?”

Paige shrugged. “Just someone I met at a tournament.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And what?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “Do you like her or something?”

Paige shrugged, then sighed. “I don’t know. No?”

Azzi’s expression shifted slightly. The teasing edge in her voice was still there, but it didn’t quite match what was reflected in her eyes. “Wait, you actually want to talk to her?”

Paige frowned a little confused now. “I mean… I don’t not want to.”

Azzi scoffed quietly, shaking her head. “Wow. Okay.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Azzi said quickly, a little too quickly. She flopped back against her pillows, suddenly very interested in the ceiling.

Paige wasn’t buying it. “No, what was that?”

“Paige, nothing,” Azzi repeated.

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Azzi come on bro.”

Azzi sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I just—why are you even telling me this?”

Paige frowned. “Because you’re my best friend? I tell you everything.”

Azzi let out a dry laugh. “Right. Best friend. Got it.”

Something about the way she said it made Paige’s stomach twist. She wasn’t sure why, but suddenly, the room felt… different. Tense. Like they had stepped too close to a line neither of them had ever acknowledged before.

“Why are you acting weird?” Paige asked, her voice a little quieter now.

Azzi shook her head. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Azzi let out a breath. “Maybe because I just don’t want to hear about some girl trying to get with you.”

Silence. It felt like the silence between them stretched for an eternity.

The air between them was thick with a weight that neither of them had ever experienced when talking to one another. Azzi looked like she had just said something she wasn’t supposed to, and Paige—Paige couldn’t breathe.

“Why do you care?” Paige finally spoke, her voice much quieter than it usually is.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t. It’s just—you always say you don’t like distractions, but now some random girl is blowing up your phone, and you don’t mind?”

Paige frowned. “That’s not what I said Az.”

“It kinda is.”

Paige sat up now, her eyes slightly narrowed because of Azzi’s coldness. “Bro why you acting like I did something wrong? I was just tryna talk to you about it.”

Azzi let out a dry laugh. “Right. Like I want to hear about how some girl who's in the same state as you is into you and has been blowing your phone up.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. She didn’t know why, but the way Azzi was speaking made her chest feel tight. “So, what? I’m just not supposed to talk to you about stuff like this?”

Azzi’s jaw tensed. “No, maybe not.”

Paige blinked. “Azzi that’s ridiculous. We tell each other everything.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, well, maybe not everything.”

That hit Paige harder than she expected. She stared at Azzi, frustration bubbling under her skin. Azzi was her best friend. The one person in the world she felt like she could share anything with—who understood the pressure she felt everyday, was sitting here telling her that maybe they should stop telling each other everything. “Why are you being so weird about this? I didn’t do anything.”

Azzi’s head moved toward her direction. “I’m not being weird, Paige. I just—” She cut herself off, exhaling before pushing her hair out of her face in frustration. “You don’t get it.”

Paige threw her hands up. “No, I clearly don’t, so explain it to me! Because I feel like I’m missing something here.”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers picking at the blanket. Her expression was unreadable—like she was fighting with herself, torn between saying something and holding it back.

Paige pushed. “Azzi please.”

Azzi’s eyes met hers, and for the first time that night, she looked vulnerable. Exposed.

“You don’t get it,” Azzi said, softer this time, “because you don’t see the way anyone looks at you.” Azzi wasn’t just talking about other people. Paige had always had this pull, this undeniable presence that filled every room she stepped into. The way she carried herself, how naturally charismatic and genuine she was, made it impossible not to look. And people did look.

Azzi was no different. But Paige never seemed to notice.

Paige’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Azzi sighs, shaking her head. “Everyone wants a piece of you, Paige. In whatever way they can get you. Girls, guys, everyone.

Paige swallowed, her confusion giving way to an excitement at the possibility of what Azzi was insinuating. “Azzi…”

Azzi eyes flickering with something Paige couldn’t place. “I don’t want to hear about some girl trying to talk to you because I hate the idea of you talking to someone else.”

Paige’s heart pounded. She felt like the ground had just been ripped out from under her, like something she had been ignoring for months had just been shoved in her face.

She barely had time to process it, to respond properly before Azzi let out a shaky breath and muttered, “Forget it. Just—just ignore me.”

But Paige didn’t want to forget it, she couldn’t. Because suddenly, everything made sense—suddenly she didn’t feel like she was making things up in her head.

The lingering looks. The teasing that always felt a little too real.

Without thinking about the possible repercussions, Paige moved. One second, she was sitting on the floor staring at Azzi, heart racing, and the next, she was in front of her leaning in, closing the space between them.

Azzi inhaled sharply, her lips parting just slightly. For a split second, Azzi looked like she was going to pull away.

But then Paige kissed her.

It was hesitant, completely unsure, but the second their lips touched, something clicked. Like a spark igniting, like the answer to a question neither of them had been willing to ask.

Azzi sucked in a breath, and just for a second she kissed Paige back. But just as quickly as it happened, Azzi pulled away, eyes wide.

When she saw Azzi’s reaction Paige’s heart pounded, immediately throwing out, “I—I don’t know why I did that.”

Azzi swallowed, looking just as lost. “Yeah. Me neither.”

They stared at each other.

Finally, Paige let out a weak laugh. “Let’s just forget it.”

Azzi hesitated before nodding. “Yeah…Forget it.”

3rd Person POV - May 2020 (DMV)

It was the middle of quarantine, and time felt like it barely existed. Days blurred into nights, and the weeks passed without much distinction. Paige had been staying with Azzi and her family for a while now.

They had fallen into an easy rhythm. Workouts in the driveway, endless hours of TV, late-night talks in Azzi’s bed. There were also the moments in between now—those fleeting, stolen seconds where a look lingered too long, where an innocent touch didn’t quite feel so innocent. It had started slowly, almost accidental. A brush of hands, an arm around a shoulder that didn’t move away. Then one night, Paige kissed her again. And Azzi kissed her back.

Since then, it has been happening more often. Just making out here and there, like something they could pick up and drop whenever they wanted. But they never talked about it.

Now, they were lying in Azzi’s bed, bodies tangled in the way that came with knowing each other too well. Azzi’s head rested on Paige’s stomach, her fingers idly tracing the blanket while Paige was trying to spin the ball on her finger, though she was being extra careful considering Azzi was laying on her.

“You suck at that, by the way,” Azzi mumbled, watching the ball wobble slightly in Paige’s grip.

Paige scoffed. “You literally couldn’t do this for more than two seconds without launching it across the room.”

Azzi laughed. “That’s because I actually put some power into it. You’re just throwing it up like you’re scared it’s gonna fight back.”

Paige rolled her eyes. “You’re annoying sometimes, you know that?”

Azzi hummed, tilting her head slightly so she was looking up at Paige. “Yeah, but you love me anyway so I don’t really care.”

Paige froze for half a second before shaking her head, trying to play it off. “Debatable.”

Azzi laughed softly, but Paige didn’t miss the way her fingers stopped moving against the blanket when Paige froze. The pause lasted a little too long, and Paige suddenly felt like she should say something else—something light, something easy—but before she could, her phone buzzed in quick succession from somewhere on the floor.

Azzi turned her head toward the sound. “Damn. Someone’s popular.”

Paige didn’t even glance at it, still looking at Azzi. “It’s nothing.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You don’t even know who it is.”

Paige shrugged. “If it was important, they’d call.”

Azzi watched her for a second, then turned her attention back to the ceiling. “Right. Or maybe it’s one of the many people who have been blowing up your comments lately.”

All of a sudden this conversation felt like deja vu and it made Paige’s stomach churn.

Paige sighed, rubbing her temple. “Azzi—”

Azzi kept going, her tone meant to be teasing, but there was something more serious beneath it that Paige picked up on. “I mean, I get it. UConn’s gonna be a whole new world for you. New team, new people, new girls—”

Paige groaned. “Bro oh my God.”

Azzi tilted her head again, keeping her voice light but her eyes too focused. “What? You’re telling me you’re not looking forward to all the attention you’re about to get?”

Paige sighed, gripping the basketball a little tighter. “I don’t care about allat.”

Azzi scoffed, shaking her head. “Bullshit.”

Paige frowned. “I don’t.”

Azzi changed her position slightly, resting her weight on her elbow as she looked at Paige. “So you’re telling me you don’t like all the attention? The DMs, the comments, the girls who’ve never met you throwing themselves at you?”

Paige let out a short laugh, not out of amusement but frustration. “Azzi, come on—”

“No, seriously.” Azzi’s voice was steady, but there was something underneath it—something Paige couldn’t quite place. “You’re not gonna sit here and act like you don’t eat that shit up.”

Paige gave her a confused look. “You act like I’m out here entertaining them. I’ve never responded to any of them.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not shutting them down either, so you clearly want it.”

Paige let out a long breath, shaking her head. “Come on Azzi, you’re my best friend, you know me better than that.”

Azzi scoffed, sitting up fully now, her back against the headboard. “Right.”

Paige’s jaw tightened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Azzi looked at her. “It means I don’t know what the hell we’re doing anymore.”

Paige sat up fully too, the ball rolling off the bed as she turned to face Azzi. “What you mean?”

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Paige’s chest tightened, frustration building. “Get what? That you’re mad at me for something I didn’t even do? Something you think I might do?”

Azzi shook her head, running a hand through her hair. “I’m not mad at you, Paige. I just—” She exhaled. “Forget it.”

“No.” Paige’s voice was more firm now, her heartbeat picking up. “You don’t get to start something and then back out.”

Azzi’s eyes flickered with anger. “Oh, I’m the one starting something and backing out?” She let out a bitter laugh. “That’s ironic.”

Paige groaned, throwing her head back. “Azzi, just talk to me instead of throwing around all this cryptic shit.”

Azzi held her gaze for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, before she could stop herself, she said it. “We keep kissing, Paige. We kiss a lot actually.”

Silence. Paige felt her stomach drop, her mouth suddenly dry.

Azzi shook her head, looking away—she couldn’t look at Paige while she said this. “And we never talk about it. We act like it doesn’t mean anything, and maybe to you, it doesn’t, but I—” She stopped herself, exhaling through her nose. “I just don’t get how you can sit here and act like none of it matters.”

Paige swallowed hard. “Azzi that’s not—”

Azzi turned back to her, her voice quieter now. “You’re leaving soon. And once you go, this—whatever this is, whatever we’re doing—it’s over, right?”

Paige’s throat felt tight, but she forced the words out anyway. “It doesn’t have to be.”

Azzi let out a long breath, shaking her head. “What does that mean, Paige?”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “It means we don’t have to stop just because I’m going to UConn.”

Azzi scoffed. “Right. So what? You want to keep doing what exactly? Keep flirting with me, kissing me but then pretending it doesn’t mean anything?”

Paige’s frustration spiked. “I never said it didn’t mean anything.”

“You sure as hell act like it.”

Paige ran a hand over her face, exhaling. “Az, I really don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I want you to say something for once instead of just kissing me and pretending it never happened.” Azzi’s voice was rising now, her usual calmness slipping. “Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending like it’s normal to make out with my best friend one second and then act like nothing happened the next.”

Paige shook her head. “You think this is easy for me?”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, yeah. It must be so hard for you, Paige. Having somebody, with no labels, to makeout with whenever you want is so fucking hard. Meanwhile, I’m the one sitting here wondering if I’m just another one of your little distractions before you leave.”

Paige’s chest tightened. “That’s not fair. It’s not like that.”

Azzi stared at her. “Isn’t it?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. The air between them was tense, heavy with something unsaid, something neither of them had been brave enough to confront.

Finally, Paige exhaled, her voice quieter now. “Azzi, you’re not just—” She swallowed. “You’re not just some distraction.”

Azzi searched her face, eyes flickering between Paige’s. “Then what am I?”

Paige opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Because she didn’t have an answer—at least, not one that wouldn’t change everything.

Azzi sighed, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought.”

Paige let out a sharp breath, running a hand through her hair. “Azzi please, come on.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened. “No. I’m done guessing, Paige.”

Paige’s frustration boiled over. “I don’t know how to say it, okay?”

“Say what, Paige?”

Paige clenched her jaw, her voice rising. “That I don’t want to leave! That I don’t want things to change! That I—” She cut herself off, exhaling hard.

Azzi’s gaze stayed locked on her, daring her to finish. “That you what?”

Paige shook her head, her pulse hammering. “I don’t know.”

Azzi threw her hands up. “See? This is exactly what I’m talking about. You do know, Paige, you just don’t want to say it.”

Paige’s face burned with frustration. “Because once I do, it means something, Azzi. And I don’t—I don’t know how to deal with that. You barely know how to deal with it so you’re putting it on me.”

Azzi scoffed. “So instead, you’d rather just ignore it? Pretend like nothing’s happening between us?”

Paige ran a hand over her face, exasperated. “It’s not like that.”

Azzi crossed her arms. “Then what’s it like?”

Paige opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. She could feel it—all of it—boiling just under the surface, but every time she tried to pull it out, to say what she knew Azzi needed to hear, something inside her locked up.

Azzi shook her head. “You’re being a coward Paige.”

Paige’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”

Azzi didn’t back down. “You heard me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No? Then prove me wrong.”

Paige’s frustration snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. Before she could stop herself, she was closing the distance between them, her hand gripping the back of Azzi’s neck as she pushed their lips together.

Azzi kissed back for a moment—just a moment—before she abruptly pushed Paige away, her breath coming fast. “No. You don’t get to do that.”

Paige looked stunned, her lips still tingling, her chest tight. “Azzi—”

“No,” Azzi snapped. “You don’t get to kiss me just to shut me up Paige. That’s not how this shit works.”

Paige ran a hand through her hair, exhaling hard. “That’s not what I was doing, Azzi.”

“Really? Because that’s what it feels like. Every time we get remotely close to actually talking about this, you do something like that.”

Paige sighed. “I don’t know how to talk about this, baby.”

Azzi’s gaze softened for a split second before she shook her head. “Then figure it out, Paige. Because I can’t keep being the only one who actually wants to face it.”

Paige’s frustration cracked, desperation creeping into her voice. “I do want to face it—I just don’t want to lose you.”

“Then say something, Paige. Say anything that actually means something instead of trying to shove your tongue down my throat.”

Paige swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I don’t want this to be over. I don’t want to leave and pretend none of this ever happened. I don’t want you to think you’re just some—some phase or some mistake—some distraction.” She inhaled, her voice softer now. “I don’t want to lose you, Azzi.”

Azzi’s expression faltered for just a second before she let out a slow breath. “Paige…”

Paige shook her head, her chest tightening. “I just—I know I’m scared, Az. And shit’s about to be so different. I’m about to be in a different state, away from my family…away from you. There’s all these expectations and I haven’t even gotten on campus yet and I just—I need you Az. I need you more than anything and I’m scared that shit’s going to change between us, get weird and I can’t…I won’t be able to handle this without my best friend so I’ve just been—”

A sudden knock on the door cut her off.

Azzi’s mom’s voice came from the other side. “Everything okay in there?”

Azzi didn’t take her eyes off Paige. “Yes we’re fine.”

A brief pause. Then, “You sure? I heard yelling.”

Azzi sighed. “Mom, please.”

Silence. Then fading footsteps.

Azzi barely waited before she kissed Paige softly, melting into her.

3rd Person POV - October 2020 (Connecticut)

Azzi hadn’t planned on coming to Connecticut. At least, not until a few days ago when the idea of not being with Paige on her birthday started gnawing at her. The two of them talked every day, missed each other like crazy. Yes things were still… undefined. A mess of feelings that they had only began to sort through.

But none of that mattered right now. Because she was here.

Azzi pushed open the door to Ted’s, the warmth and noise of the packed bar hitting her immediately. She hadn’t even told Paige she was coming—she wanted to surprise her, wanted to see the look on her face when she realized Azzi had shown up for her birthday.

But the moment she stepped inside, her stomach twisted.

Paige was by the bar, a drink in her hand, laughter carrying over the music. She looked good—too good—her head tilted back slightly as she smiled at something one of her teammates said, Evina, if Azzi remembers correctly. But it wasn’t her teammates that caught Azzi’s attention. It was the other girls around her.

They were close. Too close.

One of them leaned into Paige clearly trying to get any form of contact she could from the blonde. Another one saying something to Paige, making her chuckle and shake her head no.

Azzi felt something burn in her chest.

She had spent the last few weeks missing Paige so much it physically hurt—she thought Paige was in the same boat. They called whenever they could, they texted, they danced around what they were, never putting a real label on it but still knowing, deep down, that whatever this was—it was real.

Yet, here was Paige, letting random girls touch her like it was nothing. Like they were nothing. In her anger Azzi didn’t even see the way Paige completely lit up when she noticed Azzi standing by the door. She didn’t notice that Paige immediately started walking towards her without even a whisper of an excuse to anyone around her.

Without thinking, Azzi turned on her heel and pushed back out the door.

“Azzi!”

Her heart clenched at the sound of her name, but she kept walking.

“Azzi, wait!”

Footsteps echoed against the pavement, and before she could get too far, a hand wrapped around her wrist, forcing her to stop.

Azzi exhaled harshly, staring straight ahead. “Go back inside, Paige.”

Paige stepped in front of her, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Why did you leave?”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “Are you serious?”

Paige’s expression flickered. “Azzi, it’s not what you think.”

Azzi raised her eyebrows. “Oh, really? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were having a pretty grand time.”

Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “They were just talkin to me.”

“Right.” Azzi shook her head, stepping back. “Just talking.”

Paige sighed, frustrated. “Yes Azzi, just talking. Why you acting like this? I'm happy to see you and you mad at me.”

Azzi shook her head as she started walking again.

Paige groaned again, stumbling slightly as she tried to step closer. "Azzi, come on." She reached for her, but Azzi sidestepped her touch.

"Don't."

Paige frowned, her drunk mind struggling to keep up. "Come on baby, why you so mad?"

Azzi scoffed. "Are you serious right now? You’re in there letting random girls be all over you, and I’m just supposed to be fine with it?"

Paige let out an exasperated laugh. "I wasn't letting them be all over me!"

Azzi crossed her arms. "Ohhh right, so they just tripped and landed on you?"

Paige rolled her eyes. "You’re blowing this out of proportion."

Azzi’s expression darkened. "No, I’m not."

Paige tried to reach for her again, but Azzi stepped back, hands pushing her away softly. "Azzi, stop pushing me."

"Then stop trying,".

Paige swayed slightly, blinking at her. "I’m just tryna get close to you. I miss you."

Azzi scoffed. "No, you want to charm your way out of this like you always do."

Paige let out a huff. "God, why are you making this such a big deal?"

Azzi’s eyes flashed before she took a breath to calm herself down. "Because you don’t take any of this seriously, Paige! You never do! You’re drunk and now you’re out here stumbling around to who knows where—"

Paige threw her hands up. "I’ve done a drunk walk around the block enough times to know where I’m going, Azzi."

"That’s not the flex you think it is, P."

Paige narrowed her eyes at her. "Why are you even here if you're just gonna yell at me?"

Azzi turned away again, but this time, Paige grabbed her arm.

"Azzi, please," Paige murmured, her grip tightening slightly.

Azzi clenched her jaw, as she looked at Paige not saying anything.

Paige let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t care about any of those girls, Az! I keep telling you that.”

“Really? Because it sure as hell didn’t look like that from where I was standing.”

Paige groaned, stepping closer again, ignoring the way Azzi kept putting space between them. “I wasn’t flirting with them! I was just talking. You’re acting like I was all over them.”

Azzi shot her a look. “It doesn’t matter if you weren’t all over them. They were all over you, and you just let it happen.”

Paige threw her hands up. “What did you want me to do? Shove them off me?”

Azzi exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re playing dumb.”

Paige shot back, “You’re the one who wanted to keep things open, remember? You said we should just see what happens—”

“And you agreed.”

Paige laughed. “Yeah, because that’s clearly what you wanted Azzi! But you’re standing here acting like I betrayed you or something.”

Azzi’s eyes flashed. “Because it feels like you did Paige!”

Paige’s chest rose and fell, her mind spinning, the alcohol making her words looser, her emotions heavier. “Azzi, I love you.”

Azzi froze for a long time. The silence stretched between them.

Finally she exhaled, shaking her head again. “You don’t mean that,” she said, voice quiet now. “You’re drunk. You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

Paige stepped closer to Azzi, pulling her closer, thankful when she didn’t push her away. “Az, I swear to god, I love you.”

Azzi looked at her, really looked at her, searching her face for something, but whatever she was looking for, she didn’t seem to find it.

She glanced away, running a hand through her hair, her voice carefully even. “Let’s just go back to your party P.”

Paige blinked, her chest tightening. “Azzi—”

Azzi turned back toward the bar without another word, and Paige stood there, her heart still racing, wondering if she just said too much or not enough.

Once they stepped back inside, although Paige was hurt she didn’t let it show, she refused to let Azzi leave her side.

She kept an arm draped around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her close as they navigated through the crowd. Any time someone so much as looked at her for too long, Paige would shift closer, pressing against Azzi in a way that made it clear who she wanted to be with.

Azzi didn’t pull away, but she didn’t fully lean into it either. She let Paige guide them through the bar, let her wrap an arm around her waist when they stopped at the table with the team, let her fingers linger on Azzi’s wrist when she reached for her drink. She let it all happen, but she didn’t say much throughout the night.

Paige didn’t care. She was determined to prove to her that she meant what she said.

She made sure Azzi was the only one she talked to, the only one she looked at, the only one she danced with when someone dragged them toward the music. When another girl tried to get her attention, Paige didn’t even glance her way—she just tightened her hold on Azzi, whispering something against her ear that made Azzi huff out a breath, something between exasperation and amusement.

Still, Azzi didn’t fully acknowledge any of it. Either she didn’t want to believe it, or she truly didn’t, but she didn’t ruin Paige’s night. She let Paige stay curled up against her in the booth, let her play with the hem of her sleeve absentmindedly, let her rest her chin on her shoulder. And when Paige officially got too drunk—when her words started slurring and her steps became unsteady—Azzi laughed softly, shook her head, and silently helped her out of the bar.

