#but did you really expect me to do this *without* them?

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny is Bruce and Clark's Civilian friend

So! Danny met Bruce and Clark at a Charity Gala promoting his Clean Energy and Technology Company.

It was just something He, Tucker, and Sam had started up after High School to try and do some good in the world, but grew faster than they realized, until they were a rising star in the Green Energy and Technology Business. Really they should have expected it, with Sam's drive for environmental protection and Tucker's love of technology, it was a given that they would push the company farther than anticipated. Danny was mostly just the front-man (aside from helping out Tucker in the Lab sometimes).

The Gala was set up by Sam to raise money for environmental preservation efforts, and Danny was there as a formality since he was the Face of the Business and technically the CEO.

Danny had struck up a conversation with Bruce, having been introduced by Sam, and they were eventually approached by Clark for an interview. He wanted to get their thoughts on the recently proposed Meta Protection Acts, and after the interview Danny decided to give Clark his contact to see if he wanted to do a follow-up. Bruce did the same, and they agreed to talk in the future.

Danny hadn't expected that to be the start of a new friendship.

Bruce and Clark seemed to click instantly with him, and while it took longer they also seemed to warm up to eachother as well. It got to the point where they were talking outside of Galas or Interviews and just called to check up on eachother. It was nice, having friends outside of Tucker and Sam for once.

Oh and also they were totally Dating.

Yeah, it was kind of obvious in hindsight that his two friends had a thing for eachother. Bruce and Clark would always share these looks with eachother before leaving the room, or Clark would check his phone for a message from whenever Bruce texted someone. They seemed to be hanging out without him as well, since they sometimes slipped up and referenced events they experienced together that he wasn't there for.

Of course Clark was publicly dating Lois Lane from his workplace, but listening his coworkers gossip long enough told him what was really going on. Lois and Clark were fake-dating so that Lois could secretly date Superman without being targeted by his enemies as much, and Clark could date a secret partner that none of his coworkers could figure out.

So when he was talking to Clark one day and the man got a text message and suddenly had a bad stomach ache, Danny decided that he should probably let him know that he knew.

"Oh don't worry Clark, I know what's going on. No need to keep up appearance with me around." He said.

"O-oh? Uh, what are you talking about Danny?" Clark asked surprised.

Danny shrugged, "It was pretty obvious in hindsight. The sneaking off, the text messages that got you to leave in a hurry, the secret glances between you and Bruce. After a while it was hard to ignore."

Clark cringed a little, "I just have a nervous stomach, and I have to rush off for work pretty often. That's all Danny."

Danny leveled a glance at him, "So does Bruce also have an upset stomach that just so happens to match up to yours? And why is Bruce following you to your Job? What, is he trying to get a job at the Daily Planet that he owns?"

"O-oh, well- I mean- That doesn't necessarily mean that I'm-" Clark stuttered.

"Calm down man, I'm not going to say anything." Danny reassured him. "It's your business, and nobody has any right to know your personal business unless you tell them. I just figured it out on my own, but I'm not gonna go shouting from the rooftops that Clark Kent is-"

"That's enough Danny, no need to demonstrate, but...thank you." Clark cut him off, "So far only Lois and Jimmy have figured me out on their own, and it's nice to finally have somebody else to talk to about this."

Danny shrugged and patted him on the shoulder, "No problem Clark, if you ever need to talk to me about it I'm all ears."

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 4

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 8.6k

A/N: This really somehow turned into a serious lmao. God bless ✈️ anon. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing this one and I’m excited to see where I can take it next. Anything specific people wanna see?? Leave live reacts and comments if you can 🫶🏼🫶🏼

—————————————————————————

After that night their conversations become effortless and automatic. What was once occasional text over a span of a few days here and there now turned into good morning messages, updates throughout the day, and late-night conversations that stretched longer than either of them intended.

Azzi quickly learned that Paige wasn’t actually that bad of a texter–when she wanted to be. It just took a little extra effort. Sometimes, though, she still slipped up, forgetting to reply for hours. When that happened, Azzi would call her, barely waiting for Paige to pick up before saying, “Text me back, genius.”

Paige would mumble out a sheepish, “My bad,” rubbing her eyes. But then, everytime without fail, she’d add, “You look pretty today,” her voice turning soft.

Azzi would roll her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile before hanging up.

A few seconds after hanging up, Azzi’s phone would buzz with notifications from Paige—each one carefully addressing everything Azzi had mentioned. It was clear Paige was paying attention, making sure to answer everything, even if it was something small like, "I just got Dairy Queen!" or "I found that song you were talking about."

The Facetimes, once a source of mild resistance from Paige, quickly became something she didn't mind at all. She didn’t grumble about how she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, Paige would simply answer and just prop her phone up and go about whatever random task she was doing, talking with Azzi as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Whether it was shooting in the gym, organizing her room, or just lounging around, Paige would keep the conversation light, letting Azzi watch her move through the motions of her day. And even on days where Paige wasn’t the most animated during their calls, a little spaced out, Azzi could still hear the underlying affection in her voice when she did say something—the way her words were always just a little softer compared to when she talked to everyone else, a little more personal.

Azzi found herself completely captivated by how Paige’s personality started to shine through in their everyday conversations. At first, Paige had always come across as a bit reserved, quiet, especially when surrounded by others–and honestly she still was. But in their moments alone, whether it was through text or FaceTime, Paige’s true colors began to emerge. Azzi had never expected her to be this way–honestly. Paige was a little obnoxious at times, cracking jokes that made Azzi laugh out loud, even when she tried to keep a straight face. Paige could be playful and sarcastic, the type to tease Azzi for the tiniest things, but it was never mean-spirited. It was endearing.

But what Azzi adored most was how gentle and observant Paige was. It was like she had a way of noticing the smallest details, even when she didn’t say anything about them. Whether it was how Azzi would get distracted by the simplests things, or how she picked up on subtle changes in Azzi’s mood, Paige seemed to have this innate ability to read between the lines.

The way these traits blended together–Paige being confident that was borderline cocky at times, a little obnoxious, funny, yet so thoughtful and perceptive–shouldn’t have worked as well as they did, but it was perfect. It was her. And Azzi was starting to realize just how much she loved it. There was something about Paige’s complexity, the contradictions of her personality that made her unique. With every conversation, every little moment, Azzi found herself falling for Paige Bueckers.

Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi. Maybe it had been the night after the USC game, when she sat there in the hotel room, unraveling a part of herself she had never shared with anyone before. When she told Azzi about the accident—some of the details, the conflict she felt all the time, the way she had spent so long resenting the world for what happened but thanking God that it wasn’t worse. And instead of offering empty words or hollow reassurances, Azzi just was—solid, there asking Paige what she needed instead of offering up what she thought she needed to hear. Somehow, within seconds of laying it all out, Azzi had brought her peace. A kind of peace Paige hadn’t even known she was searching for with a simple story about cutting her little brother's hair.

Or maybe it was in the hallway that same night. When she admitted she’d miss Azzi, the words feeling heavier than they should’ve. And Azzi, instead of overcomplicating it, just pulled her in, giving her something to hold onto, a quiet reassurance.

But then sometimes Paige thinks it was the next morning. When Paige, still groggy, had opened her door to find Azzi standing there in full UConn gear, clearly about to leave the hotel. Paige had barely mumbled out a good morning before Azzi stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world and handed Paige a coffee, as if she knew that the blonde didn’t sleep much that night.

So yeah, Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi Fudd. But she knew that she had and she knew it happened when she was in California. She knew that she liked how Azzi made her feel. How Azzi made the world seem a little brighter. Like sunshine and rainbows as Paige would often sarcastically say when Azzi told her to cheer up.

Right now Azzi was lying in her bed, her phone propped up against her pillow as she absentmindedly toyed with the drawstring of her hoodie. Paige, on the other hand, was sitting at her desk, hunched over doing—well, Azzi wasn’t sure what exactly.

Azzi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "So, how was your LSU visit?"

Paige snorted, not even looking up. "It was alright."

Azzi raised a brow. "Alright? So… no?"

Paige finally glanced at her phone, looking at Azzi before smiling a little saying, "Not my vibe, is all."

Azzi smirked, shifting onto her side. "I feel like you say that about every team except UConn."

Paige leaned back in her chair, smirking right back. "Maybe I said it about UConn too. I just wouldn’t tell you."

Azzi’s jaw dropped at this. "That’s rude."

Paige just shrugged, clearly unbothered as she went back to whatever she was doing at her desk.

Azzi squinted at her. "What are you doing over there?"

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair again, throwing her pencil down on the desk. "I’m trying to do a sudoku."

Azzi snorted. "Why?"

Paige shrugged again.

Azzi’s lips curled into an amused grin as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Since when do you do sudoku?"

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face before resting her chin in her palm. "Since today. And probably not after today."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Let me see."

Paige picked up her phone and angled it toward her desk. The screen showed a sudoku puzzle that looked… well, disastrous. Numbers were scratched out at the bottom, some squares had been filled in and erased multiple times, and at least one spot had what looked like a tiny doodle in the corner.

Azzi covered her mouth to muffle her laugh. "Oh my God."

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked. "Okay, mathlete. Relax."

Azzi grinned. "Do you even know the rules?"

"Yes, I know the rules," Paige said. "I just don’t know why there are so many numbers."

Azzi blinked. "Paige… that’s literally the point of sudoku."

Paige let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back. "See? This is why I don’t try new things. I need to just stick to dribbling a basketball."

Azzi hummed. "What’s got you trying new things, then?"

Paige shrugged as she pushed back from her desk and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Azzi watched as the hem of Paige’s shirt lifted, revealing parts of her toned stomach. She hadn’t meant to stare, but—okay, maybe she had a little.

Paige smirked, catching the way Azzi’s gaze lingered. She picked up her phone, bringing it closer to her face. "You’re a pervert."

Azzi scoffed. "I literally didn’t even do anything." But there was a slight smile on her lips, giving her away.

Paige dropped back onto her bed, lying on her side with one arm propped under her head. "You didn’t have to," she mumbled, eyes locked onto Azzi’s through the screen.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shifting onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. "Oh? So now I’m just guilty by association?"

Paige’s smile deepened. "More so guilty by intention but sure."

Azzi let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "You’re actually the worst sometimes."

Paige tilted her head. "Am I really?"

Azzi caught the shift in tone, the playfulness turning into something a little more intentional. She pressed her lips together, debating for a second before deciding—fuck it.

"Mhm," Azzi hummed, trailing a finger along the edge of her phone as she watched Paige closely. "But I think you like it that way."

Paige licked her lips, her gaze flickering over Azzi’s face. "Maybe."

Azzi bit her lip, her voice turning softer. "You’re a little smug for someone who just got roasted over sudoku."

Paige grinned. "Mmm course I am, look at how you’re lookin at me."

Azzi exhaled a short laugh. "You’re so annoying."

Paige’s smirk didn’t waver as she said, “No I’m not."

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the way her cheeks warmed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"I could give you a few ideas."

Azzi blinked, her breath catching just slightly. Paige was really pushing it now.

She swallowed, tilting her head. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her fingers idly playing with the ring she always wore on her finger. "Mhm. But I think you already know."

Azzi let out a slow breath as she shifted. "You sure you can handle me?"

Paige huffed out a chuckle as she licked her lips. "I think I already showed you I can handle you just fine, Azzi."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her stomach flipping at how Paige was looking at her through the screen—like she knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how she was making her feel.

Azzi bit her lip, her voice softer now. "I miss you."

Paige’s expression softened just slightly, but then, before Azzi could get too caught up in the moment, Paige smirked again. "You’re just horny."

Azzi’s eyes widened, her mouth parting in shock. "Paige!"

Paige just chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "What? Am I wrong?"

Azzi narrowed her eyes, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. "You’re disgusting."

Paige propped herself up on her elbow, tilting her head as she studied Azzi through the screen. "I’m just saying… you’re looking at me like you want something."

Azzi huffed, shifting onto her back as she threw an arm over her face for a second before peeking at Paige again. "And what if I do?"

"Then I guess I’d have to do something about it next time I see you."

God, Azzi wished she hadn’t asked that question because now she was warm and uncomfortable, and the worst part was—she knew Paige knew. The way she was chuckling on the other side of the screen, made Azzi squirm even more.

Azzi groaned. "Paige, please."

Paige hummed, all teasing. "Hm?"

Azzi hesitated, debating whether she was really about to ask for help with her… situation, but before she could get the words out, there was a knock on Paige’s door.

Paige’s head moved toward it, her smirk fading slightly. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and Drew peeked inside. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Paige’s expression shifted instantly—her playfulness replaced with something softer, more serious. She sat up, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah, course." She scooted over on her bed, making space for him near the wall.

Reaching for her phone, she looked down at the screen, her gaze apologetic. "I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’ll text you in a sec."

Azzi shook her head, completely understanding. "Don’t apologize."

Paige gave her a small, grateful smile before they both hung up, leaving Azzi lying there, staring at the ceiling—still warm, still uncomfortable, and now, very much alone with the feelings.

Or at least she thought she was alone—until her phone buzzed a few times.

Azzi grabbed it from beside her, her brows raising slightly when she saw Paige’s name on the screen. She unlocked her phone, and the second she saw what Paige had sent, she felt her stomach tighten.

The pictures weren’t anything too overly suggestive, but they were enough.

Some were mirror selfies—Paige’s sweats low on her hips, her stomach on display, a sports bra the only thing covering her top half. Others were clearly taken after being in the gym, her skin still slightly flushed, her hair damp, the definition in her arms pronounced.

Azzi chuckled when she got to the last one—a hand pic.

All the pictures were followed by a message. "Get yourself right."

Another buzz. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I got you next time."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her entire body warm, her face buried in her pillow as she groaned.

Somehow, even when she wasn’t physically there, Paige still had her in a chokehold.

Still, Azzi followed directions. She sighed, shifting against her sheets, wishing—aching—that it was Paige’s hand instead of her own.

…

Back in Minnesota Paige lay still beside Drew, both of them staring up at the ceiling, their arms thrown behind their heads in near identical positions as they laid in silence for a few minutes. It was almost uncanny how much they looked alike when you really looked at them, their features reflecting off one another from the dim glow of Paige’s bedside lamp. Drew had gotten older, taller, but in moments like these, Paige was reminded that he was still her little brother—the same kid who used to follow her around with wide eyes, hanging onto every word she said.

The silence stretched between them, Paige figuring Drew was just taking a while to fall asleep. Then, Drew said something.

“That girl you’re always talking to,” he started, his voice quiet but still confident, like Paige had taught him.

Paige turned her head slightly, already knowing where this was going. “Her name’s Azzi,” she corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Drew hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Azzi the reason you’re leaving?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she turned her head to look at him. She studied him for a moment, the way his brows furrowed slightly, waiting for her answer. With a sigh she said, “You know how when you were younger and we always talked about you coming to my games when I got to the league?” she asked.

Drew simply nodded.

Paige exhaled, glancing back up at the ceiling. “That can’t happen if I stay where I’m at now.”

Drew was silent for a moment before he mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

Paige let out a quiet chuckle. “You and Dad are moving to the DMV. I’ll be one call away, I swear.”

Drew turned his head, watching her carefully before he finally asked, “So you’re going to UConn?”

