#but still..... so much to consider here really

[meowcats734]

I think there was a push about fifty years ago, when the manifold egg hatched and modern computation was kickstarted, to categorize all the neighboring dimensions that wizards could reach unassisted. The last remnants of that eternal endeavor had died down when we collected all the data and realized that there were no reliable accounts of ever opening a portal to the same dimension twice. And it really sucked that nobody from our world would ever get to return here, for two reasons. The first was that we wouldn’t get any subsidies from the Orchards for a record of our experience.

The second was that this forest was beautiful, and I wished I could return.

The tree trunks were several meters thick and ten times that distance apart, giving Ana and I a lovely view of the ceiling of undulating leaves. They formed fractal borders that reminded me of countries, or cracks in glass, each greatwood declaring its own patch of sun to be harvested.

Ana glanced up, following my gaze, then resumed scanning her surroundings. Her only weapon was a long bone spear, which would leave us hopelessly outmatched against any inhabitants of this dimension who had built technology based on this world’s physics.

Thankfully, none of the formicine creatures who’d come to meet us seemed hostile. They’d made a path straight to where the last person to come from our dimension was staying, and walled off every other direction with a thin, translucent film. The message was clear: the natives of this world were happy to let us retrieve members of our home reality, but anything beyond that was off-limits.

Which I was fine with. Coaxing rogue spectives back into society was how I stayed fed and housed. It just saddened me that I couldn’t sightsee even a little.

Ana swiveled as a titanic, feathered form rustled in a nearby tree, spear ready, and for a heartbeat I thought we’d come across some gigantic sparrow giving birth. A moment’s observation, however, showed that the second, smaller creature was burrowing into the still-living bird, ignoring its thrashing. 

The dog-sized squirrel finished melding with the bird, wearing it on its back like a hermit crab did its shell. Silver hairs snaked upwards from the squirrel’s form, digging into the poor bird’s eyes, and it ceased its thrashing before mechanically extending its wings. Its takeover complete, the composite being flapped off into the air, swooping up past the trees.

I watched the entire process with wide, fascinated eyes—if phones weren’t likely to either violently explode or simply cease functioning upon being brought outside our universe, I would have snapped a photo. “That was sick,” I whispered to Ana.

“Ngh.” She set her spear back into a ready position. “Let’s get out of this dimension as soon as possible.”

My enthusiasm melted away a little. “Hey, Ana? Did I do something—“

“Not the time,” she said brusquely. I hurried to catch up with her, chewing on my lip. We passed by a bloom of pale, wriggling grasses whose mouths opened and closed aimlessly; Ana warily navigated us around them, some of the tension leaving her body when we were past. We’d hardly gotten by the grasses when Ana held out a hand for me to stop, and I obeyed. Ignoring your girlfriend and ignoring your bodyguard separately were two imbecilic things; doing both simultaneously was not to be so much as considered.

The ground looked perfectly normal to me, but Ana poked it with a wooden touchstick and scowled. I was about to ask what was wrong when she jabbed the earth with the tip of her spear, and with a yip of pain the ground imploded. Some kind of fox had apparently turned itself inside-out and laid in wait for an unwary meal, because what I’d thought was more dirt and soil turned out to be the guts of a fox who scurried away, slurping its bleeding insides back into its unhinged, rubbery jaw.

“You didn’t have to stab it,” I weakly said.

“Would you rather it ate you?” Ana snapped—and since when did Ana snap at me?

I hesitantly set a hand on her arm, and she flinched, giving me an ashamed look. “Did I… did I mess up somehow?” I asked.

“No! No, you’re perfect, you didn’t do anything wrong, I’m the one who’s yelling at you and—agh!” She grabbed her hair. “Can you get mad at me? Just a little?”

“What?” I drew her into a hug, at which she stiffened. “No! Why would I be mad at you?”

She pulled away and I let her; she scanned the forest for threats once more, almost automatically. There was a squawk as the inverted fox devoured what appeared to be a rabbit, but was actually just a lure for an oversized underground owl. All I saw was a flash of beak and the fox disappeared.

“Because I’m—this! The only thing I can think about is what’s going to kill us, and—ugh, I’m doing it again. I—let’s just keep going, okay?”

“Okay, but… can we talk about this after the job?” I asked, stepping to her side.

But instead of agreeing or refusing, she inhaled, sharp and pained as if she’d stepped on a caltrop, and said, “You’re right.”

“Huh?”

“If I put this off again I’ll never tell you. Now’s as good a time as any, and that’s the problem.”

I almost wanted to ask if she wanted to double back and call off the job, but she felt brittle and I didn’t want to push her. “What do you mean?”

“I never stop being—this.” She gestured at the bone spear. “Even when you just wanted to show me a good time, something in the back of my mind kept looking for threats, something that would hurt us, something to hurt. And I—I’m not good for anything else.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Anachel.” I stepped up to her chest; her downcast gaze met mine. “You’re good for me.”

“Am I?” She clutched her head. “I could say something right now that would hurt you. Hurt you so badly you’d hate me.”

“You won’t,” I promised. “Ana, I will never hate you.” 

And something twisted behind her eyes, the violent instinct of the first punch thrown, the heady call of a bridge’s ledge, and Ana spoke three words and I flinched as if slapped—

A.N.

This is part of a longer story, check out the rest below if you liked this one!

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imagine if the oceans were replaced by forests and if you went into the forest the trees would get taller the deeper you went and there’d be thousands of undiscovered species and you could effectively walk across the ocean but the deeper you went, the darker it would be and the animals would get progressively scarier and more dangerous and instead of whales there’d be giant deer and just wow

[bucketbueckers]

TEAM BUECKERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, kinda silly, kinda rushed

wc: 5.9k

synopsis: For you and Paige, the line between “friends” and “something more” wasn’t always this blurry. You weren’t quite sure how you got here, and if you were being completely honest, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to ever cross that line fully. It’s not until Paige ropes you into a Valentine’s Day couples contest you realize, with the two of you, that line never really existed at all.

notes: happy (late) valentines day 😋 yes i'm posting this after midnight on february 15 and yes i tried my best to get this out on the 14th when it was, you know, actually valentines day, but i fumbled majorly and im like 50% sorry. not proofread bc im sleepy. i lowkey don't know how to feel about this but i think the end makes up for it but i had an idea for this and it honestly derailed. i still don't know how taglists work (if you've asked and you're not on here, i'm sorry i will just throw up and die if i tag someone who doesn't actually want to be tagged in all of my works i hope u understand, pls be super specific my brain doesn't function like it used to) uhhh so yeah lmk what we think & happy vday 🫶

tags: @jnkbueckers

You and Paige weren’t always like this. There used to be a clear boundary in your friendship, a strictly platonic one where her embrace didn’t make your heart race and where her mischievous smile didn’t fill you with an exasperation that bordered on endearment. You didn’t always wear her jersey at games, didn’t always keep her favorite ice cream stocked in your apartment for nights she came over to binge watch the same show the both of you have probably seen a combined thousand times, didn’t always confuse where you begin or where she ends. There used to be a time where the two of you weren’t so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives. 

If anyone asked, you wouldn’t be able to identify when everything shifted – when your feelings transformed into what they are now. It just happened. The realization was as easy as waking up next to her on the couch, your legs tangled under a blanket far too small for the both of you, her arm tight around your waist to prevent you from falling off of the cushions entirely. It was as easy as the spare toothbrush you keep in your bathroom because she sleeps over so often, as easy as the drawer you have in her room because sometimes her dorm is just closer than your apartment.

So maybe it was kind of inevitable that ‘you and Paige’ turned into a ‘You & Paige.’ The two of you have a simple understanding. You keep her grounded, she encourages you to dream a little bigger. You talk, she listens. You round each other out in so many ways that you’re not the least bit surprised by how many people think that you and Paige are dating. If anything, they’re more surprised when you correct them, saying, “She’s just my best friend.”

You’re content to take your feelings for her to the grave. Maybe you would get over her eventually. She’s Paige Bueckers. She has a national championship and the upcoming draft to focus on and you have your senior thesis due at the end of the semester. The both of you have a lot on your plates – you care for her too much to complicate things for her, even if that means putting your own feelings on the back-burner.

You’re sitting on your couch, twelve pages into your paper, sifting through the twenty-eight (yes, twenty-eight) tabs you have open for your research when you hear your door knob jiggle. You don’t think too much of it, trying to stay focused on the task in front of you before you give up and start scrolling through social media again. However, your discipline doesn’t last for too long because the familiar rhythm of footsteps could only belong to one person. You look up to find Paige making her way into your living room like she owns the place (which she may as well, considering how often she’s around), depositing her duffle bag on the armchair. You greet her, returning to your work, but you feel the couch dip under her weight as she takes a seat next to you.

And then she sighs. Loudly. Dramatically, like she’s begging for your attention. Like you’re not busy. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, finding her staring straight at you, but she says nothing. A few beats pass. You add a new sentence to your paper, pausing to go back and find the reference page. She sighs again, more purpose and intent behind it this time, and your lips quirk slightly. Still, she says nothing, and the silence stretches on for so long that you’re sure she’s given up on trying to annoy you.

You write one more sentence before she leans over, sprawling out across your body, chin pressing into your keyboard. Your eye twitches as a long string of ‘M’s takes over your Word document. Paige sighs again, sounding forlorn, like a kicked puppy, and you know you’re not going to get anything done unless you entertain her.

“Okay,” you say, pulling your computer out from under her head, making sure to save your paper before you close the lid. “What’s wrong?”

Her face brightens almost immediately. “I am so glad you asked,” she states. “So, I’m walkin’ through campus today, right?”

“As one does.”

She hums. “And there’s a shit ton of tabling outside the student union. Frats, clubs, some vegan guy giving out pamphlets –”

“Paige,” you interrupt, raising a brow. “The point?”

“Oh.” She nods, collecting her thoughts. “So there was this club – forgot who they were, lowkey, there was a lot of letters – but on Friday, they’re hostin’ a Valentine’s Day contest and the first place prize is insane. I’m talking gift cards, cookie decorating kits, I think there was even a coupon in there for a fucking spa trip, or some shit, but you get the point, yeah? I wanted to sign us up for it.”

You had to admit – you were a little intrigued by it. Between your class work and Paige and her teammates giving you an aneurysm every week, you were in dire need of a spa trip and a little bit of relaxation. But more than anything else in the world, you knew Paige. You recognized that gleam in her expression – it was a feigned nonchalance, like she was being slick and trying to hide it. “What’s the catch?” you ask bluntly.

She laughs, the sound more surprised than amused, and her head shifts in your lap to gaze up at you. You try to ignore the way it sets off a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “What makes you think there’s a catch?” she asks.

“You’re Paige Bueckers,” you state. “There’s always a catch. Like I knew there was a catch when you asked me if I would hide fourteen blonde wigs in my apartment.”

“They were for CD!” she argues. You narrow your eyes at her and she huffs a little, amused, her lips quirking into a radiant smile. “A’ight. I guess you got a point.” You hum, because of course you do. Her expression turns serious as she sighs, for real this time. “It’s a couple’s contest,” she admits. “But hear me out, okay?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” you grumble, but your mind is racing.

“There’s a couple rounds,” she explains. “Like, the first round is trivia. How well do you know your partner, type shit. They score you, then they eliminate the people who don’t know shit about their partners. Second round is teamwork. They’ll give you a couple of puzzles and the most points will go to the teams who work well together and solve the puzzle quickly. More eliminations, then the partners are separated and they’re asked questions about each other – about what, I’on know. That should be the final round of eliminations and then the remaining couples are ranked based on points and prizes are given. Light work.”

“Light work?” you echo, a little self-deprecating. “Paige, we aren’t a couple.”

“Well, not exactly,” she concedes. “But we know each other pretty well. And can you really say no to the spa coupon?”

You bite your lip, sighing as you truly contemplate it. She’s got you there. The prize itself is worth the heartache that will come with pretending like you and Paige are actually dating. “You sure we can handle it?” you ask.

She pats your side, almost ignorant of the way it sends electricity coursing down your spine. “Duh,” she says like it’s obvious, her lips growing into a confident, assured smile. “We’re a dream team, baby. We got this.”

You could only hope so.