As they walked back to Paige’s dorm, Paige clung to Azzi like she was her lifeline. One arm was slung around Azzi’s shoulders, the other gripping her hand, fingers laced like she was afraid to let go. And she wouldn’t stop talking.

“I love your laugh so much,” Paige mumbled, her words slightly slurred. “Like, really love it. It’s stupid how much I love it.”

Azzi sighed, adjusting her grip on Paige’s waist as they walked forward. “Paige—”

“And your eyes.” Paige ignored her, tightening her hold. “God, your eyes, Az. You ever look in the mirror? Like, really look? They’re so pretty. Sometimes I get distracted when you’re talking ‘cause I just—” She made an exaggerated hand motion as she hiccuped. “I get lost in ‘em.”

Azzi closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling through her nose. “Paige, please stop talking.”

“No.” Paige pouted, shaking her head. “You don’t get it. You—you act like I don’t care, like I don’t see you, but I do. I see everything, Az.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. She kept walking, gripping Paige a little tighter, but Paige kept going.

“You always smell good,” Paige mused, like it was a secret. “Like, stupidly good. It’s unfair.” She buried her face into Azzi’s shoulder dramatically, inhaling deeply. “Like right now? It’s ridiculous. What even is that? Do you live in vanilla or some shit?”

Azzi huffed out a breath, looking up at the sky like she was begging for patience. “Paige.”

“And you’re so good, Az,” Paige continued, voice softer now. “You take care of me, even when I don’t deserve it. Even when I’m stupid or drunk or messing everything up. I don’t know why you do it, but you do.”

Azzi’s throat tightened. Paige doesn’t know how much Azzi wanted to hear this, how long she had been waiting to hear this. Azzi just wishes that Paige had the guts to say it when she wasn’t drunk. When Azzi could believe that she truly meant what she was saying. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes, I do,” Paige argued, stopping in her tracks and pulling Azzi with her. “I know exactly what I’m saying. I just—I never say it.” She frowned, blinking blearily up at Azzi as she swayed a little and swallowed another hiccup. “And that’s my fault. But I do love you, Az. You have to know that.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her fingers twitching against Paige’s waist. She wanted to believe her. Wanted to let herself feel everything Paige was saying. But she couldn’t. Not like this.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Come on,” she mumbled, tugging Paige forward again. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Paige stumbled a little as they kept walking, but her grip on Azzi never wavered as she continued rambling.

“All I want is you,” Paige murmured. “I don’t care about anyone else…anything else Az. Just you.”

Azzi kept her gaze ahead, “Paige—”

“No, listen.” Paige stopped walking again, forcing Azzi to stop with her. “You know how I know?”

Azzi sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “I’d rather you not tell me right now but I’m sure you’re going to anyway.”

Paige’s lips parted, and her eyes, though glassy, were full of something real. “Because every time I think about somebody else having you, getting to see the sides of you I see, I feel sick. Physically sick. And I know that’s selfish as shit, but I don’t care. I don’t want anyone else to have you, Az. I want you.”

Azzi inhaled sharply, her stomach twisting. “Paige, you’re drunk.”

“So what?” Paige challenged, stepping closer. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.”

Azzi exhaled, looking away. “Please just drop it, okay? Let me get you inside.”

“No.” Paige’s fingers curled into Azzi’s hoodie, tugging her closer. “Do you love me?”

Azzi completely froze. Her grip on Paige faltered just slightly before she realized how much of her weight she was holding and she adjusted her grip again.

Paige searched her face desperately, her voice quieter now, more fragile. “Az. Do you?”

Azzi swallowed, forcing herself to pull away slightly. “Paige, drop it.”

Paige shook her head stubbornly making herself slightly dizzy. “No. I need to know.”

Azzi clenched her jaw, looking anywhere but at Paige as she closed her eyes, forcing the tears not to fall. “Not like this please baby.”

Paige’s breath hitched. “Azzi—”

“Not like this, Paige,” Azzi repeated, her voice strained. “You’re drunk. You won’t even remember half of this tomorrow.”

Paige’s face crumpled like the words physically hurt her. “That’s not fair.”

Azzi exhaled through her nose, her heart hammering. “Come on,” she whispered, reaching for Paige’s hand again and squeezing it when they laced their fingers together. “Let’s go.”

The next morning, sunlight slipped through the blinds, casting a glow over the tangled sheets and the two bodies nestled together beneath them. Paige groaned, blinking against the light, the ache in her head reminding her just how much she had to drink the night before. But that wasn’t what made her chest feel tight. All the memories came rushing in—every drunken confession, every plea for Azzi to just say it back. And she remembered that Azzi never did. But she remembered how Azzi basically carried her home last night. How as soon as she laid down the room started spinning so Azzi helped her to the bathroom and held her hair. She remembers how Azzi basically brushed her teeth for her. How Azzi kissed her goodnight before pulling the cover over both of them.

And now Azzi is still here. Still wrapped around her, holding her like she didn’t want to let go.

Paige swallowed hard, keeping her eyes closed as she breathed in Azzi’s familiar scent, letting herself pretend—for just a little longer—that everything was okay. That last night hadn’t hurt. LIke it didn’t hurt all over again to remember it as soon as she woke up.

Azzi shifted slightly, her fingers instinctively curling against Paige’s side. A quiet hum left her lips before she finally blinked awake, her gaze finding Paige’s.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep.

Paige forced a small smile. “Morning.”

They stayed like that for a moment, neither making a move to pull away. If anything, they only inched closer, their noses nearly brushing.

Azzi exhaled softly, eyes flickering down to Paige’s lips. “I missed you so much P.”

Paige’s breath caught, the words sinking deep. She knew Azzi meant more than just the past few hours.

“Yeah?” Paige whispered.

Azzi nodded, her fingers tightening against Paige’s waist. “Yes.”

Paige didn’t answer with words. Instead, she closed the distance, pressing her lips to Azzi’s like she’d been craving it for months. Azzi melted instantly, sighing into the kiss, her arms pulling Paige in until there was no space left between them.

“I missed you too,” Paige mumbled against her lips, kissing her again. “So much.”

Azzi didn’t say anything about the night before—maybe because she still thought Paige didn’t remember, or maybe because she just didn’t have the words. But in the way she held Paige, in the way she kissed her back like she wanted to make up for every second they’d spent apart, she didn’t have to, at least not yet.

3rd Person POV - August 2021 (Connecticut)

They’re at Ted’s, music humming through the bar, the air humid with warmth and alcohol. Paige is sitting by the bar, talking to a girl she barely knows, just answering her questions out of politeness.

Paige didn’t even notice the girl at first. She was too caught up in the warmth of the bar, the buzz of alcohol in her system, and the presence of Azzi right next to her. They had been standing close, shoulders brushing, Azzi’s arm loosely draped over the back of Paige’s stool as Paige whispered something to her that made her laugh and glance in the direction Paige was referring to.

It wasn’t anything unusual. They always hovered near each other like this, caught in that undefined space between everything and something.

The girl came up while Paige was mid-laugh, leaning into Azzi’s side, but when the girl spoke, Paige straightened slightly, offering a polite smile.

“Hi, I’m sorry to bother you—I just wanted to say I’m a huge fan.”

Paige smiled. “Oh, thanks, I appreciate that.”

Azzi didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the girl, just sipped from her drink while watching the interaction unfold.

“I actually had a couple questions—if that’s okay?” the girl asked, shifting slightly closer.

Paige shrugged, always happy to talk about basketball and never wanting to be rude to fans. “Yeah, of course.”

It was harmless at first. Just the usual questions about the team, how she felt about the upcoming season. Paige answered them easily, glancing at Azzi every so often as if expecting her to chime in. But Azzi stayed silent, Paige just assumed she was lost in her own thoughts.

“So, are you single?”

Paige barely hesitated before answering, because technically, she was.

“Yeah.”

Azzi scoffed. It was quiet, but Paige heard it.

Paige blinked at Azzi. “What?”

Azzi stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Nothing.”

But Paige knew her too well. She could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she clenched her jaw.

“Azzi.” Paige’s voice was slightly louder now, calling her back, but Azzi was already moving, shaking her head.

Paige stood too, stepping closer. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?”

The girl who had asked the question awkwardly shifted away, sensing the sudden shift in mood, but Paige barely noticed.

Azzi tilted her head, lips curling into something almost amused but not quite. “You didn’t even think about it. You just answered.”

Paige scoffed. “Because it’s not a fucking trick question, Azzi.”

Azzi’s jaw tensed. “Right. Because you’re so single.”

Paige exhaled sharply, suddenly feeling hot—from the alcohol, from frustration, from Azzi.

“I mean, yeah, I am.” She crossed her arms, brows furrowing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Azzi’s expression flickered, something flashing through her eyes too quickly for Paige to catch. “Forget it.”

She turned on her heel, heading toward the door.

Paige followed without thinking, voice rising. “No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like I did something wrong when you’re the one who—”

Azzi spun around so fast Paige nearly ran into her.

“Not here.”

Her voice was lower now, but Paige could still hear the edge to it.

For a second, they just stood there, eyes locked.

Then, without another word, Azzi reached out, grabbed Paige’s wrist, and pulled her toward the exit.

The cold air hit Paige’s skin, a sharp contrast to the heat burning in her chest. Azzi dropped her wrist the second they were outside, pacing a few steps away before turning back, her eyes dark.

Paige exhaled hard, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, tell me what the hell that was.”

“Are you serious right now?”

Paige threw her arms out. “Yes, Azzi! I don’t get why you’re so upset over a question I didn’t even lie about.”

Azzi’s jaw clenched. “You answered it so easily.”

“Because it was easy!” Paige shot back, voice rising. “I am single! That’s what you wanted, right? You were the one who wanted to keep things open during your first few months here, so what the hell do you want from me?”

Azzi’s jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You could’ve at least hesitated. Said you weren’t available.”

“Are you kidding me? That’s what you’re mad about? You wanted me to sit there and stutter for you? For what?” She stepped closer. “I didn’t even want the fucking girl, Azzi. I don’t want any of them. But you—you don’t want to commit, so I go along with it. I always go along with whatever you want.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” Paige shot back. “You don’t get to be mad at me when you’re the one holding all the cards. You always have.”

Azzi let out a breath, her expression faltering for a second. “Paige, you’re drunk.”

“No shit. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong, Azzi.”

Azzi turned away, shaking her head like she was trying to shut this all out. But Paige wasn’t done.

“You don’t want me to say I’m single? Fine, I won’t.” Paige took another step forward. “You want me to ignore every girl who looks at me? Fine, I’ll do that too.” She threw her hands up. “Hell, Azzi, just tell me what you want, and I’ll fucking do it! Because that’s what I always fucking do.”

Azzi’s nostrils flared as she turned back. “That’s not true, Paige. I don’t control you.”

Paige let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Azzi stayed silent, her eyes darting over Paige’s face like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.

Paige exhaled shakily before lowering her voice. “You wanna know what really pisses me off about this whole thing Azzi?”

Azzi swallowed. “What?”

“I told you I loved you.” Paige’s voice cracked, just slightly.

Azzi stiffened.

“Ten months ago, Az.” Paige let out a humorless breath, shaking her head. “I told you, and you didn’t say it back.”

Azzi’s face fell, her lips parting like she wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

Paige scoffed, blinking harshly. “You’re pissed over some girl asking me if I’m single, but you—” Her voice wavered, her chest tightening. “You couldn’t even fucking answer me that night.”

Azzi swallowed again, her throat bobbing. “Paige, I—”

“No.” Paige cut her off. “You don’t get to be mad at me for answering a question honestly when you—when you couldn’t even fucking answer me.”

Silence.

Azzi’s fingers twitched at her sides like she wanted to reach for Paige, like she wanted to say something, but she didn’t.

Azzi exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. “You only say this shit when you’re drunk.”

Paige’s head snapped up, her frustration boiling over. “God, Azzi, you always use that as fucking excuse! Like I’m blackout or something, like I don’t know what the hell I’m saying.” She took a step closer. “But I do. I always do. I always remember”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Paige you can’t just—”

“No, Azzi.” Paige cut in, her breath unsteady. “I meant it then, and I mean it now. But you—you act like none of it counts. Like my feelings don’t count unless I say them exactly when you want me to.”

Azzi let out a slow breath, looking away for a second before finally meeting Paige’s eyes again. The fight in her expression dulled, replaced by something softer, something tired.

“Can we just—” Azzi sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Can we just talk at home please?”

Paige hesitated, her chest still tight, her hands still curled at her sides. She wanted to keep pushing, to make Azzi see how much this hurt. But instead, she exhaled hard and gave a slow nod. “Okay.”

Azzi didn’t say anything else, just reached for Paige’s wrist again, this time with less force, guiding her away from the bar and toward the dorms.

And even though the argument had paused, the tension between them hadn’t gone anywhere.

…

The door shuts behind them, but neither of them speaks at first. Paige walks to the bed, sitting down, her head still spinning from alcohol and frustration. Azzi lingers near the door, back against the wall, arms crossed over her chest like she’s bracing herself.

She doesn’t look at Paige when she finally breaks the silence. “Why do you never say any of this when you’re sober?”

Paige lets out a long breath, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know, Az.” She drops her gaze back down, meeting Azzi’s eyes. “But does it even matter?”

“Yes. It does.”

Paige scoffs, shaking her head. “No, it doesn’t. Because whether I say it drunk or sober, it’s still the truth.”

Azzi shifts against the wall before saying, “You think that’s the same thing?”

Paige leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Yes! I always know what I’m saying, Az. I’m not just making shit up.”

Azzi looks away, jaw tight. Paige watches her carefully, then sighs, voice dropping. “Do you even care?”

Azzi’s head snaps toward her. “Of course I care.”

Paige pushes, her frustration mounting. “Then say something more than that. Say something more than just telling me that what I’m saying doesn’t matter because I’m drunk.”

Paige sees it—the hesitation, the walls going up. It makes her stomach twist. It’s almost ironic how much of a 180 they’ve done. It used to be Azzi begging Paige to say something, to give her a hint of how she felt.

Paige lets out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “See? This is what you do. You never say anything. You never let me know where I stand with you, but the second someone asks me if I’m single, suddenly it’s a problem? Suddenly all hell breaks loose.”

Azzi’s brow furrows. “That’s not—”

“No, that’s exactly what this is!” Paige cuts her off, her voice rising. She leans forward, frustration spilling out. “You get upset, but you won’t tell me why. You won’t tell me what you want. Just—tell me how you feel, Azzi. Please.”

The silence between them stretches, heavy and suffocating. Paige waits, her heart hammering, but Azzi stays frozen, her throat bobbing as she struggles for words.

Paige lets out a quiet sigh, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought.”

She pushes herself up from the bed, ready to walk away. “Forget it. I need to cool off.”

Azzi’s eyes snap to her, panic flashing across her face. “Paige, this is your room.”

Paige shrugs, not turning back. “I’ll be back, I just—I need a minute.”

But before she can reach the door, Azzi moves.

Her hand wraps around Paige’s wrist—not forcefully, just enough to stop her. Azzi swallows hard, her grip tightening slightly. She could speak now. She could say what Paige wants to hear. But the words don’t come.

Instead, she pulls Paige toward her and kisses her.

It’s hesitant at first, uncertain, but when Paige doesn’t pull away, Azzi deepens it, her hands moving to Paige’s waist, fingers pressing into her like she’s afraid she’ll let go.

Paige exhales into the kiss, her frustration melting away into something softer like it always did with Azzi. After a second she starts to pull back, trying to say something, but Azzi doesn’t let her.

Azzi chases her lips, pressing closer, her breath shaky. As if she’s scared for the moment to end as if she’s terrified to lose Paige.

She can’t find the words, but she can show her. She wants Paige to feel what she’s been too scared to say. So she kisses her harder and this time, Paige doesn’t try to stop her.

Azzi walks them backward, guiding Paige toward the bed. Paige barely has time to register it before the backs of her knees hit the edge, and she’s falling onto the mattress, leaning up on her elbows, breath uneven.

Her pupils are blown wide as she stares up at Azzi, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

Azzi reaches for the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head.

Paige freezes.

Her mouth parts slightly, and for a second, she just stares—completely awe-struck. The way the lighting casts soft shadows along the curves of Azzi’s body, the way her hair falls slightly over her shoulder—it makes Paige dizzy.

Azzi holds her gaze, searching for hesitation, but Paige’s hands are already moving before she can think—gripping Azzi’s waist, pulling her forward.

Azzi exhales softly before climbing onto Paige’s lap, settling over her with ease.

Then she kisses her again.

Paige’s hands travel up Azzi’s back, fingertips pressing softly into her skin as Azzi deepens the kiss, pouring every unspoken word into it.

She doesn’t need to say it. Not now. Not when she can show Paige exactly what she means.

And Paige?

She lets her.

She lets herself fall.

She always has.

Azzi pulls away just enough for their lips to part, her breath warm against Paige’s skin. Her fingers tremble slightly where they rest against Paige’s ribs.

“P, I’ve never—”

Paige nods up at her before she can finish, already knowing. Understanding.

“We can stop,” Paige murmurs.

But Azzi shakes her head. “No. Not this time.”

Paige’s eyes search hers for any uncertainty, but there isn’t any.

So she nods, allowing Azzi to pull her shirt over her head, letting it fall somewhere to the side.

Azzi’s hands roam over Paige’s skin, like she’s memorizing every inch, like she’s seeing it in a new light.

Then, with gentle certainty, Paige flips them over, caging Azzi beneath her.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” she whispers, hovering above her, eyes locked onto Azzi’s.

Azzi doesn’t respond with words. She just reaches up, pulling Paige down into another kiss, hands tangling into her hair.

3rd Person POV - 2021 (Connecticut)

Paige had always been the one who struggled with communication. She was the one who avoided hard conversations, who buried her feelings beneath layers of sarcasm and easy distractions. Azzi was the opposite—she talked things through, making sure nothing was left unsaid. That’s just how they worked.

But now? Now everything was upside down.

After that night, Paige had expected something—anything—from Azzi. A conversation. A reassurance. Even an acknowledgment. Instead, she got silence.

Azzi didn’t disappear, not physically. They still saw each other every day. They still sat together at meals, still warmed up side by side at practice, still lingered in each other’s spaces. But something had shifted. Azzi wasn’t looking at her the same way. She wasn’t teasing her, wasn’t touching her the way she used to. She was there, but not really.

At first, Paige tried to talk about it. She gave Azzi easy openings, little moments where she could have said something.

"You good?" she’d asked one morning after practice, nudging Azzi’s knee under the table at breakfast.

"Yeah, just tired," Azzi replied, keeping her eyes down on her plate.

Another time, they were laying together on the bed and Paige mentioned, "We should talk, don’t you think?"

"About what?" Azzi asked, and Paige had felt something inside her crack.

After a few days of trying, Paige stopped. She told herself that maybe Azzi needed space. That maybe she was overthinking it. But deep down, she knew she wasn’t.

Azzi was retreating. And for the first time, Paige was the one left reaching.

The worst part? It hurt like hell.

Because no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise, she couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that the reason Azzi wouldn’t talk about it was because she regretted it.

That maybe she didn’t love Paige back. That maybe she had gotten everything wrong.

So Paige gave her space. She stopped trying, stopped pushing. If Azzi wanted to pretend nothing had changed, then fine.

Still, the distance between them was suffocating. And with each passing day, resentment started to fester.

Like always it came to a head at Ted’s.

The bar was packed, the music loud, but Paige barely noticed any of it. She was a few drinks in, lingering at the bar with some girl from who knows where—she didn’t even remember her name. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t interested. She was just there, going through the motions, trying not to think about the way Azzi had been avoiding her for days. Paige knew she shouldn’t have let this girl get this close, knew she shouldn’t even be talking to her. But she wanted to get a reaction out of Azzi and she knew this was a sure way to do it.

She knew it worked when she felt that familiar gaze burning into her skin.

Azzi was a few steps away, sitting with their teammates, her jaw tight, fingers gripping her drink a little too hard. Paige wasn’t sure how long Azzi had been watching, but she could see it—the tension in her shoulders.

Just as Paige let out a small laugh at something the girl beside her said Azzi was next to her.

"Didn’t take you long to move on."

Paige turned slowly, her brows drawing together. "What?"

“Nothing. Just didn’t think you’d be so... quick about it."

"Are you serious right now?" she asked, her voice carrying over the music.

Azzi shrugged, bringing her drink to her lips. "I mean, you’re single, right? Just living it up finally."

"You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act like you care when you’re the one who's spent the last few weeks acting like nothing happened."

Azzi’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t speak, clenching her jaw to stop herself.

Paige shook her head. "No, say it. Say what you’ve been thinking. Because I know you, Azzi.

“Maybe I don’t care anymore. Maybe I just don’t have anything to say."

"Bullshit." Paige took a step closer, her voice rising. "You always have something to say. Except now."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her jaw tightening.

Paige shook her head, “You’re such a fucking coward sometimes Az.”

Azzi flinched.

Paige knew it was a low blow, but she didn’t care.

Azzi’s eyes darkened and hurt flashed across her face before she said something she knew would hurt Paige. "Maybe letting you fuck me was a mistake."

Silence. Paige felt the words settle. The bar blurring around her.

Azzi’s expression immediately shifted when she realized how far she went, like she hadn’t meant to say it, like she wished she could take it back.

Paige swallowed hard, forcing a laugh even as her chest ached. "At least now I finally know where I stand."

Azzi opened her mouth, but Paige didn’t wait for whatever excuse was coming. She turned on her heel and walked out, pushing past bodies, her vision hazy.

The cold air outside was a stark contrast to the suffocating heat inside the bar, but Paige barely noticed. She was too focused on getting away, her feet moving fast down the sidewalk.