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna go to UConn.”

Drew studied her for another moment, then asked, “Have you told them yet?”

Paige sighed, shaking her head. “No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

Paige turned her head to look at him again, a different kind of warmth settling in her chest. She smirked slightly before answering. “I gotta tell Azzi first.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a grin as he turned onto his side, finally facing the wall to go to sleep. But not before adding, “You like her, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the smirk never left her lips. “Man, shut up. You’re supposed to be in here going to bed.”

Drew just laughed as he pulled the cover over his head to go to sleep.

Paige grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her fingers lingering over it for a moment before unlocking the screen. She chuckled softly when she saw a message from Azzi sent just three minutes ago. The message was simple, just a “Thank you.” Paige huffed out a quiet laugh when she saw the period.

She quickly typed out a response, her fingers moving without hesitation: Yup. After a brief pause, she added one more message, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she typed: Goodnight beautiful.

She read it over once more, her heart skipping just a little at the words before she locked her phone and set it back on the table. Paige turned off the light and settled into bed, pulling the covers up over her.

She stayed still for a while, her hands tucked behind her head, staring out the window that was across from her bed. The sudden quietness of the room seemed to amplify the thoughts racing through her mind, each one more tangled than the last.

She couldn't help but think of Drew, her little brother, and the way he'd come crawling into her bed tonight, like he’d done so many times before–seeking comfort from the chaos of his own thoughts. Her heart ached just thinking about it. She’d been around for every significant moment of his life, his constant lifeline, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving him behind, even if it was for the right reasons.

But then, as if the universe was constantly reminding her of the duality of her life, another thought would emerge: the weight of her future, the pressure to fulfill a dream she’d been chasing since she could walk. She wanted to go back to the notoriety she used to have, not because of the attention it gave her, but because of what came with it—the ability to give her family the life they deserved, to give back. To provide for Drew, her dad, her mom.

Paige sighed softly, her body sinking deeper into the mattress, as she tried to will her mind to quiet for just a moment so she could fall asleep. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the thoughts kept coming. She knew it would take time, a lot of effort, and maybe even more sacrifice to make everything fall into place. But for tonight, she just wanted a break from the weight of it all. Just a few minutes of peace. She closed her eyes, exhaling a long breath as she tried to empty her mind, willing herself to relax.

It wasn’t long before another thought slipped into her head—Azzi. This time, instead of adding weight, like everything else, it brought a sense of comfort. Azzi wasn’t like anyone else in Paige’s life. Thinking about Azzi didn’t tighten her chest or add more confusion to her already overwhelming thoughts. When her mind drifted to Azzi, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Because she knew Azzi didn’t expect anything from her. Azzi wasn’t asking Paige to be anyone but herself—she didn’t have any preconceived notions about who Paige used to be. The girl on the other end of those late-night Facetimes only knew Paige from what she’d shared. The thoughts she had were based on the present, not some past version of Paige.

That was the thing that should've terrified Paige. She wasn’t used to feeling so... seen, without the weight of what others thought she should be or the pressure of always having to do the right thing. Azzi didn’t ask for any of that. The simplicity of their connection, how natural it felt, should have sent her running in the opposite direction, a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was too easy, too comfortable for the kind of world they lived in. They hadn’t even had a serious conversation about what they were or what they had going on���and yet, Paige didn’t worry about it.

She should’ve been terrified of how she felt about Azzi already–it had only been a few months. But for some reason, anytime she thought about her, the only thing Paige felt was calmness. She rarely thought about it if she was being honest. It just felt right. Everything about Azzi felt... right. Like the pieces of her life, of their connection, were meant to fall into place in the way they had.

As Paige lay there, still, her mind slowing down for the first time that night she couldn’t help but smile a little. The thought of being around Azzi all the time, physically being with her instead of having to hear her voice through a phone. Being able to physically touch her. It all seemed too good to be true, but Paige didn’t worry about that—she thought just maybe that the universe was finally repaying her.

Third Person POV - March 2024

After taking a shower Paige sat on the edge of her hotel bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face as she idly scrolled, waiting. The room itself was silent, but Paige’s mind was buzzing with anticipation. She knew it was only a matter of time before Azzi texted her or called. It always happened that way after games.

She leaned back against the pillows, letting out a slow breath as she glanced at the time. UConn had won their Sweet Sixteen game against Duke earlier that night, and unknowingly to Azzi, Paige had been there to witness it. She had come down with her dad and Drew, who hadn’t seen UConn play in person yet. The three of them had seats in the stands, and while it felt strange watching from far, Paige loved the experience.

Her dad and Drew were sharing a room down the hall, while she had her own. Now, alone in her room, Paige found herself sitting, waiting—because she knew Azzi would reach out. Azzi never let too much time pass without talking to her.

Right on cue, her phone buzzed. “You up?”

Paige chuckled to herself, shaking her head before typing out a response.

Paige 💗You a 16-year-old boy now?

Azzi’s reply came almost immediately.

Azzi <3 Lol I’ll take that as a yes

Paige smirked, stretching one of her arms over her head before texting back.

Paige 💗I was waiting on you

Azzi <3 Oh yeah?

Paige💗Yeah.

The typing bubbles appeared for a moment before disappearing, and then suddenly, Paige’s screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call. Her smirk deepened as she swiped to answer, settling back against the pillows.

When the call connected, all Paige could see was the bathroom ceiling, but she could hear Azzi’s voice.

"Why are you always flirting with me?"

Paige laughed. "Cause you like it."

"No, I don’t," Azzi shot back, but there was no real conviction behind her words—it was clearly a lie.

Paige raised an eyebrow, playing along. "No?"

"No," Azzi repeated, but Paige could hear the slight waver in her voice.

Paige chuckled. "Why not?"

There was a pause before Azzi mumbled, "Because all it does is make me sexually frustrated."

Paige smirked at that, biting her lip before saying, "Lemme fix that for you, then."

"Paige, please," Azzi groaned, still off-screen.

Paige chuckled. "Please what?"

"I really can’t handle that today," Azzi muttered. "I won’t be alone for the next week, and I already feel like I’m about to explode."

Paige hummed, amused at Azzi’s frustration. "That’s not a problem."

She heard Azzi groan again, making her chuckle. "Azzi, come to the camera."

There was a beat of silence, then a soft shuffle. A few seconds later, Azzi finally appeared with a towel wrapped around her, clearly fresh out of the shower.

"Where are you?" she asked, scanning Paige’s unfamiliar background.

Paige tilted her head slightly. "My hotel room."

Azzi's expression was filled with confusion. "What? You’re done with visits."

Paige grinned. "That’s what I been tryna tell you." Then, more sincerely, she added, "You played great today, by the way."

Azzi smiled at the compliment before quickly piecing together what Paige was saying. "Wait—you’re here? In Portland?"

Paige simply nodded, watching as realization dawned on Azzi’s face. A grin spread as soon as the realization sank in.

"What room are you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an excitement that wasn’t there before.

"617," Paige answered smoothly.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "I’ll be down there soon."

Paige hummed in response as Azzi hung up the phone.

A few minutes later a sharp knock at the door shocked Paige a little, but she didn’t hesitate when she got up to answer it. She swung it open without even checking the peephole, already knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Before she could fully take in Azzi’s appearance—her damp hair, the cropped shirt she must’ve thrown on in a hurry—Azzi rushed forward, crashing their lips together.

The kiss from Azzi is urgent and unrestrained. Paige stumbles back a little, her hands instinctively gripping Azzi’s waist as she pulls her in, making sure neither of them lose their balance. The door swings shut behind them with a loud thud, the only sound in the room now is their heavy breaths as they press closer to one another.

Azzi’s hands find Paige’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while Paige steadies them both, her fingers slipping beneath the loose cropped shirt Azzi has on. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing—just unspoken longing spilling over now that they’re finally in the same place again.

After what feels like an eternity of them standing there, Azzi pulls back just enough to whisper against Paige’s lips, “You really didn’t think to tell me you were here?”

Paige smirks, her hands still on Azzi’s waist. “Figured a surprise was more fun.”

Azzi huffs out a small laugh before tugging Paige back in, shaking her head as she mumbles, “You’re ridiculous.” But she doesn’t seem to think so when Paige’s tongue slides in her mouth.

They move together, stumbling but somehow in sync, until they reach the foot of the bed. Despite how frantic it seems, Paige is careful—guiding them, making sure Azzi doesn’t trip over anything in her rush. They stay standing at the foot of the bed for a moment, lost in one another, lips moving, hands exploring like they’re memorizing the feeling of each other.

Then Azzi pulls back just enough, her fingers slipping under the hem of Paige’s shirt. Paige lifts her arms, letting Azzi tug it over her head. The second it’s gone, Azzi discards her own shirt and doesn’t waste another moment before pulling her back in, her lips crashing into Paige’s.

Paige chuckles against her mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur, “Baby, slow down—” her hands find Azzi’s waist, thumbs smoothing over her skin as she whispers, “Lemme see you.”

Azzi, still a little dazed, blinks at Paige and murmurs, “What did you just call me?”

Paige chuckles, shaking her head as she tries to play it off. “Nothing,” she says casually. “I said, lemme see you.”

Azzi doesn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she lowers herself onto the bed, looking up at Paige through her eyelashes, the corners of her lips tugging up just slightly.

Paige exhales, rolling her eyes playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” She steps closer, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s chin, her touch impossibly gentle despite the tension crackling between them.

Azzi tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Paige groans, her fingers curling under Azzi’s chin as she mutters, “Like that.”

Azzi just blinks up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Paige exhales sharply, shaking her head as she steps back. “You know what you’re doing,” she mutters, turning away.

Azzi simply shrugs. “Maybe.”

She watches as Paige leans against the desk across from the bed. Azzi takes her in, letting her gaze roam—Paige’s hair pulled back in a loose bun, her diamond earrings catching the light, the black shorts sitting on her hips, paired with a black Nike sports bra. And then there’s her cross necklace, resting just above her chest.

Azzi smirks. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Paige lifts an eyebrow, silently challenging the question. Like what?

Azzi shakes her head, her smile deepening. “Come here.”

Paige pushes off the desk and walks over, looking at Azzi the entire time. The moment she’s close enough, Azzi reaches for her necklace, curling her fingers around it as she gives a gentle tug, pulling Paige down toward her on the bed.

Paige hovers over Azzi, smiling down at her, amusement flickering in her eyes. Azzi meets her gaze, fingers still curled around the necklace. She gives it another tug, just enough to bring Paige down to her level, and their lips meet again—this one is slower, more intimate, as if they’re finally allowing themselves to just exist in this moment.

There’s no urgency, no frantic need to make up for lost time.

Paige starts to pull away, but Azzi’s fingers tighten around the chain, keeping her close. Their lips reconnect, and Paige can’t help but smile into it, letting out a soft chuckle at Azzi’s persistence. Azzi hums against her mouth, clearly pleased with herself, and Paige deepens the kiss for just a second longer before murmuring against her lips, “So this is how it is, huh?”

Azzi hums in response, deepening the kiss, and Paige lets her, letting herself sink into the warmth of it as Azzi’s fingers stay wrapped around her necklace, keeping her close, as if she’s afraid Paige will disappear if she lets go.

After a while, both of their lips are raw when Paige pulls back just enough to murmur, “I gotta tell you something.”

Azzi doesn’t release her immediately, stealing a few more kisses before finally loosening her grip on the chain. Paige smirks at the reluctance before pulling back slightly, still hovering over Azzi.

Azzi tilts her head, her fingers fully undoing Paige’s bun that she messed up. “What?”

Paige exhales softly, then says it as casually as if she’s commenting on the weather. “I’m coming to UConn.”

Azzi blinks up at her, the words not quite registering at first. “What?”

Paige chuckles, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s face. “I’m transferring to UConn.”

The grin that spreads across Azzi’s face is instant and huge, her excitement practically radiating off of her. Without thinking, she wraps her arms around Paige and pulls her into a hug, the force of it making Paige collapse onto her with a laugh.

Azzi holds on tight, her face buried in Paige’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she says, “Are you serious?”

Paige just laughs again, wrapping her arms around Azzi in return. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Azzi pulls back slightly, looking at Paige with surprise. "When did you tell Geno?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

Paige shrugs. "I haven't yet. I wanted to tell you first."

Azzi’s expression softens, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You wanted to tell me first?"

Paige nods, her gaze softening as she meets Azzi’s eyes. "Yeah."

Azzi smirks, leaning up slightly. "Aww, that’s sweet."

Paige rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Alright, shut up," she mumbles, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Azzi chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment. "I’m just saying. It’s cute."

Paige exhales a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she mutters, "Whatever," before leaning back down to kiss Azzi.

This time, the kiss is slower, deeper—Paige’s weight pressing into Azzi completely as their lips move in sync. Azzi feels the warmth of Paige’s body against hers, the way Paige’s knee slides in between her legs. She lets herself sink into it, her hands finding their way to Paige’s sides, fingers curling against her skin as she pulls her closer.

The moment is so consuming that it takes a second before Azzi realizes where her hands are—right over the scar. The very place Paige had once pulled her away from, tensing at her touch.

Azzi stills, her breath hitching as she pulls back slightly, ready to apologize, but before she can say a word, she notices that Paige hasn’t moved away.

She’s still there, still hovering over her, her blue eyes looking a little shocked but still soft as they search Azzi’s face. There’s a little hesitation in her eyes but no discomfort—then slowly just a quiet acceptance.

Azzi barely has time to process it before Paige leans back down, capturing her lips in another kiss, deeper this time. It’s slow and almost calculated, as if Paige is telling her without words that it’s okay. That she wants this. That she wants her. At this, Azzi flips them over, her movements instinctual, and suddenly, she’s the one hovering over Paige. Paige lets out a quiet breath of surprise, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable—something Azzi has come to know all too well.

Azzi doesn’t give her time to think too much. She dips down, trailing her lips along the sharp curve of Paige’s jaw, then lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Paige licks her lips at the feeling, willing her body to relax beneath Azzi’s as she sighs slightly, her fingers brushing along Azzi’s back.

Azzi smiles against Paige’s chest, taking her time, savoring every second of this—of Paige letting her in, letting her touch her like this. She feels Paige shift slightly beneath her again, feels Paige pulling her closer, and the small action makes something warm bloom in Azzi’s chest.

So she keeps going, kissing down the column of Paige’s throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath her lips, feeling the way Paige’s breath hitches every time she lingers just a second too long.

Paige couldn’t help but sigh at how soft Azzi’s lips felt against her throat, how warm and steady she felt hovering over her. It was effortless—the way Azzi moved, the way she kissed her, like she had all the time in the world. She was making sure to kiss every part of Paige’s neck, every inch of exposed skin, trailing lower with no rush, no hesitation.

Both of them had a soft appreciation for this moment. For Azzi, it was about memorizing Paige like this—unworried by the outside world, just them, just this. And for Paige, it was about allowing herself to let go, even if just for a little while.

She knew, from all their late-night FaceTime calls, that Azzi understood her in a way not many people did. Azzi knew that Paige didn’t like giving up control—that it wasn’t in her nature, that her brain basically screamed at her when she wasn’t in control of something. She knew that Paige always had to be the one holding the reins, the one dictating the pace, the one leading.

But right now, Paige wasn’t doing that.