You nervously adjust your dress as you and Paige stand outside of the large room that the Valentine’s Day contest was taking place in. You spent the entire week leading up to Valentine’s Day an anxious wreck – part of you was worried that you would slip up and say something that you would come to regret, maybe say something a little too real. You had to keep reminding yourself that you and Paige were playing a part and once that gift basket was in your hands, then things could go back to normal. 

The two of you dedicated the better part of the week to perfecting your cover story. How you met, where you met, how long you’ve been together, all of the cheesy romance milestone moments that you were certain you’d be asked about. You mutually decided to not get too creative as maintaining the lie would become even more difficult, but you were confident in your ability to sell a story.

“You ready?” Paige asks you, drawing you from your racing thoughts as she squeezes your hand gently. You didn’t even realize her hand had slipped into yours. Now that you’re aware of it, it’s all you can think of. Her hand is strong, enveloping yours completely, and it brings you a calming peace you weren’t even aware that you’d been seeking out. Feeling yourself relax, you meet her eyes and nod, trying not to smile too hard when she beams at you.

As she leads the two of you inside the auditorium, you do your best to not stare too much at her. She’s dressed simply yet elegantly; donning a fitting suit that’s a light pink in color in honor of the occasion, the fluorescent lights overhead reflecting off of her stunning chains and the rings adorning her fingers. Her hair is tied back in her formal slick-back, the diamonds in her ears sparkling, and you really have to drag your eyes off of her. You’d already spent so much of the drive over staring at her and you’re sure she’d caught you a few times but was too nice to say anything to you.

The event had a decent turn out. You count fourteen couples at most, fifteen including you and Paige, although you couldn’t really tell if that was good or bad. Beating fourteen other real, actual, dedicated, in-love couples was totally manageable. So what if you and Paige weren’t actually together, but you were the most convincing pair of best friends the world had ever seen? She said you could do it, and damn it if you weren’t going to get that spa treatment.

The auditorium, however, was decorated to the nines. Lights and streamers were strewn about, various complementing shades of pinks and lilacs matching the Valentine’s Day themes. The tables were covered in pink tablecloths with gorgeous centerpieces. Honestly, you had to give props where they were due – this club has gone all out for this Valentine’s Day event, although you’re sure they probably splurged their semesterly budget on all of the amenities.

Before you or Paige have the chance to say anything to each other, you’re approached by a young woman wearing a pink polo shirt with the club's name and logo emblazoned on the chest. UConn, UMatter. You glance quickly at Paige, trying not to let the amusement show on your face as you remember her words – ‘There was a lot of letters.’ She was so full of shit. “Hi guys!” the young woman greets enthusiastically. “Thanks so much for signing up. What’s the last name?”

“Bueckers.”

The girl nods, scanning her clipboard before finding Paige’s name. “Okay, perfect. Let me show you guys to your table.” She leads you diligently through the room, craning her head over her shoulder to explain. “Madelyn’s gonna be around soon to walk you guys through the trivia section once we start, alright? She’ll let you guys know everything you need.”

You and Paige thank the club member and she offers you two one last smile as the two of you sit down next to each other. Paige’s hand finds your knee, almost subconsciously, and you try to find your dignity. It’s then that you notice the placecard in front of you – elegant script reading TEAM BUECKERS. With a quiet laugh, you nudge Paige’s elbow, drawing her attention to the paper. “‘Team Bueckers,’ huh?” you ask her teasingly. “You forget about me?”

“Never,” she swears. “I think they assign the names based on who registered. Trust me, I had a name lined up and everything. We were gonna be PB & Slay.”

You snort. “I’m Slay?”

“No,” she deadpans. “You’re PB. Keep up, please.”

“Of course,” you say obviously, like it’s definitely your fault. “I’ll do better next time.” She squeezes your knee under the table, smiling wryly at you.

Once everyone filters in, the girl who’d greeted you at the door makes her way to the front of the room, adjusting the microphone. She introduces herself as the president of the UConn, UMatter club, explaining some of their objectives and goals for the spring semester – you tune out a lot of it, which you’ll probably feel bad for later, but you weren’t here for the club recruitment. You were here for the pedicure that was calling your name this weekend. She makes it through the rest of her opening remarks, officially announcing the beginning of the first challenge: trivia. Several club members make their way to designated tables and a short, brunette girl takes a seat in front of you and Paige.

“Hey, guys,” she says, grinning widely and handing the both of you dry erase boards and a marker each. “I’m Madelyn. I’m gonna walk the two of you through today’s challenges. We’ll go back and forth – you answer one, then the other, so on and so forth. If your answers are the same, then you’ll get a point. Ready?” You and Paige hum affirmatively. “Alright. Question for Paige – when is your partner’s birthday?”

Paige huffs, her lips quirking into a smile as she uncaps her marker. “Light work,” she murmurs as she writes her answer down. “It’s a national holiday.” You roll your eyes as Madelyn laughs. Paige flips the dry erase board around, showcasing it to you and Madelyn, and you nod as Madelyn awards you both one point.

“Same question for you,” Madelyn says to you. “When is Paige’s birthday?”

You uncap your marker and write down your answer. October 20, 2001. “The world hasn’t known peace since,” you murmur under your breath, drawing laughter from Paige. You flip your board around and Paige nods smugly.

“Two for two,” Madelyn states. “Next question for Paige. What trait of yours is your partner’s favorite?”

You and Paige exchange a glance, her brow raising teasingly. She writes down her answer and you do the same, eventually flipping your boards over for the reveal. The two of you hadn’t exactly prepared well to answer this one, so you were hoping that you and Paige were on the same wavelength. You lean forward, glancing at her whiteboard, and smiling with relief when you see her answer: she likes my energy. Paige’s smile is smug, but there’s an underlying softness in her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me,” you huff, trying to explain. “You just — you have this way about you, like you’re kind, warm, you make people smile, and you always support them. You’re just genuinely good and, I don’t know, I really like that about you.”

Paige’s smile isn’t any less confident, although she seems a little bashful now, her cheeks tinging pink. “Three for three.” she says.

Madelyn tries to stifle her grin, but it’s clearly not working. “Next question is for you. When Paige is having a rough time, how do you help her relax?”

“With great difficulty,” you gripe, making Paige and Madelyn snort as you write your actual answer. By forcing her to chill the fuck out. You and Paige flip your boards, hers reading a much politer She makes me do nothing all day. Madelyn nods, awarding you the point, but you hardly pay her any mind as you meet Paige’s eyes. “You do too much,” you say, which makes her groan. “You overwork yourself and you microdose a burnout and I have to make you sit down and remember that you’re human.”

“You’re worse than me!” she points out.

You sniff. “This is about you,” you declare, “not me.” Paige rolls her eyes fondly, but she can’t help her laughter. 

“Next question,” Madelyn says, grinning. “Paige, what did you guys do on your first date?”

This was a question that the two of you had prepared for. You both decided that a little bit of the truth went a long way and the truth was that you and Paige had no shortage of quasi-dates that you could easily draw from. You tried not to think too hard about that as the two of you write down your answers. You turn your boards, revealing similar responses of ‘we went to her dorm and made dinner together after one of her games.’

You glance at Paige and she sighs. “Don’t start,” she pleads. 

“I’m actually a little invested now,” Madelyn chirps, which makes you grin and makes Paige bury her head in her hands. 

“All I’ll say is that Paige shouldn’t be in the kitchen without supervision but I really admire her, um, willingness to get creative,” you say kindly. Your best friend pinches your thigh under the table and you jerk back, laughing. Not wanting to embarrass her in front of a stranger, you leave it at that, although you smile at Paige like you’re the only two at the table. “I had a good time, though. She made it memorable.” She smiles back at you, something tender that has your heart constricting. 

The both of you knew the truth, though. Paige was not a good cook. She doesn’t make terrible food — dinner was delicious, but Paige is chaotic and an actual hazard. Watching her chop an onion hurt something deep inside you although she’d seemed so proud of herself. You didn’t have the heart to make fun of her. 

“Five for five,” Madelyn says, drawing your attention back to her. “Next question for you. Who confessed to who?”

You and Paige lock eyes again, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, and you write down her name. You turn your boards, Paige’s name written on the both of them and you smile to yourself. “She was pretty oblivious,” Paige says, referring to you, and your smile falls as your jaw hits the ground. “I dropped so many hints and she just didn’t pick up on them. I eventually got tired—”

“Desperate,” you cut in. 

“Tired,” she emphasizes, smirking at you, “so I planned out this huge romantic thing and at the end, she still didn’t understand so I told her straight up.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe you’re just not as slick as you think,” you tell her. 

“Nah,” Paige says. “I’m super romantical.”

“Sure,” you concede. 

Madelyn stifles her smile. “Alright. Two more questions for both of you. Paige, what is your partner’s pet peeve?”

“If you get this wrong,” you grumble, hearing Paige snicker as the two of you write down your answers. After you flip your boards, she grins proudly when your answers line up. 

“She hates not being taken seriously,” Paige recites. “She’s an English major. People always think it’s just easy or unimportant shit, like reading and writing papers, but she actually does a lot of interesting analysis and stuff that I never even considered. I’ll admit I was a little ignorant but she set me straight.”

“Wait, I didn’t know you thought that,” you say, honestly confused. 

She shrugs, a little bashful. “I talk a lot but I listen. Sometimes when you leave the room, I’ll read your paper just so I can ask better questions. You get all… glowy. And… I’on know. I like seeing you happy.”

You blink once at her, genuinely touched, and if you weren’t head over heels for Paige before then you definitely are now. She squeezes your knee again, her smile crooked yet tender. Damn it. You are hopeless. 

“That’s so sweet.” You’re a little shocked by Madelyn’s voice, but you clear your throat, refocusing. “Next one for you. What’s Paige’s least favorite season?”

“That’s easy,” you say, writing your answer down. Paige does the same. When you flip your boards, you glance at Paige’s, smiling wryly. “Paige hates spring. She has really bad allergies and all of the pollen is honestly a death sentence, so she’ll get all congested and sneezy and will spend a good two weeks bitching about it and how it makes her Jeep dirty.”

You glance at Paige, waiting for her to say something, but she just shrugs with a smug expression. “Last question for Paige,” Madelyn says. “What is something your partner does to show her love for you?”

Neither of you say anything, but Paige stares at you thoughtfully, another silent conversation passing between you. You don’t need to think about your answer as you write it down. On cue, you both flip your boards, Paige’s reading simply, She takes care of me. You can’t help the way your heart swells, a fond smile overtaking your face. “Before you, I wasn’t really the… you know, the receiver, I guess. Always in control, always expected to lead. You make me feel like I can just be me, which is really hard sometimes.” Paige laughs off the vulnerability, but you see right through it – the painful honesty.

“We’re equals,” you remind her, nudging her leg with your knee. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice soft as she gazes at you. “I’m glad that we do.”

You spot Madelyn out of the corner of your eye, which sobers you up quickly. She smiles. “You guys are so cute,” she gushes. “Final question for you and we’re done with this round. What is Paige’s love language?”

You feel Paige’s stare on you as you write, but you don’t glance back at her. You can hear the scribble of her marker, her capping it. When you’re finished, you finally look at her, taking in the soft expression on her face, and despite yourself, a smile grows on your face too. Together, you turn your boards, your answers being the exact same once more — quality time and physical touch. “Ten for ten, baby,” you croon, raising your hand for her to smack her palm against.

“Great job!” Madelyn says. “Let me just go submit these scores and I’ll be back to walk you guys through the puzzle round after eliminations. Sit tight.” She offers the two of you a quick grin before she’s walking off.

“Ten for ten,” Paige repeats, nudging you a little. “We’re like that?”

“I guess we’re actually kinda good at this friends thing,” you retort, although part of you wishes you were anything but.

Paige’s subsequent grin is far too knowing, like she has a trick up her sleeve. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh a little under your breath, adjusting your dress and leaning back in your chair to get comfortable. Before you know it, the scores are officially in. You and Paige had a perfect one, so you weren’t all too worried about getting eliminated in the first round, but five unlucky couples ended up leaving. The two of you watched from afar, trying not to stare too hard at the retreating couples, although they made it hard. One girl walked out crying, gesturing wildly as her partner trailed behind her, a desperate expression on her face. Another one was pure anger, slamming the door behind her. You didn’t think that this club contest would get people so riled up, but you considered that it was probably the realization that your partner truly didn’t know anything about you. You just lucked out with Paige – she understood you.