But before she could get too far, a hand wrapped around her wrist.

"Paige, wait. I’m sorry."

Paige whipped around, yanking her arm free. "For what, Azzi? What the hell do you want from me?"

Azzi stood there, breathing hard, her eyes wild under the streetlights. "I’m so sorry, I—just—can we talk?"

"Talk? Now you wanna talk? After you stood in there and called what we had a fucking mistake?"

Azzi flinched. "I didn’t mean that."

"But you said it…And you know what? Maybe you’re right. Maybe it was a mistake. Not because of what we did, but because I was stupid enough to think you actually wanted this. Wanted me."

Azzi ran a hand down her face, frustration rolling off her in waves as tears pooled in her eyes. "God, Paige, you act like this is so easy for me."

Paige’s nostrils flared. "It is! It’s the easiest thing in the fucking world! I love you, Azzi! And I don’t understand why that’s so damn hard for you to accept, to believe me. But you don’t give a fuck so it really doesn’t matter.”

Azzi’s face twisted with something Paige couldn’t figure out—guilt, fear, longing. Maybe all of it.

"I never said I didn’t care."

Paige let out a sharp breath. "You didn’t have to. You shut down. You ran. You left me with nothing, Azzi. I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to give you space, hoping you’d come to me when you were ready. But all I got was silence."

Azzi shook her head, stepping closer. "I didn’t know what to do."

"You didn’t know what to do?!" Paige’s voice cracked, her hands trembling. "How about telling me the fucking truth? How about choosing me?"

Azzi exhaled heavily "I was fucking terrified, okay?"

"Of what?" Paige threw her arms out. "Loving me? Because, newsflash, Azzi, if you really loved me, you wouldn’t have pushed me away the second things got real."

Azzi’s eyes flashed with something desperate and before she could stop herself, the words spilled out of her mouth.

"I do love you Paige."

It came out like a confession, like a plea. Like something she had been trying so damn hard to bury but couldn’t hold back any longer.

Paige stilled. Her breath hitched. Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, shaking her head. "No, you don’t."

Azzi stepped forward, looking at her like she was everything, like she was terrified to lose her. "Paige—"

Paige turned on her heel, ready to leave, to put as much distance as possible between herself and Azzi before she shattered completely. But Azzi wasn’t letting her go this time.

She grabbed Paige’s wrist again, but this time, she didn’t just hold her back—she pulled her in. Pulled her close, so close that Paige could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the sheer panic radiating off her.

"Paige, please." Azzi’s voice cracked, and something about it—about the way she said her name like it was her last lifeline—made Paige freeze.

Azzi’s hands were trembling as she clutched at Paige’s arms. She wasn’t running now. She wasn’t shutting down. She was unraveling.

"I don’t know how to do this," Azzi admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know how to love you without losing myself."

Paige swallowed hard, her anger slowly being replaced with concern. "Azzi—"

"No, let me say this." Azzi took a deep breath, blinking rapidly, a few tears rolling down her cheek. "I’m always so calculated. So in control. And then you come along, and suddenly I can’t even think straight half the time. You—" she exhaled shakily "—you scare the shit out of me, P."

Paige’s brows pulled together, her heart aching at the vulnerability in Azzi’s voice. "Azzi, I would never hurt you."

Azzi let out a small, breathless laugh, shaking her head. "That’s the problem. You could. You did for a little bit. When I was completely in love with you and I had to be your best friend and listen to you telling me about how you slept with someone else for the first time. That’s when I realized you could break me, Paige. How you could ruin my entire world and that terrifies me more than anything."

Paige’s breath caught.

"I didn’t pull away because I don’t love you," Azzi admitted, her voice trembling. "I pulled away because I love you too much. Because the moment I let myself have you, I knew I’d never want to let you go. I knew I wouldn’t be able to live without you and I didn’t know what to do with that."

Paige felt the last of her anger drain away, leaving only understanding in its place because she had gone through that exact same thing.

Azzi wasn’t scared because she didn’t love her. She was scared because she did.

Deeply. Completely.

Paige reached up, cupping Azzi’s face, her thumb brushing over her cheek. "You don’t have to know what to do. You just gotta trust me Az. Trust that maybe we can figure it out together."

Azzi’s lips parted, her breath shaky, and then she kissed her.

Not out of desperation. Not out of fear. Paige hesitated at first, a split second of uncertainty passing through her, but then she melted into it, her hands sliding around Azzi, squeezing her like she’d never let go. Her entire body was trembling, but not from the usual anger or frustration. This was something else. Something deeper, more vulnerable.

The kiss wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about passion alone. It was about everything—everything they had been through, everything they wanted to be together. It was everything they’d both been afraid to admit.

When they finally pulled away, both of them breathless, Azzi rested her forehead against Paige’s, closing her eyes for a moment.

"I love you." Azzi whispered it so softly, as if the words had been buried for years, locked away in a place she’d never dared to go. "I’ve always loved you. I’ve loved you since I was 15. I just didn’t know how to say it."

Paige’s breath hitched. She felt a lump in her throat, a quiet sob wanting to escape, but she swallowed it down. She leaned into Azzi, her forehead still against hers, closing her eyes and letting out a shaky exhale. "Then please don’t run this time. Just let me love you, Azzi—because I—I love you so much baby. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize as fast as you did. That I—"

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Paige’s she shook her head no slowly, her hands tightening around Paige’s waist. "It doesn’t matter. I promise I’m not going anywhere anymore."

…

It wasn’t the quiet moments that made them realize they were in love.

Not the nights tangled together in bed, whispering into the darkness, even when they weren’t officially anything.

Not the stolen glances or the lingering touches, the warmth of Azzi’s childhood bedroom where they figured themselves out.

Not the laughter, the tenderness, or the countless times they looked at each other like they held the entire world in their hands. When Paige dropped everything to be at Azzi’s side. When they’d wake up early and just smile at one another.

No—those were the moments they fell.

But this—this was when they knew.

It was in the arguments, in the breaking points. In the way their love made them reckless, made them desperate, made them vulnerable in ways they had never been before. It was in the fear, in the unbearable weight of knowing that the other had the power to destroy them completely.

Loving each other was never the risk. Letting themselves be loved back—that was.

But in the end, it was these moments—the raw, painful, necessary ones—that led them home to each other. That made it possible for them to be steady and completely content in one another when the attention started flying their way as they grew up.

[trashmouth-richie]

: *✧･ﾟeddie x female reader | snowed in | 18+ smut [6K]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* sexual tension lingers when you + your bestfriend get snowed in together during the biggest blizzard on record - aka, eddie munson and the blizzard sex in apartment 4D

“So that’s how you would find x,” you say tapping the rubber eraser to your notebook paper, “is this making any sense?” 

When you agreed to come help Eddie study you were glad to do it. Ever since you were kids he had always struggled with school. While he was able to skate through elementary and middle school, high school had been harder for him. And he would be the first to admit that it was you that got him through his final year at Hawkins High. 

Now, many states away, at a college where the only person he knew was you— he was falling behind.

Having a new found freedom of college professors genuinely not caring if you showed up to class or not, he took advantage of that perk and decided to not attend his eight AM class monday, wednesday, and definitely not friday. 

Assignments went undone, tests were skipped and forgotten about. Weekday ragers, mid morning hangovers, and late night shifts as a barback at O’Houllihan’s kept Eddie busy but not enough to excuse his lack of attendance.

The end of the semester was nearing, and Eddie was looking at failing remedial algebra. A class that meant he was already behind everyone else, and if he were to fail— he’d be kicked out left to pack his shit and head back home. 

After an ass chewing over thanksgiving break from a disappointed Wayne, that icy blue stare nearly welling with traitorous tears, Eddie finally decided to pull his head out of his ass and study for his last semester of junior year.

“You’d think after dealin’ for Rick all through high school that math would be a fuckin’ no brainer.” Eddie huffed, sitting back in his desk chair, his long thick fingers folded behind his head, “maybe if they added dime bags and some half ounces, I’d actually understand this shit.”

You snickered, pushing eraser shavings from the page with your fingers, “think Mr. Walter would go for it, he totally ate his fair share of shrooms in the 60’s.” 

“Mother fucker probably invented them.” Eddie agreed, dragging those big hands down his face with a groan, “godddd I hate school.” 

You close the Algebra book and shove it into Eddie’s backpack zipping it up, “oh you poor thing, must be hard to be musically talented and go to college on a full ride scholarship.” Your bottom lip pops out to show your fake sympathy and Eddie returns it with an eye roll and a middle finger. 

“Shit,” he sighs, blowing air through his lips standing and running his fingers over your jacket on the back of his chair, “didn’t even think I’d get in let alone have all of my tuition paid for, besides.. you’re the one who was going to leave me for dead back home Miss This-Will-Look-Perfect-On-My-College-Applic—ow!” 

Your friendship with Eddie was never a casual thing. 

You were friends, sure, but it was somehow more than that. Eddie had dated around in high school and you had too but they never lasted. Summer of senior year you had even been so close as almost sharing a kiss while drunk on Boonesfarm at Byers’ party— something you both denied ever happening. But something you also both stayed up at night thinking about unbeknownst to one another. 

That June night was burned into your brain, and you could still feel the ghost of his lips on yours. 

“I wasn’t going to leave you for dead!” you teased, giggling as Eddie nursed his ‘injury’ after the pencil you had been holding slammed into his soft hoodie, “I told you we’d find a way for you to come with me.” 

Eddie smiled and bit his lip, he was grateful that you were willing to do whatever it took to get him into college. And he was stunned stupid when his creative writing, and an autobiography that was assigned freshman year had gotten the attention of not one, but two of the bigger colleges you had also applied to. 

He swore he never submitted them, deciding at the last minute that college wasn’t for him and that he didn’t want to leave his uncle behind— so you and Wayne both did it for him. Licking envelopes and sticking stamps, praying on a trailer park dream that Eddie could get in. 

“Always lookin’ out for me aren’t ya?” He mused, his cheeks burning with a blush on his porcelain skin. 

“We look out for each other, Eddie,” you say cheerfully, “Always have.” 

Eddie stares as you read through your notes, eyeing the little piece of hair that falls into your eyes, too short to shove behind your ear. He remembers when you got glasses, how you hated them. Loathed the way they made your face look, and how the wire rims sat on your round cheeks. Now they’re pushed on top of your head, pulling your hair back so the light in his room shone on your silky skin. 

You were beautiful. 

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you stretch with arms over your head, fingers laced together. Eddie snuck a glance at you, noticing that your soft cardigan fit too big on the sleeves and the plain shirt you wore underneath was riding up your stomach, showing a strip of skin that he only got to see during the summer time. 

He wasn’t sure when he started noticing you were more to him than just a friend— that’s a lie, Eddie knew the exact moment, the exact second. 

He skipped out on dates, said no when Rick’s girlfriend offered to “show him the ropes” one night when he was waaay too high and was blabbing away about how he didn’t know why he ended things with every other girl he had been with.  

It was obvious why. Maybe to everyone but him and to you. 

“I’ve had enough studying for tonight,” Eddie says, cracking his back, “wanna go to a movie or somethin? Channel 6 said we are in for some snow… I can drive, we can sneak in some shrooms Pete left, I might have some k laying around here somewhere.” 

You giggle reaching back to the bed and gathering your stuff. “Nothing about being high at the movie theater sounds good to me, Eddie.” 

He rolls his eyes, “yeah because you always freak out, weed is s’posed to be relaxing.” 

For whatever reason, weed was never that for you. It left you paranoid and skittish, but mostly clinging to Eddie with wide horrified eyes, whispering about how you couldn’t feel your legs. 

“Thanks, but not tonight,” you say behind your hand as a yawn escapes, “I gotta work in an hour and Sal said if I’m late one more time he’s gonna fire me.” 

“Ppffft, he’s not gonna fire you, fucker can’t afford to lose anyone at that shithole.” 

You grab your bag and look for your shoes, shrugging.

“Tips are good, all I have to do is bat my eyelashes a few times and they fork the dough over. Plus! Mikey always saves me a burger when he shuts the kitchen down. Win-win.”

He stands with a cross to his brows and when he doesn’t say anything you pull at the sleeve on his hoodie, “come on, walk me out. ” 

Eddie hated your job. Hated that you worked at the sleaziest bar in town. The thought of you flirting with drunk guys to make a little extra money made him sick. 

He’s mumbling under his breath the short walk to the door, unlocking the deadbolt and pulling the door open with dramatic flair, he bows with a hand forward to let you exit. You laugh, and before you can say bye, before you’re crossing the threshold Eddie pipes up in a serious voice.

“Tomorrow. Movies. You, me, a bucket of over buttered popcorn… I’ll even buy you a Cherry Coke.” 

Heat warms your cheeks under his stare, and you can’t help but smile back at him. That nagging feeling you couldn’t pinpoint was hung thick between the two of you again, and you looked anywhere but at him. 

Taking time to examine the veins on his hand as it gripped the door handle, the way his eyelashes seem to have their own permanent curl to them…. “add a pack of twizzlers and you got yourself a deal, Munson.” 

He smiles as you step into the soft lit hallway of the fourth floor. “Don’t leave me hanging, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes and laugh, he’s standing in the doorway, the door partly closed behind him, “see you later, better hurry—you’re gonna be late.” 

Eddie watches as you head for the stairs. His heart pumping wildly in his chest, but why? You two were friends. What was he even doing?

Shutting the door he slides the bolt into place pressing his forehead into the wood, a low groan escaping from his lips. What the hell was he doing? He runs the conversation back over in his head mocking himself as he strips off his hoodie and t-shirt, tossing them around his shared apartment. 

“You and me and buttered popcorn’ Christ Munson, get it together.” Flopping on the couch Eddie sighs loudly, saying your name out loud and letting a smile quirk on his lips as he drifts to sleep.

❆ ❆ ❆

Frantic knocks pull him from his catnap and he rolls his eyes as the knocks turn to pounding. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep for but it was now dark, his apartment cast into complete inky blackness. 

Pete probably forgot his keys, again, he thinks. Bounding to the door and flinging it open an annoyed expression on his face. But it’s not Pete at the door, it’s you. 

Snowflakes, and chunks of ice were matted in your wind blown hair, your teeth chattered loudly as you tried to force a small smile, wiping a tear away from your eye.

“Jesus! Are you alright?” 

Eddie pulls you inside rubbing your arms to bring warmth back into them. He listens as you sob about getting stuck in the ditch on the way to work, and how the only landmark you could make out was Eddie’s apartment, so you made the decision to leave your car and trek back the way you had come. 

He huffs in a worried tone, flicking on the lights and watching as they sputter to life. You’re gently trying to pry the gloves from your fingers when he steps in to help and unzips your jacket, assessing you further as he realizes you are covered in snow. 

“You walked here?!” 

Eddie always yelled when he was worried or scared, a bad habit that he unknowingly picked up from Wayne. 

The tears flow down your face now in a frozen river, the ache of numb limbs and nearly frostbitten skin has you crying out in pain.  

“I should have st-stayed in the car, but it was so cold Eddie, and th-the snow is coming down so hard, nothing in town is open! N-no one on the streets, not even a snow plow.”

Eddie leaves you to throw open the crooked blinds. Not a single street lamp was on, the city looked deserted except for the howling wind and sheets of snow blanketing the ground, swallowing up the roads. If he were to look hard enough he’d see the waist deep path you had made to get here. 

Doubling back to your shivering body, his mind was scrambling on what to do. “Christ! You’re lucky you’re not dead!” 

“I know,” you wail, unable to stop the clacking of your teeth, “b-but I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Wayne had taught Eddie many things in his time of caring for his nephew. How to fish, how to hunt, how to be a respected man (that he was still trying to master) But something that always stuck with Eddie was the fear of the elements and how you could die from a heat stroke or the opposite—freeze to death.

“You gotta warm up before you pass out or something, your clothes are soaked, they need to come off.” He shakes his head like a parent finding their teen sneaking out of the house. “Go to my room, undress and I’ll make some coffee.” 

Your clothes were stiff and heavy as you peeled them from your body. Clumps of snow littering the carpet of Eddie’s room as you stripped with shaky fingers and shivering limbs. If you weren’t freezing you would have thought about how strange it was to be naked in your bestfriends room, but at your current state you could barely register what you were doing. 

His bed was warm as you sat under a blanket, the entire thing webbed around your head down to your toes, only leaving your face exposed. 

A low ring sounds from the kitchen and you hear Eddie move around to answer the phone. You couldn’t remember a single time where you felt this cold. Even doing your traditional New Year’s eve plunge into Lover’s Lake with Eddie every year was warmer than this. 

It could have been ten minutes or an hour before Eddie came into his room. He was balancing two cups of coffee and a plate stacked with two grilled cheese sandwiches. 

“Alright Frosty,” Eddie jokes lightheartedly, eyeing your heap of clothes. Clearing his throat, his cheeks pink as he starts to ramble, “h-hope you’re hungry, because this is all I know how to make and I can’t go to the grocery store to get anything else.” 

“Smells good,” you manage through shivered lungs and rattling teeth, “thank you.” 

He sets down the mugs on his nightstand, adjusting it so you could both reach as he sat beside you, then deciding to grab one and moving closer, taking a big gulp before he sits back. 

“Probably shouldn’t hold a cup yet, you’ll burn yourself.” 

He waits for your hands to wrap around the porcelain and he gently tips the cup towards your lips. The coffee seems to seep through your bones, warming you up ever so slightly as you convince your throat to cooperate and swallow. It was heaven.

“Always looking out for me, Munson,” you say with a little smile, your eyes meeting his.

He holds your gaze for longer than he ever has, not saying a word just staring endlessly into your eyes. A smile creeps to his lips and he hums softly in agreement. 

A beat passes of Eddie carefully helping you sip at the coffee, and you begin to feel your fingers thaw, yet the chill in your body is still prevalent and you shake beneath the heavy blanket. 

Eddie’s eyebrows pinch again as he contemplates how to help. A hot shower would only make it worse, causing your body to go into shock. But you needed to get warmer. His mind is working a mile a second but it comes down to the same thing, there’s only one thing he knows of for sure that will help. 

Kneeling in front of you Eddie reaches forward and touches your cheek. “Hey, I need you to know that all I’m trying to do is help you okay? Cause right now you are shivering and your lips are changing color… so I need— I … shit, I’m going to hold you, so that my body temperature can help get yours back up.” 

“Okay,” you murmur, glassy eyes barely open. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks almost shamefully, “Because its—”

“Yes, Please.” 

“Okay, okay okay,” Eddie moves the end table and positions himself in front of you again, pulling gently at the blanket wrapped around you until you’re only sitting in your bra and panties, but he doesn’t look. Instead he positions himself behind you and wraps the blanket behind the both of you. 

He winces when your cold skin presses into his chest, “goddamn, you’re freezing.” 

You muster a small giggle in response. His skin feels like fire against yours, almost painful as your body temperature fights to calibrate with his own. 

Any other day you’d have been embarrassed to have Eddie see you like this, mismatched undergarments and looking sickly, and you would definitely feel something more than anything but tired with your bodies huddled together under the blanket. 

His warm calloused hands run up the length of your arms and down your knees to your ankles and up again. You can feel the press of his belt buckle into your lower back, the heat from it almost branding your flesh like cattle on a ranch. 

You welcomed his body warmth with open arms, his hands melted you, and fuck— they felt amazing on your frozen skin. Your teeth chatter as your hands huddle around your mouth, blowing any warmth into them you can, trying to stifle a small escaped mmmf.

Given the circumstances, Eddie is relatively calm. He’s not letting himself register that he is touching you, that his bare chest is against your soft back. That your skin, although ice fucking cold, is smooth like silk, he’s not comprehending that you’re both half naked in his bed. 

No— he’s not doing any of that. Because you are his friend, and you were going to get sick if you didn’t warm up soon, and he was helping you. 

Nevermind that your clothes were cluttered on his floor. 

Nevermind that you were wearing a lacy pink bra, a color that he definitely didn’t know the proper name of. 

It didn’t matter that your breathing seemed to hitch a bit when his hands worked up your knees and skimmed along your waist, his thumbs rubbing over the string of stretchy fabric sitting high past your hips. 

You were Eddie’s friend, he was your friend, and that’s all that matt— jesus christ are y— are you enjoying this? 

No, no. He’s mistaken. His voice was almost gravely when he collected his thoughts. “Is this okay? Are you feeling better?”

Answering with a nod you lay your head back against his shoulder, “feels good, your hands… s’ warm.” 

Eddie takes the opportunity to nuzzle his chin into the space between your neck and shoulder, wrapping himself around you in a hug. “For the record, there won’t ever be a day where I won’t look out for you, sweetheart.” 

If your cheeks could heat up they would burn, but right now the frozen butterflies in your belly warm up and flutter around, causing a sheepish little grin to paint your lips. 

“Really?” you whisper, tracing the top of his hand delicately with your finger tips.  

“Yeah,” Eddie scoffs lightheartedly, “can’t imagine not having you.” He goes rigid, stumbling over his words, realizing what he just said, “n—not having you in my life, as a friend.” 

The silence grows loud and Eddie panics, but you haven’t pulled away yet.. in fact you haven’t said anything at all. He was aching to know what was going through your head. 

“Have you… thought of having me another way?” 

“What?”

Your own heart is pumping so fast all the cold has left your extremities. It was either now or never knowing, and missing this opportunity so perfectly laid out like you had in June years ago wasn’t something you are willing to do again. 

“Have you thought about us.. being more than what we are now, more than this.” 

Eddie, ever the brave, takes a deep breath steadying his hands on your knees in a slight grip, “yeah, yeah I have.” 

“Oh,” you choke out.

Oh? A word of multitude meanings. It’s silent again, only the roaring wind outside to accompany the wild beating hearts in Apartment 4D. 

Before either of you could say anything more, the lights flickered once, twice, and finally went out for good. 

“Shit,” Eddie breathes behind you, and he tries to move but you hold him where he is: with you, holding you, touching you. 