Right now, she was letting Azzi take the lead. She was willing herself to trust the girl hovering above her. And the way Azzi handled her, with such care and patience, made it feel easier than she thought it would be.

Azzi watches Paige closely as she trails lower, her lips brushing over her skin, her hands smoothing over Paige’s sides. When she glances up, all she sees is Paige with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. She smiles at the sight, at the trust Paige is giving her, and then she dips back down, kissing every inch of her stomach with the same patience she had when she started.

But when she reaches the scar, she hesitates. Because it’s a tricky thing—she can’t ignore this part of Paige, wouldn’t want to, but she also knows it’s sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

So, she starts slowly. A soft kiss. She feels Paige’s stomach tense slightly beneath her, the smallest shift, but she doesn’t tell her to stop.

So she places another kiss. Then another. Azzi takes her time, shifting her lips along every part of the scar, not missing an inch. She even moves to Paige’s side, making sure to trail her kisses as far as she can.

When she finally looks up, Paige’s eyes are open now, watching Azzi’s every move.

Then, Paige’s hand moves.

Azzi stills when she feels the gentle brush of Paige’s thumb against her cheek. She leans into it instinctively, closing her eyes for a brief second before looking back at her.

Paige is watching her, something unreadable in her expression, but there’s absolutely no hesitation in the way she touches her.

Azzi turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to Paige’s palm before murmuring, “You okay?”

Paige nods. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s smile is soft as she moves back up, her lips finding Paige’s. As their mouths move together, her hand drifts lower, sliding easily into Paige’s shorts where she runs her fingers against Paige. The touch is barely there, but it pulls a reaction from Paige immediately—a low, involuntary sound escaping her lips.

Azzi chuckles, pulling back just enough to murmur, “You good?”

Paige nods, her breath a little uneven. “Mhm,” she manages, but then Azzi is sliding into Paige, settling completely before she’s pulling them out again agonizingly slow. Paige’s eyelids flutter as she exhales shakily, her voice coming out softer now, more like a whisper. “That feels good…”

Azzi smiles against her lips, happy with the effect she’s having on her. So she keeps the slow pace going, feeling the way Paige subtly arches into each time she curls her fingers. After some time, when she feels Paige getting a little more urgent in her movements, Azzi pulls away from the kiss. Creating just enough space between them to take in Paige’s face fully. To see her reactions.

Paige opens her eyes to look up at her, blue eyes heavy, but locked onto Azzi’s with an intensity that makes Azzi’s breath catch. There’s something about the way she’s looking at her—like she’s completely lost in her.

Azzi’s voice is quiet as she whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Paige swallows hard at that, something deep in her chest tightening, like she might explode under the weight of those words. Her fingers flex against Azzi’s back as she struggles to find a response, but the truth is, she doesn’t need to say anything—Azzi already knows.

The way Azzi is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters in the world—makes her heart pound faster. Feeling Azzi move in and out of her almost perfectly, sends a warmth spreading through Paige’s entire body. She feels overwhelmed, not just by the sensation but by the way Azzi is completely focused on her, on every reaction she’s having.

Paige swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “Azzi…” she whispers out, not even sure what she wants to say.

Azzi just smiles, dipping her head down to brush her lips against Paige’s again. “I mean it,” she whispers against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful Paige.”

Paige exhales shakily, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s back, like she needs to hold onto something solid to keep herself from falling apart completely. “…Shut up,” she finally mumbles, but there’s no real bite to it.

Azzi raises her eyebrows, surprised by this response. But then she’s smiling because Paige’s blue eyes are completely hazy, her chest is rising and falling quicker now, her body reacting in ways she’s clearly struggling to control as she throws her head back against the pillow.

“Fuck— I’m sorry, I just—” Paige starts, but she can’t finish, her voice becoming unsteady. Azzi just chuckles, continuing her pace but adding a little pressure as she slides her knee in between Paige’s legs.

“It’s okay,” Azzi reassures her, keeping her voice gentle. “I know.”

But Paige’s breathing only stutters more, her body tense beneath Azzi. Azzi lowers her head near Paige’s ear. “Relax, baby.”

Paige takes a sharp inhale at hearing Azzi whisper in her ear, her fingers gripping Azzi’s arm tightly. Still, she listens—taking a deep unsteady breath, forcing herself to settle.

Azzi kisses the corner of her jaw, feeling the tension in Paige’s body start to unravel beneath her. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her lips along Paige’s skin as she speeds up her movements.

Paige swallows hard. “Azzi I—”

“Sshhh,” Azzi soothes, as she adjusts so she has more room to keep her pace. “I know.”

And then Paige is tensing under her all over again.

Paige’s words come out choked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can…I can’t…it’s—”

Azzi lifts her head, “Look at me,” she murmurs.

Paige forces her eyes open, her eyelids are low and her eyes are unfocused as they lock onto Azzi’s. Once their eyes lock Azzi slows her pace again, curling her fingers perfectly every time she moves. Making sure Paige feels her.

“Just relax for me,” Azzi whispers.

Paige swallows, nodding once, never breaking eye contact as she takes another deep breath. As soon as she does that it hits—her body trembling, breath hitching, fingers tightening against Azzi’s back.

Azzi leans down, immediately taking Paige’s lips in her own, swallowing every shaky breath, every quiet whimper, every moan, until Paige finally starts to settle beneath her.

Before Azzi even knows what’s happening, Paige is flipping them over. When she does this, she’s a lot more feverish than Azzi was, her lips trailing down Azzi’s jaw, sucking and nipping along the way, like she can’t get enough of her.

Azzi, already worked up just from watching Paige, takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Fuck Paige—”

Paige hums against her skin, the sound vibrating through Azzi’s body.

Azzi exhales shakily. “I really can’t wait. It’s been too long.”

Paige lifts her head, her pupils dilated, she nods once before leaning back down, sealing her lips over Azzi’s again.

Paige easily slides her hand into Azzi’s pajama shorts and groans when there’s no other barrier and she immediately feels how ready Azzi is for her. Paige whispers out, “Fuck baby, why you didn’t tell me.” Before Azzi can respond Paige is easily sliding her fingers into Azzi.

As soon as Paige does this, Azzi’s breath hitches, and she mumbles, “Oh god.” Paige smirks, feeling the heat radiating from Azzi’s body as she easily takes her in.

Azzi, already feeling the tug in her stomach, grabs Paige’s waist and pulls her closer, the weight of Paige on top of her having Azzi closing her eyes in relief. She runs her hands up and down Paige’s back, her breath growing shallow. “I miss you so much,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige leans down to kiss her. “I miss you, too pretty girl,” she replies softly.

Azzi exhales a quiet, needy sound at the nickname, she wraps her arms tightly around Paige’s shoulders and hooks her legs around Paige’s waist, using the leverage to pull her closer. A low groan escapes her lips as Paige presses deeper into her, her fingers tangling into Paige’s hair seeking any piece of her she can get.

A few moments later, Azzi’s phone rings from the nightstand, popping the bubble they created. The first time, Azzi ignores it, her attention completely on the way Paige is making her feel, but then it rings again. Again, she ignores it, letting Paige continue, her hands never leaving Paige’s head, but when it rings a third time, Azzi can’t ignore it anymore.

With a deep sigh, she reaches over to grab the phone, still breathing unevenly from the way Paige feels inside of her. She glances at the screen and sees Caroline’s name flashing.

Azzi sighs again, this time louder, her chest tightening. Paige, noticing the change, starts to shift off of her, but Azzi grabs her, shaking her head, “No… don’t,” she says softly, pushing Paige’s head into her neck. Paige is a little surprised at this but she complies with what Azzi wants as she starts placing open mouth kisses to Azzi’s neck, curling her fingers as she does it.

Reluctantly, Azzi answers the phone, her voice completely breathy as she says, “Yes, Caroline?”

Caroline’s voice comes through the phone. “You have 15 minutes.” And before Azzi can respond, Caroline hangs up, already knowing exactly what Azzi is doing.

Azzi throws her phone somewhere and immediately pulls Paige back into a kiss, this time more urgent. Both of them are aware of the time slipping away, and the need to be close is almost overwhelming.

Paige, knowing what she needs to do to speed the process up for Azzi, adjusts so she can use her thumb adding slow soft circles to the mix as she continues to curl her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for Azzi’s body to shake under Paige’s touch, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her hands tighten around Paige. She tries to speak, but the words don’t come out clearly, her chest heaving with every shaky exhale.

“P-Paige…Yes—” she stammers, struggling to find her voice as Paige’s continues to work in and out of her, drawing another tremor from her. “Fuck—” Her hands find Paige’s back, trying to pull her impossibly closer, her fingers digging into her skin as she gasps. “I… want you... so much...”

Azzi’s words slip into a breathless murmur, almost incoherent. Paige slows her rhythm as she helps Azzi ride out the sensation, her smile growing as she watches her.

“You have me,” Paige whispers, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s as they both savor the moment.

They stay just like that for a second, both of them breathing deeply, still feeling the weight of each other. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding between them as they both lay there, hearts still racing in sync.

Paige breaks the silence with a soft murmur, “You gotta go.”

Azzi exhales slowly, her body still warm beneath Paige’s, but the words don’t seem to make her move just yet. She pulls Paige closer instead, pressing a kiss to her lips before she mumbles, “I know.”

Even as she says it, Azzi’s hands tangle in Paige’s hair, and the kiss turns more urgent. The heat between them grows again, their lips moving together perfectly, tasting each other in a way that seems to say they’re not ready to let go, not yet.

But eventually, Azzi pulls away, her chest rising and falling. She gives Paige one last lingering look before she’s tapping her to stand up. Once Paige rolls off of her, Azzi stands, stretching and crossing the room to grab Paige’s discarded shirt from the floor, easily slipping it over her head.

Paige smirks, her eyes following Azzi’s every movement, and as she stands up from the bed she says. “Look at you, putting on my shirt. Ms. ‘Don’t get used to it.’”

Azzi rolls her eyes, as she slips her Uggs back on. Paige mirrors the move, grabbing her phone and keycard, ready to walk Azzi upstairs.

Azzi’s voice breaks the quiet. “You’re not going to put on a shirt?”

Paige laughs, glancing down at herself. “You kinda sorta stole mine.”

Azzi laughs softly, nodding. “Fair enough.” She watches as Paige glances at herself in the mirror, her jaw tightening just slightly before she looks toward Azzi.

“I should be fine. It’s pretty late.”

Azzi nods, grabbing her hand and the two of them step out of the room, walking down the hall toward the elevator. The walk feels too short and they reach Azzi’s door before they know it.

Azzi reaches out first, pulling Paige toward her in one more kiss. It's slow, a little messy—her lips pressing against Paige's with a delicate urgency. Azzi’s arms slide over Paige’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of Paige’s neck and Paige responds, her hands wrapping around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in closer.

But then the door to Azzi’s room swings open, and Caroline peeks her head out. She doesn’t seem surprised by what she sees, “You deadass have like a minute.”

Like most people, because humans truly can’t help it, her eyes flicker down to Paige’s exposed torso, and Paige immediately notices the look.

The moment shifts, the lightness of Paige’s energy almost vanishing as she steps back from Azzi. Her jaw tightens, her fingers subconsciously starting to fiddle with the ring on her finger. She clears her throat, putting a little more distance between them. “I’ll text you, okay?” she says, her voice quieter now, and Azzi nods, understanding the sudden shift.

Paige takes one last look at Azzi, giving her a small smile then turns to walk away.

As Azzi and Caroline walk into the suite. Caroline watches as Azzi shuts the door and as soon as Azzi starts walking towards her bed, Caroline can’t help herself. “What was that?” she asks, her voice light with curiosity.

Azzi glances at her but doesn’t pause in her movement. “That was a kiss,” she answers simply.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that response. She shifts slightly on the couch. “Obviously. But I’m not talking about that.”

Azzi stops in her tracks, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. She takes a breath, turns, and faces Caroline. “Then what was what?”

Caroline is persistent, but her tone is soft and inquisitive, rather than pushy. “She had this huge scar on her side. I saw it when you were...you know. What’s going on with that?” Caroline’s eyes flicker with concern, showing she’s not trying to pry in a harsh way.

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says simply, keeping her voice neutral.

Caroline frowns, not convinced. “Azzi, that’s not nothing,” she says gently. “Is she okay?”

Azzi finally looks at Caroline. “She is.”

Caroline senses the finality in Azzi’s words and nods slowly, her curiosity still piqued, but understanding that Azzi isn’t going to share more. “Alright. I get it,” Caroline says, leaning back on the couch, not pressing any further.

True to Paige's word, as Azzi climbs into bed, her phone buzzes. She picks it up with a smile, seeing Paige's name light up the screen. Her fingers quickly swipe across the screen.

Paige💗You good?

Azzi reads the text and replies with a single word, followed by another.

Azzi <3 Course

Azzi <3 Why wouldn’t I be?

A few moments later, Paige responds.

Paige💗We kinda rushed for you.

Azzi’s chest warms a little at that. She pauses before texting back.

Azzi <3 You’re sweet

Azzi <3 Truly

Azzi <3 But the word "quickie" exists for a reason

Paige’s reaction comes through quickly — adding a laughing reaction to the message. Before adding

Paige💗Just wanted to make sure.

As Paige and Azzi continue their text exchange, a knock at the door interrupts the rhythm of the conversation for a second. Caroline glances over before moving to answer it, pulling the door open just enough to see who’s there.

CD stands in the hallway, her expression neutral as she steps just inside the room. Her gaze scans the space, quickly landing on Azzi sitting up on her bed, phone in hand. CD gives a small, satisfied nod, completing her room check, but her eyes linger for a second longer when she notices the shirt Azzi is wearing—the familiar bold Minnesota lettering printed across the front.

If CD has any thoughts about it, she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she offers a simple, “Goodnight, girls.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and pulling the door shut behind her.

Azzi chuckles under her breath, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to her phone, her fingers resuming their steady taps against the screen. Her smile growing as she sends another message to Paige.

Meanwhile, Caroline moves through the dim room, flipping off the last light before climbing into her bed.

Azzi remains awake, the faint glow of her phone illuminating her face as she continues the constant back-and-forth with Paige.

[cursedcanon]

Hickey

In which you give THEM a hickey

Characters: Gojo, Choso , Sakuna, Geto , Toji and Nanami

Contains:NSFW, suggestive themes, explicit language, and sexual references.

GOJO:

You barely had time to pull away before Gojo’s wide grin nearly split his face in half. He didn’t just look excited—he looked thrilled.

“Ohhhh?? My little civilian thinks they can mark me?” he teases, practically vibrating with amusement. He immediately pulls out his phone to take a picture. “This is staying in my gallery forever. No—wait, I’m setting it as my new lock screen. Wait, better yet—I'm sending it to Geto. No, Nanami. Imagine his reaction—”

You snatch the phone from his hands before he can send your little masterpiece to his poor, unsuspecting coworker.

"gojo"

“Call me ‘Satoru’ and I’ll consider behaving.”

He does not, in fact, behave. For the next week, he brings up the hickey at every possible opportunity.

“Remember that time you got a little too excited and decided to brand me? Haha, good times.”

If you give him another one? Oh, it’s over for you. He’ll be in your personal space constantly, pointing at his neck and batting his lashes.