Madelyn returns quickly and cuts straight to the point. She instructs you and Paige to stand up, handing the both of you a towel, and adjusts your arms until you’re holding the towels perpendicular to each other, almost intertwined. “The goal here is to separate from each other, but it can be tricky because the towels will tangle you up. We’re looking to see how fast you can solve this puzzle and how well the two of you work together. Are you guys ready?” You and Paige nod and Madelyn grins again. “Alright. You can start.”

Instantly, the room around you two is sheer pandemonium. The couples around you are moving quickly, trying to untangle themselves, but it’s clear that the panic is settling in. You and Paige exchange a glance, laughing to each other softly. “Game plan?” she asks you.

“We need to get these like…not perpendicular,” you offer helpfully, and Paige nods, adjusting her arms. The angle change makes your towels bunch up and twist at their centers.

“Spin around,” she instructs. You do as so, the towels untwisting around the middle. You pause to analyze your situation, trying to plan out the moves in your head as Paige does the same.

“Okay, bring your towel over my head and let me step through it.” After that move, the both of you glance down, taking in your situation.

Paige hums. “The rest is easy,” she says. You nod in agreement, a silent understanding passing between the two of you and you move in tandem, twisting and shifting and stepping up until you’re both finally separating from each other in record time, having completed the puzzle. “We’re like that?” she asks you again, her expression smug and satisfied in a way that’s only comparable to when she’s on the court and her lips are curling after sinking a contested three point shot.

“Dream team,” you remind her, letting the victory wash over you, clapping your hand against hers, although she doesn’t immediately release you, squeezing your hand with a proud smile.

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen anyone solve it that quickly,” Madelyn admits. “Or that calmly.” As soon as she says it, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention. There’s one couple that are twisted so unnaturally that it looks like they’re playing Twister, but it seems that the girl gets tired of the shenanigans because she drops her towel and storms out with a frustrated yell. “Case in point.”

You laugh and Madelyn walks away again to tally the points and make their final eliminations. Once everything is set, five couples remain out of the initial fifteen. After the last challenge, two couples will be eliminated once more and the remaining three will be given prizes in order of points. You and Paige were determined to finish strong – if the first two challenges were any indicator, you two had this in the bag. True to Paige’s word, the couples were being split up for the last challenge, and she offers you a competitive smile as Madelyn whisks her away.

You pass the time on your phone although Paige isn’t gone for long. However, what does shock you is the sudden bashfulness that’s clear as day on her features, like the last challenge had made her confess something important or she had to be vulnerable. You can’t help the sudden worry that seizes your body, but Paige rests a hand on your hip, squeezing you once with a confident smile. It couldn’t be that bad.

Madelyn leads you into an adjacent room where the president of the club is sitting at a table waiting for you. She smiles when you enter, motioning to the seat across from her, and it feels strangely like entering the principal’s office in elementary school, like you’re in trouble for something. The club president doesn’t spare any time for pleasantries and instead cuts right to the chase, something that you’re grateful for.

“I’m not gonna take up anymore of your time, but after seeing you and your partner perform so well in this contest, I only have two questions for you,” she explains. “This is our second year running this contest and no one has scored as high as you two have, which is kind of insane because the third round scores haven’t been added yet.” You smile politely, honestly unsure of what to say, but the club president continues. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Going on three months,” you respond, thinking back to the timeline you and Paige had agreed on, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. You are a little surprised by how real your next words feel. “We were best friends for a really long time before then – we still are. Paige is just…that kind of person that makes you feel like you’ve spent forever with her, you know?”

The club president hums, agreeing. She pauses before glancing up at you, studying your features. “What’s something that you haven’t told your girlfriend, but you would want her to know?”

You hardly need the time to think about your answer, responding, “That I love her.” The club president’s expression softens, a smile growing on her face. “We haven’t, um, gotten there yet, but I mean it. I wanna make it perfect for her. She’s given so much to me in the short time we’ve been together and in the time we were friends. And she just…she means everything to me.”

She smiles. “I think you guys are perfect for each other.”

Despite yourself, you smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “I think so, too.”

After your solo questioning wraps up, you meet Paige at your table and you offer her a bashful grin, similar to the one she’d offered you when she returned. You don’t have the chance to say anything else to her as the final round of eliminations are being announced. You and Paige are spared, which doesn’t surprise you, and the two eliminated couples take their loss with dignity as they exit. Paige links her hand with yours – final three. In third place, Team Parker. In second…Team Hayes, which means that first place can only be –

“Team Bueckers.”

You and Paige relax immediately, high fiving each other in celebration. What you’re not fully expecting is the tight hug that Paige pulls you into, whispering a fond good job into your ear, although you can’t help the way you soften, sinking into her embrace. She leads you to the center of the room to collect your goodie basket. The various club members send you off with their congratulations, too, and you pretend to not notice the slick wink that Madelyn shoots you as you and Paige walk out.

The night air is cool, making you shiver slightly, and Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s sliding off her blazer and settling it over your shoulders. You smile gently at her. “You won’t be cold?” you murmur.

“Nah,” she promises, nudging you. “I can handle it. You, though? I’on know.”

“That’s no way to treat someone who just won you these spa coupons,” you say, reaching into the gift basket to wave said coupons in the air. “C’mon, I clutched up, you can’t lie. And to think you wouldn’t have even had a partner for this if you didn’t rope me into it. I think we played our parts pretty well.”

Paige laughs gently, a tinkling sound that carries over the drag of the wind. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she asks, but there’s no true offense behind her words.

You stare at her in confusion. “Get what?” you respond.

“Do you remember that question Madelyn asked you earlier?” Paige says, her steps slowing, tilting her head down to look at you. The street lights reflect off of her face so beautifully, the blue of her eyes illuminated by the soft light. You can’t help the way your heart constricts at the sight. “‘Who confessed to who?’” You hum, urging her to go on. “You remember what I said? That you were oblivious and I dropped a lot of hints you didn’t pick up on?”

The gears in your brain spin for a few revolutions before everything clicks into place. “Oh my God,” you breathe out. “Are you–”

“Confessing?” she says, her lips quirking into a smile. “Yeah.”

“You dropped hints before?”

“So many,” she confirms.

“Oh my God,” you say again. You stop in your tracks, prompting her to do the same. The expression on her face is endlessly amused. “You planned a huge romantic thing – this?”

She shrugs. “The contest was the club’s shit, but yeah. I planned on asking you to come with me to this. I didn’t actually care about the prize, but the coupons are pretty sweet, right?”

You shake your head, ignoring her rambling. “You planned a huge romantic thing, but I still didn’t get it at the end, so you told me straight up,” you finish, partly in disbelief. “You think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” you accuse, which just makes her break out into laughter. “You literally sat next to me and told me exactly how you were going to ask me out and I didn’t know? And not only did you do that, but you were right about it?”

“I know you,” Paige says a little smugly. “And I told you that I could be romantical.”

“You are such a pain in my ass,” you whisper, but her arm is slinking around your waist, pulling you into her body as she grins insufferably, and you let yourself be pulled, your hands resting on her chest. “You are literally so annoying.”

Her nose brushes yours as she inches a little closer. “You know what they asked me in the final round?” she says, her voice loud enough for only you to hear. You nod. “They said, ‘What’s something you haven’t told your partner, but you’d like to?’”

“Funny,” you say. “They asked me the same thing.”

She smiles at you. “I told them I’d tell you that I love you,” she confesses.

Your cheeks burn as you register her words. “Funny,” you say again. “I told them the same thing.”

Her expression shifts, something like relief flashing in her eyes, something tender in her gaze. “Did you?”

“Well, I told them that’s what I would tell my girlfriend,” you trail off intentionally. “Seeing as I don’t currently have one of those…”

“Don’t play,” Paige murmurs, squeezing your hip gently, drawing a laugh from you. “Be mine?”

“You gonna share those coupons?”

Her eyes are bright when she responds. “I’on even care about them. Just want you.”

“You’ve got me.”

That promise is all she needs. She smiles at you, happiness in her features, and she doesn’t waste any time before she’s leaning in fully, her lips finding yours. You’re eagerly responding, melting into her as her arm tightens around your waist. You loop yours around her neck, standing on the tips of the toes for better leverage. Before you know it, her grin grows too wide and the two of you are laughing against each other’s lips, the sound of your love and giddiness the perfect way to end a perfect night. If you had Paige Bueckers and her annoyingly charming antics to look forward to, then one thing is for certain – you couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for Valentine’s Day next year.

[jarofstyles]

Can you do a valentines blurb where she has her period and feels bad about it but he reassures her? Thank you Miss jars!!!

Aw that would be so cute! Yes let me do that.❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Warnings- mentions of period/ period sex, light food play? If you wanna consider it that. Fluff

Harry hummed happily as he dipped another one the ripe, red strawberries into a bowl of dark chocolate, coating it thoroughly before setting it on an appropriately heart shaped plate. Turning to her with a hand cupped underneath, he held out one of the ones that had set up and she had drizzled with white chocolate. "Open up, gorgeous. Need someone t’taste test. Don’t want them to be shit, do we?"

As she took a bite, he couldn't resist moving the fruit to the side stealing a kiss, tasting the rich chocolate directly on her lips. "Mmm." he hummed, wiping the corners of his mouth with his thumb and pointing finger. "Almost as sweet as you- but you’re better." With a little smirk, he turned back to the counter to start the process again.

"These are basically foreplay, Y’know." he joked, dipping another strawberry and swirling it by the stem to get the excess dripped off as he leaned over to press a kiss to her neck, making her giggle. "I mean, chocolate-covered strawberries? Really?" He fanned himself dramatically, earning another laugh from her. "They're fucking dangerous..." He held another one out teasingly as she leaned forward. "Here sweets, open f’me again..." He fed it to her slowly, watching her lips close around the fruit. “See? It works for more than just my cock.”

“Har.” Y/N coughed, covering her mouth so the chewed up strawberry didn’t spray everywhere. “Can we be wholesome for once? This is a nice and calm activity.” She was teasing, but mostly didn’t want to get too far into it because then she would be miserable. It was very easy for him to work her up, but she had woken up with her period coming early.

"Alright, alright... if you insist. We'll be wholesome. Sorry, baby." He chuckled, wiping his hands clean on his half apron before taking another strawberry and dipping it carefully. "See? Wholesome Harry, feeding his sweet girlfriend strawberries... I can do it." He fed her another one, this time without any innuendo, simply enjoying the quiet moment with her.

She took the strawberry from him gently, her fingers brushing against his as she took a bite, chewing slowly and swallowing before speaking without the fruit in her mouth. "Mmm... Milk is my favorite. I know dark is healthier but.." She shrugged, wiping a tiny drip of chocolate from her chin with her finger. "Thank you. I know that it’s inconvenient that I got my period on Valentine’s Day but I’ll make up for it when it’s over." She reassured him, feeding him a strawberry in return, trying to keep the moment light and sweet. He hadn’t made her feel bad about it at all when she had told him, but she was still a little disappointed. The cute outfit she had wanted to wear was wasted.

He bit into the strawberry she offered, his teeth sinking into the ripe fruit as he chewed thoughtfully. "Baby, y’don't need to make anything up to me." He insisted. That wasn’t what this was about. "This right here? It's perfect." He gestured between them with the hand holding the strawberry, a small smear of chocolate now adorning his finger. Thankfully she had reminded him to take the rings off before they’d gotten too deep into it or he would have a whole different mess. "Us, being goofy over strawberries? S’my kinda romance."

It was actually rather nice to have a lower key Valentine’s Day. The presents were still waiting to be opened and the new plan consisted of movies, making their snacks and relaxing. Simply being in each others presence. As much as he liked to make a big effort and do some grander gestures, it made him feel good that she truly craved his mere presence more than anything else.

“Today isn’t about sex. It’s about bein’ together and showing our love. M’just happy that I’m here with you doing something. I may tease you, because I definitely would do it… I don’t mind blood-“ The wrinkle of her nose made him snicker. “Hey, M’just saying it doesn’t bother me. But it does you, and I don’t want it if you aren’t very, very enthusiastic about it. Praise kink n’all of that.” It was a joke… kind of. He did have a praise kink, but he really didn’t give a shit if they had sex tonight.