“Do you remember the summer after Senior Year? When Jonathan threw that party at Hopper’s abandoned cabin?” 

Of course he remembered, the smell of your vanilla perfume still stung his nose from time to time, even though you had switched to a different one, Eddie never forgot how your skin glistened, how your hair smelled of sticky honey and vanilla. He found himself drowning in that memory of you often. 

“Yeah,” he swallows, “I do.” 

It's easier in the dark to ask these kinds of questions, easier to answer them also. Like the dark casted a veil of trust and zero judgment. As if whatever you were admitting would stay here forever, in the inky dark, beneath the heat of Eddie’s warm arms and a hand me down blanket.  

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” your voice was small and meek, but beneath your skin your heart thundered. 

He lets out a shuddering breath past your shoulder, one that raises goosebumps against your bare skin. “I didn’t know you wanted that from me.” 

Before you can object Eddie continues, “you made me nervous back then… I couldn't think, and I don’t— didn’t— want to ruin it.” 

“And now?” You ask, moving Eddie’s hands like a puppet master so they skim up your hips and around your middle, cupping just below your foreign shaded pink bra. “Do I still make you nervous?” 

He swallowed audibly, but he took back control of his hands and rested them below your ribs, circling your skin in lazy patterns, his thumb nail catching on the underwire. 

“Well,” he whispers against your shoulder, his lips hovering idly over your pebbled skin, “I’ve had years to fantasize about it.” 

“Fantasize?”

“Mhmm,” he confirms, lowering his mouth impossibly lower to your skin, “can’t get you outta my head.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and your body is pulsating with want, warming from the inside out, no longer shivering from the freezing temperatures but from him.

You needed your hands on him. Now. 

Lifting your arms to escape the warmth of the blanket,  you reach backward to cradle them behind his neck. Weaving them through his soft curls as you arch your back and pull him toward you. 

A groan escapes his lips and you shudder in response, unable to take one more minute without his lips on you, you turn around and balance on your knees between his legs.  

He’s too pretty like this, nothing but the shadows of the storm on his face and bare chest. A haze in his eyes as they roam over your body. A strangled fuck slips from his lips and he’s all but drooling like a puppy at the sight of you like this in front of him. 

“C’mere,” he nearly whispers, gesturing with his fingers and patting his lap with his other hand. 

You straddle his hips and lay your hands on his chest, flicking your thumb nail across his silver chain he never took off, a shy smile on your lips. 

“Hi.” 

Eddie rests his hands on your lower back, following your spine and finally feeling that the little stretchy fabric he felt earlier on your hips, v’d off into a tiny thong. He was positive he’d have a stroke before this blizzard was over. 

“I wanna kiss you like I should have at Byer’s party. ‘m not gonna stop unless you tell me to, and goddamn baby I really hope you don’t.”  

His lips find yours in the dark and fireworks light behind your eyelids. It’s soft and slow and impossibly sweet. Eddie tasted like coffee and cream and slow Sunday mornings. 

You open your mouth and his tongue greets yours, tangling together into a sleep massage filled with soft moans and rolling hips. Your fingers weave through the hair at the back of his neck and after all this time of knowing Eddie, you can’t believe how soft his hair feels. 

Like silk sheets in a fancy hotel. 

He’s swallowing your little gasps as he grows hard beneath you. Peppering kisses down your neck, across your collarbone and landing back to nip at your earlobe. He’s taking his time, carving his hands along your curves, kissing every surface he can find, growing impossibly stiff beneath your sweeping hips. 

Eddie moans when you call out his name once he has you on your back, his mouth hot against your peaked nipple, your fingers wrapped in his curls. You’re practically writhing beneath him, aching for him to keep going. 

His boxers come off and you can only feel, and judging by the way your hand can’t wrap fully around him— you knew taking him would be every bit of heaven and the best parts of hell. 

He whines with pleasure when he’s pressed into the mattress as you tease him. Kissing the tattoos on his hips, you make sure to take extra care of the warped and mottled patch of skin on his ribs. You knew, despite his protests, that they still itched and weren't as pliable as it had been before the skin was ripped from his body. 

Your hands work his shaft in tandem with your mouth, wrapping as much of him as you could manage, he’s a panting mess when he practically pleads that he can’t take anymore, he needs to be inside of you.

He leaned towards the night stand reaching for a lone condom. But you want him just the way he is. Want to feel everything he has to offer. Want to feel him stretch you open, want him to feel the way you adjust and gasp with each inch of him stuffing into you. 

When he lines up, he looks up just as you intake a sharp breath, watching as your bodies connect, and he practically cums on that sight alone. 

He’s moaning low and practically rumbling out fuck every other word. Your breath is gone, suffocated by being so full you can barely contain yourself. Eddie works you through it, and when he’s fully seated to the hilt, he leans forward and collects your lips whispering how he’s got you, how he’ll take of you, always. And he would forever if you’d let him. 

When he moves it’s slow and steady, his hips moving fluidly like the rhythm to a song. Your hands are clutching onto him, gripping his biceps, leaving moon shaped indents in his skin that only add to his pleasure. 

Eddie picks up speed when your body moves back against him, knowing that you need more, want more and he’s happy to oblige. Pressing a thumb on your clit he rubs slow, then fast. Circular, then up and down. He’s working her like a rotary phone and you come undone, whimpering his name and moaning as tears leak from the corners of your eyes. 

He follows not far behind you, and it’s a shaky, earth shattering high that has him throwing his head back holding onto your hips as if you were keeping him Earth bound. 

You both collapse into a tangled mess of sheets and sweat and discarded clothing. Eddie tries to get up but you pull him back to you, kissing his jaw and reveling in the high of euphoric bliss. 

❆ ❆ ❆

Four days the power flickered on and off as the city worked hard to restore things back to normal. It was the most snowfall the city had ever seen, but you missed it all. Hard to keep track of what day or time it was when you were constantly being fucked into oblivion by a man who absolutely adored you and worshipped your body like a sacred temple. 

You were raw, and stained with presses and laps from his lips and tongue, a deep set of teeth marked the back half of your shoulder that you were extremely privy to. 

Eddie also had his fair share of love bites and claw marks from you. Unlocking a kink you didn’t know even existed a/n: (Does it? Marked men? is that a kink? listen bitch idk but it’s hot)

Neither one of you worrying about anything, barely making time to make a meal before you were back at it again, on the table, the counter, the bathroom floor, Pete’s bed, up against Eddie’s closet— everywhere, not a single surface was left untainted. 

The questions of what comes next, what does this mean for him and for you would be answered another time. 

For now, in the blissful naivety of the shelter from the blizzard in his bedroom of apartment 4D —that would later smell of coffee, and cigarettes and a record set of orgasms: you were tickled pink to be snowed in with him.

likes, comments, reblogs are loved and adored ** if you want to see more dm’s are always open and welcome, thanks for having me back here after being gone from this space for a few months 🖤💋

All time taglist that i’m dogshit at remembering: @dashingdeb16 @bastardstevie @what-the-jams @lexr86 @pretendthisnameisclever

@littlebibibliophile

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Hi! Happy holidays! I have a fic idea I’d like to request. one where Mattheo is winning reader over because he likes her, but despite never letting his feelings known, Theo has been in love with her since second year 🥺 angsty but still with a happy ending perhaps? thank you love! <3

Me or Him

Mattheo Riddle x Reader, Theodore Nott x Reader

Warnings: Kinda angsty, mentions of drinking and reader being drunk, gender neutral

If someone had told you in your first year that two of your best friends both had feelings for you, you’d have laughed. They were friends, some of your closest friends, nothing more. Right? They were hot, you couldn’t exactly deny that. And they were funny and nice and maybe if you weren’t so close, you might’ve had a crush on them, because you 100% did not have one now. You definitely didn’t notice them growing into their bodies and getting muscles from quidditch. You, for sure, never noticed the way they seemed a bit more touchy with you either and how your body reacted. Totally didn’t notice any of that.

And now, you were at one of the infamous Slytherin parties, just sipping on a drink somewhere among the crowd.

“Ah, there you are. Been looking for you.” A pair of hands grabbed your hips from behind as the voice spoke near your ear just loud enough to hear above the music. “I thought you were hiding from me.”

“Seems like I didn’t hide well enough if you found me.” You said, turning your head enough to look at Mattheo.

“I can always find you. I can feel the beauty and sweetness radiating off of you before I can even see you.” He said with that stupid smile he always wore around you.

You roll your eyes but smile at his words. “That’s a bit cheesy, isn’t it?”

“You liked it though, didn’t you? It works, huh?” He said, moving his arms to wrap around your waist. “Come dance with me.” He said as he started leading you over to where everyone else was dancing.

“You’re not even gonna ask nicely?”

“Please, dance with me, (Y/N).” He turned you around to face him now, still leading you as you walked backwards.

“I even got a ‘please’. How cute.” You smiled back at him.

“I’m not hearing a ‘no’.”

“Because I didn’t say ‘no’.”

“So, that’s a ‘yes’.”

“I suppose.”

“You’re a little brat, you know that?” Mattheo said with a small chuckle.

And while all that was happening, Theo was watching this whole interaction not too far away. He couldn’t hear what you two were saying, but he saw the way Mattheo was touching you and the smile on your face and how you let him lead you to dance. Not even mentioning watching you two dance, how your bodies were touching. Merlin, Theo was sick.

He’s had feelings for you since…as long as he could remember. Maybe since he met you. You two just clicked and you were so nice to him and you were so cute. And those feelings only grew over the years. At this point, he could confidently say he was in love with you. The way you spoke, the way you carried yourself, your personality, your jokes and teasing, just you. He loved it all. He was just too scared to say anything. How could he tell the person he’s loved for years that he has feelings and possibly be rejected. He’d rather be by your side as friends than possibly never have you in his life. But that sentiment was quickly dying at every touch and flirt that Mattheo shared with you. 

Why did his best friend have to like you too? He’s heard Mattheo talk about you, talking about how good you looked, how cute you were when you spoke about something you liked, how he enjoyed teasing you. And it took everything in Theo not to hit Mattheo in the face. Because, how would that be fair when Theo never expressed even liking you in the first place?

But now, you were as stunning as always, dancing with his best friend instead of him and he wished it was him. He longed for you to look at him like that, to make you smile like that. He had to fight every urge to go over there and push Mattheo off of you. It wouldn’t be right. You looked happy and that was his best friend.

He just watched as you two danced and laughed for a while before you excused yourself. Theo took notice of how drunk you were as you nearly stumbled as you walked away. He quickly came over to you, wrapping an arm around you to steady you.

“Easy there.” He said, helping you walk.

“Theo! I was wondering where you were.” You said, giving him a bright smile that he adored.

“I’ve been around.” He said, giving you a smile in return. “You’re very drunk, sweetheart.”

“No.” You said, dragging out the word. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe we should get you back to your dorm.” His smile never dropped, he found you adorable like this, but he was also concerned you were gonna get yourself hurt.

“Will you stay with me?” You asked, leaning your head on him.

“Of course.”

“Yay! Maybe we could have a sleepover.” You said cheerfully.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” He laughed, guiding you towards your dorm.

You rambled to him about anything as he walked you both to your dorm, little ‘mhm’s and ‘yeah’s leaving his mouth to let you know he’s listening. He got you in your dorm and sat you down on your bed, kneeling down to help you get your shoes off when you suddenly brought Mattheo up.

“And then Mattheo and I danced and it was a lot of fun.” You spoke so happily, not even knowing how annoyed Theo was with Mattheo.

“Yeah, sure sounds like it.” He huffed, pulling one of your shoes off and setting it aside.

“What? Why do you sound annoyed now?” You asked, looking down at him with a small frown.

“I’m not. I’m fine. You had fun with Mattheo, why would that make me mad?” He asked, but was clearly annoyed. Even in your drunken state, you could tell.

“I don’t know. You just sound mad.”

“Well, I’m not.” He said a lot louder than intended as he got the other shoe off and placed it with the other one.

“Theo…”

“It’s fine. I’m-You had a great time with one of our friends. My best friend. It’s fine.”

“Yeah,we just danced and-”

“Do you like him?”

“What?”

“Do you like Mattheo, (Y/N)?” He asked, finally standing up and looking at you.

“I don’t understand, why are you-”

“Please, just answer me.”

“I don’t know.” You said, annoyed with his attitude.

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know. Okay? He’s sweet and nice and flirty but I haven’t exactly thought about him in that way.”

“You haven’t?”

“It’s just fun. I don’t know what to tell you.”

“The truth.”

“That is the truth!”

“You can just tell me if you like him.”

“I don’t!”

“Right.” He rolled his eyes.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because I love you!” He blurted out. And now it was out in the open. He couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t try to correct himself. He sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his hair, turning his head to avoid looking at you as the silence filled the room. It was a good 10 seconds of silence, but it felt like an hour to Theo, not knowing your response.

“You do?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah.” It was all he could manage to say in his embarrassment.

“How long?”

He swallowed, still looking away from you. “A while.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Your voice was still so quiet and soft.

Theo scoffed, finally looking at you. “Why would I when you and Mattheo were all over each other?”

“Because I’d pick you over him any day.”

That sentence made him speechless and he just stared at you in disbelief.

“I like you. If I’m not making myself clear enough.” You spoke up when he didn’t reply after a moment.

“But Mattheo-”

“Is not you.”

He swallowed again, this was a little overwhelming for him. “Do you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” He finally got out in a rush and it made you giggle.

“Only if you don’t give me that same attitude from a few minutes ago.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle. “That’s a fair condition.”

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[snoopychris]

capture the flag

in which... there's a game of capture the flag and life is all sunshine and rainbows

warnings: filler chapter but a necessary filler

as the start of the school year got closer, the camp began getting less and less occupied. even Hermes cabin, usually so full of life, was about to be down to five campers. during the school year, the Camp was down to no more than 25 campers total. the year-rounders, so they were called. as much as Camp Half-Blood felt like home, you had always wished you werent one of them. you had always wished that you could have a family to go home to. a place to feel loved and wanted outside of the protective barrier that Thalia Grace had provided. 

“you think they’ll let us leave one day? like leave forever?�� you whisper, feet dipped into the water with chris by your side. your head rested on his shoulder, a place it was typically found. sunny with chris, is like a fork found in a kitchen, was the way percy jackson once described it. “think if they would’ve let us leave they would’ve done it when we turned 18.” chris replies, his voice full of sadness. you knew he had big dreams too, always having been interested in seeing los angeles and any state aside from new york, really. the moment is one you seem to share every year. it’s only interrupted when a throat is cleared behind you. 

your head whips to look behind you, your first thought being that something was wrong with one of the campers. instead, you find yourself locking eyes with matt. the action seems to linger for a little bit too long because chris is the first to speak. “something wrong?” matt shakes his head, twiddling his fingers. “i need to shower.” he states. your eyebrows raise, looking him up and down. “okay…?” chris continues, his voice filled with genuine confusion. matt groans when chris doesn’t understand anything, turning towards you instead. “i don’t have any clothes.” you slap chris’ chest gently, knowing you had told him to give matt a few closet staples after he had arrived the day before. you stood up from the rocky floor, walking over to matt. “aphrodite cabin’s got all the spares. you’ll be able to find something in there.” you smile, walking matt to the cabin. 

it doesn’t take long for you to arrive, opening the baby pink doors to reveal the luscious interior. it’s easily the most organized of the cabins. you point towards the big dresser with various drawers, sitting down on a nearby couch. “take whatever you need. those kids love shopping.” you giggle, looking up at the ceiling. you can’t remember the last time you were in here. “if nothings your style, i can take you to chris’ cabin too. he’s got a lot he doesn’t wear.” you smile, crossing your legs. you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t good looking. the way his tattoos adorned his arms gave him an edge that chris lacked. maybe one day you’d ask what they meant. maybe one day he’d tell you.

it doesn’t take long for him to pick out the clothes he wants. a few tshirts, a few pairs of jeans, a small sweater, and a leather jacket. he was son of Ares, alright. “you’re settling in okay? i know you haven’t left your cabin much. i hear things you know. got eyes all over this place.” you joke, beginning to walk back to his own cabin. he shrugs as he looks around, pursing his lips. “got nobody here.” “you could always try talking to nick. or chris.” an idea pops into your mind, remembering the recent arrival of a camper. “or you could even talk to-“

“sunny!” your voice is cut off by the very person you were thinking of, turning your head to see him. his blonde hair was being pushed around by the wind without any issues, and he seemed to have grown a few inches since the last time you saw him. the blonde makes his way over to you, setting his hand on your shoulder. “matt… meet will solace. will this is matt. ares’ son. he’s chris’ brother… half brother. but not in the way other people here have half brothers” will hums at the sight, moving his arm to instead shake matt’s hand. “nice to meet you. they treating you good here? if they’re not you can always complain to dionysus… he lectures chris good.” you roll your eyes at the comment, stepping away from the conversation that seems to be blooming. 

you’re no more than halfway to the Hermes cabin when you bump into nick. “sunny! oh my god i was just about to come looking for you. some of the kids in there are asking about capture the flag and… some will character being captain? is that like required… or like… and also who’s will? is will single… does he like guys?” nick asks, a bowl of strawberries in his hand. you nod at his question, looking around the camp. “unfortunately it is required. it’s training and a game all in one. if wills a captain then that means tha-” “SUNNY! you’re up! my office! now!” Dionysus. 

“i just feel like it’s chris’ turn.” Dionysus knows you’re referring to being captain of capture the flag teams. you were good at it sometimes, but never against Will. “no” “will always has the best teams. it’s not even fair!” you whine, your face turning into an annoyed expression. “it’s your turn” “is clarisse here?” “nope.” “what about annabeth?” “she’s at school already.” “percy?” “specifically requested to play.” “drew? nico? anybody?” “no. your turn.” Dionysus says smugly, sending you off with a flick of the wrist. “is chiron coming back soon?” you whisper. The God in front of you knew how much the centaur meant to you, always being the closest thing you had to a father. he nods as he sends you a solemn expression. “he’s making strides in Olympus. next week though. promise.” you nod as you grab two bright orange Camp t-shirts, headed out the door to begin planning your teams. it doesn’t take long for it to click in your head when you lock eyes with chris, who’s walking into his dad’s office. “captain?” he asks. you nod, shrugging nonchalantly. “captain!”

it’s only been a few hours by the time you’re standing in a group of 50 or so and people. all eyes are on you and will. “okay! two teams of 23. will and i are your captains! this is the last game of the summer. after this… free time for a lot of the time here but check with your counselors first!” you yell, gripping onto the helmet. you look at will, getting a nod for you to begin picking. “okay! i’m picking first.” an array of hands go up, wanting to be on your team. your eyes glance between the obvious answers, despite your mind being made up earlier. chris is standing right in front of you, his eyes batting like a lost puppy dog. on the side opposite him is percy. his blonde hair is messier than usual, all thanks to his lack of hair products and excess of salt water. theres two perfectly good candidates right there.

on the other hand, there’s two candidates near the back of the group of people who you would rather have. "i want matt and nick to start." 

nick, matt, and chris have never looked more identical. you can’t even see nick and matt properly due to their distance from you. their collective "what" speaks more words than the entirety of taylor swifts discography. "sunny you cant be serious... youre gonna lose." will whispers, his hair looking nearly identical to percy's in this light. "yeah well... luke took a chance on percy once didnt he?" will swallows as he nods, taking his options in. “chris and percy” chris sighs as he walks to Will’s side of the crowd, watching as you pick another random camper. the picking continues until nobody’s left. by the looks of it, your team is incredibly weaker than Will’s. you have hope for them regardless. 

your team quickly makes their way towards your “safe zone.” the helmets that you all have by your sides are goofy looking, but important regardless. you look around, licking your lips. “okay… okay. cat and gracie. you two keep an eye on the flag. nico’s gonna stay and help you with the fighting. right d’angelo?” you whisper, looking towards nico. he nods, gripping onto his sword. “can’t believe you didn’t pick chris this time.” nico adds on, licking his lips mischievously. “he’ll survive. the rest of you. split up. you’re our offense. matt and nick. you two are with me. we’re goin after that flag.” you hear the gulp that nick experiences, following after you with a sword in hand. his hands are shaky. you can tell that he’s scared. on the other hand, matt looks excited. he hadn’t left his cabin much, instead opting to let his anger out on the objects found in the Ares cabin. his grip on the sword was tight, as if he was ready to swing at any moment. 

there’s a small crack of twigs from the woods after you had been walking for a while that catches the attention of all three of you. matt instinctively points his sword out, lowering it when its only chris. “this is a new low sunny. i mean we’re always on the same team.” you shrug at his words, gripping onto his wrist and pulling his arm behind his back. “where’s the flag?” you whisper, earning a wince from chris. “i don’t know. why are you mad at me?” he replies. you shrug, pushing him down onto the floor. “let’s move.” 

matt and nick follow behind you, each watching out for others in their own way. nick is looking out so that he doesn’t get attacked. matt is looking for someone to attack. “are you mad at chris?” nick questions, his shaky hands beginning to calm down. “no. all games. he knows that.” you smile, biting your lip when you see the blue teams flag in the distance. victory is so sweet. of course, you hadn’t won yet, but you were so close.

it was within 200 feet. you swallow as you grip onto your own sword, knowing that if the flag was in eyesight distance, then there would be plenty of guards nearby. “on the count of three… matt’s gonna go left. nick and i are gonna go right… one… two.” matt couldn’t keep in any more excitement. “three!” he yells, running in the opposite direction as you and nick. you begin your sprint, knowing that the two separate direction vectors you were going in would be enough for the other team to be distracted. 

you feel like you’re forgetting something as you’re running through the woods that you’ve grown to love. you’re navigating each turn like it’s nothing. oh. “sunny i really don’t like this game!” nick yells, running close behind you. even though you know these turns like the back of your hand, you realize that nick doesn’t. he doesn’t know about the drop that he’s 15 feet away from.

it’s in the blink of an eye that he’s about to go head first off a cliff, dropped when the back of his shirt has a tight grip on it. someone saved him. for once, nicks grateful to be alive. he catches his breath for a few moments before turning back to see who saved him. “you must be nick.” nick nods, tumbling backwards a few feet. “im will.” you smile at the sight for a moment before running off, leaving the boys behind. 

nick had heard of the boy standing before him, but he hadn’t actually met him in person. sure, they were in the same vicinity of each other earlier during the team picking, but this was different. nick didn’t even know what he was feeling. his heart was racing and his face was getting hot. he wants to say it’s adrenaline. he knows it’s not. “i’m nick… sturniolo. but you knew that i think… sunny wasn’t kidding when she said you’re like sunshine personified.” will chuckles, shrugging. “i get that a lot.”

you were so damn close to victory that it felt incredible. you couldn’t have been more than 50 feet away from the flag when you’re pinned to the floor. you groan at the feeling, attempting to kick yourself away from your opponent. you know who it is— of course you do. it’s a position you’ve been in multiple times before, but never in this environment. “get off me you’re heavy!” “you didn’t pick me.” he whispers, grabbing his sword and holding it close to your neck as a form of intimidation.