CHOSO:

You barely get a chance to press your lips to his neck before Choso jerks away, eyes wide with genuine horror.

“Are you… eating me?”

You blink. “What? No! Choso—”

“I KNEW IT,” he mutters, touching the damp spot where your mouth had been, looking betrayed. “You said you wouldn’t.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Choso, it’s just a hickey—”

He frowns deeply, staring at you in silence for a long time. Then, hesitantly, he leans in, lips barely grazing your neck before pulling back, looking almost proud of himself. “Did I do it?”

You check your skin. He didn’t even try to suck, but the effort is adorable. “Sure, babe. You did amazing."

SAKUNA:

You press your lips to his neck and suck lightly, leaving a dark mark on his skin.

Sukuna immediately tenses. “The fuck are you—”

You pull away, admiring your work. “Nice.”

There’s a long pause. Then, slowly, his lips curl into a grin. “Ohhh. I see how it is.”

You raise an eyebrow. “See what?”

His smirk widens. “You’re trying to assert dominance.”

You snort. “No, I just wanted to give you a hickey.”

Sukuna leans back, arms crossed. “Uh-huh. Sure. I get it. You think you’re alpha now.”

You blink. “What?”

“Go on. Say it.” He gestures at himself. “Say you own me.”

You give him a look. “I—”

“Say it.” He leans in, grinning like a madman. “C’mon, brat. Prove you’re the boss.”

You sigh. “I own—”

“NO, YOU FUCKING DON’T.” He immediately shoves you away, laughing like an asshole.

You groan. “Why are you like this?!”

He just smirks, pointing to the hickey. “Joke’s on you, this means you’re mine now.”

“…That’s not how that works.”

Sukuna shrugs. “Too bad. I  make the rules.”

GETO:

You take your time kissing along his jaw before making your way down to his neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a mark.

“Tsk.” His voice is smooth, unimpressed. “Filthy monkey.”

You gasp, pulling away dramatically. “EXCUSE ME?”

Geto smirks, eyes glinting with amusement. “You heard me.”

“I knew you were a menace, but this?” You place a hand over your chest, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“You just left a mark on me, and you’re offended?” He laughs, stroking his thumb over the hickey. “You really are ridiculous.”

You squint at him. “I’m giving you another one just for that.”

He only smirks, tilting his head slightly. “Go on, then.”

TOJI:

You press your lips to his neck, sucking lightly.

Toji pauses mid-chew—because, of course, he’s eating something—and side-eyes you. “…The hell you doin’?”

You don’t answer, just keep going.

He chews slower. Swallows. Then, in the most deadpan voice imaginable—

“You tryna season me?”

You choke on a laugh, pulling away. “What? No!”

He wipes his neck like he expects to find marinade. “Tch. At least use some salt next time.”

You smack his arm. “It’s a hickey, Toji!”

“Yeah?” He smirks. “And what do you want me to do? Moan?”

You blink. Stare. Then, without missing a beat—

“Yes.”

Toji leans in real close, his lips brushing your ear, voice deep and rough—

“Ahhh~”

You shove him away so fast he almost falls over laughing.

NANAMI:

Nanami sighs the moment your lips leave his neck. His fingers press against the forming mark, and he turns to you with the most exhausted expression.

"Was that really necessary?" he asks, voice flat.

You nod. "Very."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a problem at work."

You grin. "Sounds like a you problem."

Nanami just sighs again, already regretting all his life choices.

[bytemee]

WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE) — YU JIMIN.

"just wanna let this story die, and i'll be alright."

synopsis. what was once love now feels like a wreck, and nothing will ever be the same between them.

pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader

warning(s). angst, cheating (not really bc they're not dating), mentions of drinking, karina is mean :(, just sad no happy ending

words. 1.3k

authors note. hi guys happy valentines day masterlist soon ok

part one. part two. part three. headcannons. request. navigation. main masterlist.

family emergencies don't wait for anyone.

you barely have time to throw things into a suitcase before you're running out the door, heart pounding with worry and adrenaline. the flight feels like it drags on forever, leaving you with too much time to imagine the worst possible outcomes.

every missed call and text from karina stings, but you can't bring yourself to respond. you're already juggling too much.

karina doesn't hear from you for three days.

she finds out you're gone when she shows up at your dorm unannounced, expecting you to be there like always—because you're always there. like the obedient little puppy she trained you to be. but the room is empty, the bed half-made, and your phone is going straight to voicemail every time she calls.

at first, she thinks you're just ignoring her. a part of her almost admires the audacity. but then she checks your drawers and sees the clothes missing, the toothbrush gone, the little signs that you didn't just leave for the night—you left. and you didn't tell her.

it hits her like a punch to the gut, knocking the breath right out of her.

then rage coils in her stomach like a snake, tightening with every unanswered text.

where the fuck are you?

don't make me find you.

you think you can just disappear on me?

by the time the third day rolls around, she's furious. humiliated.

people keep asking where you are, and she doesn't have an answer. you made her look stupid. weak. you left without a word and expected her to just sit and wait? to not do anything?

like hell. fuck you.

so she goes out. parties harder than she has in months. lets her sorority sisters pour her drink after drink until the room spins and everything feels numb, because you made her feel something, and she doesn't want to anymore. she doesn't want to feel anything ever again.

then there's a girl.

not you, but someone close enough in the dark. someone who doesn't hesitate to put her hands where they don't belong, someone who doesn't make her wait, doesn't make her question if she's wanted. karina lets it happen. lets the girl kiss her, lets hands wander, lets herself pretend—just for a second—that you don't exist. that this is all there is. that she's still in control.

when you come back two weeks later, she's ice-cold.

at first, you think she's mad that you left without telling her properly, that she's just giving you a hard time. but when she won't even look at you, when she brushes past you in the hallway like you're nothing, the dread settles in your stomach like a stone.

then the videos start spreading around campus. one of her with a girl. her hands on the other girl's skin. her tongue in the other girl's mouth. the two of them drunk, laughing, kissing.

you can't stop watching them.

the videos aren't anything explicit, but they're damning.

you can't believe she would do this to you, after everything you've done for her, everything you've given her.

it hurts.

you want to scream at her. you want to ask her why—why she did it, why she pushed you away, why she made you feel like you were nothing. you want to know if she felt anything, if she even cared about you at all. but you don't. instead, you let the anger simmer beneath your skin, burning through your veins like wildfire.

you're done. you're so fucking done.

the next time you're face to face is completely coincidental. she's on her way back to her room from a party, drunk off her ass and barely able to walk in a straight line. you went to her sorority house to get some things of yours from her room, as winter promised you karina wouldn't be there.

but of course, she is.

karina doesn't notice you at first, too busy trying to steady herself against the wall. her makeup is smudged, her hair a mess, and her steps uncoordinated as she tries to focus on getting back to her room. but then she stumbles, catching her balance just in time to look up—and when her eyes meet yours, everything in the air freezes.

for a moment, neither of you move. you can smell the alcohol on her breath and see the haze of drunkenness in her eyes. she looks like shit. then, as if snapping out of a trance, you take a step forward—only for her to flinch back, her body pressing against the wall.

her reaction stops you dead in your tracks.

"stay away from me."

you stop in your tracks, throat tightening. "i just want my stuff. that's it. then i'm gone."

her eyes are glassy. she looks like she might cry. "i don't have them."

your hands clenched into fists. "yes, you do. my jacket and a book. you have them."

she shakes her head. "i threw them out."

"why would you do that?"

she exhales shakily, eyes darting away. "because you left." her voice is barely a whisper, her words slurred and uneven. "because you didn't even tell me. you just disappeared."

you scoff, shaking your head. "are you serious? i had an emergency, karina. my family needed me."

her jaw tightens, something unreadable flashing through her expression. "and i didn't?"

you blink. "that's not fair."

karina lets out a hollow laugh, bitter and sharp. "neither is finding out you were gone by walking into your empty fucking room."

you don't know what to say to that. because she's right. you should've told her. you should've sent something, anything. but you didn't, and now you're stuck, the two of you, standing in the middle of the hallway with no idea where to go from here. but that doesn't change what she did.

your voice is quieter when you finally speak. "you didn't have to—" you gesture vaguely, unable to say it. "—do what you did."

her gaze drops, shoulders tensing. her voice is low. "i don't know what you're talking about."

you let out a frustrated sigh, stepping closer. "you know exactly what i'm talking about. those fucking videos. everyone saw them."

she doesn't move, her breath hitching in her throat. "i didn't do anything."

your hands curl into fists, anger rising in your chest. "don't lie to me, karina. i know it was you. why would you do that? were you that desperate to...i don't know? try and get back at me?"

karina's eyes are glassy, but whatever vulnerability was there a moment ago hardens into steel. she straightens up against the wall, brushing at her smudged makeup. when she finally speaks, her voice is cold.

"you really think you were more than just my little pup?"

the words hit like a punch to the gut, taking your breath away. karina stares you down, chin tilted up defiantly, daring you to argue, to fight back. but you can't. because no matter how angry, how betrayed, how humiliated you are, you still care about her.

"you were convenient, that's all. always there when i needed you. following me around like a pathetic stray, waiting for scraps of affection. and you lapped it up, didn't you?"

"karina, stop," you whisper.

she doesn't stop. she steps closer, her words venomous. "i needed someone to depend on, and you were just there. do you think i would've chosen you otherwise?"

your throat tightens. every syllable feels like another dagger to the chest.

"when you left, i realized how easy it was to replace you. how easy it would be for me to find someone else. and i did." she smiles, sharp and cruel. "do you want to know her name? or do you prefer not knowing?"

tears well up in your eyes despite everything, hot and burning. you blink rapidly, but you can't stop them from falling. 

"i gave you everything," you say, your voice barely holding steady. "i was there for you every second you needed me."

"and that's all you were good for," she snaps. "you should've known your place. a good little pup doesn't run off without permission." 

then, she pushes past you, her shoulder bumping yours as she stumbles toward her room. "go home, y/n," she mutters, voice breaking just slightly. "there's nothing left for you here."

and just like that, she's gone.

you're left standing alone in the hallway, heart aching, tears streaming down your cheeks.

taglist - @brocoliisscared @spidrgamer @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje

[blurry-lock]

SECRET ADMIRER

Another Valentine’s special fic with Shidou!!

Plot: Shidou is your secret admirer! but you don't seem to notice it...

What you need to know: high school au, gn reader, reader is clueless, fluff, slightly suggestive at the end and i think that’s it!

Wrd count: 1.6k

This was the 10th time you opened your locker and found a pink envelope with a letter inside accompanied by some heart-shaped chocolates. You’ve been receiving this mysterious and anonymous letters from what he called himself 'the love of your life' you didn’t have any clue who it was, it was getting you very curious and somewhat frustrated.

“Another one y/n?” Your best friend, Isagi said as he tilted his head and took a look at the letter in your hands.

You sighed and read the letter, it said something about he wishes you success in the upcoming exams and how he ‘didn’t care’ about a simple grade but he wished you a good grade anyway and how it was cute seeing you so clueless about his identity. “This guy is really something…”

Even though you were frustrated that you didn’t know his identity, you liked all those letters, they were very beautifully decorated with a lot of pink and they made you blush every time.

As you arrived to class and sat down, you started eating some of the chocolates your secret lover gave you.

“Oh? Who gave you those? Can i have one?” Your seatmate, Shidou Ryusei, an intimidating but interesting guy who you sometimes talk to, asked with his typical teasing smirk.

“No you can’t, someone special gave them to me…” You brought another chocolate to your mouth already starting to blush from your own words and how Shidou looked at you as his grin widened.

“Special? Didn’t know you had a significant other” Shidou was having so much fun with this, you were absolutely clueless about how he was the anonymous person sending gifts to you.

Why he did this? It wasn’t even because he was scared you wouldn’t like him back or too shy to tell you, no. His reasons were simple, he just like the thrill of it, he wanted to see how long this would last, he was hella confident you will like him, he is just feeling a bit silly and he didn't care how obvious he was being, yet you didn’t catch on his clues.

“I have a secret admirer…” you whispered to him, looking around if anyone heard that. “I hate this secret guy… but i really love him too, it's so frustrating.” You leaned on your seat and covered your face, letting out a frustrated groan.

You’re so blind… and cute Shidou thought, chuckling at your frustrations. “What if he never tells you who he is?” Isagi who sat in front you turned to look at you, slightly worried.

“No matter what it takes i’ll find him.” You nodded with a determined look, Shidou just staring fondly at you. Your mind so occupied about this you didn’t even notice how he looked at you. Isagi did notice, but choose to not say a word, chuckling to himself and turning back again wondering what Shidou was up to.

Before you returned home from your classes you decided to leave a note inside your locker, hoping your secret admirer once again left something there and noticed your note. The note was simple “how do you open my locker every time without a key? Can you even give me a clue about your identity?”

The next day you even got early to school, almost opening your locker with urge only to see he did write something and left more chocolates for you.

“I know a lot of things sweetheart and for the clue, figure it out yourself ;)” you stared at his words, written with the bright pink gel pen he always used and sighed at his answer, expecting something more, you took a glance at the hallway when you caught Shidou staring at you with his signature grin, he waved slightly before he walked away.

You turn away immediately and blushed, could it be...? You shook your head and leaned against your locker. He can’t be, an intimidating troublemaker like him writing a love letter? Definitely wasn’t him, it was just a coincidence he was staring at you or that’s what you said to yourself.

This time you tried something different, you pretended to leave and hid on some bushes near the school entrance, where you had a slight clear view of the lockers. As you were squatting, trying to look at the lockers you suddenly felt a presence behind you.

“What are you doing?” A familiar voice called you from behind, causing you to slightly flinch as you stood up rapidly.

“S-shidou?! Me? I’m just sitting by the grass you know…” you said nervously as you felt your cheeks starting to get hot and red. “What are you doing here?” You raised your eyebrow suspiciously at him.

“I just finished soccer practice and saw you hiding in the bushes.” Shidou chuckled and tilted his head, playing dumb. “Are you waiting for something? Or perhaps… someone?” He smirked, teasing you.

“Ah, i see…” you looked away embarrassed, yeah he wasn’t your secret admirer, all of this was just some weird coincidences, right? “I’m leaving now…”

You left, defeated in your attempt to know this guy’s identity. You decided to bake some mini cupcakes for him since he always gifted you chocolates, as you arrived the next day at school you entered the classroom and left the cupcakes on your desk, suddenly you noticed you left something in your locker and went to get it leaving the cupcakes there.

When you returned you saw Shidou eating one of the cupcakes, you widened your eyes and walked up to him. “Those are not yours! Why did you grab one?” You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

“It said it was for your secret admirer” he smirked and shrugged, finishing one of the cupcakes.

“Yeah, my secret admirer not Shidou Ryusei!” You huffed and sat in your place, slightly frustrated that Shidou ate one of the cupcakes, but somehow you couldn’t stay mad at him.

Shidou just chuckled and shook his head, finding it cute and amusing the fact you didn’t catch his words. Isagi who was already sitting on his place and heard the conversation just face palmed and shook his head, now it was clear as water, he had his suspicions about Shidou and this confirmed it, god how is my friend so stupid please help he thought.

“Was it good at least?” You sighed, looking around Shidou with a slight pout on your lips.