Being able to eat and laugh with her was the best sort of night. When she had said she didn’t feel too well, he had no problem cancelling the reservation and changing from the stuffy outfit he’d been in to a pair of sweats and one of her graphic tee shirts to make homemade pizza and chocolate covered strawberries. Domestic stuff was something he loved, anyways. Y/N was the best thing he loved.

He brought his chocolate-smudged finger to her lips, pressing it gently against them and encouraging her to clean it off with a small kiss. She obliged, her soft lips brushing against his finger as she licked off the remaining chocolate. "Love you, angel." He murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Always."

[kaisentine]

is the mikage corp’s heir trying to steal your man? you know that he probably is.

purple is a unique color, purple is a noticeable hair color, purple is a striking eye color, purple is the color you can see from your peripheral vision when nagi is snuggling up against your side.

“sei . . . did you invite mikage?” you lean down to whisper in his ear—referring to reo as mikage because you aren’t at all close at him nor do you think he likes you. anyway, nagi didn’t mention anything about inviting his best friend today.

he’s too lazy to look at you to respond but you see the way his head just barely moves when he opens his mouth, “nope.” he matches the volume of your voice. so was this considered a break in or . . ?

you fight the urge to cling onto nagi like a koala because reo just keeps . . . staring. “sei, he’s literally in your apartment.” you deadpan as quietly as possible whilst trying to keep audible for him to hear because you know damn well he’s about to fall asleep right on you shoulder.

this time, he moves his head to look up at you. then his eyes start wandering off to the side—did he finally see him? you get the answer when he starts speaking. “reo? why’re you here?” he asks the purple haired male—not bothering to mention how he got in because nagi was the one who gave him the keys.

finally, he actually steps out of the shadows. he looks scary like this, giving you a deadly glare. “sorry, did i interrupt? i was just going to check in on you.” he quickly switches up when answering your boyfriend. obviously he interrupted something . . . but to your dismay, nagi only shakes his head.

the night ends with nagi sandwiched by two people: his very lovely amazing partner and reo.

it feels like you’re in a constant competition with mikage reo. the way you lowkey have to fight with him to snag the place beside nagi.

you and reo glare at each other as soon as you guys see the vacant spot on nagi’s left side. it’s gonna be a race that reo wins, you know that for sure—you’re not even gonna try to win against a freaking scary 6’1 soccer player.

so while he is fast walking to his best friend’s side, you’re taking slow strides to catch up. it’s only a matter of seconds before he sits his ass down triumphantly in victory—you roll your eyes at him. when you do get to the destination, you’re giving him the “i’m gonna win in the end anyway” type of glare.

nagi obviously doesn’t care,he probably doesn’t even know what just transpired because he’s still on his phone playing some video game.

“sei, you’re still on that game?” you ask, standing on the other side beside him. he hums as a little yes to your question, you let out a fake chuckle. “you’ve been playing for too long, i wanted to show you something.” you pout and almost direct an evil grin to reo but stop because nagi pauses his game to look at you, grey eyes lazily staring back at you. “what’d you wanna show me?” he’s interested now, he hates surprises because it’s too much of a hassle to think about what it could be. “it’s in your bedroom,” you put an innocent smile at the end and he’s already jumping out of his chair. when you’re both leaving reo to sulk on the counter, you turn back to flash him a devious smile—the one you intended to give him the first time.

“we’ll be right back,” said nagi.

you guys were in-fact not right back.

reo later found you guys sleeping on nagi’s bed, bodies all up against each other.

i don’t think nagi understands the phrase “bros before hoes” nor does he understand “hoes before bros”. . . he doesn’t really care—he’s too lazy to give a fuck.

sticky note. i feel like nagi is lowkey a red flag or probably a yellow ( beige??? ) flag . . .

[cuteandhughesy]

Love Is Not Dying | Vince Dunn

summary: hooking up with the hottest guy who think you’ve ever seen can’t go wrong…right?

7.4k

warnings: NSFW! one night stand | drinking | brothers teammate (beniers! reader) | flirting | sexual and mature themes | kissing | smut | brief nipple play | fingering | oral (f receiving) | protected p in v intercourse | filthy sex bc vince just brings it out of me | read at your own discretion

a/n: formed from this request! thought i’d combine this idea with the very much high-demand need for vince dunn! so with that being said here’s so smut to satisfy your eyes on valentine’s day 💌🤭

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contrary to what movies, shows, books and anything and everything else tells you—moving to a new city is actually really refreshing. there's something about a fresh start that just feels so good. the delicious cafes, the smell of a new apartment, the new restaurants and people everywhere you turn...what's not to like?

seattle is your fresh start—your new city. a place where you can forget about your old life and asshole ex-boyfriend back in massachusetts. getting treated like the dirt on the bottom of a shoe and being cheated on for 2 and a half years really pushes you to get the hell away from hingham.

moving to seattle seemed like the most logical option considering it's where your younger brother lived—playing for the kraken like the ridiculously talented athlete he's always proven himself to be. hockey has never really been your thing though, regardless of matty's undying devotion. you prefer to cheer him on from your couch...with your dad texting you anytime matty scores. you didn't even know seattle had a nhl team until they drafted your brother.

your phone buzzes in your jacket pocket, vibrating the leather and tickling your skin.

little shit

hey. you're still coming over for breakfast tomorrow?

matty's text has you snickering, and you almost walk into a bike rack lining the sidewalk. you blink, a flush covering your cheeks.

y/n

planning on it. unless you've changed your mind and want to treat some random hookup to my well deserved time with you

the bag on your shoulder begins slipping, the faux leather providing the perfect slip and slide for the strap of your canvas tote. the last thing you need is to drop the grocery bag and shatter your eggs and spill the milk. then the whole trip out would be pointless.

matty can tell you're joking around, he knows you too well to assume otherwise. you have always been close, and because of the distance between states, you'd only been seeing one another at christmas and in the summer since 2021–when he was drafted. but now you're in seattle, and your younger brother is only a 10 minute drive from your new apartment.

you've only been here three days, and matty has been bugging you about having breakfast since the u-haul pulled into your complex. little bastard couldn't even help you unpack because of his strict schedule—two game day naps your ass.

little shit

I was going to ask if you wanted sweet or savoury—but maybe I should reconsider having you over if you'd be so inclined to think i'd cancel on my favourite sister

y/n

i'm your only sister

little shit

see you tomorrow 😌

you roll your eyes with nothing but fondness, shoving your phone in your pocket as you continue the walk back to your apartment. it doesn't take long until you're back home, unloading the small grocery haul from the strawberry printed tote bag.

your new job at seattle's biggest law firm—which you still can't believe hired you—started yesterday, and it's only been a day but you feel so welcomed and accepted already. it's another confirmation that you're meant to be in seattle. one of your new co-workers jasmine, a stunning woman with dark skin and chocolate eyes, invited you out to one of the local bars tonight.

you'd gotten the text on the way to the grocery store, as well as a follow up message that she and a few other employees wanted to get to know you better. ever the social butterfly you agreed easily—excitement flowing through your veins at the thought of letting loose, mingling and hopefully forming some friendships.

jasmine let you know that everyone was meeting at the bar around 8:30, and you were welcome to join them anytime then. you make yourself some dinner, a delicious saucy pasta that has you serving yourself a second bowl, before jumping into the shower.

you take your time in there, making sure your scalp is scrubbed, and your legs and underarms are shaved—you're not sure if you're going to wear a tank top, and you're going to be prepared. by the time you've blowed dried your hair into loose, bouncy curls, put on your usual dusting of makeup and decided what to wear—it's time to leave.

you order an uber as you're planning on having a couple drinks, and as you finish up with your shoes, the notification of your rides arrival lights up your phone. on the way to the bar you busy yourself with your phone—responding to emails and texts that you've been neglecting since getting to seattle. you even respond to matty's picture of waffle ingredients laid out on his counter, as well as his annoying message.

little shit

you never answered. so sweet it is 🖕🏽

y/n

if you think I wanted anything but sweet you're just stupid

little shit

ouch. i'm going to poison your breakfast

the uber comes to a rather rough stop against the curb, the middle aged man giving you a polite smile that also says hey, get out. i've got work to do.

you bid a thank you and step onto the sidewalk, the late october air nipping your skin despite it being a warmer evening. you run your hands through your hair to try and tame any frizzy fly aways that have sprouted in the uber, and make your way inside the cozy bar.

you're immediately enveloped in the atmosphere of what feels like a family owned bar—exposed brick and worn leather booths lining the walls, matching the scuffed floorboards under your feet. the lights are dim, giving that mysterious vibe that does nothing but intrigue you. it's cute and packed.

you should've expected it to be busy considering it's a friday night, but the amount of people lingering and mingling throughout the room is just baffling. you push up into your tip toes, searching through the sea of people to try and spot your co-workers. well, jasmine—because you're not sure who else is here.

jasmine finds you first, standing up at their claimed booth and waving. "y/n! we're over here."

you smile as your eyes connect, making your way through the crowd and dodging tipsy people as you walk towards the booth. "hey," you greet warmly, accepting the sweet hug jasmine offers. "this place is nice."

"and fucking packed." your other co-worker, a defense lawyer named brock, mumbles with a grin, taking a slow sip of his beer as he eyes you.

joseph, another lawyer stands from his spot on the outside of the booth, gesturing for you to slip in beside him. you smile politely, slipping your pea coat off and hanging it over your arm. "thanks."

"you look great." jasmine compliments warmly, twirling the mouthful of wine left in the bottom of her glass, creating a mini whirlpool. "seriously where'd you get that jacket—it's killer."

you grin, sliding the clothing item of jasmine's desire between your hip and the wall. your jewelry chimes together as you pick up the small drink menu. "it's from h&m, can you believe that."

she gasps, lips forming a small shocked but amused 'o'. "I wasn't aware of h&m's game."

you laugh, thumbing through the sheets of laminated card stock that display the assortment of different drinks. there's even some typical bar food listed like fries and wings—slathered in sauce and grease. joseph doesn't sit back down beside you, but instead jerks his thumb over his shoulder and in the direction of the bar. "anybody want a drink? i'm going up for another round."

"hit me." brock says deeply, finishing off the last swig of foamy beer in the bottom of his bottle. jasmine follows suit, asking for another mulberry wine with a exaggerated grin.

joseph looks at you expectantly, a playful quirk to his one dark eyebrow. "i'll have whatever whiskey they have, with some coke. diet please, joseph." you say confidently, closing the menu and slotting it back into the metal holder at the end of the table.

brock hums in what seems like approval, drumming his fingers on the slightly sticky table top. "you heard the lady, joey boy."

despite the almost arrogant attitude brock seems to have, he's actually really fucking nice—hell so is joseph, and jasmine even more so. you can't believe how lucky you've been at this job, and having three amazing people to work alongside you is a dream come true.

seattle already feels like home and you haven't even been here a week. you spend a good two hours laughing, chatting—and drinking—with your new friends, and everything in your little world flows easily.

it's almost 11:30 when you slurp up the last sip of watered down whiskey and coke concoction through one of those small black mixing straws. you pout with a tiny whine, dropping the glass back to the table. "i'm empty."

joseph snorts behind the rim of his bottle. "want another?"

"yeah," you huff. "but I'll get it—need to stretch my legs before I start to cramp." jasmine laughs playfully as joseph lets you slide out of the booth, stumbling slightly as your feet find the worn wood floorboards.

jasmine takes a slow gulp of her wine, eyes nothing but mischievous as she eyes you. "sure you just don't wanna get closer to that group of hotties over there? that one brunette can't stop checking you out."

your brows pull, as well as your smile. "where?" you ask wildly, looking over you shoulder to try and find this alleged group of men jasmine alludes to. you find them easily. theres 5 men, all broad and tall, sticking out like a sore thumb. there's one guy in particular—a stupidly good looking guy—who must've been watching you, because as soon as you catch his eyes, his head turns away faster than you can blink.

"don't look!" she scolds with a hushed tone, but her words have no bite against her amused expression.