“ok fine yes i’m sorry that i didn’t pick you! now can you please get the sword away from my throat you know what that does to me.” chris scoffs as he sets the sword down on the floor next to you. truthfully, you don’t know where matt and nick are right now. chris stands up, reaching out to help you. you grab onto his hand, feeling the sparks you usually feel when you touch him. you smile at him softly, beginning to sprint towards the flag again. someone beats you to it. 

matt’s hand grips the flag, winning the game for everybody on your team. against all odds, you finally won a game against Will Solace. your eyebrows furrow, looking around. “how did i just win against will? how did i just win so fast?” you whisper looking towards chris. he gestures toward nick, still fully immersed in conversation with Will. you smile widely as you lick your lips, walking to the flag. “you did good matt. you have a talent.” he shrugs, looking into the woods he just came out of. “scared some of the campers off i guess” he jokes, earning a cackle from chris. chris has definitely done that before, even accidentally.

you relish in the victory for a moment before a voice calls out to chris away from the crowd. Chris’ eyes meet yours for a moment, shrugging in confusion. he chases after the voice, leaving you in nothing but pure confusion yourself. you turn to look at matt, nodding once. “okay… anyway. you know how to swim?” matt’s terrible week gets a little bit better when you actually make an attempt to get to know him. like really get to know him. 

percy’s cabin—cabin 3–was like a second home to you. it felt so much more welcoming than others, despite how empty it was for most of the year. Matt’s eyes are on you the entire walk over, up until the point that you  open the doors. the breeze of the sea that is always lingering in the room feels nice, especially against the outside weather. you let out a small giggle as you slip off your t-shirt, making your way to the back porch to take a dip into the lake. somewhere along the way, you slip off your shorts before diving into the water. matt hesitates for a moment to do anything, just taking in the way you move. you were a breath of fresh air. somehow, you were a reminder of home.

“you getting in?” you yell, dipping your hair into the water as you look up at matt. “no swimsuit.” he replies, sitting down on the dock. “percy has a ton in there. c’mon. there’s no sea monsters in here. at least not anymore.” you smile, swimming over to him. “im swimming in my underwear. nobody else is gonna judge you. its just me.” matt doesnt usually give in so fast, but theres something about the way you talk that convinces him. he mustve taken too long to decide because you pull him into the water fully clothed before he can think. you giggle as he yelps, swimming away as fast as you possibly can. you hate to admit that you felt sparks when you grabbed his hand. it felt so wrong to feel that with anybody except chris. 

“you could get to the olympics with that speed.” matt yells out, staying near the dock. he slips off his shirt, showing off some of his tattoos in a better way. you shrug as you swim back over, slower this time. “its a gift. always came naturally to me.” matt smiles as he grabs onto your wrist, pulling you towards him. a breath gets stuck in your throat when he does so, swallowing nothing gently. “you remind me of a night in rome.” “im sorry?” “what? youve never listened to role model?” he asks. you shake your head, staring into his bright blue eyes. his eyes are just so so different from chris and nick’s that its hard for you to believe theyre even related.

“i dont listen to much… just um… taylor swift i know her. we dont have much technology here.” you knew that matt pulling you close to him had you within small distance of one another, but you didnt realize just how much room was between you. it was almost nonexistent. “you ever listen to delicate?” he whispers, lips inching closer to yours. you nod slowly, moving yours closer as well. the distance between the two of you is about to be completely closed when percy yells out from inside his cabin. “Matt?!” 

you flinch, swimming away from matt. it was an explanation you werent in the mood for right now. matt frowns, turning his attention to percy. Percy has an unreadable expression on his face. its a mix between fear, worry, and something else. you cant quite put your finger on it. “they need to see you in the big house. like now.” the worry inside you grows, swimming to the dock and climbing out. Matt follows suit and begins walking towards the big house, still soaked. when you go to follow, percy puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes his head. the worry only grows. there’s something that tells you that its the worst case scenario right now. that its a luke situation all over again. “not right now, sun.” 

when matt arrives to the big house, he’s the last triplet brother to arrive. Will is headed out the door when matt walks in, filling him with a sense of insecurity. he hasnt felt at home before. he definitely doesnt feel at home now. “is um… everything alright? Is something wrong?” he whispers, looking between chris and nick. Nick looks frightened. Chris looks annoyed. “I actually think id also like an answer now.” nick speaks, looking between dionysus and chris, the only two who seem to know whats going on right now. Dionysus gestures to chris as a way to tell his son to begin speaking. “I just dont know why I have to be the one to explain anything when youre the one who heard the damn thing.” chris spits, his tongue prodding at the inside of his lip.

Chris goes on to mumble something under his breath, looking towards matt and nick. they both send him looks of confusion. “I said that theres a prophecy about us.” chris’ tone is just slightly louder this time, but it’s loud enough to be understood. Nick furrows his brows, glancing towards matt. “A prophecy? what is that? is that like a bad thing?” nick asks, running a hand through his hair. Chris looks towards his father for a lifeline. Prophecies have never been his specialty. he’s never been a part of one until now. Dionysus sighs as he takes a sip from his soda can, slamming it down on a nearby table. “A prophecy is like a riddle. not a fun one either. its a prediction about a major event. most recent one we had was the rise or fall of olympus being caused by a forbidden child. Percy Jackson caused the rise of Olympus. unfortunately our resident oracle gave another one today while i was within earshot. the connection between foe will cause a God to reap what they sow. until fate’s hand strikes one final blow.” 

“Pardon me. Dionsyus.. is it?” matt asks, pursing his lips. “Just what does this have to do with us?” Dionysus swallows. It’s not a good sign to chris that even his dad is nervous. “it was spoken on August first. go and gather your things. all of you. youre going on a quest.”

a/n: :PPPPPP anyway. this may be just a filler but its one i need in order to do any of the things i want to do. that poll earlier also wasnt for nothing. :P kiss kiss ! - gen (also i think either dbf chris or ta matt coming tomorrow i dont KNOWWWWW)

tags(reply/message to be added!): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @bluessturniolo @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @cykss @strnilolover @13hoax @oopsiedaisydeer @starlace111 @24kmar @raesturns @allylovescody @sturniolosymphony@esioleren @colorthecosmos444 @jetaimevous @strnilolover @muwapsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @whore4mattsturniolo @camzeecorner @spideylana @raesturns @starrysturns @pair-of-pantaloons @sturniowhore @strnilolover @pair-of-pantaloons @milo-the-dog @owensbabygirl @stvrnioloslvt i rlly hope im not missing anybody again

[emsdevs]

birthday celly prompt list - William Nylander

a/n: i promise i'm getting back on my writing grind 🙏 i don't have an ask for this one bc i just wanted to write for willy so i asked kirby to pick a prompt for me 🧍‍♀️ enjoyyyyy!! 🧡

Prompt 3: "I've always wanted this."

masterlist | Birthday Celly 2025 Masterlist

You’d known William since you were a teenager. You were neighbors with the Hughes boys, and Quinn had been your best friend for as long as you could remember. You were a year older than him, but that didn’t stop the two of you from being inseparable. When you went over to his house one summer day and found a strange boy you didn’t recognize, you didn’t expect it to change your life the way it has. The entire time William stayed with the Hugheses, you admired him from afar, telling yourself that having a harmless little crush on the older boy wouldn’t hurt anything. 

At the time, it didn’t, but when you ran into William after moving to Toronto a few months ago and all of those feelings came rushing back, you started to regret it. He’d been quick to ask you to meet up for coffee one day, catch up with one another. You let yourself agree, and ever since then, he’s been your closest friend in Toronto. You’d hang out with him whenever he got a free moment. He’d let you dogsit when he had roadies. You two had gotten so close that you talked on a daily basis, but those feelings were still creeping into the back of your mind.

You felt your heart race any time his hand brushed against yours. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach when he looked into your eyes just a bit longer than what could be considered normal. You found yourself thinking about him more often than you cared to admit. You’d see the most random things, and your mind would find a way to connect them to Willy. Needless to say, you were in deep, and you weren’t sure how much more you could handle.

When Willy invited you over for dinner, you couldn’t say no, so you headed straight to his place after work. He didn’t have a game tonight, so you two would have plenty of time to hang out. When you arrive at his place, you’re surprised to see the fancy setup he has for you. Usually, the two of you would just order some takeout and watch a movie while you ate, but this looks like some kind of Valentine’s or anniversary dinner or something. It definitely doesn’t look like a dinner for two friends. 

Willy clocks the confused look on your face, and he’s quick to make his way over to you. He grabs your hands, guiding you closer to the dinner table, loaded with food. 

“Will- I- What is all this?” you stammer out. You were still shocked, unsure of how to act now.

“Well,” he trails off a bit, “I just- I don’t know. I mean I might’ve read this wrong, so just let me know if this isn’t something you want. But, you know, we’ve been getting a lot closer recently, and I was kinda getting a feeling that this might be something more than friendship. I mean, I know that’s what I want, but I was getting the feeling you want that too.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so nervous. Your heart jumps to your throat, and the weight of the feelings you’ve been pushing down for years is lifted off your shoulders. A relieved smile finds its way onto your face, and you let out the breath you’d been holding since you walked into his apartment. 

“I’ve always wanted this,” you squeeze his hands, trying to get your point across with something other than words. He smiles, letting out a breath, before removing his hands from yours in favor of placing them on your cheeks. He pulls you in, placing a soft, long-awaited kiss. Teenage you would be freaking out right now, and if you’re completely honest with yourself, adult you is freaking out too. You spent years of your life pining over William, and just like that, he was yours now. Apparently, he had been for a while.

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[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Eighteen: incoming call

tw: none

Your phone is ringing. 

You almost don’t hear it. With the speakers on the TV cranked up loud enough so you can hear the documentary, (Simon tried to put the captions on for you so you could also enjoy the show, but the latency between your eyes and ears made your head throb) it drowns in the mess of noise in the living room. It takes the flashing screen to get your attention. Unsticking yourself to Simon’s side—a place you always seem to be these days—you lean forward on the couch as your arm extends toward the coffee table. 

Buzz buzz! Buzz buzz! 

It vibrates so fiercely that it dances on the table before you, and when you take it into your hands, it rattles your bones. It trembles in your palm like a creature being held by its creator—its destroyer. 

Incoming Call from Captain Jack Sparrow

“It’s Row,” you say, mostly to yourself. Part of you is surprised it’s not Bee again, who has been calling you incessantly ever since you took your unofficial break from Sapori. 

Simon hums in response as he reaches for the remote and mutes the TV. Your thumb hovers over the answer button, but an unexplainable trepidation wreaks havoc on your heart. Still, you answer. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey! Chip, I… Did I wake you?” Aelin’s voice croaks on the other end of the line, stiff and still shaking off the morning fog. 

Brows narrowing, you shake your head. “No, I’ve been awake. Just… watching TV. What’s up?” 

“Nothing.” Her reply is quick. Too quick, and sharp enough that you know you shouldn’t push unless you’re ready to bleed. “I just wanted to call. Check in, all that stuff. John and I got back home the other week and I miss you.” 

Leaning back, you situate yourself against Simon’s side once more. Over the last few days, you’ve been so caught up in your own life. The mess of your apartment that Simon squared away, Marco, your kiss with Simon and the subsequent ones after that… you nearly forgot all about Aelin and John’s trip. The Maldives, right? That sounds correct. Someplace more temperate than England this time of year. 

“Right, your trip. How was it?” 

“It was great. Wonderful, really. John got a bit more sun than he should have, though. You should’ve seen him, he looked ridiculous. Bright red like a lobster,” Aelin humors. 

Somewhere in the background of the call, you can make out John’s voice. Static overtakes his words, but whatever he says gets Aelin laughing. The sound of her titter is contagious enough that it gets you giggling, but you stop when you feel the tension in her voice. 

There’s something empty about her words, as if you’re only hearing the echo of her voice instead of it emanating from the source. Sniffles break through the line every now and then, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say she was crying. Every now and then she quietly chokes on the tail end of a word when it forces her to use the back of her throat. 

“Are you feeling alright?” The question leaves your lips before the realization completely forms in your mind. When she doesn’t respond right away, instead of letting the silence sit, you fill it with a half formed explanation. “Sorry, I just—well—you sounded a little congested, I guess.” 

More silence follows, and for a fleeting moment you’ve convinced yourself you’ve said something wrong. Something out of turn. Then, there’s a long draw of breath. 

“Oh, you know. Just… one of those days,” Aelin says. 

Her words ignite a memory that begins to flicker as a lone flame in some forgotten corner of your mind. Shoved back into your sixteen year old body, you find Aelin on the kitchen floor in her mother’s house. Hair undone, back against the cabinets, her fist chokes the neck of a beer bottle as her feet tap against the tile. She’s an adult, but this is her childhood home. You’re the stranger here, and she apologizes to you for the mess. 

When you ask her what’s wrong, she only shrugs. 

Just one of those days. 

It’s a stupid question to ask. Her dad has been dead for only a week. 

She doesn’t invite you to sit next to her, but you do anyway. Just far away enough that you don’t touch, yet still close enough to feel the feverish warmth of her intoxication. You don’t say anything, but she talks about everything. Voice tense, body loose; every time she starts to cry she drinks until the tears are burned away. 

Tell me about him, you say. 

And she does. She does. 

“Do you want to come over? To mine and John’s?” Aelin asks, pulling you out of your anamneses. “I could come pick you up so you don’t have to take the bus. We could watch a movie or something.” 

The smile on your lips bleeds into the tone of your words. “A movie sounds great. And don’t worry about it, I can have Simon take me.” 

Simon’s ears visibly perk like a dog that heard the word treat. His body shifts, arm falling around your shoulders and pulling you closer, but he doesn’t speak. 

“Oh?” Aelin’s voice quirks the way it always does when she teases you. A broiling heat tingles in the tips of your ears as the realization settles in; you talk so easily about Simon now. As if he’s always been in your life—like you’ve never felt any other comfort besides him. There’s been a missing chunk of your skin, and he’s filled it so perfectly with the shape of his body. “You’ll have to tell me all about that, too.” 

With plans created, you bid each other goodbye, and when the call ends, you’re stuck staring at your phone screen. 

7th of January

Well past the day you were supposed to pay your late fee to Marco. 

It’s today. It’s—

“I take it we’re headed to the Price’s?” Simon asks. 

Shutting your phone off, you nod. “Row wants to have a girls day in.” Setting your phone to the side, you look at Simon who’s staring at you with tightly pressed lips. “What?” 

“Don’t like the thought of you goin’ anywhere without me,” he admits. He thinks on his words for a moment and feels the odd weight on his tongue and the sour implication, then explains further. “Not while all this shit with Marco is happening.” 

“I won’t be going without you. You’ll be the one driving me,” you retort. “You really think Marco would do anything at Aelin’s house? At John’s house?” 

Mulling it over, you see the way Simon’s teeth chew on the inside of his lip. “Alright.” 

During the drive to Aelin’s, Simon holds your hand like it’s the last time he’ll ever see you. Fingers interlaced with yours, your knuckles begin to ache at how wide you have to spread them to accommodate the width of each digit. Eventually, they begin to hurt so bad you have to settle with him holding you princess style, and even then his thumb traces the dips and peaks of your knuckles as he memorises each curve. 

Things have changed between you and Simon, and it’s more than just in the superficial circumstances in which your lives have become intertwined. He’s sparked something inside of you. This entire time he’s known you, he’s been watering a grave and something has finally begun to sprout out of the stone. Something’s growing—something you swore was long dead. 

His touch is the first touch that does not make your skin crawl—that does not smell like blood. His lips are the first to press against yours that do not maim, and now that you have a taste for it, you’re not sure you can ever live without it. 

Aelin’s house comes into view and you’re suddenly plagued with an odd apprehension. It’s a strange and vicious penitence that begins to slither around your heart before constricting tight enough to evoke a wicked jolt of pain. By the time Simon parks next to the curb, you feel every molecule of air leave your lungs. 

“I won’t be far,” Simon tells you as he squeezes your hand. 

“Plan on staking out at the park?” you tease. 

“I might,” he deadpans. 

Simon’s hesitancy is palpable. His fingers feel so tight against your own that you think you’ll have to pry yourself out of his grasp just to leave. Dark eyes scan your face as you look at him with a small but reassuring smile, but not even that offers him comfort. 

“I’ll just be a text away,” he continues. 

“Si,” you laugh. “It’s gonna be fine. I’m gonna be fine. Besides your house, this is the next safest place to be.” 

When he still doesn’t seem convinced—staring at you with firm eyes and a clenching jaw—you find yourself leaning over the center console. Falling into the gravity of him, your lips find his just as easily as if you were taking the path back home. Eyes fluttering shut, somehow this union is able to quell the squeezing in your chest. He is warm like fire, and you can taste the pepper he used to season his eggs for breakfast. 

His free hand cups your face just as you pull away. “I… Call me when you’re ready.” 

Aelin answers the door not even three seconds after you knock. Fresh popcorn wafts around the entryway as she greets you with a tired smile and glossy lips. Red traces the delicate line of her eyes, making the aqua hue of her iris pop. Stray tears seem to linger along her waterline, but you make no mention of it as she ushers you inside before the bitter cold steals too much of your warmth. 

Blankets and pillows obscure the couch in the living room, and you nearly gawk at the obscene amount of food laid out on the coffee table. Two large bowls of popcorn, various bags of small candies—Jelly Babies, Maltesers, Imperial Mints, among others—and of course, refreshments. When she had mentioned wanting to watch a movie together, you hadn’t imagined anything like this. 

“John may have gone a little overboard with the treats. He’s left the house to just the two of us,” Aelin chuckles as she begins to fight through the nest that’s been made of her couch. Clearing a few of the blankets to the side, she sits and then pats the spot next to her. “Come on, grab a seat then.” 

With a plush blanket tossed over your lap, and a comically large bowl of buttered popcorn nestled against your hip, you and Aelin settle down for the movie. It’s some chick flick you’ve never heard of, but you end up not paying attention to most of the plot. Not even five minutes into the film, Aelin twists her body so she’s facing you with a grin. 

“So… tell me about Christmas with Riley.” 

Really, you should have expected this. She’s been trying to get the two of you together since October, of course she would be curious. 

October. That’s how long you’ve known him? Only that long? That doesn’t seem right. Your body aches and sings as if you’ve known him your entire life. 

Still, you tell her everything, and you make sure not to skimp out on any details, lest she attempt to fill in any of the blanks for herself. You tell her about the quiet drive to Manchester, and how loving his family is. You gush about little Joseph and sweet Mrs. Riley. You talk about the food you ate and the bed you slept in—how polite Simon was through it all—how he enveloped you in his arms when the world started to feel too small. 

You don’t stop there. You lament about how he comforted you when you came home to find your apartment a mess—weaving in a little white lie about how it was wracked with water damage from a burst pipe while you were gone—and how he’s been letting you stay with him. How he insists on you sleeping in his bed. And—

“Seriously?”

—the kiss. 

“I dunno, it just sort of… happened,” you admit sheepishly. 

“In his bed?” Aelin confirms. 

You nod. “We had just woken up.” 

“And then?” she asks, tone leading you on. 

“What?”

“What happened after that?” She asks her question like there should be something more—some vivid details you’re meant to share. 

You blink. “Well, then he asked me if I wanted breakfast.” 

Aelin’s lips turn into a small pout. Not anything patronizing, but rather in the way you look at a child when they say something sweet—something innocent. 

“Oh, Chip. I’m so happy for you,” she says, head leaning back against the couch. The more you talk, the more the red in her eyes seems to soften to a dull pink, and the less she sniffles. “I’m just… so glad you found someone.” 

For your girls day in, you and Aelin end up watching two movies back to back; both being less than subpar romance comedies. Each time the male lead does something stupid, she always throws in her two cents about what to do if Simon does that to you, which leaves you rolling your eyes. Then, of course, there are the obligatory and awkward sex education courses she gives you during anything remotely lewd. 

“That’s not how that works!” Aelin huffs as her teeth crunch into more popcorn. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, poking at the kernels in your bowl. 

“She was magically wet enough for him to just slide in? Like that? No foreplay, just kissing? Yeah fucking right.” She playfully tosses a small bit of popcorn at you from across the couch. “If Simon ever tries that shit, you blue ball him, okay?” 

After a few hours, when the sun begins to scrape along the horizon, both you and Aelin begin to yawn. John returns from whatever escapade he set off to do, arms and hands occupied with bags from various stores around the city. He smiles and greets you the same way he always does before waving at his wife to keep seated—mutters something about how he can put the groceries away himself. 