“Very~” He smirked and leaned closer to you, so close you could feel his breath fanning your face. “You should make some more for me.”

You blushed and were about to say something when you were interrupted by the teacher arriving to class, he reluctantly pulled away and gave you a wink before turning his head to the board. Your heart almost coming out of your chest from the sudden closeness, but the weird thing was you weren’t bothered by it; you were confused as you were thorn between your secret admirer and Shidou, it was stupid to you since you didn’t even know the mysterious guy.

As your mind wondered you glanced at Shidou, noticing he was writing what it seemed like…. Notes? Okay that’s weird, he never does that and he is writing with a PINK PEN?! That’s too many coincidences now.

“See something you like?” Shidou teased as he noticed you were glancing at him which you quickly looked away and pretended to write notes. This time you decided to do something risky, something slightly wrong.

You waited until lunch were everyone left the classroom and when you were sure no one was around you took a look at Shidou’s backpack, hoping to find a clue or something that confirmed to you he was the one sending you all those letters. As you were checking his backpack you hear the door of the classroom opening, you froze and your hands started to sweat.

You turned around slowly and saw Shidou standing there, expressionless while he was holding a pink envelope. “S-shidou I… it’s not how it looks let me explain!” You stuttered and looked at him with fear as he walked closer to you, still expressionless.

He walked dangerously close to you and suddenly grabbed your waist, slightly lifting you and sitting you in his desk. He stood between your legs, gripping your waist tightly and keeping you in place. Your brain malfunctioned at the sudden position you were now in, your face burned and you swore you felt your ears numbing and your vision becoming blurry.

“Searching in someone’s backpack is wrong, ya know?” He smirked as his lips almost brushed against yours.

“I know I-“ you didn’t have an excuse this time, so you just let out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry Shidou, i just…”

“Wanted to know if I was your secret admirer?” He tilted his head and chuckled slightly. “Asking me wasn’t an option then?”

You chuckled nervously realizing how stupid you were. “Y-yeah… I guess I didn’t think of that…”

“You’re such a dork…” he flicked your forehead and gently grabbed your jaw, caressing your chin with his thumb. “And here I thought I was being very obvious.”

You widened your eyes at his words, recalling the interactions you had with him, all his flirty and pretty obvious comments, how were you so stupid? The realization hit you as you looked at him embarrassed.

“Did I surprise you? Expecting someone else?” He teased, still holding your jaw as his other hand drew circles on your hip.

“I think all this time I wished it was you…” You confessed shyly, making his grin widen.

“Well, now that my secret is out” he placed his hands on your thighs and pulled you closer to him. “I’m all yours~” he leaned closer, his lips almost on top of yours, he was so close to kissing you.

“y/n are you he- Oh.” Isagi who just entered the classroom froze and chuckled nervously. “I-i’m sorry, I’ll talk to you later” He smiled and gave you a thumbs up before leaving the classroom.

Shidou chuckled at your embarrassed face, removing a strand of hair from your face. “So… where were we?”

Another Valentine’s day special, hope you like it!! English is not my first language sorry for any mistakes

Any requests or ideas are appreciated and welcomed <3

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ ZAYNE | before midnight (valentine's day)

── ◜zayne x fem!reader — ◜short special | specials from the rest of the LIs on my profile

A part of her had to admit that she had expected to do something more tonight—maybe go out for dinner or at least eat together. Having lunch in his hospital office didn’t sound like the best plan, according to her best friend. But to her, it had been sweet, even romantic.

Maybe she had let her best friend get into her head too much, because now she was starting to wonder if it had really been enough. But either way, Zayne was working late, and surgery wasn’t exactly a quick task. Even if they had wanted to do something, they couldn’t.

When she got home and slipped under the sheets, it wasn’t hard to distract herself. Her favorite movie and a box of chocolates—stolen from her sister—were enough. Maybe she and Zayne could do something together the next weekend when he was free.

Her eyes started to close not long after. Even though her favorite movie was playing, keeping her eyes open felt almost impossible. Her body relaxed, and seconds later she almost fell asleep.

A pair of arms wrapping around her made her jolt up. She gasped, trying to pull away, but whoever was behind her held her in place.

“It’s me. You’re okay.”

Zayne’s voice made her instantly relax in his arms. Carefully, she turned to face him, still pressed against his chest. She had to be dreaming. She had to be. Zayne was supposed to be in surgery tonight—there was no way he was actually here. Holding her.

"Zaynie…” Her fingers brushed over his cheek, as if making sure he was real and not just another dream. A smile crept onto her lips when she confirmed that, yes, Zayne was actually there. “What are you doing here?”

His arms tightened around her, bringing her closer to him until there is no space between them. His familiar scent enveloped her. She had already made peace with the fact that she wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s Day with him, but somehow, here he was.

"I asked someone to could cover my shift at the hospital and tried to cancel my surgery tonight,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair—a habit he’d picked up recently. She made a mental note not to change her shampoo anytime soon. “My patient wasn’t too happy about it, though. She refused to let another doctor perform the surgery and she was not happy to spend another night without eating.”

When he pulled back slightly to look at her, a small smile played on his lips.

“And she let you go?” she asked, genuinely surprised. She knew how dedicated Zayne was to his work. He had already considered rescheduling her surgery earlier in the week, but his patient had been waiting so long that he just felt bad.

“Well, I told her I had a girlfriend waiting for me at home,” he said, his voice softer as he slowly shifted over her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she felt his fingers tracing gentle patterns along her thigh.

Zayne talking about her to a patient? That was new. Not that their relationship was a secret—everyone at the hospital knew. It was kind of hard not to when she spent most of her lunch breaks hanging around just to eat with him.

“And what did she say?” she asked, curious.

She knew his patient. An older woman—sweet and chatty. They had spoken once by accident, and she had actually liked her. Though the woman had never known she was dating Dr. Zayne.

“Let’s just say she gave me a whole speech about how spending time with my girlfriend was way more important,” he muttered, his lips trailing soft kisses from her cheek down to her neck.

She giggled, unsure if he was telling the truth or just making something up. Maybe it wasn’t a complete lie. She had met the older woman, after all, and she was incredibly kind.

For some people, Valentine’s Day didn’t mean much. But for her, it did. And she had told Zayne that, probably with way too much detail. She had decided she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t take it seriously, but maybe she had been wrong. He had tried to cancel a surgery just to spend the night with her.

“I brought food from your favorite restaurant.”

Those words snapped her right out of her thoughts.

She pulled back slightly, eyes wide with excitement before letting out a small squeal. Her favorite restaurant. It was nearly impossible to get takeout from there, let alone a dinner reservation. She had so many questions. How had Zayne managed it? Had he waited hours just to get their order?

She was about to get up when she felt his firm grip stop her. A second later, he was lifting her into his arms, carrying her toward the kitchen.

They were going to have their own little Valentine’s dinner at home. And honestly? She couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night.

[youcouldmakealife]

Gabe/Stephen (Bryce/Jared); tell me about it, stud

Because I had to do ~something for Valentine's, and while there was plenty of romance in COTT if you looked (Holden Chase shutting up for twenty minutes is true romance), I figured it'd be a good day to feature the stars of the upcoming Kickstarter.

No Expectation of Returns doesn't really roll off the tongue, so I've dubbed them (and the Kickstarter project itself) The April Fools, because they were both born in April (April 25 and 27, 1991, for those curious). Stephen's lived two whole days without Gabe in his life. Gabe's happy with the tally of none.

Everybody knows Gabe's a sucker for Stephen. Very few realise just how mutual that is.

“Okay,” Gabe says, which is all Stephen needs to hear to give him his undivided attention.

Stephen had been rifling through the kitchen cupboards when Gabe called, trying to find himself a low-effort snack, though the food gathering operation gets abandoned as soon as Stephen’s finished asking Gabe how his day’s been.

It’s something about the way he says it, a thread of laughter in his voice, but incredulity too. It’s easy to make Gabe laugh, though Stephen acknowledges he’s saying that as someone with decades of practice, and also as the person who is, he thinks, the best at it. Dmitry probably spends more time with Gabe, with them on the road half the season, so he might win for volume, but frankly, his attempts are all crude, so Stephen thinks he still has the edge.

It’s easy, it turns out, to make someone laugh when you’ve known them their entire life. Extremely difficult to surprise them, however.

Though it’s hardly only Stephen who has a hard time surprising Gabe. He has this — vision, Stephen supposes, seems to see well past the horizon everyone else does, and everything he does see, he tends to take in stride. It is, frankly, one of his most infuriating qualities — possibly even the most infuriating, tied with that particular way he says ‘Steve’ that always makes Stephen want to bite him. But it’s also the reason Gabe’s so steady — not to mention the reason Gabe still puts up with him — so Stephen has grudging respect for it.

But Gabe sounds incredulous, so Stephen knows, without another word, that whatever it is Gabe has to say, it takes priority over balancing effort versus nutrition.

“One sec,” Stephen says, and goes straight to the nearest junk food stash — or, at least, the nearest one he recalls, sometimes Gabe finds hiding places Stephen had entirely forgotten about — and grabs a bag of Smart Food. He suspects it will be an appropriate snack.

“Okay,” Stephen says. “I’ve got the popcorn ready.”

“You mean that literally, don’t you,” Gabe says. It isn't a question.

“Yep,” Stephen says anyway, tucking the phone against his shoulder as he rips it open. "Lay it on me."

“Jared’s married to a Calgary Flame,” Gabe says, then, “Did you just drop the popcorn?”

“It’s literally everywhere now,” Stephen says. “And yes, I meant that literally too. Wait, which Flame?”

“Bryce Marcus,” Gabe says, and all Stephen will say is that it’s a damn good thing he’s holding his phone to his ear again, or he might have dropped it too.

*

Gabe only continues after Stephen’s substituted the popcorn with chips, opened a bottle of wine, and assured Gabe that he will not leave the popcorn all over the kitchen floor, but Gabe has to know he’s not allowed to just drop that bomb without following up by giving Stephen every single salacious detail he’s gathered.

Infuriating, like Stephen says. Do you know how difficult it is to outwait someone as patient as Gabriel Markson? Stephen doesn’t. He doesn’t think he’s ever succeeded, not once. And believe him, he he has tried.

Not tonight, though. Tonight he doesn’t bother. When Gabe’s asking how Stephen’s day was, sounding genuinely interested, because he’s always genuinely interested — that particular tendency of his is one Stephen likes more than he would ever admit out loud — Stephen says, “Jared. And Bryce Marcus. Are you sure you got the right Flame, Gabe, he’s kind of—“

“I mean, Jared introduced me to him,” Gabe says. “So I’m pretty sure.”

“Wait,” Stephen says. “You met him? When did you meet him?”

“At the dinner Jared had me come along for,” Gabe says, then, “Jared told me I could tell you all this, by the way. About Bryce, I mean. I wasn’t going to say anything if he wasn’t okay with it.”

“Gabe!” Stephen says.

Gabe’s — discretion, Stephen supposes the word would be, means there are likely plenty of things that Gabe doesn’t tell Stephen, simply because he thinks the other party would prefer he keep his mouth shut.

Meanwhile Stephen gives Gabe every single bit of gossip from wine nights — and there is a dizzying amount of gossip, a perpetual motion machine of gossip, most of the ones who aren’t working are bored as fuck —which he can trust never to reach anyone else’s ears because, again, Gabe would keep a secret to the grave. Which is probably the reason that Jared already trusts him enough to introduce him to his husband.

Obviously Stephen’s a little torn about this one.

Gabe doesn’t even say anything, just mutely waits Stephen out, like he always does when he knows he’s in the right, and he knows Stephen knows it too, or he will if he thinks about it for a minute. The worst part is he’s usually right. Like yes, obviously Stephen would prefer Gabe be reliable and trustworthy, but when someone's always that guy, every time you argue with him, it probably means you're being the unreasonable one.

“You don’t have to sound so smug about it,” Stephen says.

“I literally didn’t say a word,” Gabe says, and unfortunately the literality of that ‘literally’ doesn’t have to be confirmed, considering he didn’t.

“Dinner,” Stephen says. “Jared. Bryce Marcus.”

“And one of the other Flames,” Gabe says. “Jared’s buddy from Juniors. Bryce’s buddy too, I assume? I don’t know, we didn’t actually talk much, just kind of grimaced at each other as Jared and Bryce kept alternating between pretending they were just buddies and giving each other longing looks.”

“Wait, did they tell you or not?” Stephen asks. It wouldn’t surprise him at all if they hadn’t intended to let Gabe know, but he figured it out anyway. Even Stephen forgets sometimes just how quickly Gabe can take a few pieces of information and put together an entire essay.

“I think they were kind of testing me out?” Gabe asks. “Like, when I told Jared he should go home to his husband he got really embarrassed but he also seemed almost — relieved, maybe? Like he didn’t want to tell me but he wanted me to know. Or he wanted me to know, but only if I was okay with it, which I obviously was.”

“Wait,” Stephen says. “Was in front of Bryce, or—“

“Oh,” Gabe says. “Sorry, this was later, Bryce and Chaz left first and then I finished my beer while Jared stared at me like he was going to kill me if I took any longer, so I told him he should go home to his husband.”

This is all getting confused in Stephen’s head now, but he focuses on the most important part first. “You say there were longing looks?”

“I’d call them gazes,” Gabe says.

Never mind what Stephen said earlier: his favourite thing about Gabe is the way he plays along.

“There was also a little bit of eye fucking going on,” Gabe says, and Stephen chokes on his wine.

“Sorry,” Gabe says, as Stephen sputters.

“I got it up my nose, Gabriel,” Stephen says.

“Sorry,” Gabe says, but he sounds a little less repentant this time.

“Just tell me about the eye fucking,” Stephen says, then, “Wait, no, you’re skipping around too much, you need to establish the details. Where was dinner? A restaurant? Was this a planned dinner or was it more spontaneous? How exactly was this framed to you, did Jared say you were meeting his husband or that he was meeting some friends, or what? The buddy’s name is Chaz?”

“Do you want to know what I’m wearing too?” Gabe asks. "Help you set the scene better?"

“Right now I’m more curious about what everyone else was," Stephen says. "But we can have phone sex after if you want."

Stephen smiles into the sip of wine he takes then, safe in the knowledge Gabe can’t surprise him into a laugh when he’s the one laughing instead.

[little-jana]

"Caffeine and Affection"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2k

Warnings: excessive caffeine consumption, but otherwise pure fluff

Summary: For Valentine’s Day Spencer surprises you with a very special bouquet!

a/n: requested: yes! Thank you very much, hope you enjoy it!

The BAU ran on coffee.

At least, most of it did. Hotch practically had a coffee IV, Rossi wouldn’t touch anything under espresso-level strength, and even Spencer—who could rant about the adverse effects of caffeine for hours—drank coffee when cases ran late.

But you? You were different.

Your fuel of choice came in cans, not cups. Whether it was soda or energy drinks, you always had something sugary and carbonated in your hand. It had become part of your identity—something the team liked to tease you about but ultimately accepted.

Spencer, however, took a particular interest in your habit.

“You know,” he had told you one day, watching you crack open yet another can, “the excessive consumption of sugar and caffeine can lead to increased heart rate, insomnia, and dependency.”