"I don't care." you admit cheekily, pulling your gaze away from jasmine and back to the guys sitting on the opposite side of the busy bar. although now it's not as bustling, but still packed enough that you have to weave through bodies to get to the bar top.

the female bartender, probably around 50, looks at you flatly. but even with that deadpanned looks you can see a friendly glimmer in her eyes, and the subtle way her lip quirks upwards in a smile. "what can I get you honey?"

somebody on your left bumps into you, too distracted talking over her friends to pay attention to you. you sigh gently, but ignore it, giving the bartender your full attention. "whiskey and coke please. diet."

she lets out a half breath of laughter, grabbing one of the shallow glasses from underneath the counter. "got sick of your boyfriend coming up here?"

you're confused at first, but then the blonde bartenders brows flick towards, eyes darting back to your table—to joseph. "oh," you chime, "he's not my boyfriend but yeah, I was ready to get out of that booth and stretch my legs a little."

your eyes find her shiny gold name tag, 'marlene: owner.' you should've known this woman was important to this place, her energy is just that strong. marlene turns away from you, walking further down the bar is search of the whiskey she's been serving you all evening.

the bar has cleared a bit in the time she's gone, and the oblivious blonde who bumped you earlier and her group has gone back to the makeshift dance floor—but there's still enough of a crowd that if you look on either side of yourself, your eyes are landing on somebodies face or shoulder (depending on their height obviously).

marlene returns after a minute or two, sliding a perfectly made glass over to you—the diet coke bubbles, coming up and stinging your nose. "here you go baby."

"thanks," you grin, opening your small shoulder bag and digging through your various cards. "how much?"

"oh no," marlene snickers, pulling your attention back to her unreadable expression. "it's been paid for." before you have a chance to question what she means, marlene's hazy eyes flicker to the other side of the bar—where she was just making your drink. that's when you see him. the guy who you caught starring at you earlier. the mystery man isn't with his friends, but he's got three beers in his hands like he's been sent up to fetch them.

his cheeks are pink, skin pale. his broad shoulders are covering by a black fitted long sleeve, the material hugging his biceps and doing nothing to hide the ridges of muscles underneath his skin. the man's eyes dart up, finding you and marlene.

unlike before he holds your eye contact for a moment, tipping his head in a greeting and a small smile pulling at his plump limps. your brows raise in amusement before turning back to marlene. "i'm sure i'll see you again."

she snickers. "i'm sure you and him both will."

you take your drink before rounding to the other side of the long bar counter, pushing between bodies until your right next to the attractive mystery man. your chest smooshes against his bicep, and when your nipples catch wind of the contact against his hard muscles, they pinch and tighten.

he looks down at you curiously, but amused nonetheless—tongue darting out to swipe along his lower lip.

"so first was staring at me across the room, and then next was buying my drink..." you trail off lightly, eyes twinkling with playfulness as you pause in anticipation. "what's after that?"

he breathes a soft laugh, eyes quickly flickering away from you and across the bar. but just as fast, mystery man is looking back down at you. hoping to appear seductive, you slowly take your straw into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the mixing stick before taking a drink—hopefully you're tempting him.

he swallows thickly. "well maybe you'll find out once you finish your drink." his tone is teasing, and it shoots straight down to your core. you haven't even thought of a man sexually since breaking up with your boyfriend—and honestly even having sex with him didn't do anything for you.

you're touch starved, and so horny it's not even funny. so go forbid you start throbbing as soon as an attractive stranger buys you a drink and keeps eyeing your lips. sue you.

your brows raise, and before he can blink, you take your straw out of the glass, raising the rim to your lips and chugging the entire thing. once it's empty, you wipe your mouth and plop the mixing stick into the empty glass and put it back on the bar.

he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, and he can't help but eye the way your lips have been moistened by your drink—and maybe even taking a quick peek at your cleavage. he's stronger than no other man.

"alright," he smiles, tone full of appraisal and making your heart skip. "I'm vince." his hand justs out, and you take it, your small hand almost completely enclosed by his much larger palm.

"i'm y/n." you smile, and the sight has vince's breath hitching. suddenly he's completely forgotten that he's still waiting on jared's wine (his taste is too expensive for beer apparently), and when you ask him to dance with you, he quickly agrees, abandoning the beer bottles in the bar.

from your booth, your new co-workers watch you lead vince out into the crowd, both of you looking at one another with a look that just screams tension. joseph's brows raise, but an amused smile is on his face. "she's insane."

brock blows out some air. "she's hot."

"she's a baddie." jasmine corrects brock, elbowing him in the ribs as a warning for his behaviour. but he just snickers again, watching through lidded eyes as you vince begin moving with one another in a slow, steady motion—knowing grins on your faces as you whisper to one another about god knows what.

you love the way vince is touching you—grabbing you—like you're his. but it's also not possessive, and even though the way he's handling you is confident, you can feel an underlying shyness, or perhaps hesitation in this movements.

vince doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and he also doesn't want to come across awkward. it's not everyday he's out at the bars, dancing with strangers like this. a very beautiful stranger who makes his dick twitch in anticipation nonetheless.

you dance together for what feels like forever—but could honestly only be 10 minutes. every look vince sends your way, every lick along his bottom lip, every touch, breath, laugh, and whispered words has your stomach dropping and head spinning.

his voice isn't super deep, but it's got a certain rasp that has you hanging onto every word and question that passes through his tempting lips. between dancing with vince and going back up to the bar together for refills—marlene giving you that look everytime she spots you tucked under his arm—you learn quite a bit about the handsome stranger.

vince works in sports, but he didn't disclose his actual profession. it has your mind working overtime—is he a journalist? maybe a football star? does seattle have a basketball team? he's originally from a small town in canada, one that you've never heard of. his ideal vacation is somewhere tropical, his favourite food is italian and he's a boobs guy based on the fact he can't stop looking at yours.

thank the fashions gods for low cut shirts.

and it's not like he's been only letting you ask him questions. vince has been just as interested in asking you about your life (and squeezing your hips, but that's a whole another story). telling him about moving out to spend time with your younger brother and working at a high end law firm came easily, and the almost proud smile on vince's face made your decision feel validating.

which says something, because validation from a stranger is never something you've strived towards. vince doesn't feel like a stranger though, which is a shame because after tonight, chances are he will be.

a little while later jasmine is sliding up next to you and vince, her eyes narrowed playfully as she looks at the lack of space between the two of you. "hey," she starts, her grin growing. "we're hungry, thinking about getting pizza. you guys wanna come?"

a small gasp leaves you, and your eyes light up like fireflies. your drunk brain and empty stomach agree—pizza would be divine. "oh my god! yes."

jasmine cheers, lips tainted with her wine. "yay! okay i'll get your coat and we will meet you outside." her eyes dart to vince again, smiling increasing before she slips back through the crowd.

you take your lip between your teeth, but even that can't stop your smile from widening. your small hands wrap around vince's forearms, squeezing the muscles beneath your fingers as you blink up at him. "you coming? please come with me. we can share pizza lady and the tramp style."

he laughs, a real hearty laugh that comes from his stomach. his fingers slide up your back, passing over your bras straps. "how would that even work?"

you shrug. "I don't know but we can figure it out."

vince's eyes twinkle with something you don't recognize, and his lips quirk up higher in an amused grin. you blink up at him again, all doe eyes and babydoll like and he's nodding. "okay, let's go."

you grin triumphantly, and he lets you pull him through the crowd easily. there's something so sexy about it, especially when you know he could easily overpower you in any way—at any moment.

the chilly air nips at your bare arms, leaving a wake of goosebumps all over your skin. you curse three different swears, all of them blending together to create one big fuck fest. vince snickers, rubbing his hands over your arms in attempt to warm you up. he's so hot you're pretty sure your underwear are soaked with arousal.

when joseph passes you your coat, vince takes it from your co-worker with a nod, and then he helps you slip it on. you're seriously going to die before getting pizza.

the walk isn't more than 10 minutes, and you can smell the tomato sauce and warm dough as you approach the building, lit up by neon signs. inside is busy, mostly drunk college kids. vince keeps you close, and arm around your waist between you and your coat like he's from a damn rom com. "what are wanting?" he asks you softly, leaning down so he's whispering in your ear.

you hum pleasantly. "just cheese."

joseph gets garlic bread for himself, and he threatens if anyone tries to steal a bite he'll walk them over the head with the red plastic basket. jasmine and brock get a deep dish pizza to share, loaded with vegetables and pepperoni, while you and vince get your cheese pizza. and yes, he pays for not only your order, but your co-workers orders too.

you might be in love and you might have to keep him forever.

because it's busy, the seating options are a little sparse, and you won't be able to all sit together. your co-workers get a table meant for two, but steal a spare chair from a friendly group of frat guys and make it a table for three. you and vince find a spot at the counter, two available stools in the corner against the wall—next to the neon outline of pizza slice.

your so squished in there that you're overlapping with vince, and your leg might as well be draped over his spread, huge thighs. you take an unattractive bite of your slice, and groan happily.

vince smiles, chewing his own bite of pizza as you watches you with amusement. "good?"

you nod. "so good." you finish off the slice before speaking again, sucking your thumb into your mouth to taste the pizza grease. "what's your favourite disney movie?"

he's almost at the crust of his second slice of pizza. vince hums between bites, brows pulled in concentration as he thinks of an answer. "sleeping beauty."

your lips quirks. "really?" he nods. "you kind of remind me of prince phillip you know, all sexy and tall." you admit shamelessly, picking up another slice and biting the into crust first.

vince blushes, but doesn't look embarrassed. "you think i'm sexy?" he questions, dusting his hands off against his thighs. you watch his fingers as they run over his legs, and when he catches you staring, vince's smirk widens.

"yeah, I do."

his tongue swipes along his bottom lip, and he leans closer to you by an inch or two. "I think you're really sexy." vince says, voice all low and hushed like he doesn't want anyone to overhear. nobody could even if they wanted to, the array of loud voices and charli xcx playing over the speakers is too loud.

you take your lip into your mouth as you smirk. you decide to tease him, "does that though have anything to do with my cleavage?"

vince's eyes twinkle again. he holds your gaze, and his brows pull together the smallest amount—smirk never wavering. "part of it, yeah." to accentuate his point, vince's gaze flickers to your boobs for a moment, and then finds your warm face again.

your cross your legs to try and relive some of the throbbing pressure in your corse.  "perv. eat your pizza." you send him a teasing glare and smile before you take a bite of your slice in an attempt to try and not jump his bones in front of everyone. vince's eyes linger on you for a long moment but eventually he does what he's told, picking up a slice and taking a huge bite.

a moment passes, and he swallows. "you always this curious?" it's not accusatory, but instead curious. vince waits for your response, wiping his mouth with a logo branded napkin before balling it up and setting it on the nearly empty pizza stone.

"always," you nod. "you can learn so much about a person when you ask them questions—questions that aren't informative but rather fun and silly. like the disney movie one."

he hums. "so what have you learned about me from my disney answer?"

you purse your lips in thought, dropping the rest of your slice back down to the stone. you ponder for a moment as you try and find the words. your eyes flicker over his, and you lean in close, your leg pushing against his. "I think that you're a bit of a hopeless romantic, even though you'd never admit it. you're a bit shy, but you love meeting new people. you'd do anything for the people you love—even if that means pricking yourself on a cursed needle."

vince nods, a deep sound rattling in his throat as he looks at you. without realizing it, he's leaned in closer to you, and if you wanted to, you could brush the tips of your noses together. he takes his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on the skin as his gaze darts over your face. "interesting."

your quirk a brow. "am I right?"

he releases his lip with a gentle pop, gaze never once wandering from your warm, beautiful face. vince swallows, "yeah. you're right."

you cheer and that has vince's fond smile widening. he has to ignore the way your small, painted fingers absentmindedly run over his jean covered knee or else he'll have no choice but to take your clothes off and fuck you on the counter.

vince blinks the dirty thought out of his mind. "ask me another question. I like when you're talking."

a beat passes before your eyes glaze over with lust. you put your hands on the top of his thigh for leverage as you lean into his space, lips brushing the shell of his ear as you speak. "are you gunna to fuck me tonight?"

his body tenses, you can feel it under your palms. you grin in satisfaction, pulling back just enough so your eyes lock. vince's hand slides over the side of your face, fingers threading through your hair as he holds you. before he can talk himself out of it, he leans in and kisses you.

it's chaste and experimental like he's testing the waters and giving you the opportunity to stop him. but you don't want him to stop, your earlier words doing enough to prove that. you kiss him again, a more firm pressure that last 5 seconds. he taste like pizza and beer, and you can't get enough.

and then vince kisses you for a third time, his lips slotting between yours in a proper, hotter embrace that has your toes curling in your shoes and belly swooping. mindful of the public space, he releases your mouth after merely 15 seconds, resting his forehead on yours as you both breathe heavily. "I want to ruin you."