Of course Aelin doesn’t listen. One thing leads to another and the three of you are in the kitchen weaving around one another and storing items. It’s a strange feeling, assisting them with such a task. There was a time where you once lived in this house; where you once did these very same tasks with them. They took you in shortly after you had graduated since you hadn’t secured an apartment of your own. John and Aelin were freshly married—after a brutal broken engagement due to Aelin’s previous fiance cheating on her—and still they treated you like you were no bother to them. 

When they convince you to stay for dinner, it’s as if nothing’s changed at all. Everyone cooks together. Cleans together. Eats together. Your spot at their table is still the same as it always is. 

Ever since your parents died, your family was shattered, but you manage to find their fragments in others. Here, with John and Aelin. Sometimes with her mother. Now, in Simon’s family. 

As you look down at your phone to check the time, the date shines brightly at you. 

7th of January

You wonder if Aelin feels the same. With her family shattered; with losing a part of herself in her father. Your first ever meeting was at his funeral. You were both dressed in black, both sporting the same irritated eyes. Sean had told you so much about her, and instead of greeting her yourself, you hid from her. Tucked yourself away in some corner of the funeral home, unable to bear the weight of facing the daughter of the man whose death you caused. 

She found you anyway, of course. 

She always does. 

When eight o’clock rolls around, and you feel like you’ve thoroughly stayed your welcome, you give Simon a call. Aelin pretends to be occupied with something else as she clears the table, but you can see her slow, deliberate movements and the way her eyes keep flickering over to you. 

“Is everythin’ alright?” It’s the first thing that spews over the speaker. Worried about you as always, your Simon Riley. 

“You’re silly,” you giggle. “We’re just about wrapped up here if you wanna come pick me up.”

“On my way.” 

He knocks five minutes later. It’s such a short amount of time considering how long ago you called him, and it even catches John’s attention. It’s quickly brushed aside as Aelin swaddles you in a hug. Arms locked tight against you, you fear she plans to keep you forever, locked away where the world can’t see you. She whispers a quiet thanks into your ear before releasing you, allowing you to return back to Simon. 

The ride back to Simon’s house is surprisingly quiet, but he seems less anxious than he did when he dropped you off. Hand carefully absorbing your own into his, he lets the radio drone on for a little while until traffic begins to pick up in the city. Incandescent lights brighten the shadows of the street, smothering the stars that would otherwise be in the sky. Everything is bitterly grey and cold. 

“How was your visit?” he asks as his thumb taps against the back of your hand. 

You lean back against the headrest as the vibrations of the road cloak your body. “It was good. I think… I think Aelin really needed it.” 

“Yeah?” he prompts. 

“Yeah. I dunno, she seemed like she’d been crying. I don’t know what about but… Sorry, I don’t know. Just a weird feeling, I guess.” 

For a moment, Simon doesn’t say anything. Despite the crowd of cars around you, everything is oddly arcadian. No sound makes it to your ears—only the beating of your own heart. 

“She called John the other night while we were all at Terminus working. Couldn’t really hear much, but she was cryin’ about something,” he informs. “Might be goin’ through some sort of rough patch.” 

“Yeah just having… one of those days,” you echo. 

You’re in the kitchen again. On the floor. Aelin is talking about her dad. She smells like beer and roses. She’s recalling the story about how Sean obtained a scar on the side of his elbow—an accident while teaching her to ride a bike as a kid—and all you can think about is the wound in his stomach. Fighting the queasiness that grips your gut, you stare at the floor. 

Linoleum. 

For a moment—a single, fleeting moment—you think about telling her about the way you were picked apart in front of your mother’s body. Maybe if you show your wounds, it would make her feel better. Ultimately, you decide against it. Your wounds don’t make her father any less dead. 

Your wounds don’t make it any less your fault. 

“What’s on your mind, baby?” 

Nothing good. 

“The anniversary of her dad’s death is today.” Saying it out loud feels like an admission. Some avowal of your guilt in the fact that he no longer draws breath—and now each one you draw stings. “I keep thinking about telling her. I wanna tell her about everything. I do all the time. There’s not a single moment when I’m around her that I don’t think of just… you know? But I can’t.” 

Simon hums, thinking for a short moment. “Why not?”

“Because she’d hate me.” 

“She wouldn’t hate you.” His answer comes just as quick as yours, sharp and unfaltering. When you don’t respond, he continues. “She wouldn’t. That wasn’t your fault.” 

“But it is my fault,” you mutter. 

“It’s not,” he interjects firmly.

“If I had just lied like they told me to, he would still be alive,” you retort. 

“And if Marco hadn’t threatened you, you never would have had to worry about it. Just like you wouldn’t have had to worry about it if Marco hadn’t killed your mum, which never would have happened if your dad hadn’t aligned himself with Makarov. And I’m sure something else forced his hand to make him involve himself in that mess.” Simon pauses, eyes straying away from the road for a split second to look at you. All you can do is stare at your lap. “Actions and reactions, sweetheart. That’s all life is.” 

A rigid obloquy slithers around your stomach until it has your intestines weaved into knots. You are stuck at the intersection where shame and guilt meet grief. It exists all at once inside of you; coalesces in a heaping mass in the cavern of your chest. There is a desperate want—a pitiful plea—for your contriteness to cleanse you. 

All it does is remind you that you will be forever sullied. 

“You did what you needed to do to keep yourself alive. That was a reaction, not an action,” Simon continues. “Everyone thinks that they could’ve changed their pasts if they just tried hard enough, but that’s not how that works. Sometimes, things just are the way they are.” 

There are several flaws in the lesson he tries to teach you, none of which you bother to point out. Things would have gone much better had you thought about someone other than yourself during the moment Marco made his offer to you. You could have taken that deal. Halved your debt and ran off with him to do whatever he wanted to do. Your parents would still be dead—broken fingers, slashed stomach and all—but Aelin would have had a perfect life. 

Not that you would have been around to see it, but you think you could have shouldered all that if you had known at the time. 

“I know you don’t believe me,” he says softly. “That’s alright. We’ll work on it.” 

You nod just as silent tears begin to fall, and you use your free hand to wipe them away. It’s frustrating, being as weepy as you are. You think back to the laundromat when Marco kissed you, and how he cooed at your sorrow as if it were some sweet delight just for him. He told you not to cry, but you could still see the enjoyment lurking in the mossy shade of his eyes. 

This anguish would smother you if it weren’t for Simon. He does not whisper at you to keep quiet, or demand that you make your sadness bite sized and easy to swallow. Wordless, he raises your hand up to his lips where he kisses your knuckles as if there’s some sort of physical wound for him to mend. You don’t know if it’s because of his care, or because of something else, but it helps. Your heart quells, as do your tears, and he lowers your hand yet still refuses to let go. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. 

“Course.” 

He replies like it’s obvious. Like his help shouldn’t even be thanked—it’s a fact. Something he yearns to give. 

Things fall quiet again as the car weaves through traffic, but Simon’s presence is loud. The way he squeezes your fingers. The heat of his palm against yours. Despite the tears that danced on your cheeks just moments earlier, you smile as you allow yourself to melt into him. 

He’s right. You don’t believe him. But you think that you’d like to someday.

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates get early access to chapters here

[boosnotes]

Shadow T. Hedgehog x reader

Warning: none

Genre: fluff/comfort

A/n: im making some sonic pins, maybe ill post it later

You don't feel like you know much about makeup, compared to Shadow who has been looking at the eyeliner section for over half an hour. He's been using your arm as a tester; how does the eyeliner feel? Does he need to pass it multiple times? Or one time is enough for his desired finish? The brand he's been using is no longer making the exact color, it's more orangey nowadays, so he's been searching for a good enough replacement.

Your arm is getting tired, he's been holding it up all this time with no break, but his scrunched face was too cute. Your uncomfiness can wait, now it's time to admire him. It's one of those few times he can focus on something mundane, feel like people, you cherish those moments with your soul. Your eyes almost sparkled with fascination, and the permanent smile on your face started to make your cheeks hurt a little.

You two had debated colors for a while, it was surprising the diversity of red tones this store had. Red, chili, crimson and ruby were his favorites; they stood out against his fur, and no one would've thought he'd go for the more saturated colors. He didn't mind the format of the package, as long as the tip was good quality, going for the more pointy ones. Most eyeliners were put back after just opening them up.

"What is the texture like?" He tried the last red brush, the cherry color was one that you advocated for on this shopping trip, and it matched with one of your shoes. He had separated apart the good candidates, having different tones and brands in his hand, there weren't a lot though since he was very demanding of their quality. You hum, finding the words to best describe the feeling of it, you touch it a bit with your thumb, and after a quiet moment, you let out.

"It doesn't feel like gel… It's like one of the liquid ones… It's nice" he stared at your arm for a bit, lost in thought, nonetheless, he put it in the section of the winners, making you smile, it's fair to say it's one of your favorite ones, but just because you said so.

"Sounds good, I hope your judgment is trustworthy" I rolled my eyes as we started walking towards the cashier register, he was balancing everything on one hand.

"Don't be so mean" you jokingly complained, following behind him. You gently and playfully shoved him, earning a grunt from him, his patience was at the limit now that he wasn't focused on his task. "I have good taste and you know it." He gave you a questionable look and ignored you as he paid for his products, gently putting them on the table and helping the cashier out. The ride back home was silent, the music on your portable stereo and the sound of the motorbike engine only being heard at that moment. At a stop for gas, you looked inside the plastic bag, checking out each eyeliner, placing it beside your face while looking at a mirror, seeing which one would look on you.

"Don't you dare think about stealing one?" He said while walking back from the store, noticing what you were doing. You rolled your eyes with a teasing smile on your face as you put everything back inside, then you put on the helmet you were hugging, just to cling onto Shadow's back after he got on.

"Not even the spare ones?" He started the bike, a drumming sound coming from the machine, his head turned towards you, his bored eyes pierced yours, you already knew the answer, yet annoying him was very entertaining, his faces are hilarious.

"No." That was all he said to your question before putting on his helmet too and driving, continuing the path back home. It didn't take long, he was fast with his vehicle, dodging and passing every car on his way with grace, he knew what he was doing, especially with you on his back. You opened the door for him, letting him pass and go straight to your bedroom as you stayed behind and tidied up what was left. When finished, you leaned against the doorframe, watching him try and clean off the eyeliners repeatedly. Je noticed your presence, but let you stay there, it wasn't a rare thing for any of the two of you to just stare at the other.

"Most of the colors blend in." He grumbled frustrated, wiping once again another eyeliner and throwing it on the bed. You lazily walked until you were beside him, you sighed while leaning down and hugged him.

"You tried the products on me." You suggested the source of the problem, his black fur was way darker than your skin, his way pitch black. It wasn't unusual for him to blend in dim lighting environments, he scared you lots of times when starting living together.

"I'm aware, but that was for the texture." He was getting more and more annoyed with each try, throwing the eyeliners with more force. You nuzzle against his cheek, trying to calm him down, thankfully it worked, his eyes softening after feeling you against him. With tiredness, he let out a breath and rested his head between your shoulders. Your gaze lay on the particular eyeliner you choose, with the idea already on your mind, you sat on his legs and opened the cap of the brush. Gently grabbing his face, you drew the iconic sharp eyeliner on his eyes, feeling him relaxing with your touch. "You like it?" You asked him, moving aside so he could see his reflection. He took a while staring at the mirror, his face in doubt before exhaling.

"It's good enough." He let out, his words were trying to appease you, and him too. He hated changing things that worked, he knew deep down he wasn't going to be happy with any, he wanted his eyeliner, the one used to use, not a new one. It wasn't the same, he hated it, there was no reason to change the color, they ruined him personally.

"You'll find another eyeliner, I know it." You hugged him tightly, cradling him with tenderness. "Maybe there are original doops, or someone is selling the old version." You felt him hummed, the vibration hitting your neck. He tightened the hug as you two stayed there, just feeling each other's heat.

[lilysworldofjoy]

"Just admit it!" (Dandy's World tickle fic)

A/N: No Lee Rudie fics? I'll fix that, thank you very much (my motivation to write fics at almost fucking midnight is wild—)

Him combo'd with ler Bobette have been gyrating in my mind since.. a long time, so uh... Yeah. Also, look out for mentioned/implied Lee Bobette and Lee Ginger

Keep in mind, just cuz it's not Christmas doesn't mean I'll stop rudieposting... heh...

Plot: Bobette is trying to get toy ideas, so she goes to ask Rudie. That's where she makes a... rather interesting discovery—and decides to exploit the living hell out of it.

~🦌🎁~

It was a snowy day outside Gardenview. Of course it was, it's December after all. The month of the holidays!

Inside, Bobette was walking hurriedly around the area with a large box that had some toys inside. Her dog, Coal, was asleep next to the peppermint chair she usually sits on.

She places these toys on the table nearby. "Phew!" The bauble put her hands on her hips and said, "A job well done! Now... what do I make this time?" Bobette asked herself.

She asked Ginger. Maybe she should make a toy oven, the cookie says. That wouldn't end well, the bauble thought. So despite the measures that would be taken, that idea was scrapped.

Ginger is a good friend, of course! She's just a tad bit worse at ideas than everyone else, and that's why she's not asked frequently.

Or maybe... a toy sleigh! That can work! But... she tried to make that many a time, and no matter what, nothing just sparked her eye in the right way. So it was scrapped too, but one day, it would be a reality.

Bobette had an idea, maybe she can make her friends suggest some toys! So she headed off to the place where she knew she would get some really good ideas for them.

Rudie was untangling the Christmas lights from his body.... again. They shone as he removed them, the lights as bright as his nose. Of course, his peppermint-looking antlers stood out as always. He was almost done with that, and that's when Bobette entered his room.

"Rudieee! Hellooo!"

"Oh hi Bobette! Did you know it's Christmas?", the reindeer asked as the Christmas lights finally fell off of him, practically glowing bright with excitement.

"Of course I did, silly." She said, smiling. "Any good ideas you got?"

He knew the drill, practically giggling to himself as his tail wagged and he said "Oh boy.."

"How about a rocket, or a doll? A bicycle! A unicycle, even! Oh, oh! What about—" Bobette took notes fast, watching as Rudie kept on talking about toys she should craft, like a yo-yo, or maybe even some building blocks.

"Okay, that's enough! Thanks Rudie!", she said, giggling as she did the reflex thing: giving his side a playful poke, causing a flinch and a muffled squeal to exit his mouth. The reindeer swore a shiver ran down his spine.

Wait. Did she see (or hear) that correctly? Or was she just imagining things? The bauble decided to try again, but in a panic the reindeer slapped her hand away. He didn't mean to hurt her, but he was too embarrassed to state something about it.

"D-Don't do that! It's... It..." Rudie hesitated to finish his words, his ears going lower, and his face going a shade of red, though not as bright as his own nose. Said nose flickered slightly as he said this, akin to a broken LED light.

Bobette started to register this. Carefully. Methodically. In a calculating way, even. And then, the cogs in her head started to spin. And once realization dawned, she smirked.

...Oh no.

Oh NO.

But to her, it was oh YES.

There has got to be a way to avoid this fate for himself, the reindeer thought. There simply has to be!

If the bauble gets the gist even once, he's as good as done. But too bad for him, she almost instantly got the gist.

After all the times she was wrecked by him. After every ticklish piece of torment both she and Ginger had to endure. After all those days, it was finally her time to shine. It was finally payback time.

And it was about to be glorious.

Too bad for him, because his ticklishness?

Hoo boy.

Her smirk simply stayed in her face as she giggled. "You think I didn't notice? The fact it tickles?~"

"Uh... uhm..." The reindeer looked back at the closed door, and put his hands up in defense. "L-Listen Bobby," He said his voice shaking as he managed a shaky smile, "we can talk about thi—"

"Oho, there's no talking now." The bauble would rub her hands together and wiggle her fingers with a wide, menacing smirk. "Hope you're readyyy...~" she stated in a sing-song tone that made him panic.

Rudie stepped back, going against a wall. He tried to dodge every tickly attack, but Bobette didn't give up till she finally got him., right on the stomach.

"Pff—"

It was a matter of seconds before he was a giggling mess, flailing on the floor. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Gotcha! Now to amp this up~" The bauble did her tickles in a more fast manner, causing his legs to kick, he struggled to get out of her grasp. But she was strong, capable of making sure he stays. Plus, his laughter was adorable. She couldn't stop now after making this discovery!

"NAHAHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Now now. Stop moving, or I'll getcha on your melt spot~", she said as her fingers started hovering over to his hooves, but not going there instantly. "These cute little hoovesies right here~"

That's what she thought. And somehow, she was right. The mere mention of... THAT place made him squirm even more. "NOHO, WAHAIT! I'M SOHORRY!" *snort* "PLEHEASE!" *snort*

Bobette froze the second he let that out. Was she hearing things right or was that a...?!

"Oh my gosh." She smiled as her eyes shone. "You snort?! Ooh, like a little piggy! That's SO cute!"

That immediately made the bauble want to tickle the reindeer more. Oh, did Rudie want to sink into the ground and dissapear upon hearing that.

And just like that, she buried herself on his stomach and did a raspberry right there. The reindeer did nothing but let out a loud shriek.

"NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!" *snort* "STAHAHAHAHAP!!"

But Bobette simply went to town, her fingers now circling Rudie's sides and not seeming to stop anytime soon. His legs kicked like their lives depended on it as she continued to tickle him.

"Uh uh uh. I'll only do that if you say it~", she responded to his pleas in a singsong tone, making him redder than his own nose in a matter of seconds.

"SAHAY WHAHAT?!"

And that's when she dropped the bomb, said bomb making him metaphorically explode.

"Just admit it! You're a ticklish reindeer~"

No.

No.

Hell no.

No way he's saying THAT.

"NOHOHOHO—" *snort* "IHI'M NOHOHOHOT!"

"Resistant, eh? Let's see how you react to THIS!~"

The bauble simply grabbed one of his legs and tickled one of the hooves. Let's just say he was gone, for that? That was the final straw.

The squeal that exited him was shrill, loud, and caused him to desperately bang his fist against the ground.

"NAHAHAHAHAHAH—" *snort* "NOT THEHERE! PLEHEHEHASEE!"

"Aww, what's wrong?~ Did I find your melt spot?~"

Rudie just squealed. Then Bobette got an idea, she got down, and did one raspberry on his stomach as she went to town on his hypersensitive hoof.

"OKAHAY! OKAHAY! IHI'M A TIHICKLISH REINDEER!! HAHAPPY?!"

"There we go." She smiles. "I'll just do it for.... A bit longer~ Your laugh is already cute on its own, but it's WAY cuter than before when I go here~"

"NOOOOOOOOHOHOHO!!"

After about five more minutes (which felt like HOURS for Rudie), Bobette finally stopped, letting him catch his breath for once.

"Hmpf... yohou're.. soho... mehehean..." He said in residual giggles, hating how mean she was when it was him. Like a whole different breed of toon when it came to him. She only smirked and said,

"Well, I'm just being nice!"

But deep down, the bauble was so excited she thought, ("Ginger HAS to know about this!")

If the cookie got word, he was beyond done, and we all know what that means: his reign was going to end very, very soon.

And he just hopes that day NEVER comes.

But Bobette? She and Ginger wanted exactly that and more.

Much, MUCH more.

~🦌🎁~

A/N #2: BOY did I cook with this one. I love revenge tickles, ain't nothing better than revenge tickles

[saturnzskyzz]

𝑆𝑝𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑑

Lee: Dae-ho, ler: Jung-bae and brief Gi-hun

summary: 𝘥𝘢𝘦-𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨-𝘐𝘭. 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨-𝘣𝘢𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘰? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵?

Warning: this is a tickle fic

A/N: this was going to be an emergency fic, but I slowly lost motivation, but I quickly came up with this idea. There is a bit of angst, but there is a happy ending! @letupabit!! I hope you enjoy! :]

---

It's been officially a year since the 2024 squidgame incident. They were successfully able to put a stop to the frontman, other known as Young-Il, or rather Hwang In-ho at that. It was brutally devastating for the team who trusted him the most to know that he just went behind their backs to continue those sick games. Gi-hun didn't want to believe it, but he wasn't surprised. It's happened before. He was just too dumb to realize that it would happen again like with Oh Il-nam.

The others were desperately trying to grasp the idea of their formal team player Young-Il to be the frontman of that entire game, but they just couldn't come forth with the idea such as this one. They were distraughtfully heartbroken. The trust they gained was suddenly out of their hands. Like a weight had closed off their door to opening any new or ongoing relationships with everyone else. Who would they trust now that they're out of that hell hole?

Dae-ho was going through a loop with ideas of who else could possibly be behind these games, and if they had really stopped them for good? What about the VIPs the previous winner had mentioned before? Young-Il can't be the only one who was behind all of this? What if Gi-hun is the other mastermind behind it all?... No that can't be...?

The ex marine, who was contemplating his thoughts on a nearby couch in Gi-hun's apartment livingroom, turned his head towards the man, who was peacefully giving a casual conversation with Jung-bae and Jun-hee. He had sudden daggers for eyes, staring at the man who guided them all to their victory so casually, felt so wrong to Dae-ho in that moment. How? How can a previous winner just come back to help other's who were already at their dismay once they step foot into a building like squidgame?

He clenched his fists, still keeping an eye on Gi-hun just to see if he could acknowledge the eyes piercing at the side of his neck. He stared for a long time, going back and forth in his own head. He kept replaying a lot of things that happened during the games. Ones where Gi-hun was gone with Young-Il for quite some time.. The day where he went with Jung-bae to try to get to the main room of where the games were being controlled and monitored. He thought back to when he cowardly ran back to the dormitory when his panick attack got too much.

He thought of it all. He didn't even realize the sudden eyes that were layed on his from thinking so much. Gi-hun, worried for the younger in this moment, stopped his brief conversation about a childhood memory him and Jung-bae had years back, to go consult the younger. Jung-bae saw this to, and his skeptical vision morphed into a concern and worry for Dae-ho.