You had grinned at him, unfazed. “Sounds like a problem for future me.”

He had sighed, shaking his head. “Future you is going to be very disappointed in past you.”

Despite his concerns, he never actually told you to stop. If anything, he seemed intrigued by your preferences—often asking which flavors you liked best, what brands you preferred, and even quizzing you on why you liked soda over coffee.

It was… cute.

Spencer had always been the kind of person who paid attention, but when it came to you, it felt like he noticed everything.

Which was why, on Valentine’s Day, when he approached your desk with a nervous expression and something hidden behind his back, you immediately knew he was up to something.

“Spence?” You tilted your head, setting down your can of soda. “What are you doing?”

His lips twitched in that shy, almost awkward way he did when he was nervous. “I, uh… got you something.”

Before you could respond, he revealed what he had been hiding.

It wasn’t flowers. It wasn’t chocolates.

It was a bouquet. But instead of roses or lilies, it was made entirely of your favorite sodas and energy drinks, all carefully arranged and tied together with a big, bright bow.

You blinked. Stared. Opened your mouth. Closed it.

Then, finally, you burst into laughter. “Oh my God, Spencer!”

His ears went a little pink. “I read that people appreciate personalized gifts, and I know you don’t really drink coffee, so I figured this was a more… suitable alternative.”

You reached out, taking the bouquet from him with wide eyes. It was surprisingly well put together—each can securely fastened with ribbon, the entire thing looking both ridiculous and oddly adorable.

“This is—Spencer, this is amazing.” You grinned up at him. “Did you make this yourself?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had to look up a tutorial. It took longer than I expected.”

You could just picture him sitting at home, carefully arranging cans of soda into a bouquet, meticulously tying them together with absolute precision. The thought made your heart swell.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, squeezing tightly. “You’re the best.”

Spencer tensed for half a second before quickly melting into the hug, his arms wrapping around you just as firmly. “I’m glad you like it.”

You pulled back slightly, grinning. “Like it? Spencer, this is the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me.”

His smile was small but full of warmth. “Then it was worth it.”

You looked down at your wonderful bouquet and then back at him, your heart hammering a little harder than usual.

Maybe it wasn’t just the caffeine making it race.

[alittlegiraffe]

Hiii i was wondering if i could request an eminem x reader, where reader is a popstar in the 90s-00s and her and em date secretly off and on between 99-02 and have a crazy connection but break up until the 2010s after marshall gets sober because they just couldnt get over eachother??? (Sorry if thats confusing or complex lol)

A/N: I really couldn't think of a way to add in her being a pop star without making it weird. Hope this is close enough.

Title: Still You

You never expected to hear from him again.

It had been years—years of moving on, of pretending you were fine, of forcing yourself to believe that some things just weren’t meant to be.

But then, out of nowhere, your phone rang.

And it was him.

You stared at the name on the screen, your heart hammering in your chest. Part of you thought about letting it go to voicemail, but your hands had a mind of their own, answering before you could stop yourself.

"...Hello?"

A Marshall Mathers x Reader Fanfiction

A beat of silence. Then, his voice—lower, rougher than you remembered, but still him.

"Hey."

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter. "Marshall?"

"Yeah." A breath, like he was trying to figure out what to say. "Uh… I know this is outta nowhere. I just—I needed to tell you somethin’."

You braced yourself. "Okay."

He exhaled, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "I got sober."

Your heart clenched.

You had dreamt of hearing those words—had begged for them back then, when you were still by his side, still trying to pull him out of the darkness he refused to see.

But he hadn’t been ready. And it had broken you.

"...Wow," you whispered, your throat tight. "Marshall, that’s—God, that’s amazing."

He let out a quiet laugh, almost disbelieving. "Yeah. Took me long enough."

You shook your head, even though he couldn’t see it. "No. You did it when you were ready. And I’m—" Your voice wavered. "I’m so damn proud of you."

Silence stretched between you, heavy with everything unspoken.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I don’t expect anything from this call," he admitted. "I just… I needed to tell you. ‘Cause losing you? That was my rock bottom. And I just—" He hesitated. "Thank you."

You pressed a hand to your chest, trying to steady your breathing.

You had spent so long wondering if he had ever thought about you, if he had ever missed you the way you missed him.

And now, here he was, saying the words you had ached to hear.

"Marshall," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "I never—" You paused, swallowing hard before trying again. "I never stopped loving you."

His breath hitched.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears. "I missed you every day. I still do."

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was hopeful.

Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end of your story.

Maybe it never had to be.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Marshall was still on the other end of the line, you could hear his breathing—uneven, like your words had knocked the air out of him.

You hadn’t meant to say it.

You weren’t supposed to say it.

But it had been there for years, locked away behind pride and heartbreak, and the second he called, the second you heard his voice, it all cracked wide open.

"You still—" He stopped, cleared his throat. "You still miss me?"

You closed your eyes. "Every day, Marshall."

Another silence. But this one felt different—charged, thick with something unsaid.

Finally, he let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Shit… I dunno what to say to that."

You smiled, shaking your head. "You don’t have to say anything."

He exhaled sharply. "Nah, I do. ‘Cause I miss you, too. Always did. Even when I tried to pretend I didn’t."

You leaned against the counter, gripping your phone tighter. "Then why didn’t you ever call before?"

He sighed. "Didn’t think I had the right to." A pause. "I fucked it up. I hurt you. And I knew if I ever wanted to fix shit, I had to fix me first."

Your heart twisted.

The man you had walked away from was stubborn, reckless—too lost in his addiction to see what he was destroying. But this? This was different.

This was growth.

This was him finally seeing himself the way you had always seen him.

"Are you happy?" you asked quietly.

Marshall hesitated. "Gettin’ there," he admitted. "S’not easy. Some days are harder than others. But I feel… clearer. More like myself than I have in years."

A warmth spread through your chest. "That’s all I ever wanted for you."

"I know," he murmured. "And I was too fucked up to see it."

Another silence. Another shift in the air.

Finally, he spoke again, voice careful. "Do you think… we could see each other?"

Your breath hitched.

You should’ve been scared. Should’ve hesitated.

But you didn’t.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I’d like that."

And for the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Right back where you started.

Right back where you belonged.

---

You hadn’t let yourself think about that night in a long time.

It was easier to bury it, to pretend that the final fight—the one that ended it all—was just another moment lost in the wreckage of what you and Marshall used to be.

But after hearing his voice again, after agreeing to see him, it all came rushing back like a wound torn open.

It had started like so many fights before—words sharp enough to cut, his eyes glassy, his hands twitching as he paced the living room.

"Why the fuck do you always have to start shit?" he had snapped, running a hand over his face.

You had laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I’m not starting shit, Marshall. I’m begging you to wake the fuck up."

He rolled his eyes, turning away from you, muttering something under his breath.

"Don’t do that," you had hissed. "Don’t act like I’m the problem when you’re the one getting high out of your mind every night."

He scoffed. "Oh, right. Because you never fucked up, huh? You’re so fucking perfect."

"This isn’t about me!" You had thrown your hands up, frustration boiling over. "This is about you being too fucking blind to see what you’re doing to yourself—to us."

"Jesus Christ, here we go again," he had muttered.

That’s when you lost it.

"You know what? Yeah, here we go again, Marshall! The same fucking cycle, the same excuses, the same bullshit. You promise you’ll get better, and I believe you, and then you turn around and prove me wrong every single time."

He had glared at you, jaw clenched, breathing heavy. "If I’m so fucking hopeless, why are you still here?"

And that’s when you knew.

Because the truth was, you had already been gone for a long time.

Your body was still in that house, your heart still trying to hold on, but the person you were—the person who had once believed he would fight for you, for himself—she had left months ago.

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing your voice to stay steady. "I don’t know," you had admitted.

That had stopped him in his tracks.

His expression had changed—not angry, not defensive. Just… lost.

You had seen the flicker of something behind his eyes, something real, something terrified.

But it was too late.

"I can’t do this anymore," you had whispered. "I love you, Marshall. But I can’t watch you destroy yourself."

His hands had curled into fists at his sides. "So that’s it?" His voice had cracked. "That’s it?"

And maybe, if he had said something else—anything else—you would’ve stayed.

But he hadn’t.

He had just stared at you, letting the silence fill the space between you, his pride swallowing the words he was too afraid to say.

So you had turned around, grabbed your bag, and walked out the door.

And he had let you.

Now, sitting on your couch, your phone still clutched in your hands, you let out a shaky breath.

He had let you walk away back then.

But tonight?

Tonight, he was the one who reached out.

And maybe—just maybe—this time, neither of you would let go.

[amethystarachnid]

So I saw a post on Pinterest and I thought it would be a good idea for a fanfic?im just gonna type it out and explain it after

Peter: im back from my trip i got you another magnet mr.white wolf

Bucky:cool stick it on

-

Tony: is that peters shopping list on your arm?

Bucky: yea

Tony: what the

-

Tony: Peter you need to stop using buckys arm as a fridge

Peter: Mr. White wolf said it helps him associate the arm with something other than murder

Tony: crying

So basically I was wondering if you could do this well not this interaction but like reader and Bucky are friends and reader is Peter? If that makes any sense?

STICKERS

⤷ JAMES B. “BUCKY” BARNES

ᯓ★ Pairing: James B. “Bucky” Barnes x teen!gn!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: platonic, fluff

ᯓ★ Word count: 2.5k (I'm so sorry if it's too short, hope you like it anyway)

ᯓ★ Summary: Bucky always lets you stick stickers to his vibranium arm but had never told you why...until now.

ᯓ★ I hope I understood the request well, and I tried to make the reader gender neutral since it wasn't specified in the ask, hope you like it <3

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier fan click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language and this isn’t proof read

The hum of the compound is familiar by now. Machines whir softly in the background, the faint scent of coffee lingers in the air, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear Sam and Tony bickering over something that probably doesn’t matter. This is home—at least, as close as it gets. It wasn’t always, but things changed. The world changed, and you had to change with it.

Being here is better than being out there. You know that much. The compound is safer. It’s structured. Sure, it’s a little weird living with a bunch of Avengers, but it beats the alternative. When SHIELD fell apart, a lot of things got messy, including your life. No family, no place to go, just a kid caught in the middle of something bigger than them. Steve found you first, said they’d figure something out, and now, somehow, you’ve ended up here. Officially, you’re under the Avengers’ protection. Unofficially, you’re the compound’s resident stray.

“Alright, what is it this time?”

Bucky’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you glance up from where you’ve been hunched over the kitchen counter, fidgeting with a fresh roll of stickers. He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, looking at you with an exasperated sort of fondness.

You grin. “You make it sound like I’ve done something bad.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Haven’t you?”

“Depends on your definition of ‘bad,’” you say, tearing off a small sticker shaped like a cat. Without hesitation, you reach out and press it to the cool vibranium of his forearm. It sticks perfectly, just like you knew it would.

Bucky sighs like a man who has known deep suffering. “Why do you keep doing this?”

“Because you let me,” you answer simply, peeling off another sticker—this one shaped like a tiny watermelon slice—and placing it beside the first.

It’s true. You started doing this months ago, fully expecting him to shut it down after the first few times. He never did. The first time, it had been a dumb impulse, something to break the tension. You’d been talking, and without really thinking about it, you’d stuck a star-shaped sticker onto his arm. He’d given you a long, unreadable look but hadn’t peeled it off. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Now, it’s a habit. Every time you see him, you add a new one. Sometimes, he’ll pretend not to notice. Other times, he’ll act put-upon, like he’s carrying some great burden. You know better, though. If he really hated it, he wouldn’t still be standing here, letting you decorate his arm like it’s an elementary school art project.

“I let you do a lot of things,” he mutters, watching as you place a little frog next to the watermelon.

“And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you say, grinning.

“Steve’s gonna be hurt,” he points out.

“Steve’s got enough fans,” you reply, reaching for another sticker. This one’s a smiley face with sunglasses. You stick it on his wrist.

Bucky glances down at his arm, then back at you. His expression softens—just a little. “Y’know, people used to be scared of me.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, adding a rainbow to his forearm, “they clearly weren’t looking hard enough. You’re a giant teddy bear.”

He scoffs, but there’s no real heat behind it. “A ‘teddy bear’ with a metal arm and a kill count.”

“Even teddy bears have claws,” you say, shrugging. “Besides, you let a teenager put stickers on you. That automatically lowers your intimidation factor.”

Bucky huffs but doesn’t argue. You know he won’t take them off. He never does, at least not right away. Sometimes, hours later, you’ll spot him across the compound, still wearing them.

That’s enough for you.

It doesn’t take long for the others to notice.

The first one to point it out is Sam.

You’re both sitting in the common room, Bucky on the couch, you curled up on the opposite end, sorting through a new pack of stickers you got from a store Tony let you raid on a supply run. They’re good ones, too—holographic, shimmery, some even glow in the dark. You’re in the process of carefully placing a tiny raccoon on Bucky’s wrist when Sam strolls in, eyes scanning the room before landing on the two of you.

His brows pull together. “Uh, what the hell is that?”

Bucky, who has clearly mastered the art of selective ignorance, doesn’t look up from his book. You, however, grin and wave. “What’s what?”

“That,” Sam says, pointing at Bucky’s arm like it personally offended him.

Bucky finally sighs, lowering his book just enough to glare over the top of it. “You’re gonna have to be more specific, man.”

Sam narrows his eyes and gestures again. “That. The stickers. What am I looking at?”

You lean back, admiring your work. By now, Bucky’s metal arm is covered in a vibrant mess of stickers—cartoon animals, little hearts, a glittery UFO, and even a miniature Avengers logo you’d snuck in just for fun.

You beam. “Art.”

Sam blinks. He looks at Bucky, then back at you, then back at Bucky. “And you’re just…letting them do this?”

Bucky shrugs. “Yeah.”

Silence. Sam stares, mouth opening and closing like he wants to say something but can’t find the words. Eventually, he just lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Man, you really are getting soft.”

Bucky flips him off without looking up.

You take that as permission to add another sticker—a rainbow-colored star, right on his shoulder.

Sam shakes his head, muttering something under his breath before grabbing his drink from the fridge and heading out, still looking vaguely disturbed by what he just witnessed.

Of course, Sam being Sam, the moment he’s out of the room, you know he’s going to tell the others.

The next one to comment on it is Natasha.

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter, helping yourself to a bowl of cereal, when she walks in. She nods at you in greeting before grabbing a protein bar from the cabinet. It’s a normal morning, nothing out of the ordinary—until she glances at Bucky and does a double-take.

She tilts her head slightly. “Did you get in a fight with a Lisa Frank notebook?”

You nearly choke on your cereal.

Bucky, who is now used to this reaction, doesn’t even blink. “No.”

Natasha takes a bite of her protein bar, studying him. “Then why does your arm look like a kindergarten art project?”

Bucky doesn’t answer, so you take it upon yourself. “Because I put them there.”

Natasha arches an eyebrow. “And he let you?”

“Obviously,” you say, popping another spoonful of cereal into your mouth.

She’s quiet for a moment, her sharp gaze flicking from you to Bucky. You half-expect her to make a snarky comment or tease him, but instead, she just hums and says, “Huh.”

And then she reaches into her pocket, pulls out a tiny cat magnet, and sticks it to his forearm before walking away like nothing happened.