"ruin me." you whisper, pressing one more kiss to his glistening lips. "let's get out of here." you breathe against him, sliding off your stool and standing between his spread thighs.

the taxi ride back to your place is excruciating. you can't keeps your hands off one another—subtle squeezes and trailing fingers over sensitive areas. vince kisses your neck in open mouthed, hot intervals, and each time you moan—which makes him snicker against your skin.

the taxi driver keeps sending you looks through the rearview, but you don't even care.

as soon as you're in the elevator, vince's lips are on yours—capturing them in a breath taking kiss that has you tingling. your hands rake over his strong chest, feeling up his muscles underneath his black long sleeve.

he shudders at the feeling, but his kiss doesn't waver. vince has one hand tucked in your hair, scratching at your scalp soothingly while his other hand squeezes handfuls of your ass—the combination the perfect mix of soft and rough.

"I need you." you whimper against his lips. vince sighs deeply, pushing his bulge against your lower belly—he doesn't have to repeat your words. he doesn't need to in order for you to know it's reciprocated.

the elevator dings, and the heavy doors slide open. your grin, pulling away from vince and taking ahold of his hands. you pull him down the hallway quickly, stealing flirtatious glances over your shoulder. as your hands begin unlocking the door, vince smacks your ass firmly before giving it another hard squeeze.

he leans into your back. "you're so fucking pretty." vince presses a kiss to the junction of your neck, and it has you faltering, eyes fluttering closed and a sigh leaving your puffy lips.

thankfully vince pushes the door open further and saves you from having to move. he uses his hips to shuffle you into your own apartment, never stopping the suckling against your neck as he gently kicks the door closed.

his hands are all over you again, squeezing your hips and running up your belly until his thumbs brush the underside of your boobs. he repeats the motions until your withering, wordlessly begging for more. vince pushes you to the wall, and you shiver when the cold surface touches your chest—nipples pinching under your top.

vince slips off your coat, and his lips trial after it—down your shoulder and towards your elbow. your gasp lightly, looking down over your shoulder with hooded eyes as he removes your jacket, throwing it towards your couch. his eyes flicker up towards yours. "wanna taste you. you gunna let me taste you, baby?"

"yeah," you whine, fingers flexing against the wall. "please...please."

vince smirks and doesn't make you wait, dropping to his knees before his hands trail up the backs of your thighs, rounding over your ass and hooking into the waist pants of your pants. he roughly yanks them down, exposing your skimpy underwear and sticky arousal.

you thank god for choosing sexy underwear tonight.

he groans, palming your ass and exposing your core further, which is barley covered by the fabric anyways. vince nips the skin of your ass, before smoothing the sting with a open mouthed kiss. "fucking god, y/n."

you moan, pushing your hips back as you search for some much needed friction. vince is in a trance, fingers squeezing your thighs and ass as he admires your pussy. there's really no reason for your underwear at this point, he thinks, because there's not enough fabric to cover half of your pussy, never mind all of it.

you're glistening, practically dripping. you can feel vince lean in closer, breath fanning over your slick folds. he nudges your spread thighs further apart, hooking his index finger into the crotch of your lacy paintes and yanking them to the side.

vince licks his lips. "so messy and pretty." he doesn't waste anymore time, and he dives in, licking a wide strip from your clit and back to your leaking entrance.

"oh god." you sigh shakily, eyes fluttering once again at the feeling of vince's mouth on your needy heat. vince has the perfect combination of sucking, licking and kissing that has your knees going weak. "you're so good at this...holy fuck."

vince smirks against you and then sucks your clit perfectly, his nose running along your entrance perfectly. "never tasted something this good."

you gasp, one of your hands leaving the wall and reaching behind you, threading your fingers through vince's thick brown hair. "i'm close." you admit breathily, squeezing his roots in an attempt to keep him close.

vince hums, but much to your dismay he pulls away from you, leaving your pussy to throb and flutter around nothing—searching for more. you pout, but the sight of your arousal soaking vince's lips and chin has you moaning again.

vince smacks your ass as he gets off the floor, flipping you around to face him.

"why'd you stop?" you pout, pushing your boobs against his chest, fingers relaxing over his biceps teasingly.

he smirks. "relax, you'll get it again." vince kisses you again, and you can taste yourself when he slips his tongue into your mouth. the next few moments are a flurry of hurried movements. you pulling off vince's shirt and unbuckling his leather belt—vince practically ripping your tank top off and exposing your tight nipples and heavy tits.

his calloused palms slide up your ribs and cup your tits, giving them a quick squeeze. your head falls back against the wall as vince's thumbs swipe over your nipples, a back and forth motion that has them getting impossibly harder.

"your place is nice." he says lowly. his casual scentence is contradictory to his actions—pinching your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

you mewl, arching into his touch desperately. "thanks...ugh-lots of..mhmm. lots of places to fuck me on." your words are broken by your own moans and sighs of pleasure. it's kind of pathetic but vince thinks there's nothing hotter.

he face dips down to your chest, inclosing his warm mouth on your nipple—tongue swirling and prodding the bud like it's his profession. your hands are in his hair again, carding through the locks and tugging when he sucks just right.

vince switches to your other nipple. "where do you want me to fuck you?" he asks before taking you into his mouth, repeating his movements on your nipple while he palms your now unattended one.

you lick along your bottom lip and watch through lidded eyes as vince sucks your tits. you're pretty sure your arousal is leaking onto the floor and puddling between your heels. "you could take me on the floor and I'd be happy."

he releases your nipple with a quiet pop. "don't say that....because I will."

you grin softly, bringing his face back to yours for another kiss. vince's hands slide up the backs of your thighs, and then in one quick movement he's hauling you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his hips.

you gasp lightly against his lips, your soaking core bumping his lower stomach and sliding over his defined v-line. vince doesn't stop kissing you, walking you over to the new couch in your makeshift living room. there's still a few boxes pilled on top of your coffee table, and there's loose clothes thrown over the back of the chair from when you'd been sorting through suitcases earlier.

the room is casted in the moonlights glow and the warm light under your microwave. it makes everything feel soft—makes it feel private and hot. vince drops you against the plush cushions, and you squeal happily.

vince smirks, "how's the couch?"

you take your bottom lip into your mouth, watching with lustful eyes as he begins undoing his button, tugging down his zipper and releasing some of the confinement against his hard bulge. "it's perfect."

his brow quirks up in amusement. "perfect huh?" vince asks, pulling of his jeans completely. he retrieves his wallet from his back pocket before throwing the pants behind him—making you giggle.

you hum in response as vince pulls out a square foil package from his wallet. a condom.

he smirks, leaning over your body. "wanna know what else is perfect?" vince asks lowly. your mouth opens as a quick breath leaves you, but vince isn't actually waiting for a response. two of his long, thick fingers trace over your collarbone and brush against your pulse point. "your skin is perfect."

then those two fingers flow down to your sternum and tease around your breasts—tracing over your nipples with just enough pressure to have you whining. "and these tits." vince trails down to your belly, passing over your hip bones. "and these hips." next is your core, his fingers slipping through your wet folds. "and god this pussy is perfect."

and with the cherry on top, vince slips the same two fingers he's been running along your body into your entrance. the squelch your walls make sound his fingers is intoxicating, and you practically scream out. "tell me what feels good baby." he tells you, eyes reluctantly leaving your pussy where you take his pumping fingers, and flickering to your warm face.

you begin babbling, making a mess around his hand— dripping off his fingers as he continues to thrust into you. "god," you let out a sharp gasp, walls squeezing his fingers and stopping him momentarily. "this...your fingers feel really good."

vince smirks, and he thrusts his fingers into you a few more times—each time rougher than the last. he feels like he's going to combust with the sight of you under him, withering and whining like you've never been touched like this…maybe you haven't been touched like this before. pride swells in his chest at the thought.

vince’s impossibly hard cock twitches uncomfortably in his boxers—if he doesn't get inside you soon he's going to die. in a fluid motion, he is pulling his fingers out of your warmth.

you mewl in protest, but vince is too busy ripping open the condom package and then pulling himself from his underwear to hear your cry. his dick hears the sound though, and it throbs—ready.

vince rolls the latex on expertly, and he lines his red tip up with your slippery entrance. your hips shift, and his head slips inside your entrance—both of your groaning loudly at the feeling.

vince pulls back out, and a devilish smirk grows on his face as you huff all horny and frustrated. "what happened to the shy vince from earlier?" your tone is slightly whiny, but he can tell you're teasing him—your small hands wrapping around his ribs and torso.

"he's not feeling so shy with your pretty face under him." with that, vince pushes his cock into you. the stretch is heavenly, and your walls mold against him like second nature. you moan, nails digging into his pale skin as he comes to a hilt—balls resting against your ass and tip brushing your cervix.

"that okay?" he asks you breathlessly—dazed eyes flickering over your blotchy skin and puffy, parted lips. he can't help but let his gaze fall between your bodies, right down to where you're connected. vince's hips jerk involuntarily at the sight of your creamy walls holding him in, and you whine pathetically at the feeling.

"so good, vince. oh my god." you probably look like a pornstar on your couch right now. vince buried into your dripping entrance with your legs spread wide, heels still on because you'd been too horny to remember to take them off. but as vince begins rolling his hips into you, all thoughts die out, and you can only focus on him.

his pace picks up quickly, much to your satisfaction, pounding you into the couch like he knows nothing else but your pussy. vince's breath fans over your neck and ear, sending shivers down your spine as you hold onto him.

"fuuuccckk, that's—yeah that's good baby." vince groans deeply, hips snapping against yours loudly, the sound echoing in your otherwise quite apartment. "that's right, taking me so well."

his cock rams into you quickly and perfectly, ilicting another round of ridiculously loud moans from you. you're too wound up to even respond properly, your words coming out in a jumbled string of curses and groans. the couch squeaks under his unfaltering thrusts.

your eyes pinch shut, and the grip on vince tightens as your walls begin to flutter—an all too familiar pattern as you near a desperately needed orgasm. "please." you whine breathlessly. you don't even know what you're asking him for, but it doesn't matter—not to you and not to vince.

his thrusts don't stop or slow, his balls smacking your ass as he continues to pound you into the cushions. vince curses, pushing one of your legs against your chest to open your pussy up even further. "you gunna cum, y/n?"

you nod quickly, your head pushing further back into the couch pillows as your walls clamp down on his cock. "yeah! oh my fuck, yes. i'm cumming."

vince hisses at the feeling of your release— gooey, warm walls squeezing and fluttering over his length. "holy fucking—ugh." it has vince following suit, stilling as he groans into your neck and shooting his sticky load into the latex protection.

it could be 2 minutes or 15–you're not sure—but vince's body is so heavy and warm on top of you that it has your eyes closing. he presses a kiss to your jawline, lifting himself off you. "you okay?"

you nod sleepy, a lazy grin on your glistening lips. "mhmmm. i'm tired now."

vince chuckles, pulling out of your spent pussy. you whine for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, watching through tired eyes as vince ties off the used condom, padding into your kitchen and tossing the latex in your garbage. he tucks himself pack into his boxers as he gets back onto the couch—kneeling between your legs and slipping of your heels.

you wrap your arms over his shoulders, and he kisses you. this kiss is different—softer and sweeter, but just as good as all the others you've shared tonight. you pull away, "stay the night."

he grins, "i'll stay as long as you want me too."

he's so fucking cute, you think blissfully.

vince pulls the throw blanket off the back of your couch, tossing it over both of your bodies as he tucks himself behind you on the couch. his torso is warm and wide against your back—it's so comfortable and soft, and your eyes begin closing soon after.