"Hey? Dae-ho, you alright?" Gi-hun asked carefully. He got close enough to kneel down next to him to see his eyes once more, seeing the man still deep in thought, but didn't break eye contact with the previous winner.

Jung-bae followed suit, now kneeling infront of Dae-ho with a comforting hold on the younger's knee. This seemed to ground Dae-ho, and he was slowly able to stur out of his thoughts for just a second to see Gi-hun being rather close to him than before. Startled by this, his eyes shot anywhere but Gi-hun, now eyeing the comforting hand that was placed on his knee firmly, he saw Jung-bae. A sense of relief wrapped around his brain now.

Jung-bae gave him a small smile before speaking softly. "What's dug into your brain, kid?" the concern brought Dae-ho back to his previous thoughts, ones that concerned the man kneeling right next to him. He glanced at Gi-hun, seeing how concerned he was for him, yet couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow a part of the games. He looked back at the older kneeling infront.

"It's nothing, sir! I'm just thinking." Dae-ho tried to divert the personal question with a smile of his own, knowing that Jung-bae wouldn't let up to it so easily.

Both Gi-hun and Jung-bae gave the younger a look before Gi-hun came into the conversation. "You sure it's nothing? You've been staring at me for quite a while." he then placed his own hand on his shoulder. The reassuring gesture made Dae-ho flinch, eyeing the man carefully but didn't say anything as the previous winner only looked back at him like a cat would, before he slowly placed his hand on his shoulder once more. God damn it.

"Dae-ho?" Jung-bae asked suddenly, squeezing lightly on his knee to get his attention.

"Y-yeah... Yes, sir?" he stuttered out, folding in his lips on instinct. He didn't know whether or not to spit it out in front of the man he was thinking about, or to just keep his thoughts to himself. He quite liked the second option thus far.

"I know my buddy here-" he continued as be patted Gi-hun's shoulder with his free hand to emphasize his words, "-is quite the man with the looks, but you can just tell him straight to his face and he'll compliment you back, bud!" Jung-bae joked, keeping the conversation light hearted while still trying to get Dae-ho to relax and let his thoughts out. He knew his strategies to try to get him to talk more comfortably, and he appreciated that, but this time? It's just different this time...

Dae-ho and Gi-hun let out a nervous chuckle, but for different reasons of course. With a slight shove from Gi-hun to Jung-bae, he cleared his throat before talking. "We just want to help with whatever is on your mind, kid? You seriously didn't look happy when you stared off into space."

Contemplating. He contemplated his choice of words. The constant back and forth of reassurance was throwing him off a loop, and it definitely wasn't helping when Gi-hun is the one who he was really thinking about, negatively. "Uh.. Really, i-it's nothing you guys."

"It's nothing, huh?" Jung-bae suddenly squeezed the boy's knee, causing him to flinch yet again, darting his hands to the evil culprit that is latched onto his knee.

With stiffled giggles, he tried to make his face neutral. He wasn't going to give in to something as silly and childish as tickling!

He tried to gain the courage to make a counter argument, but with the tickly sensation coursing through his knee, it was quite hard to form the words without smiling all goofy about it, so he decided to keep quiet.

Jung-bae wasn't having it. He decided to throw in his other hand into the mix, gripping the other knee that was swinging from side-to-side in a weak attempt to ground himself. With the added sensation from his other knee, the damn finally broke, but only a little bit.

"Oooh, we got something here, don't we Gi-hun?" Jung-bae teased, looking straight into his eyes even though the younger's were shut tight.

"You're right, Jung-bae! Maybe this will get him talking after all!" Gi-hun joked. He decided to just watch the scene unfold. He didn't want to over stimulate the poor man, so he just stayed crouched next to the ex-marine, and let everything unfold.

"Ihihi-ihihit's really nohohothing, sihihir! Ihihi prohomise!" The culprit finally spoke with weak confidence, earning himself a wobbly smile that he tried to keep in during the whole onslaught of inquires.

Jung-bae eyed at him. The adorable scene could be silently talked about through Gi-hun and Jung-bae's eyes. But despite that, surely the giggling soldier was telling the truth if he thrown in a promise. Surely!

"Are we promising now, soldier?!" He shouted in playful retaliation, never once letting up on the knee squeezing.

Dae-ho only nodded at that. He wasn't going to use anymore words to satisfy their hungry ears with his contagious laughter, so he continued to try his best and hold in the dangers that were wanting to come out of his mouth.

Jung-bae took this as a challenge, grinning evily at him, and decided to stop briefly to hold his hands in the air. When Dae-ho finally peaked an eye out, he knew what was to come.

"It would be a real shame if I were to... Oh, I don't know? go for these delicious ribs of yours, isn't that right Dae-ho?" Jung-bae teased, making sure to be inches closer from his ribs and not anywhere else to get the younger to become ansty and nervous in anticipation.

Dae-ho looked at the inch worm-like hands that were slowly coming towards him, trying and ultimately failing to sink more into the chair. It's been quite a while since his death spot was even thought off, let alone touched from. He's mentioned before with the group that his ribs were the worst, but that was when they were all discussing past memories with one another, and that conversation so happened to lead them down the rabbit hole of many tickly memories.

Seeing that Jung-bae was wanting to go for that spot just to get him to talk seemed scary, but also... Exciting In a way, for the younger. To have a bond with someone like Jung-bae means that he can have playful banter like these, and still be comfortable afterwards. He felt guilty that it had to be that way, given as to why he's getting tickled in the first place.

So, decided on not letting his guilt reach to him in the long run, he took a deep breath. "I-ihihi'll tahalk, ihi'll tahahalk!" he said with defiant hands blocking Jung-bae's fingers, still feeling giddy.

Jung-bae raised an eyebrow, contemplating whether or not he was telling the truth. "A soldier never lies, boy!" he said, inching his hands closer despite Dae-ho's defending hands wrapped around his wrists.

"Ihihi swehehear ohon it, sihir!" with the confrontation, Jung-bae retreated his hands, patiently waiting for Dae-ho to speak out.

With an anxious deep breath, he began to tell them-mostly looking at Jung-bae- his thoughts on how it didn't make sense that Gi-hun was a previous winner, but always seemed to be close with 'Young-Il'. The hesitance in his voice clearly showed that he didn't want to believe it, and upon hearing all of this, Gi-hun was truly heartbroken with his words, but he knew where he was coming from.

With the first betrayal from Il-nam, and then In-ho, he can understand that since he's told the stories about those two, it would also make sense to only pin Gi-hun to be the next "frontman" of the games after In-ho. But still, it was just a thought. Gi-hun knew he wasn't the frontman. Even of he was, those games would've still went on. They fought to the end, and that was that. No more theories. No more "what ifs?" it's over. Squidgame is over.

With a deep breath, Gi-hun began to speak. "I can understand where you're coming from, kid. But trust me when I say this," he placed a hand on the younger's shoulder, "the games will not come back. Not on my watch. We went through hell and back just to get out of there. Worst case scenario is if one of the VIP's tries to take over and rebuild what we ended. But trust me, Dae-ho, i will never participate in those games. Ever. You hear?"

With tears threatening to fall down Dae-ho's face, he wracked up a small smile and nodded. "Loud and clear, sir." he managed to say with sincerity.

Gi-hun only pondered at that, making a face of though as he made the younger confused with his face.

"W-what is it, Hyung?" he asked. Was it something he said? He didn't know.

"Jung-bae, I think he still believes that I am the next frontman, you think not?" Gi-hun suddenly asked, looking over to Jung-bae who was still taken back by Dae-ho's thoughts.

"I... Think so too, best friend. Maybe we have to... Tickle his sincerity out, don't you think?"

Oh no. No no no, this can't be real.

"What a great idea, jung-bae!" Gi-hun praised as he shifted his hand that was on the younger's shoulder to now fixate on his side closest to him.

"Wahahait, guys!" Dae-ho tried to halt their soon-to-be attack when he suddenly felt a hand be placed on his riba.

"How about you pay your truth with laughter, soldier!"Jung-bae said, squeezing his ribs, causing the younge to jolt.

That's when Gi-hun started to gently massage his side now. The sensation on his side was dangerously articulate as he never felt his side be tickled like that before, sending him into a wave of laughter the two older men haven't quite heard yet.

Crackles mixed with quick hiccups could be shot out of the younger, as he tried to protect his side the most while lifting up his leg.

The two Coo'ed at his reactions, causing the younger to go red.

"That's right, kid, laugh it all out!" Gi-hun said with a grin.

"NahahAHAHAahehehe-*hic*"

That evening would be remembered by all of them. They grew closer by the second by the bond they inflicted that very day. Dae-ho soon realized that this kind of talk also helped him become more confident in letting his thoughts and feelings out knowing that these guys weren't there to turn him down. They were true friends that he could rely on.

[ladyhoneydarlinglove]

{one piece ficlet, usopp & zoro} brave

continuing my 'zoro is actually quite profound and also the bestest first mate ever' series with some usopp & zoro brotp content 😌 nami's is here for anyone interested; my goal is to do one of these for each straw hat member and then compile them into a bigger fic to post on ao3 so stay tuned for more!