Bucky stares after her, brow furrowed. He lifts his arm slightly, looking at the magnet now clinging to the vibranium.

You snort. “You’re officially a walking fridge.”

He groans.

It only gets worse from there.

A few days later, Steve notices.

You’re in the gym, watching Bucky and Steve spar while pretending to be invested in a book. In reality, you’re mostly waiting for them to finish so you can rope Bucky into watching a movie with you.

Steve circles Bucky, eyes narrowed in concentration. He throws a punch, which Bucky easily dodges. There’s a beat of silence before Steve suddenly drops his stance, frowning.

“…Are those stickers?”

Bucky sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

Steve squints, stepping back to get a better look. “They are.” His frown deepens. “And…are those magnets?”

You bite back a laugh.

Bucky glares at you like this is somehow your fault (which, to be fair, it is).

Steve crosses his arms. “You’ve been walking around like this?”

“Yes.”

“And you just…let them do it?”

“Yes.”

Steve blinks, clearly struggling to process this information. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to reconcile the image of his best friend, ex-Winter Soldier, walking around covered in colorful stickers and fridge magnets.

Eventually, he just sighs. “You’re impossible.”

Bucky smirks. “Took you this long to figure that out?”

Steve shakes his head, clearly exasperated, but doesn’t push the subject further.

You take that as a win.

Tony’s reaction is arguably the best.

You’re in the lab with Bucky, keeping him company while Tony messes around with something that looks vaguely explosive. He’s in the middle of rambling about some new upgrade for Bucky’s arm when he abruptly stops mid-sentence.

His eyes narrow. “Hold on.”

Bucky tenses. “What?”

Tony steps closer, squinting at his arm. He lifts a finger and flicks one of the magnets, watching as it wobbles slightly before settling back into place.

“…Are you kidding me?”

Bucky groans. “Not you too.”

Tony bursts out laughing. “Oh, this is rich. You—you’ve been walking around like this? Just letting them stick things to you?”

“Yes,” Bucky says flatly.

Tony looks at you, still grinning. “You did this?”

You nod proudly. “Yep.”

He lets out an impressed whistle. “Wow. I gotta say, Barnes, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are you done?”

Tony pretends to consider. “Nope.”

Bucky mutters something under his breath and turns to leave, but before he can make his escape, Tony suddenly grabs a Stark Industries magnet from his workbench and slaps it onto Bucky’s bicep with a satisfied smirk.

Bucky glares at him. “I hate you.”

Tony winks. “No, you don’t.”

You snicker as Bucky stomps out of the lab, now sporting a Stark-branded magnet.

Despite the teasing, Bucky never takes them off right away.

Sometimes, you’ll catch him absentmindedly running his fingers over a sticker while he’s reading or training. Other times, you’ll see him glance down at his arm, something soft and unreadable in his expression before he quickly schools his face back into neutrality.

You don’t push. You don’t have to.

He lets you do this because he knows it makes you happy. Because he knows it makes you feel safe.

And, maybe—just maybe—because he doesn’t mind it as much as he pretends to.

The stickers—and now magnets—become a daily ritual.

At this point, everyone in the compound has noticed. Clint, predictably, laughs himself half to death when he first sees Bucky with a sparkly unicorn sticker on his wrist. Thor, on the other hand, is completely unbothered. He takes one look, nods approvingly, and later gifts you a set of Asgardian insignia stickers that you immediately slap onto Bucky’s arm. Even Bruce, who usually keeps to himself, quietly asks if he can contribute and hands you a little atom-shaped magnet one afternoon.

Bucky grumbles about it, of course. He sighs dramatically when you press another sticker onto his arm, acts like it’s the greatest inconvenience in the world, but he never actually stops you. He never pulls away. He never tells you no.

And he never takes them off until he’s alone.

You start paying attention, watching him when he thinks no one else is looking. He’ll be in the middle of a conversation, his fingers absentmindedly brushing over the stickers on his forearm, tracing the edges. You notice that he doesn’t cover his arm as much anymore—not as often as he used to. Before, he wore long sleeves even in the middle of summer, like he couldn’t stand the sight of it. Now, he just lets it be.

That realization sits in the back of your mind for a long time.

Then, one day, you ask.

It’s late.

Most of the compound has already turned in for the night. The common room is quiet, dimly lit by the glow of the television, where some old black-and-white movie plays with the volume low. You’re curled up on the couch next to Bucky, a fresh pack of stickers in your lap.

You press a new one onto his arm—a tiny golden retriever wearing sunglasses—before hesitating.

“Hey, Buck?”

He glances down at you. “Yeah?”

You fidget slightly, turning the next sticker over in your hands. “…Why do you let me do this?”

Bucky blinks, like he wasn’t expecting that question. “Huh?”

You gesture vaguely to his arm, now covered in an assortment of colorful stickers and small magnets. “This. Why do you let me put them on you? You could’ve told me to stop. But you didn’t.”

For a moment, he’s quiet. His expression shifts—just a little—but you catch it. A flicker of something uncertain, something careful, like he’s picking his words before speaking.

Then, finally, he exhales.

“…Because it helps.”

You tilt your head. “Helps with what?”

Bucky glances down at his arm, his fingers skimming over the stickers.

“You know what this arm used to be,” he says, his voice quieter than before. “What it used to do.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to.

He swallows, his jaw tight. “For a long time, it felt like it didn’t belong to me. Like it was just…a weapon. A part of me that wasn’t really mine.” His fingers brush over the little cartoon raccoon you stuck near his wrist. “But then you started doing this. And…I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” you say immediately.

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Maybe not. But it’s…different, now. When I look at it.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “When I see the stickers, I don’t think about the things I’ve done. I think about you. About Sam rolling his eyes, Nat sneaking magnets onto me, Steve acting like he doesn’t get it even though he does.” His voice softens. “I think about now. Not then.”

You don’t know when your eyes started burning, but suddenly, it’s hard to see. You swallow thickly, trying to blink away the sting.

“Oh,” you say, and it comes out smaller than you meant it to.

Bucky glances at you, eyes sharp. “Hey. Don’t cry on me, kid.”

“I’m not,” you lie, furiously rubbing at your eyes. “It’s just—you just said something really nice, and my dumb emotions weren’t prepared for it.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Says the guy covered in stickers,” you sniff, but you’re smiling now, even if your throat is still tight.

Bucky shakes his head, rolling his eyes, but there’s something softer in his expression when he looks at you.

“…Thanks, kid.”

You look up at him. “For what?”

He gestures vaguely at his arm. “This. The stickers. Everything.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just grab another sticker and carefully press it onto the back of his hand.

Bucky glances down at it. It’s a tiny heart.

He smiles.

I'm so sorry if this it's too short I didnt know what else to add :(

[sulumuns-dootah]

Hello and can i ask if its okay for a request? If its okay, I read your ‘WHB Characters meeting their Obey me counterparts’ and got the idea…

What if the WHB Kings meeting Diavolo from Obey me?

Or WHB Angels & Angels from Obey me? (you can choose one or make a request or not, if you like)

Thank you in advance

WHB kings meeting prince Diavolo

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Hi! I actually wrote the Seraphims meeting their OM! version in the second part of OM! meeting WHB ^^ (Took me a while but I'm back, babey!)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Oh hey, this future king of Hell isn't as scary as Satan expected

Actually, he kinda reminds him of Mammon in a way

With the whole golden retriver energy

On the other hand, Diavolo is intruqued with Satan's biker persona

Don't tell Barbatos, but he might buy a bike too and ride it while Barbatos is busy with chores around the castle

       ༺☆༻

These two get along really well

I already mentioned that they're really similar so lemme talk about it a bit more

They both have their royal manners, but still try to reach out to their people from their privileged pedestal

Also, they don't take anything much seriously

Like you could spill a whole gallon of soup on them and they'll ask if you're okay and then laugh it all off

       ༺☆༻

I really hope that Diavolo doesn't have any expectations based on the brothers

Leviathans couldn't be the furthest from each other so I doubt Diavolo would be able to befriend Levi by cosplaying Ruri-chan for him

At first he'll be his cheery self, but after Levi responds in a luke-warm way, he'll pretty much shut himself off

Leviathan, being Leviathan, doesn't wanna have anything to do with some other king of Hell

Will even try to start a competition about whose Barbatos is the better servant (OM!Barbatos wins, sorry)

       ༺☆༻

Oh but these two will hit it off nicely

Chaos ensues

Might be the frist time where Diavolo has to be the one to stop shenanigans from spiralling out of control

Please do make sure that Beel doesn't find out about Diavolo's fear of pickled vegetables, or he might end up chasing him around the castle (like that video of that one woman who was terrified of olives)

       ༺☆༻

Given what happened with OM!Belphegor did, Diavolo is a bit vary while meeting Belphie

Though, his fears are pretty much calmed when he finds out that this guy can't go an hour or so without falling asleep

He really admires how Nifleheim manages to not descent into chaos and definitely wants to try and implement some of the rules in the Devildom

Belphegor didn't even realise that someone new was in the room

Will probably ask Beleth if he changed up his style and tell him that red is not his color and that he should just keep the suit he wears normally

       ༺☆༻

Okay, Diavolo is scared

Like geniunelly terrified

He will actually refuse to be around Asmo for an extended period of time

Just hearing all the stories about him is enough

And even if he didn't, the smell would speak for Asmo enough

On Asmo's end, you already know he'd be down (who wouldn't he be for tho?)

Depending on the look that Diavolo would be in, different things would turn him on about him

       ༺☆༻

Lucifer saddens him

To what extent are the kings and the brothers different? Do they carry similar mindsets and feelings? If so, he really needs to have a long conversation with OM!Lucifer

Lucifer, on the other hand, is finally happy to find out who tf the Diavolo guy is

For some reason he kept thinking about it after having met his OM! self who would constantly only talk about him

Lucifer likes him, overall ^^

[seospicybin]

TASTE PREVIEW.

FINAL CHAPTER: DELECTABLE.

Lee Know x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: When Minho is hired as the head chef of Farfalle, a prestigious Italian restaurant, expectations are high for him to elevate its reputation and bring it to new heights. However, no one anticipates the drastic changes he implements in the kitchen—including his strict rule that that there'll be no women and no romance in his kitchen.

This is a preview for the final chapter of Taste series. Full fic will be posted this Friday, February 14.

...

Minho ordered the entrée line to gather in the kitchen after work, and now here you are, taking out slabs of meat from the freezer and setting them on the counter. The cold seeps through your fingertips, but what’s worse is the glares Hyunwoo and Seungwan are shooting your way.

You grab another piece of meat, and that’s when Hyunwoo scoffs. "Did Chef tell you to keep an eye on us?"

The accusation comes out sharp, like he’s already convinced of the answer. You frown and mutter, "You're impossible."

Seungwan clicks his tongue, shaking his head. "Chef acts so righteous all the time, but I guess he’s just another snob obsessed with the star rating."

You don’t take the bait. "Let’s just get this over with. The longer we stand here arguing, the longer this is going to take."

Hyunwoo groans, throwing his hands up. "Do we really have time for this? Everyone else is busy working on new dishes, but no—we’re here, squeezing blood out of perfectly fine meat."

He exhales sharply, muttering under his breath. "We better win first place at the New Chef Culinary Challenge, or—"

Seungwan slaps a hand over Hyunwoo’s mouth. They freeze. Seungwan’s jaw tightens, and Hyunwoo looks like he wants to sink into the floor.

But it’s too late. You already know. You cross your arms. "So you guys are preparing for the New Chef Culinary Challenge."

Silence. Then—

"Uh—no? I mean, yeah? Wait, no—" Hyunwoo stammers.

You turn to Seojun. Unlike the others, he doesn’t look surprised—just resigned. "Is it true, Sous-chef?"

His lips press into a thin line before he sighs. "Yeah. But since you've already been keeping it a secret, just keep pretending you haven't heard anything."

Your stomach twists uncomfortably. "You know you can't keep this from Chef forever. You're representing the restaurant. He should know."

Seojun exhales through his nose. "I just need you to keep quiet."

You take a step forward. "Why not just ask him?"

His expression hardens. "The Chef? We’d be grateful if he didn’t get in our way."

They don’t understand Minho like you do. "He wouldn't. You guys are wrong about him."

Hyunwoo lets out an exaggerated scoff. "Oh yeah? He thinks we’re wrong too. Apparently, even after all these years, Sous-chef doesn’t know how to grill meat."

You stare at them, pulse thrumming. "Then let me ask him for you."

"Hey! No way." Hyunwoo is quick to shut it down.

"Don’t even think about it," Seungwan adds, crossing his arms.

You look back at Seojun, hoping he’ll be reasonable, but his gaze is sharp as he says, "You should know when to stay out of things. This is not as simple as you think. Please do us a favor. Keep quiet."

Your jaw tightens, but you know when to step back. "Yes, Sous-chef."

Seojun nods, then turns to Hyunwoo and Seungwan. "Put the meat back in the freezer."

Your stomach churns. "Wait—shouldn’t we still do what Chef ordered?"

Seojun doesn’t hesitate. "I’ll take care of it. Just go home."

Before you can protest, Seungwan grabs your arm and pulls you out of the kitchen. He only lets go once you’re outside, turning to you with a finger pressed against his lips—an unspoken command to stay silent. Then, without another word, he disappears back inside.

You exhale, rubbing a hand down your face. This isn’t right. Minho is going to find out eventually. And when he does—

"Hey, why are you standing there?"

Your heart jumps. You turn around to find Minho standing there, already changed, backpack slung over one arm. His gaze flickers to the kitchen door behind you, then back to your face.

Did he hear anything?

He raises an eyebrow. "Let’s go home."

For a second, you hesitate as the weight of secret tugging at your chest. But then, without a word, you fall into step beside him.

The car ride home is quiet. You keep your mouth shut, afraid that if you say too much, Minho will find out the truth—that the entrée line isn’t doing what he asked. That they’ve been using the kitchen to prepare for the New Chef Culinary Challenge instead.

You shift in your seat, staring out of the window. The streetlights blur past, casting fleeting shadows inside the car. The only sound is the soft hum of the engine—until Minho’s phone vibrates against the center console.

You glance at the screen out of reflex. No name. Just numbers. It rings once. Twice. Then stops. You ignore it at first, but curiosity gets the better of you. "Why aren’t you answering the calls, Chef?"

Minho keeps his eyes on the road. "Reporters have been calling all day."

You nod, looking away again. Silence lingers between you both, heavy and unspoken, until you can’t hold back anymore.

You turn toward him. "Chef, I know the meat is important, but you have to respect other chefs’ methods too."

Minho doesn’t react so you press on. "You can tell me what to do all you want, because I like you and I know you're trying to help, but—"

"That’s enough." Minho cuts you off, voice firm. He knows exactly where you’re going with this.

But you refuse to stop now. "They’ve been working for years, Chef. They’re experienced. You can’t treat them like they don’t know the basics."

One hand on the wheel, he answers easily, "They don’t know the basics."

You exhale, gripping your hands together. "They just want to improve and do better. That’s why they’re doing New—"

You freeze and feel like slapping your mouth for almost spoiling the secret.

Minho’s eyes flick toward you, sharp and narrow. "New what?"

You shake your head. "Nothing."