—

your phone is ringing.

that's the first thing you register as your eyes flutter open. you squint at the harsh morning light streaming through your windows, looking around for the pesty ringing device to silence it.

behind you, vince's arm tightens around your waist, his semi-hard cock rolling against your bare ass instinctively. memories of the night before flood your mind, and you feel hot all over again.

he groans, tucking his head into your shoulder.

your phone is still ringing. you sigh, locating it on the floor beside the coffee table. you pick it up, and your eyes widen at your brothers contact photo lighting up your screen—it's some goofy .5 picture you took of him at christmas. you were supposed to be at his place for breakfast 10 minutes ago.

"shit!" you curse.

vince's eyes flicker open at your panicked tone, and he catches sight of the incoming call before you answer it—jumping off the couch, stark naked and nearly tripping over your heels as you dart into your bedroom.

you throw on the first thing you can find as matty's voice filters through your speakers. "did you fall off a cliff on the way here?"

"I overslept," you say, dragging your ratty hairbrush through your sex messy hair. it gets caught on at angle and you wince. "i'm just about to leave."

matty says something else that sounds like see you soon, but you're too distracted by everything to hear him properly. you hang up the phone with a rushed goodbye, shoving it into the pocket of your jeans. you spray an unhealthy amount of body spray over your clothes and hair, hopefully masking the scent of sex.

you dart back out into the living room. "i'm so sorry, I have to meet my brother for—why do you look like you're about to puke?"

vince is sitting up, posture ridged. his complexion in pale, more so than usual, and he's got his hands cupped over his mouth in a prayer like position. "he's your brother?"

your brows furrow in confusion. "yeah, i'm supposed to meet him for breakfast." the look on vince’s face contorts into what looks like pain, and it has you faltering, stomach dropping to your ass. "why?"

vince's eyes flicker to yours, and he drops his hands from his face. "we play hockey together. i'm matty's roommate."

for fucks sake.

[makethemhoesmad]

Souls Aren’t Supposed to Attract on Accident

“I was never the villain. You just chose to believe your hero.” -Azzi Fudd

Read Azzi Fudd’s Long Awaited Interview here:

Interviewer(I): So, Azzi, as I’ve heard, this is quite the long story. Any specific place you’d like to start?

Azzi(A): I’d like to start at the beginning of the end. 2025-2026 college season

I: Alright, let’s start there.

A: Well, obviously I wanna clarify the rumors first. Yes, Paige and I dated from 2021 all the way up until April of 2026. That’s right, ladies. Your heartbroken star dumped me right after I’d won a second championship, and right before my rookie season.

~

“Aren’t you so proud of me, baby?” Azzi asks, gleefully dancing around in championship confetti.

“Yeah, babe, mhm. Listen, Az, can we talk?” Paige asks, placing her hands on Azzi’s shoulders to still her. 

“What’s up?” Azzi questions. She knows what’s coming, obviously. She just really doesn’t want it to happen the same night she’s just won her second natty in a row.

“I just don’t think it’s gonna work between us, y’know? Especially when we’re in the W and playing against each other so much. Right?” Azzi hates the way she words it like she’s fucking stupid, like she’s slow in the head. 

“Let’s just talk about this later, Paige. I want to enjoy this.”

~

I: Do you believe that breakup impacted your rookie season play at all?

A: If it did, it was only for the better.

~

“Do you really fucking hate yourself that much?” Azzi nearly shouts. Paige backs away, hands up as if she’s calming an animal, as though she hasn’t just rationalized a breakup being because of competition. They’ve been competing for years now. Is Paige just afraid Azzi will win?

“Are you really so mad I won that you’re going to end what we have? You’re never getting something like this again, Paige!” Still, Paige stands, stoic. Azzi grunts, frustrated, turning on her heel to leave.

“Your loss, Bueckers,” she calls over her shoulder. 

As she leaves the hotel she now knows why Paige insisted on booking, she vows that no matter what Paige does, she will always, always have to be second to Azzi.

~

A: Back to my last season of college. Obviously, Paige and I had just started the whole ‘long distance’ thing. It wasn’t too awful, because her season ended right when mine started, so we had time for each other. Sort of, at least. We fought quite a bit during that last season for me.

I: What changed when you went to the W, considering that the Valkyries and Sparks are much closer?

A: Part of it, I think, was Paige’s ego. She’s supposed to be this huge UCONN star, and in her five years there, she only won the natty once. When I did it twice, it pissed her off.

I: So you don’t believe distance played a part in it?

A: No. I think we could have easily made it through the physical separation, if Paige weren’t so damn jealous.

~

“Good game tonight, Paige.” Azzi says respectfully in the handshake line, nodding at her former teammate and love. Paige only grunts in response, refusing to meet her eyes.

~

I: So, 2026, your first meeting with the Sparks, and your team wins. In the post-game press conference, reporters ask Paige how she feels about your success as a rookie, and she declines to comment. Was this significant to you?

A: No. She didn’t want to say that I was having a good season, because my rookie season was going better than hers did. It would have been like telling herself I was better, and that would have torn her apart.

I: Right, because Paige didn’t win Rookie of the Year in 2025. Sonia Citron of the Indiana Fever did, because they were the WNBA champions that year. 

A: Exactly. I was already on course for Rookie of the Year at that point, but the previous year, all eyes had been turned to Olivia and Sonia.

I: And then, of course, we can’t talk about your first WNBA game against Paige without bringing up what fans dubbed the “repost war” started by current Washington Mystic KK Arnold and Ice Brady of the Seattle Storm.

A: Yeah, my old teammates reposting about being children of divorce. To be honest, I wasn’t all that fazed by it. I know Paige went off on KK for it once, but I genuinely didn’t give a fuck.

~

“Azzi, I wish you could still call Paige off like a dog,” KK laments, flashing her phone screen at Azzi. 

“Damn, all that for a repost about being a child of divorce?” Azzi says, squinting to read the string of profanity Paige had texted her former teammate. 

“Yeah, she’s gone off the deep end. Someone’s gotta help her.” 

“Well, it’s never gonna be me.”

~

I: And then nothing really happened at all, right? Not until 2028?

A: I mean, not to the public.

I: What do you mean by that? Anything to do with the 2027 news article titled “Paige Bueckers Spotted Outside of Valkyries Hotel”? 

~

“Azzi, you don’t know what you’re doing to me!” Paige screams, backing Azzi into the wall of her own hotel room.

“What the fuck do you mean by that, Paige? I don’t know that my rookie season was about a million times better than yours, and you’re too fucking weak minded to let me be happy about it?” Paige recoils at the defiance in her voice. She expected Azzi to balk at her fury, maybe try and lick her wounds. She never expected Azzi to fight her on it.

“That’s a lie and you know it. You know how the media spins things, Az. I just really fucking miss you. I’m going crazy without you, really.” Azzi scoffs when Paige kneels down in front of her, groveling like it would change her mind.

“Get up, Paige. And make sure you close the door when you leave.”

~

A: No, nothing about that. One of my teammates said they saw her in the lobby, but I never saw her.

I: Then the next year, you were both selected for the 2028 Olympic team. 

A: The funny thing about that was, it didn’t even cross my mind that she was also on the team until we had the first meeting all together. I was just so over the moon about getting chosen.

I: Was there tension at said meetings?

A: Maybe some, but when we got onto the court it fizzled out because even after all that happened we still worked together really, really well.

I: Yes, and of course the infamous “Is Pazzi Back?” article.

A: I didn’t even read it. Sonia, who’s now my teammate, showed it to me, and I waved it off. Wasn’t too concerned.

~

“So,” Paige says, wiggling her eyebrows at Azzi as she thunks down onto the cardboard bed they’re given to prevent intercourse between athletes. “Is Pazzi really back?” 

Azzi snorts at the absurd suggestion, even if some small part of her heart is screaming for her to say yes and throw herself on top of Paige. “Yeah right. I mean, seriously? They create a rivalry between us since I get drafted and the second we’re back on the court they think we’re fucking again?” Her voice shakes ever so slightly when she says again, unnoticeable to anyone except for someone who knows her well, body and mind. Like Paige used to.

“No offense, but I think I’ll stick to teammates this time,” Azzi scoffs, pointing Paige out the door.

“Aw, baby, you want me to beg? I can beg, you know I’m good at it.” Paige kneels down in front of her, remembering the way she was in this position in front of Azzi in a hotel room, about a year ago. Azzi must be remembering too, because she kicks Paige in the side and strides out of her own room.

~

I: Some critics said that Olympic team was one of the best ever, but when they look to credit players, they mention the Citron-Fudd connection almost more than the Bueckers-Fudd connection.

A: Well, yeah, Soni and I play well together. We’ve proven that over and over on the Valkyries.

~

“I’m getting a call from a blocked number, what the fuck.” Azzi gripes, showing Sonia her phone. 

“Answer it, you only live once.”

Azzi slides the call to answer, then hits the speaker button.

“Azzi, I swear to God if you’re fuckin’ that straight bitch Citron you better just own up to it now,” a slurred, familiar voices crackles. Azzi’s eyebrows raise, but she’s spent some time around Paige Bueckers and alcohol, enough to know exactly what she sounds like when she’s drunk and jealous. Sonia looks insulted, but before she can say anything, Paige speaks again.

“She don’t even make as much money as you, Az, so I don’t know why you’re even goin’ for her. I bet she don’t make your pussy feel the way I made it feel, huh?”

“Paige, you’re drunk. Fucking go to bed and call again in the morning if you still care.” Azzi ends the call, immediately beginning to apologize to the very insulted Sonia on her couch. 

“I’m so sorry she said that shit, bro, sometimes she just calls and says that stuff.”

“And you let her? Girl, I don’t know how you don’t slap the shit out of her when we play.”

“Maybe next time I will, you know, ‘cause we’re buddies again.”

~

I: Then, July 2029 when Paige went onto a podcast for an interview, she told the camera “yeah, never date your teammate”

A: I watched that, and nodded along. She was right, it wasn’t really going to do much for our careers, though I guess neither of us realized that until later.

~

‘Never date your teammate’ huh? Is what Azzi types into Paige’s Instagram DMs at midnight after watching that podcast episode. 

“No way she doesn’t even fucking open it,” Azzi curses to herself. She’s mad, obviously because Paige mentioned her a frustrating amount of times in that interview, considering she has a girlfriend to go home to now. Yep, cute little LA up-and-coming actress. She’s 5’2 on a good day, and the sweetest little bitch you’ll ever meet. One time, she had the audacity to comment ‘you’re so gorgeous’ on Azzi’s Instagram post. But Azzi obviously doesn’t care

~

I: Basically radio silence from you for quite a bit after that season, no one saw you doing anything until you commented on a fellow Valkyrie’s post.

A: I took a long break from social media, because I felt like the toxicity of it was hurting more than it was helping anything. When I finally did come back, it was because I couldn’t resist supporting my long-time friend Kate Martin and her firstborn!

I: It was right into this past season then, right?

A: Absolutely, I’ve always had a very championship-based mindset. I want to be the best, and I want to do it well. Nothing really messes with my head during the season, I just get so driven.

~

Paige messages back three months later, with a snide comment about Azzi being easily distracted. Azzi doesn’t justify it with a response. Really, she looks down on three-months-ago Azzi. She’s matured a lot since then. She’s deleted every media outlet from her phone, gone ‘off the grid’, buried herself in workouts. She tells herself it’s because her team didn’t make it to the finals this year, and that she needs to. It helps her sleep at night. Sometimes.

~

I: And now here we are, where we can finally talk about this year’s riveting WNBA finals. Neck-and-neck until the end, with you putting up some of your best performances.

A: I love to win. Anyone who’s close to me knows that. It’s my number one source of dopamine.

I: So I bet a win like that, over a team like that, must’ve felt really, really good, right?

A: Oh, it felt like I was riding the world’s best high.

~

The handshake line of the seventh game is an emotional roller coaster every year, opposing players hugging each other, cheering, sobbing, confetti. Everything is going both 100 miles per hour and seems to stop at the same time. 

But when Azzi catches that brief glimpse of Paige, leaning down so, so low to hug her girlfriend, she knows the celebration won’t be what she remembers most. For just a moment, she lets a long-suppressed memory play, of the 2025 National Championship. When they were teammates, when they ran to each other, instead of barely grazing hands and inclining heads in the handshake line, as if they had never met.

~

I: And that brings us to right here, right now. What are your future plans? 