Rating: G Notes: post time skip

~~~~~

The Thousand Sunny is about twenty-thousand meters into its descent to Fishman Island, which means the sea around them has turned pitch black save for the occasional colorful display of bioluminescent creatures that dwell within the deep. There’s one happening right now, a giant cloud of something blue and twinkly floating alongside the ship as it continues slowly downward. It reminds Usopp of stars on a clear night, and he’s having fun making up new constellations and stories to go along with them that he’ll tell to Chopper and Luffy later. 

So when Zoro comes by to relieve him from first watch, Usopp smiles and says, “Thanks, but I think I’ll stay a bit."

Zoro grunts, which Usopp takes to mean ‘suit yourself’. He settles against the railing next to the sniper, and for a long while, they stand there together in companionable silence. Usopp got better about that, in the two years he was away; sits better inside awkward spaces, doesn’t feel quite such an oppressive need to fill the quiet with babbled nonsense. So for perhaps the first time in their friendship, it’s Zoro who breaks the ice first.

“So. Plants, huh?” he says. It’s stilted and awkward and so terribly Zoro that Usopp can’t help but laugh.

“Plants,” he confirms with a solemn nod, happy when he sees Zoro’s lips twitch.

“What happened to working with dials?”

“Oh, I have those too!” Usopp says brightly, pulling an impact dial out of his belt for demonstration. “But they’re harder to find replacements for down here in the blue sea. The plants are easier because I can regrow them myself.”

Zoro nods. “Makes sense.”

His lips twitch again, like they’re trying to remember the shape of the wide, feral grins he so often sported before their two years apart. Usopp realizes he hasn’t actually seen Zoro smile like that since they set sail, but he doesn’t get time to dwell on that thought much because then Zoro says, “You must have a whole bunch of new tricks up your sleeve.”

At that, Usopp can’t help but beam. 

“Sure do!” he says, unable to contain his excitement. And then, because he can’t help himself, he starts talking; rattling off a whole list of new stars and pods and special ammos, things he was working on before that he perfected and new things he’s bringing to the table. It takes him a while to realize how long he’s been rambling, but when Usopp looks, Zoro’s still listening, his now single hazel-grey eye trained solely on the sniper. 

It makes Usopp grin and maybe even blush a little, to have Zoro’s attention so clearly focused on him like that, because he knows that Zoro doesn’t pay attention to things he doesn’t think are worth his time. So to be considered worthy—it means a lot.

“Who knows,” Usopp finds himself saying as he wraps up his diatribe, “maybe in the New World I’ll finally be able to call myself a Brave Warrior of the Sea.”

Zoro frowns then, brow furrowing deeply. “I never got why you said that,” he says, and Usopp blinks.

“You don’t get why I want to be a brave warrior?” he asks, confused.

Zoro shakes his head. “No, I mean I don’t get what you think you need to achieve when you say you want to be a brave warrior of the sea. You’re already brave.”

Usopp freezes, mouth falling open as he gapes at the swordsman. 

“M—Me?” he stutters, brain scrambling as he tries to figure out what’s happening, because clearly he’s missed something. “That’s not… Zoro, come on, be serious!”

He laughs a little to let Zoro know he’s in on whatever joke he’s trying to make, but Zoro’s frown just deepens further. 

“I am being serious.”

Usopp flails wildly for a moment, not even sure where to begin. “But… But I’m not… Zoro, come on. When… When have I ever been brave?” he asks in stunned confusion. “You know me, you know I’m—I’m scared shitless like, ninety-nine percent of the time!”

Zoro rolls his eyes, like he thinks Usopp is being stupid. “Exactly,” he says. “But you go out and you fight anyway. That doesn’t sound brave to you?”

Usopp has gotten hit with a Gum-Gum Pistol exactly once in his life. The force of it felt like it shattered every bone in his body, rearranged all of his internal organs, and knocked his brain around like a pinball. And he can confidently say that he was less rattled by that than what Zoro just said to him.

He tries to respond. It comes out as a completely unintelligible high-pitched garble that Zoro nonetheless seems to understand, because he sighs and says, “Usopp, being brave isn’t about being fearless. Being brave is about being ready to piss your pants over something and then doing it anyway. Fighting when you’re scared like that takes guts. You’re brave. Nami’s brave. Chopper’s brave. The rest of us? We’re just a bunch of idiots too dumb to remember what fear is. Sure we’re strong, but we’re not brave.”

Zoro levels him with what Usopp has mentally dubbed a Monster Trio Look—the kind that says ‘I’ve made up my mind; argue with me at your own peril.’ They pop up fairly frequently on Luffy, Zoro, and Sanji, but always for things like battles or tactical decisions or other, important things. Not for anything like this.

Not for telling Usopp that he’s brave.

It takes him a long, long time to respond. Thankfully Zoro doesn’t seem to mind the silence.

“I… I guess I never really thought about it like that,” Usopp finally manages, hoarse and maybe a little wobbly, and Zoro has the fucking audacity to roll his eyes again.

“Well, you should,” he grunts, and there’s a note of finality in his voice that tells Usopp the conversation is done and will not be revisited; Zoro’s mind is made up.

Grass is green. The sky is blue. Usopp is brave. Simple as that.

[scribbledghost]

Writing Goddess!! How are you today? Sending love 💛

I was wondering… who do you think the vessels were when they were human? Do they remember? Do they miss it? Do they tell reader about it?

Hello!! I'm doing okay, thank you for sending this in! It's such an interesting question 💖💖

Vessel: converted to be Sleep's vessel in the middle ages

As I've touched on before, Sleep found Vessel when he was at his lowest. He'd endured a lot of trauma, a lot of pain, and just wanted relief from it.

He struggled to find what he wanted in life, what his place was, and where he fit. All he knew was the playing and singing music made at least some of the pain go away.

Now, he vaguely remembers what his life was like, but only in a nebulous sense. He remembers the hurt he felt (and caused), he remembers how desperate he was for an out. But he doesn't remember the finer details. He just knows he doesn't miss it.

If you ask, he'll tell you what little he remembers. But be warned, it isn't much. He's been alive for so long that trying to remember something that far in the past is like trying to find a specific grain of sand at the bottom of the ocean.

II: converted not long after Vessel did

I think II actually knew Vessel as a human. I'd like to think they were close even then, and II got to see in real time the transformation Vessel underwent to become what he is now.

Like Vessel, II doesn't remember the finer details of his life. He only really remembers that he was a musician for a royal court. He remembers how close he and Vessel were, and how scared the latter was when the inhuman traits started developing after he pledged himself to Sleep.

I also think that both II and Vessel had mutual romantic feelings for each other back then but hid them, and II could only stand to see Vessel suffer alone for so long, so he pledged himself to Sleep as well. He actually helped Vessel pick a spot to construct their home that would later develop into the manor you know now.

II will also tell you certain things if you ask, but he'll spare you the more gritty details of certain things. He misses it sometimes, but he's content with things now.

III: converted in the 1800s

He arrived much later than Vessel and II, and purely by accident. He never really fit in with "polite society", as he calls it, preferring either his own company or the company of others that tended to be looked down upon.

III found the manor in late autumn, and converted to a vessel not long after. It was perfect - plenty of solitude, yet company in the other residents.

He remembers a decent amount, and he'll tell you stories of his exploits often if you ask him to. He has plenty, between the places he frequented and the people he hung around with.

However, he's noticed that some of the finer details have started to slip away from him. He can still recall a great deal more about his human days than Vessel or II, but there's definitely spots in his memory that are starting to go fuzzy. Part of him does kind of wish he were human again, just for the fun of it.

IV: converted in the 1920s

He found the manor while he was on the run from the cops for theft. He was destitute, got caught up in the unemployment boom of the time, and had very little to his name. Finding a giant house in the woods and being offered free food and shelter was a miracle to him, so he willingly converted not long after his arrival.

IV remembers a lot of his human days, and most of those memories aren't pleasant ones. A lot of struggle, a lot of fear regarding where his next meal was coming from. He was foul-mouthed, angry, and overall unpleasant.

He'll tell you stories if you ask, but won't go too far into specifics purely because he doesn't want you to pity him for who he used to be. He's changed a fair bit since transforming, in part because he stopped having to struggle just to survive. (He still swears like a sailor though).

Absolutely doesn't miss being human. He'd gladly take being a vessel any day, and if you gave him the choice, he'd convert again in a heartbeat.

[sashi-ya]

𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝗱 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘆. barista! ulquiorra cifer x f! reader. nsfw

request: Ulquiorra and fem!Reader "discovering" each other, the way innocent creatures do. They're both completely inexperienced and try making their way around each other, at times she's too yielding, maybe he's somewhat forceful (in the "isn't this what I'm supposed to be doing?" kind of way), being completely mesmerised by her foreign to him self (maybe only half aware of that). Cute and a little bit dark ("you've forfeited your right to belong to another. you have given yourself to me, and must accept the consequences of your foolish action." or something emo like that lol). Bonus points for ONNA, but I'll understand if you skip it ;) Thank you for filling whichever one, or just for reading <3 a/n: hi anon! of course love!! it's a little long but I love to write for Ulqui so I hope you enjoy 💙 tw: +18 mdni. first time together. discovering each other. oral g/r. masturbating g/r. romantic (as romantic as ulquiorra can be) love making. rough in the end. open to interpretation wether you want them to be virgins or not. wc: 3.8k masterlist

While your lips suck on a paper straw, your eyes are only focused upon “an emerald mystery”. 

Those smaragdine eyes, that pale skin that seems it’s never seen the sun, hair and nails as black as onyx. The barista always works alone, at the back, almost hidden, as if he forced himself not to talk, not to speak to any person around. 

He is delicate, metodic; pouring coffee, milk and syrups, everyday he prepares the drink you pay for. But, at least from what you know, he has never once looked at you. It’s ok; you wouldn’t know how to begin a conversation with him either way; your knowledge regarding men is quite limited. 

“What are you looking at?” that beautiful ginger woman asks with a tray of sweets in her hands. 

“Uh! Nohting. Sorry, were you telling me something?” you ask her; she is the owner of that small bakery in Karakura town. 

She smiles sweetly, and serves you a variety of sweet breads. There are buns filled with strawberry and cream, others with crème pâtissière and some others with jam. 

“Ah! Are these new?” you ask, happy. Since it opened you have been visiting her bakery. However, just recently -at least a couple of months ago- she hired a barista. That handsome, pale and “emo” one you enjoy looking at. 

“Yes! I’ve been craving a lot more of those recently, so I wanted to add them to the menu. Please try them, those are on the house ~” she says, tracing little circles on her lower belly. 

Ah, she must be pregnant… How cute! 

“Ulquiorra-kun!” she turns around, calling the -up until now unnamed- barista. “Please make our best client the new cappuccino! Add cinnamon to it, don’t forget! Ah… cinnamon…” she goes away, with her index on her cheek, thinking perhaps about a new recipe. 

You flush, feeling your heart beat faster and your legs becoming bouncy from those two green eyes looking straight towards your table.

He is looking at me… he is looking at me! 

Soon, maybe sooner than expected, he personally brings you a new cup. His pale hands, slender, handsome, arrange the beverage on the table. Perhaps he takes more time than what it would normally take someone to serve a customer. 

“Here. “Little Bun Cappuccino” – or uh- something like that I don’t know” he comments; letting you know he indeed has a voice. A very low toned, but deadly voice. 

“Thank you… Ulquiorra ~” you dare to mention his name, catching his attention for longer than a couple of seconds. 

He nods, looking straight into the ground immediately after and as he goes back to his “cave”.  You giggle; now you know what he actually reminds you of. A bat! 

It took at least a couple of months for you two to finally share a somehow proper conversation; the boss, Orihime, left her bakery to Ulquiorra while her pregnancy made her stay at home more often. She still visited and worked there, but the closer it got to her due date, the less she attended…

“Good afternoon ~” you salute, happy to see his emerald big orbs gain a little shine when you cross the door. 

“It is technically already night” Ulquiorra corrects you with a tint of reproach in his tone. 

It is true, you weren’t able to make it earlier at the café. You had to stay at Uni for longer than expected today. 

“Sorry; I have a lot to study… I might need the strongest, blackest coffee you could make me! Like a black hole!” you chime, letting your bag flop into the ground while you climb the stool. Those days when you sat back at a table belong in the past; now, you sit right at the counter, close to him. 

Ulquiorra diligently prepares exactly what you’ve asked for; though you should be a little more careful with your requests as he can take things very literally. 

He places a white cup filled up to the brim with indeed a liquid that looks like a pure void, closer to dark matter in it. He does by bending forward, enough for her nose to almost reach yours. 

“女… Here. Drink. I’m closing soon, wait for me?” straight to the point, Ulquiorra asks you… even if he didn’t actually need to ask. 

Pleased, you sip on your cup, and nod energetically while you do. It took time, but you have become very comfortable around him. 

Amazingly, the coffee tastes good. And, as always, the temperature is just right for you. He has mastered his technique only and just to adjust to your likings, something he didn’t think was “the sweetest thing ever” but still was to you. 

The “bat boy” prepares everything for the closing time, turning the machines off, making sure everything that belongs into the fridge is indeed inside of it. He then starts washing the last few cups and plates left, while he seems a little troubled, even fidgety. Something is on his mind, something he might need to ask.

“What is it?” you utter, fixed on the black matter slowly swirling inside the cup. “You seem uneasy, what is going on?” 

Ulquiorra turns the tap off; still silent. He sighs and finally drops the bomb. 

“Are you staying late at your uni because you have a romantic interest there?” he asks, seriously, without a single hint of emotion. 

You look him in the eyes, confused. Slowly, as you let the cup over the counter, you turn your head to the side. A romantic interest he says? Your only romantic interest is actually him… 

“Ulqui… I- you…” you are left speechless for some time. Thinking of the right choice of words -on a very innocent and inexperienced mental book- you scratch your head before talking. “Are you asking this because you wanna know or because you are jealous?”

You immediately wanna slap yourself; why would you ask something like that instead of telling him the evident truth; you two were silently dating, but none of you dared to acknowledge it. 

“How can I be jealous if I don’t know if you have or not a romantic interest?” he asks, making a very good point. 

You laugh, cutely. It only makes him blink a couple of times more than usual. And maybe, perhaps, his heart beat a lot faster than ever. 

“I do have a romantic interest, but is not from uni” you comment, playing with a used paper napkin to avoid looking straight into his eyes. 

“Ah…” he mutters, this time a little sad. 

“Don’t you wanna know his name?” you ask, playfully. What an absolute cute dork he can be. 

“No, it wouldn’t change a thing” he answers, right away. Ulquiorra turns around and keeps doing his work. Now he has become even more silent than ever; virtually, a mute. 

You do as well; speechless for real this time. WHAT? HOW- AH!! 

“You know what? I’m heading home now, I’m sorry… I’m tired” you murmur, with a lump in your throat. Apparently he doesn’t really care, nor is he jealous. He was simply… curious?

Ulquiorra keeps drying his hands with a white cloth, looking a little mad you are leaving but still without saying a single word.

You give him a “sad smile”, almost ironic, mad and hurt, and turn around without looking back. Yet, before you could cross the door, you stop.

“By the way, my “romantic interest” is called Ulquiorra” you spit, ready to disappear. After such a revelation, that shouldn’t even take him as a surprise, you need to escape such deadly silence that’s loud and also violent. 

You get stopped by a cold hand wrapped around your wrist just before you leave.

“Wait, Onna” he says, pulling you to get back inside.

“What do you want?” you sigh, turning around with teary eyes.

The bat man takes a deep breath before talking. “You like me?” he asks, almost amazed by how someone could think about him that way. 

You sigh; defeated. He didn’t tell by now? 

“Of course I do ~” you murmur, shy, looking at his hand still tightly gripped from your wrist. 

He takes some time to think; a little too much. It feels like an eternity, while you wait for him to say something, to do something. You swallow incipient tears, those that were about to fall right after you let him know about your feelings. 

“Then you are not scared of me?” he says, making absolutely no sense. Why would you? 

You shake your head, quickly, denying such stupid question. 

Suddenly, then, Ulquiorra pulls you -in a rather violent swing- closer to him. So much closer, enough for your body to crash with his.

The tension in between you both can be compared with the strength of a lighting; for the very first time, your emo boy is finally holding you into his arms; the scent of his skin, so soft and fresh, hits you like the last spark necessary to light up the fire in your heart. 

It is almost impossible to stop you from kissing or biting his pristine white skin; how can someone be that pale? Isn’t that an unspoken invitation to left marks on it? 

You slither, just a little, for your nose to reach the small of his neck. Though you first aim for his right cheek; a subtle peck that paralyzes your lover. Then, the little protrusion of his jugular, of his muscles tensing become a deadly temptation you can’t dismiss…

Would it be so wrong for you to finally attack such a divine alluring place? 

It’s fast; it’s subtle. It’s daring, as well, especially for him. However, in terms of delicacy, this kiss will be the last since Ulquiorra doesn’t really know how to be particularly…soft. As you, he is completely clueless, allowing his needs and instincts to guide him from now on. 

“You have chosen me, then? No other person, but me? Are you sure you want me, Onna? ” he asks, passing his index underneath your chin to lift your head up and face him. 

“No other, but you… It is you who I want…” you whisper back, becoming the epitome of devotion. 

In a sudden rapt of desperation, his lips crash with yours. You can feel his front teeth against yours, but still, you don’t mind. Even if it’s a little too much, you are amazed to discover a hidden feral creature.

Many kisses, that clumsily evolve into passionate ones, make you slowly allow your body to relax. So much your arms surround his neck, you need support… maybe your legs are failing, maybe your body only wishes to be handled by his hands only. 

During one of those little pauses you take to breathe in between brutal making out, you mention the need to definitely close the bakery; anyone could enter, anyone could see from the sidewalk such lewd spectacle. 

Ulquiorra agrees and only separates from you to press the button to close the metallic curtains down. Those seconds feel eternal; come back, I need more of your kisses… please.

The emerald eyed man comes back right after; now, nothing can interfere in between you and him. He strikes you like a spear, back at your lips. His hands, welcome back the indentation of your waist, squeezing, palpating, enjoying how your flesh feels against his palm. 

Tripping, you take little steps back. Enough you do, until your ass hits the table you used to seat at when you met him for the very first time. There, exactly there, is where Ulqui desires to take you. 

Your back bends over, adopting the table’s form until you end up laying flat. His arms land one on each side, your legs spread open on their own to let his slim body fit in between. 

The “bat” man takes a look at your body; he seems to be more than attracted, perhaps even more than curious; his façade shows an expression you’ve never seen before… lust. 

He lusts for you, his body does, his eyes do, and his heart does. 

Ulquiorra bends over your body; he doesn’t want to kiss you now, though. He only needs to uncover your anatomy, discovering what’s hiding underneath your clothing. 

“You are going to show me your body; you won’t say anything but "yes", Onna” he says, scaring you just a little. 

“That’s… a little harsh” you whisper; and despite your words, your hips buck up in a desperate attempt of your core to meet his. 

Ulquiorra frowns, confused. Isn’t this what he is supposed to do with a woman that pleads for him?

“However, I want to say yes to you, to everything you wish and want… so, yes… Ulquiorra-kun~” you answer, meekly, obediently, wickedly. 

He sighs; his brain getting completely taken over by a dark fog of sexual, obscene, pornographic imagery. So much it leads him to rip your blouse apart and expose your chest to him. His fingers act like claws, like a thirsty monster. 

You whine in response; your back arching accompanies the blouse opening. You allow Ulquiorra to finally witness the blooming of your biteable breasts. 

In fact, because of that, he pounces right to your chest; he needs more, he wants to see more. And more is what he gets, as he continues to undress you fully. 

You want to do the same, although his energy is not easily surpassed. However, you rely on a special weapon; your lips, your voice, your smutty pleads…

“Take your shirt off, Ulqui-kun… please ~” you purr, pulling from one of his sleeves. 

You would lie if you said you didn’t dream with this moment many times, but now that you can see the pale extents of his chest you can say it’s even better.

You also discover a round scar over where his heart is; your fingertips trace the bumpy traces of regenerated skin, wondering what could have caused such mark. 

Ulquiorra grabs your hand to stop you from touching, you can tell. “I will explain later…” he lets you know, taking your hand to his lips, placing a sweet kiss on your fingers and pinning it back against the table. 

You tremble; that warm peck, the feeling of pure connection… you are discovering what it feels to be praised, loved and devoured by a man you love. 

But his kisses do not limit to your lips and fingers, and sooner you have him leaving wet traces on every inch of your neck, chest, breasts and belly. Down, down he goes until the cold metallic button of your skirt meets his chin. 

“I will take this off” he comments; even with no experience and perhaps a violent approach, he asks for consent in his own ways. And you, of course, allow him to go as far as he wishes for. 

“Yes, Ulquiorra…”   you moan, while he continues to squeeze your breasts with his free hand. 

Fast enough, he frees the button of your skirt and lifts it up until your waist. He takes some time to admire the wet patch in between your legs, and the way your knee-high socks squeeze enough the skin of your thighs. 

Lost in temptation and dark thoughts, he bends over again; his tiny precious nose reach your core, he desires to watch, but also to smell and taste. 

You squirm at his now delicate approach; “Your sex is wet…” he mutters, and he does it so close to it you can even feel the warmth of his breath. “Stay still…” 

As if it were so easy, Ulquiorra Cifer!

He first enjoys your womanly perfume and then takes his tongue to trace little circles still over your panties. Your legs tend to close, but his hands squeeze them enough to keep them opened. 

“Open, keep them opened” he continues, while his indexes curl on the hem of your lingerie to pull them down. 

You can only nod, trying to see what his expressions look like while he discovers your sex for the very first time. It’s pointless, you can’t see his face when he finally buries his tongue in between the slit of your flower. 

This time you spasm a lot harder, tensing, blind searching for something to grab. And soon, his hair ends up tangled around your fingers, while he blesses you with an oral delight. 

Still a little clumsy, he manages to suck and relish every little drop of your honeys; to lick, to taste and stimulate every corner, every bump and hardness of your feminine anatomy. His fingers also become curious, playing with, sliding in and out of your entrance. 

You contort in response, carving your heels on his waist, discovering that this could be the very start of ecstasy. 

“Onna, your flavour… I like it, I like it so much” Ulquiorra grunts, emerging from your core and topping you back again. He crawls and slides his hands underneath your waist to pull your whole body down so that your core gets closer to his. 

He kisses your lips with still salty traces of your heat. You try to lift your back from the table, but he won’t allow you. You are trapped underneath that slim man, showing you that despite his body build he is way stronger than you. 

You shiver; squeezing both of his arms, with your nails chiselled into his skin. Sloppy eyelids covering prasine orbs look at you, while his fingers haven’t stopped playing with your sex. He learnt already that the more he hit your upper wall, the more you pant and gasp.

His black jeans fall to the ground of that bakery during some unknown moment you can’t quite recall; you don’t mind, though. You are amazed by the way his muscles create a perfect V, and in between the valley of his protruding hip bones down, his hardness shows itself. 

Your hand, unable to stay still, squirms from Ulqui’s grab and tries to reach the bulge in between his legs. You can barely touch, but you can already tell it has become the warmest spot on his body; you can also tell it is throbbing, yearning to be engulfed and surrounded by either your palms, or most definitely your milking walls. 

“What are you doing, woman?” he asks, while he keeps on masturbating you and biting every inch of your neck. 

“I wanna touch you…” you moan, trying to sound logical while your brain has turned into a mush of pleasure and desire. 

“You wanna touch me? Then do” he growls, with a voice that it is still soft and calmed but definitely soaked in lust. 

You widen your eyes; in between his forearm showing some protruding veins, showing muscles tensed to keep fingering you with proficiency, you see his boxer briefs slide down his hips and legs. 

Exposed, now, his shaft lays erect; so erect, it rests on his lower belly on an almost straight line. And it is pale as he is, even perhaps a little more. Also sprinkled by plumped veins, and a pinkish tip, it drips precum in a desperate attempt to honour its main purpose: seed. 

He comes closer, standing by your side and never once letting your folds go and much less the tiny button you have proven him to be your perdition. 

Clumsy and a little embarrassed you reach for his manhood, getting your palm coated of his transparent droplets. You know how to do it, you aren’t stupid; yet, when it comes to him, you feel like a virginal nymph. 

Slowly, you begin to touch, amazed by the reaction of an impassable Ulquiorra turn into rapt. When you increase the rhythm of the pumps, you enjoy his sharp mandible tensing and the way he throws his head back… oh, his slightly long hair raining on his nape, his lips separating just enough to let manly moans escape in between his front teeth. 

Such imagery impulses you to do more and more. Pulling him softly against you, the tip of your tongue catches the fine dripping thread of precum first, guiding his sex right into your wet mouth then. 

Ulquiorra gasps; to feel your lips surrounding his sex, to feel the dampened warmth of your mouth trapping his hardness… weak, that man has found his kryptonite… while his hips beg for more and automatically begin ramming against your throat. 

You don’t mind; in fact, the gagging that also blurs your eyes with little tears, makes it even hotter for you. But this is just the start, and while you enjoy him fucking your mouth, that lonely barista you once met needs to be buried deep, very deep inside of you. 

It takes all of his inner strength to finally take his manhood out of your mouth; He manages to do so, keeping in mind how much better it will feel once he gets to dive inside your heat. And so, moved by such desire, he abandons your side to crawl right in between your legs once more. 

This time, there is nothing he can say. He can’t ask, he can’t communicate he will indeed fuck you hard. He simply lets his eyes speak for him, fixed into yours, letting you know what his heart truly desires… he lusts for you, he lusts for your body, but most importantly, he lusts to become one in such sinful reunion of the flesh… 

No need to move, your sex is conveniently placed by the limits of the table so that Ulquiorra can reach just right. You wonder what will be able to clean the surface but now is not the time to regret any of your actions. 

He doesn’t really need to guide his shaft, as it reaches your entrance by simply crawling a little on top of you. You can feel his throbbing tip, clumsily but surely, sliding right in, giving you that first taste of heaven. 

You hug him, palms wide open caressing his back. You can feel it on your touch, the way his spine and shoulder blades move when he begins to go in and out of you. At first, he does slow, matching the pace of the sloppy kisses you both share. 

But then, as both become hungry, insatiable, addicted to the pleasure you want more… more, more… faster, harder, rougher… 

Ulqui’s back arches, his hips turn into violent hammers, the ramming is almost too strong for you to tolerate. Both bite each other’s flesh, leaving marks and purple reminders of your pass. 

Whines and moaning. Grunting, panting, desperately… in and out, slapping skins, wet noises… 

Fingers intertwined with yours, plastered against the table, squeezing your hands in romantic, but still concupiscent reaction to an arriving climax… 

“Onna… this is the first time I am able to see the colours of your eyes” he sighs, loudly, exhausted, still twitching as he finishes in and out of your core.

“The "colours" ?” you ask, relaxing your body after an intense orgasm.

“I can’t see colours… but your eyes, this is the very first time I’ve seen any colour at all…” 

Who would have said he did not only looked and acted like a bat, he was also colourblind… colourblind, except for your eyes 💚 ~  

[kl-writes]

Switching to reblog since this is a great discussion and I'm not sure if my reply would fit (I hope you don't mind! Your post got me thinking - I only agree with you on some points, but I think it's good discussion)

I'm not sure how controversial this take is, TBH I've seen this sentiment a lot, that kudos/hits/etc. isn't useful for determining whether a fic is good or not. I don't know about you, but I don't enjoy fics based on whether the author uses "said" too much, or spells words right, or has good action/narration/dialogue balance in their scenes (well, maybe a little the last bit). High kudos does not mean "this author has mastered pacing and word choice."

While I agree that a fic with high kudos is not necessarily a fic that you will enjoy, I think that fics with high kudos/bookmarks/comments in general will be better than fics selected somewhat randomly (e.g., leaving as default sort "last updated" or the semi-random alphabetical "author name" sort).

I will agree that public stats can create a sense of insecurity in authors, since many people will conflate fic quality with enjoyability. (for example, I follow a few folks who only enjoy fanfic of characters where the characters match pretty closely with early canon, and dislike a lot of the fanon built up around those characters even if the fanon interpretations tend to be more popular to write about.) I also agree that the target audience of any fandom writing should first and foremost be yourself, and everyone else comes after. I don't write fix-its for stuff that I like in canon but everyone else dislikes, after all...

I also think that the summary/first chapter/tags/etc. is king when it comes to determining whether or not I will like a fic. This is my main way of determining whether or not I try out a fic, and I am always a bit crestfallen when I find a fantastic fic that the author had tagged one character in and left a one-sentence summary, since I usually only find those fics on accident - for a bit of context, I mostly read Transformers fanfic these days, and it recently went over 70,000 fics on AO3 - it's just not viable for me to read through everything, so I have to be sorting well. Some fandoms that I've read fics in have only a few hundred fics (sometimes a few dozen), so in those cases there's not much point in tagging.

I also agree that looking at hits/kudos ratio is useless, especially since I have a preference for long fics. If a fic has 100 chapters, someone might leave 1 kudos and visit the fic every time it updates, leading to 100 hits. It might be closer to 200 if the fic updates slow, too!

The reason why I think sorting by the number of kudos/comments/bookmarks can be useful (though not by hits or kudos/hit ratio) is because a few months back I went through the first 100 fics that you get on each sorting method, and I looked at how many I had read, which ones I liked, etc. I also checked the first 100 fics under "recently updated" to see which ones were appealing (since I hadn't read most of them). For me, I came up with the following:

Sort by kudos (no filters) - liked 33, disliked 3, hadn't read 64

Sort by comments (no filters) - liked 27, disliked 10, hadn't read 63

Sort by bookmarks (no filters) - liked 40, disliked 5, hadn't read 55

Before I did this, I had been mostly sorting by kudos/comments (purpose of sorting by comments is to "weight" long fics higher, but in practice it looked like that wasn't helpful). After this, sorting by bookmarks was the most useful- technically the like/dislike ratio was "worse", but I typically don't read stuff that has tags/summary indicating that I will not enjoy the fic (or that I don't enjoy from reading the first few paragraphs).

As a control, I also checked the first 100 fics under "recently updated" to see which ones were appealing (since I hadn't read most of them).

No filters - 85 looked appealing, 15 did not look appealing

With my usual filters (not explicit, word count over 1000, no crossovers, no michael bay) - I had read/enjoyed 2, 18 looked appealing, and 80 did not look appealing.

So at least for me, it looks like sorting by kudos/comments/bookmarks could be a good way of finding fics. However, I will admit that it isn't foolproof, and if I were to start looking at the top 1000 or top 10,000 for each method the like/dislike ratio may drop.

To be clear, this could all just be my own taste. There's certainly enough michael bay movie enjoyers out there writing fics that they will enjoy and I will not. However, if you have similar problems to me (too many fics - not that bad a problem, but still), I would encourage you to try one of these methods to see if it works. Sorting is, to be fair, probably pointless in fandoms with less than 200 or so fics.

To conclude: you are absolutely correct that high kudos/comments/bookmarks/etc. does not mean that a fic is good, and authors should not be judging the quality of their writing based on this. However, for a reader, sorting by these can be a useful way to find a fic that is enjoyable.

Strangely, though, I think I agree with your conclusion of why AO3 should implement private stats: AO3 should prioritize writers over readers in things like this. Certainly, sorting by kudos/bookmarks/comments is useful for me to discover new fics, but it's not the only method I use (e.g., looking at other fics an author has made, looking at a good author's bookmarks, looking at the bookmarks of people who have kudos'ed my fics, etc.). And maybe I, personally, don't care if my fic only gets 2 kudos and others have 200, but if it's impacting folks' mental health then maybe that is a problem, since AO3 isn't really *about* getting higher numbers.

This might be a controversial take, but as much as I love Ao3 and consider it superior to other fanfiction sites out there, there is one thing that FFnet did better. Public vs. private stats. I love how the hit count isn't public, only comments, favs, and follows are. And, I love kudos on Ao3, but imo they shouldn't be public either.

[foulfirerebel]

Controversial Star Wars opinion? I think?

So, I love Star Wars. Been a Star Wars fan since I was little and haven't stopped. Sure, I've had more than a few problems with the franchise here or there but who hasn't?

After having now watched Mando Season 3, I have but one question. It's a very simple one.

Where's my pilot movie or show about the pilots? I don't care if it's a Clone Wars era, Rebellion era, or New Republic era! I want my show or movie about the pilots.

Before anyone says anything, yes I'm aware of the X-Wing novels and game series. I have most of the X-Wing books, I had the Rogue Squadron series of games, I've gotten the Starfighter games, played the trilogy arcade and the battle pod in arcades...and still want a movie or series based on the pilots.

I've seen Star Wars go spy thriller (Andor), Western/Bounty Hunter/Crime drama (Mandolorian/Book of Boba Fett), straight up war flick/war drama (Clone Wars), fight for survival with a ragtag bunch (Rebels/Resistence), the point of view of ex-soldiers in a rapidly changing galaxy (Bad Batch) and we're getting a Jedi series (Ahsoka) and a Sith series (Acolyte) and another season of Visions.

What drew me to Star Wars were the dogfights, the ships, the pilots, etc. I'd like a series based off that if possible. Star Wars has proven it can expand itself beyond the Jedi vs. Sith and the Force multiple times.

I'm not asking for Star Wars' equivalent of Top Gun or anything, just something to whet my appetite for a good dogfight since Squadrons was abandoned by EA.

Maybe that's just me, since I grew up with the X-Wing novels and those games. But I'm sure there are others wanting that too. I hope we get something like that in the future.

For now, I'll stick to reading and trying to replay the games I have.

[turtleblogatlast]

Small but significant character moments that I actually really adore are from both the times we see the boys as tots. There is a reoccurrence that happens in both of them that I find so incredibly interesting.

For the turtle tot short, Splinter leaves the boys with weapons. In the short, Raph is the one who suggests they do “what Lou Jitsu would do” and Leo is the one who takes point when Splinter comes back to reprimand them. Leo, in taking point, is the one to defend them and get Splinter off their tails.

And then, in the flashback regarding the Kuroi Yōroi helmet, Raph is the one who grabs and throws “Skully” as a way to replace their missing ball which breaks it into pieces, but Leo is the one who speaks for the group and rushes into action to fix the teapot.

I love this for multiple reasons, but the biggest are how it shows that Raph has always been inclined toward the bold and fun and making the plans to include his brothers in what he loves and believes they’d love, whereas Leo has always been inclined to be the “Face” of the group and shoulder the attention even if it’s potentially negative all while coming up with on the spot attempts to fix the situation.

[arsenicflame]

It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.

At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return. 

It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.

Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug. 

“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.

(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)

By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.

When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.

Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”

And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”

That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.