He doesn’t push, but you can feel his gaze linger before he focuses back on the road. You let out a quiet breath of relief, choosing your next words carefully.

With utmost caution, you sweetly ask, "Can you at least show them half the affection you show me?"

Minho doesn’t even hesitate. "No."

You blink. "What—why?"

"Why should I share my affection for you with those guys who don’t even listen to me?" He glances at you. "My affection is too valuable. I don’t want to share it."

When the two of you enter the elevator, he reaches for your hand, fingers curling around yours with ease. But before you can enjoy the warmth, your phone rings inside your bag.

With a sigh, you pull away and rummage through your things. Dad. You pick up. "Hello?"

Your dad skips the small talk. "Are you done with work?"

"Yes."

"How many times did the chef say 'do it again' today?" he asks. "Did the number go down?"

You sigh. "Actually, it’s been going up."

Instead of comforting you, he scolds you. "You should be doing a better job. Imagine what it’d be like for him if you keep messing up while dating in that kitchen."

Betrayal stings at your chest. You grumble, "Whose side are you on, dad?"

Your dad ignores the question entirely. "When are you going to bring him over?"

Annoyed, you snap, "I don’t know." Then, without waiting for a response, you hang up and shove your phone back into your bag.

Minho smirks. "So, your dad is taking my side, huh?"

Then—he laughs, a devilish little sound that only annoys you more.

You groan, leaning against the cold metal wall. "All the men in my life are so annoying."

Minho’s smirk grows—until you add, "Except Chris."

The smirk instantly vanishes, he shot you an icy glare. "What did you just say?"

Before you can answer, the elevator dings open. You step out and stop to look over your shoulder as you call back, "I said you’re annoying."

And with that, you turn toward your apartment, leaving him behind.

...

Check TASTE MASTERLIST for more!

[gingerteafairy]

𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 + 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

𝐝𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐰𝐬𝐤𝐢 – 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

Dave would have nearly all the love languages, but these two fit him best. As Kick-Ass, he would go out of his way to solve conflicts in your life, often being a bit nosy. If he found out someone made you cry, that person could expect a serious conversation (a real talk—he couldn’t actually fight them). He loves hugs and never misses the chance, even when you’re busy. He adores studying and gaming with you on his lap. "Would you mind sitting on my lap? It's for my exam. Really important, okay?" #1 PDA king.

𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐞𝐢 𝐯𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐤𝐲 – 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡

Alexei would be the biggest fan of long night walks and picnics, where he could admire you and take in every detail of your world, from the sound of your laugh to the subtle way your breath deepens when he gets too close. If the conversation faded, he’d simply trace his fingers over your face, memorizing the texture of your skin and every hair in your brows, cherishing even the tiny imperfections you hated. "If you ever change, i fear that stars will fall with me to the ground. you're perfect this way."

𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞 – 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬

He loves holding hands and kissing, yet he’s not a fan of being overly clingy and prefers other ways to show affection. He’d write songs for you, teach you how to play bass, and share headphones with you. He’d love when you visited the shop but wouldn’t let you help with the heavy work—he didn’t want you to get overworked. "You can help the cashier. You're good with numbers, right? Always thought you were smarter than me."

𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐞𝐫 – 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬

Tom is used to being praised, he loves having his ego stroked. This carries over into how he handles romance, where he’s quick to compliment you without overthinking it. “That’s really good, you’ve got talent.” “You look great today—did you do something with your hair?” Random gifts? Absolutely. Part of it is because he had the money and liked showing off, but deep down, it was because he loved seeing your surprised smile. “This? Oh, just bought it on sale.” (5K dollar jacket.)

𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 – 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

Pietro is impulsive—his actions tend to come before he fully thinks things through. If someone upset you or made you insecure, even if it was in the past, he’d probably end up in a scuffle. Too tired to go grocery shopping? In a flash, he’d grab everything you need. Forgot to thaw the meat for dinner? No problem, he’d use physics to handle it in no time. "You saw that? Only for you, baby."

𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 – 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Because his job is so unpredictable, Tangerine prefers to show affection when he’s with you. He’d sit you on his lap and listen to you talk about what happened while he was gone. It was his way of forgetting all the work chaos and focusing on how normal life could still be. He even taught you how to trim his mustache just to have you close. And of course, he’d always compliment your talents, beauty, and everything you did—with that signature dirty mouth of his. “Shit, darlin'. You’re so fucking good for me. love ya."

masterlist

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Yuji itadori x tall reader head canons

♡ The moment Yuji lays eyes on you, it’s game over for him. You’re exactly his type tall, strong, blessed and he’s already imagining what your wedding photos would look like.

♡ He’s so confident when he confesses, too. Probably flashes you that goofy, boyish grin and says something like:

"Hey, I think you’re really cool. Wanna go out with me?"

And you? You look down at him (literally) and just go:

"Sorry, you’re too short."

Immediate psychological damage. Yuji.exe has stopped working.

He stands there, smiling on the outside but internally combusting.

"Too short? Too SHORT???"

But it gets worse. He asks, trying to salvage his pride:

"Then… what’s your type?"

And you, without hesitation:

"Todo."

MORTAL WOUND. DEATH. PAIN.

♡ Bro just got rejected and his best friend got praised in the same breath.

You walk away, completely unaware that you just shattered his entire ego.

Meanwhile, Yuji is standing there, staring at Todo from across the training field like a betrayed shonen protagonist.

♡ Cue maldative dreaming.

"so when I asked her out , she said I wasn't her type"

"I wish I was a little bit taller…"

"I wish I was a baller…"

"i wish I was 6 foot baller"

"I wish I had a girl , I'll call"

♡ He starts looking up height-enhancing exercises on Google. Hanging from bars, stretching his legs, drinking so much milk this man is on a mission.

♡ Considers asking Gojo if there’s a cursed technique that can make him taller.

At some point, Megumi just sighs and says:

"You’re never gonna be taller than Todo. Accept it."

Yuji refuses. He refuses.

♡ Starts wearing shoes with thick soles, hoping to gain even an inch.

♡ When you and Todo are sparring, and Todo lifts you effortlessly, Yuji is in the background dying inside.

♡ Eventually, he just stares at himself in the mirror like:

"Maybe she’ll fall for my personality instead… right?"

♡ Meanwhile, Todo has no idea any of this is happening. He’s just vibing, calling Yuji his besto friendo, completely oblivious to the emotional crisis happening next to him.

Wish granted

♡ After weeks of maldative dreaming, failed height-increasing attempts, and watching you simp for Todo, Yuji was ready to accept his fate.

But then, fate does him a solid.

♡Gojo sensei, in his infinite wisdom (or trolling tendencies), pairs you and Yuji as training partners for an entire month. (Fox he did that on purpose)

♡Yuji is initially like, “Oh god, this is gonna be painful.” He’s fully expecting you to talk about Todo 24/7 while he suffers in silence.

♡ But after a week of working together, he realizes something.

You’re actually… really cool.

Not just in a “wow, hot person” way but in a “holy shit, I really like talking to them” way.

You hype him up during training and laugh at his dumb jokes.

You don’t baby him you challenge him, push him to be stronger.

And when he actually manages to land a hit on you during sparring, you grin and say, “Damn, shortie’s fast.”

♡ Normally, the height comment would kill him. But… why is he blushing instead???

♡ Meanwhile, you? You were obsessed with Todo.

♡ But now? Yuji’s got you questioning everything.

♡ Like, why does his laugh make your chest feel weird?

♡ Why do you find yourself looking for him in a crowded room?

♡ And why, for the love of all things holy, do his stupid brown eyes make your heart race???

♡ Todo doesn’t even cross your mind anymore. Especially not when Yuji looks at you like that.

♡ It all officially clicks for both of you one night after an intense training session.

♡ You’re both exhausted, lying on the ground, staring at the sky. And out of nowhere, Yuji just mumbles:

“I don’t even care about being taller anymore… I just wanna be good enough for you.”

Your heart? Gone. Exploded.

You turn to face him, and without thinking, you say:

“You were always good enough, idiot.”

And then you kiss him.

Congratulations, Yuji. You may not have gotten taller…

But you got the girl.

This was inspired by this edit

AND THIS WAS REQUESTED IF U HAVE ABY REQUESTS PLESSE TELL.

[seancekitsch]

Oh can I request for Jayce? Maybe there's some miscommunication.

“I thought you said he liked me, Vik,” you hiss, voice low enough that the sound wouldn’t carry but loud enough still to convey your frustration. Viktor just rolls his eyes as he refuses to look up from his papers to talk to you.

“He does.”

That’s all you’re given, your only reassurance. Some help, you think.

You sneer at Viktor, all curled lips and furrowed brows as you get back to dumping out the old coffee grounds in the filters and restocking the sugars. You look over to Jayce, lovely handsome Jayce, who looks just as disgruntled as you. But what reason does he have to be so annoyed? Hextech has been making some nice breakthroughs lately. You on the other hand, just got snubbed by the guy you have feelings for.

It was unlike Jayce to be so terse, but lately all you’ve gotten from him are snappy comments and short clipped greetings. Gone apparently are the days where he would greet you with a hug or the warmest smile. Gone are the flirty comments or passing touches. Maybe he’s mad at you, or worse, he’s shacked up with someone else.

That would be your luck though: that Jayce had kissed you so sweetly after some wine one night and then proceeded to ignore you for two weeks straight. The nicest man in Piltover had kissed you and then decided you were worth avoiding.

The day stretches long into the evening, and you feel bad, really you do. You cannot help but continue to pester Viktor, as Jayce will barely spare you a glance. It’s unlike him, and it grates on you.

When one of the lamps starts to flicker, Viktor slams his notebook shut.

“I have to go, ah— sort out my medications,” Viktor announces, “I expect the two of you to fill the oil in the lamps before you go. You can do this, yes?”

Right, every two weeks he goes to see some nurse or something that he’s got the hots for. That’s exactly how you landed yourself in this predicament. Viktor leaves without waiting for your responses, his bag slung across his frame and his crutch tapping against the tile floor.

The lamp flickers again.

“I’ll handle it, you can go,” Jayce offers, practically gesturing to your belongings to gather them up.

“It’s fine, really. It’ll get done faster if we work together,” you insist, reaching into one of the lower cupboards for where you keep the oil. More than once you’d accidentally kicked and shattered one of the bottles, yet none of you have moved their storage.

“I really don’t mind if—“

“Why don’t you want me around anymore?” your mouth works faster than your mind, and you blurt the words out.

“That’s not true!” Jayce looks genuinely upset by your words, as if his actions haven’t been telling a different story, “I always want you around.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“It sure doesn’t feel that way. I’ll put in paperwork to transfer labs if I’m really that big of a pain to you,” you tell him, not at all trying to hide your scowl.

Jayce continues to look around, at your face, the ground, the lamps, his eyes becoming a little frantic

“I— I feel bad, okay?” Jayce stumbles over his words slightly, “Okay I shouldn’t have kissed you that night.”

Okay, ouch. That stings way more than it should. Tears prick at your eyes, stinging as they mix with your mascara.

“Then why did you?” there’s no anger left in your voice, no fight. You’re defeated. You’re going to have to ask Viktor for help finding a different lab to transfer to.

“Because it felt right, but now you’re with Vik. I shouldn’t get in the way of that!”

You can’t help the laugh that again leaves your lips. With Viktor? You? You laugh harder, grabbing the edge of the table as it escapes you.

“I’m not— really? You think I’m dating him?”

Jayce looks offended, saving face he offers an explanation.

“Well you’re always talking to each other. I notice the way you whisper when you think I’m not looking,” Jayce explains, you you want to hit the both of you. You’ve been actively trying to dress up and bat your eyelashes at Jayce and he’s been thinking that you’ve done it to impress Viktor. We’re both fucking idiots, you think.

“We’re whispering about you! Viktor’s seeing some woman that helps him with his medicine. I’ve been driving him insane asking about how to impress you,” you explain, a tear leaving your eye out of sheer exasperation at the entire situation.

“But you already impress me.”

“And I’m not dating Viktor, but I want to date you.”

Jayce steps forward, his hand reaching for your shoulder as he pulls you to his chest in a hug. His arms are warm as they wrap around your waist and squeeze.

“I’m so glad I’m not being a bad friend right now,” Jayce sighs, pressing his lips to your temple.

“Shut up,” you laugh, your hands grabbing the collar of his shirt, wrinkling the material as you pull him down to your level.

“We have two weeks of being stupid to make up for.”

His lips find yours as one of the lamps in the lab dies and bathes you in the darkness.

[bradleysass]

Minerva McGonagall - @into-the-jeggyverse - wc: 531

James Potter had acquired a shadow. A small, scruffy, grey-furred shadow with sharp green eyes and an uncanny knack for appearing whenever he least expected it. It had been two weeks since the stray cat first showed up on the Hogwarts grounds, and for some unfathomable reason, it had taken a liking to him.

"It’s McGonagall," James insisted, flopping down onto the Gryffindor common room couch, the cat hopping up beside him with a regal air. "She’s finally had enough of my nonsense and decided she needs to keep an eye on me at all times."

"McGonagall has plenty of ways to spy on you without turning into a stray cat, mate," Sirius said, flicking a balled-up bit of parchment at the feline, which ignored him entirely in favor of butting its head against James' hand.

"I dunno," Peter mused, watching as James absentmindedly scratched behind the cat’s ears. "The way she looks at you does feel a little...judgmental."

Remus snorted. "That’s just how all cats look."

James, however, wasn’t convinced. The cat had appeared out of nowhere, was oddly intelligent, and always seemed to be present when he was getting into mischief. It followed him to class, waited outside the Quidditch changing rooms, and even somehow ended up in his dormitory on multiple occasions despite the Fat Lady swearing she never let it in.

And, most suspiciously, whenever he was with Regulus Black, the cat became even more persistent.

"She doesn’t trust me," James muttered under his breath one evening, standing in a tucked-away corridor as Regulus leaned against the stone wall, arms crossed. The cat sat primly by his feet, watching them with a critical gleam in its green eyes.

"Who doesn’t trust you?" Regulus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"McGonagall."

Regulus blinked. "What?"

James gestured at the cat. "She’s been following me around. I think she knows about—" He gestured vaguely between the two of them. "You know. Us. And she’s waiting for me to mess up."

Regulus rolled his eyes, but there was a faint flush on his cheeks. "You’re an idiot, Potter."

"Am I?" James pointed at the cat. "Look at her! Tell me that’s not the expression of a professor who is very, very disappointed in me."

Regulus sighed, crouching down and holding out a hand. To James’ utter shock, the cat immediately walked over and rubbed against it, purring. Regulus scratched its head, looking entirely unimpressed. "This is a normal cat. An actual cat. One that happens to like you because you feed it and let it sleep on your bed."

James frowned. "But—"

Regulus stood, stepping closer, his voice quieter now. "If McGonagall was keeping an eye on you, do you really think she’d just sit there and watch you try to kiss me in an empty corridor?"

James opened his mouth, then shut it as Regulus smirked, leaning in just a little bit closer.

The cat flicked its tail.

"Right, okay, so maybe not McGonagall," James admitted. "But I swear, she’s up to something."

Regulus just rolled his eyes, pulling James in by the collar. "Shut up and kiss me, Potter."

The cat, despite all of James’ prior concerns, did not intervene.