A: As everyone knows, the WNBA free agency trading period always gets intense. This year, my team is rebuilding and recreating, moving people around. While I will always love the Valkyries, I’m making a change. You’re looking at a member of the Los Angeles Sparks!

~

Azzi scrolls through DMs in the hours following her interview release. Some congratulatory, some spiteful, some simply conspiratorial. One name catches her eye, nearly lost in a sea of words.

paigebueckers: Welcome to LA, Az.

January, 2031

___________________________________________ taglist: @purple-paige-purple @overtimenatalie @fuddfanatic35 @azzilov @ldapper @forpsheturnpesbian @rhyxanwaters @bu3ckersgirl @rosemariiaa @paigebaby5 @tndaqlwifwy

[impossiblepackage]

I reckon it’s to do with the broader fantasy of having an easily identifiable Bad Guy to fight, and that fighting being a moral good. Like, it would be great if our problems were easily determined to be cause by some guy being bad, and killing that guy making the problems go away and happily ever after and all that. Which is a thing we see in all kinds of fiction. It’s a super common premise. I reckon crusades specifically being somewhat popular is just playing on how so much fantasy is based on medieval and renaissance europe, who broadly considered the crusades a good thing. Hell, the idea is embedded in our language. “Righteous crusade” and all that.

Wrath of the Righteous specifically is interesting to me because it seems to take its world seriously. If literal actual demons are real, then they probably want to come here and do demon stuff. Say they gain a foothold, and boom now you’ve got a setup for something you could easily call a crusade that is actually a good thing. A crusade that is actually fundamentally righteous. WotR takes this a step further and goes into how even in this hypothetically righteous crusade, the “good guys” are constantly up to a bunch of evil shit. It seems to be saying that even if you could have an easily identifiable ontologically evil foe, that doesn’t make it easy to identify the fundamentally good. That even if your cause is just, you still have to be careful you don’t also wind up doing a bunch of evil shit.

But yeah, the idea of Fighting Bad Guys is a powerful fantasy. There’s not many people who don’t enjoy the idea of there being a Bad Guy and the Bad Guy being defeated. We all wanna live in a better world, and wouldn’t it be great if all we had to do was kill the guy who is making it bad? the crusade thing is just that taken to 11, i reckon

although now I’m thinking of it, I can’t really think of many media that includes a crusade and that crusade being a fundamentally good thing. Ironically the closest I can think of is Lord of the Rings, which doesn’t call it a crusade and doesn’t use the aesthetics of one either but kinda sorta fits the bill. t

kind of concerning how married the fantasy genre is to "crusades as a basically good thing"

[muqingslover]

[ Caleb canonically doing MC's laundry has set something off in my brain so here I am. Also, happy Valentine's day ! here's a longer one as a treat from me ;) I've been posting kinda of non-stop haha ] if you saw me post this before no you didn't

This has happened before. In fact, it had happened a few too many times for his sanity's sake. Whenever Caleb offered to do your laundry to be helpful he always had to deal with the strain in his pants that he pretended wasn't there by covering his lap with a magazine and thinking about literally anything else besides that tantalizing piece of fabric. He's been a good man, or at least he's always tried to be one for you. But was it really his fault if the situation was presented to him with a quite literally adorable little red bow?

Still, he has an admiring amount of self-restraint and for days he told himself he should give them back to you. Every time you two met he kept waiting for the moment to return it, clutching the fabric in his pocket, but all he received were reasons not to. Or perhaps, he just saw what he wanted to see. That's how a week turned into months and then the tortuous years without contact that drove him to the brink of insanity. Fighting back the urge to find you again and do everything his mind has fantasized about countless times was one of the hardest battles he ever faced, and that was saying something.

"Fuck..." He exhaled shakily. His head hit the wall behind him and he spread his legs further on the chair of his private quarters, keeping a firm hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It started after he found the old pair of panties that he had so carefully stored away and now all his mind had to offer were twisted fantasies. Caleb was in biiig trouble— He had to leave in less than fifteen minutes for a meeting and there were security officers constantly passing by his door, but he was past the stage that a simple cold shower and mental math equations would make the issue go away. The images of how the fabric would've adorned your curves in all the right places were soon followed by the memories of how sometimes he'd get a sneak peek when you bent over in front of him and gods that was the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

His metallic hand clutched the delicate fabric tighter as he trapped the lace between his teeth to force down another low groan when his palm began moving up and down again and the faint smell of your soap made his mind feel fuzzy. He was so sensitive that it ached to be touched— He was sure if this was your hand he'd have come on the spot the second your fingers brushed against him. Hell, if you breathed a bit too closely to his cock he'd fall apart like the pathetic man he is and he can only picture how your beautiful face would look covered with his cum. Can you blame him though? He's never even considered doing this with anyone else, nor will he ever do that, and his busy military life didn't leave much space for his own...moments.

He released the lace from his teeth and pressed the red fabric against his swollen tip, accidentally letting out a strained moan that was a bit too loud as his eyes rolled back into his head. He decided to quickly shut himself up by pushing his dog tag into his mouth to bite down on the metal, otherwise everyone outside his room would know just what the colonel was doing. Caleb imagined that the wet line his precum had made was because of your arousal for him instead. The way it would seep through the thin fabric and mark your pussy for him in such a filthy way. The way he'd lick along the damp spot and enjoy each and every sound that he'd surely drag out of your throat while he had your thighs around his head.

His hips jerked as he thrusted himself into his hand, into your panties, into you. The room filled with his barely contained ragged breathing as he hoped your pussy would be as much of a slippery mess as his cock was right now when he pushed past your slit, stretching you open so good yet so agonizingly slow. His grasp around his length was tight when the friction of the thin fabric against his dripping cock sent him over the edge and he came so hard his body twitched non-stop. His dog tag slipped from his lips, dangling around his neck again as he slumped back against the chair after his strength left his body momentarily.

His eyes landed on the red panties that were now coated in his thick, white cum and Caleb raised his hand to bring the messy cloth to his lips. He pushed his tongue out and licked along right at the middle where your soaked cunt would be, tasting his own release and wishing it was yours. It was a shame he had gotten such a pretty and precious thing dirty but, not to worry, he's always been good at cleaning up.

[zeropro]

So I’ve seen you draw and tag a couple of different ships, just wondering which are your favorite???

Love your art btw :D

Thank you!

I don’t have a specific ship i'm particularly loyal to, so I guess I’ll rate them and also provide my own headcanons:

(disclaimer i dont know ship names so imma just try my best)

Trine-shipping: yes, put the three of them together, I don’t care. familial, sexual, romantic, platonic, its all good. I go crazy seeing them stand next to each other in the cartoon what do you want from me.

thunderwarp: I see this one a lot and I quite like it. these two being mates with starscream doing his own thing kinda makes sense considering starscream has a bunch of other ships. also makes it fun when something happens to one of them and starscream is left in the awkward position of having to deal with that.

thunderstar: been thinking about this one more lately. they’re like foils to each other. thundercracker’s a good boy to starscream’s bad boy, and he does such a concern about all the morally dubious stuff starscream gets up to. but at the same time, he admires starscream’s ambition and rizz and starscream the kinda bot that would pull you so high if you followed him. I think out of anyone, starscream is the closest to actually trusting thundercracker. 

starwarp: i had this thought one time of what if skywarp is like the horniest asexual and starscream is the most traumatized aromantic, and how would that even work XD nothing solid in the works just an idea that I had. ive seen these two less often outside of trine shipping but it can be pretty hot. I like when they are being protective of each other. I always see skywarp as more emotionally open than his trinemates and starscream can use some of that open and honest emotional love and care. someone to forcfully make him accept being loved. someone who will actually push back when he’s being stupid. and with skywarp being loyal to megatron, so much angst potential for both of them.

starbee: im a sucker for the whole ghost bee starscream dynamic. I already made a post about these two, and after all this time I still really enjoy this ship. I think characters that don’t actually like each other at first but grow into a mutual respect is so tasty. I think some people don’t like the ship because they headcanon bee as too young? well, starscream is actually younger in my fic lmao, but also they’re like 6 million years old and are born with full adult processing capabilities, I don’t think age matters here :P its less about intimacy for me anyway. I like them together because of how much it takes to get there. 

starwavewave: okay this one is 100% fueled by tfone but guyssss guysss theyre married and megatron is their son and im just aaaagh dont seperate them! such a kookie dynamic, the cool headed soundwave, the emotionally volatile shockwave, the arrogant yet cowardly starscream, all being fail dads to their little scamp leader. hahaha. high command polycule 

megastar: gasp, rated above skystar. yes, I just find this dynamic more interesting. I like an abusive ship sometimes for the angst but I also enjoy seeing megatron when he isnt abusive? kinda catharsis maybe. I read a fic once where the war is over and starscream invites megatron to one of optimus’ high profile parties and is appalled at megatron showing up in robot equivalent of underdressed, meanwhile megatron the working class miner is like “I washed, what else was I supposed to do” XD and I just love that haha. theres just so many ways to take it. I wont be doing any megastar in my au, I just tag anything that has megatron and starscream interacting with megastar cuz thats the dynamic to me

skystar/jetstar: iddkkkkk i know this is the most popular ship but it’s just!! idk! its not as interesting to me haha. I love this as a past ship, they were roommates in college, starscream opened himself to someone, chose to become close and then was hurt by it. just another wound on starscream’s spark before he ever even meets megatron. I don’t think theyd get back together after the ice. idk how well I can write this so I’ll just explain how it happens in my au here: skyfire died and starscream created this version of skyfire in his mind that was perfect, he memorialised him because he was dead! you just cant live up to how someone remembers you. I think that was part of the reason why starscream reacts so badly when skyfire “betrayed” him. unlike thundercracker, skyfire knows how to set healthy boundaries. not to mention he’d been on ice for four million years, lost his entire life, everyone he knows, and his entire civilisation, planet, and culture to a war he had no part in. bot’s gonna be upset. pissed off even. skyfire shouldnt have to be some soft sparked punching bag for starscream, he’s kind and a pacifist but he’s also going to get upset and have feelings. I think starscream’s betrayal would hit pretty hard, he’d gonna be upset about how much starscream’s changed, how much damage starscream helped cause during the war, and also starscream shooting him in the back for wanting to protect the native wildlife! when they properly talk to each other again it’s going to be heated on both sides, and I think after some hard work from both sides they could end up in a place where they are willing to be friends again, but I don’t think they’d conjunx. skystar isnt end game to me, but it is canon and an important part of the story

starop: I think ive read one fic where I really liked this ship. it’s just such a random pairing. my initial reaction is just noooo optimus prime?? but that guy’s everyone’s dad! Ive been told a big part of it is they’re both megatron’s ex’s and that’s pretty funny. not for me sadly haha (opxmegatronoldmanyaoiotpfrfr)

starjack…wheelstar? whatever the starscream and wheeljack one is. I’m not into this one. I see where people are coming from with it, but wheeljack isnt an interesting character to me. they can be science bros tho

starscream and windblade: ive seen this like once or twice. not for me. windblade is like, starscream’s daughter or something idk XD 

soundstar: uuuh i dont see it. sorry! i legit have no thoughts on soundstar. theyre coworkers XD. ive seen fics where the seekers are really young and soundwave moms them, and that’s really cute. okay, I like soundwave as a caretaker if the seekers are young, but yeah I don’t think I understand this one. 

shockstar: nooooooo. tho ironically theres more canon content there to fuel this one than soundstar (is this emotion?) but still no XD I don’t even hate shockwave! let him be sunstorm’s dad, that’s cute. but no, shockewave too creepy. no ship. they are also coworkers

what other ship is there even? oh yeah

starprowl: this is apparently a really popular ship?! I guess in a way prowl is sort of like the autobot’s starscream, undermining his leader, arrogant, willing to do the dubious play. they’re both ruthless. I like this one better than starjacked, but its still an odd pairing to me.

oh! knockout and starscream, i can kinda see it? like, as a rebound after breakdown? I like knock out and breakdown, so I’d only see these two as like friends or if something happened to breakdown. they’re a LOT of fun when they interact tho heh heh, perfectly clashing personalities

on the topic of tfp, I guess starscream and arcee is a ship? I can see this similar to my enjoyment of starbee, they’d have to work reeaally hard for this one to work but they have had potentially positive interactions in the show (before starscream screws it up) so its possible in a better world where starscream doesnt suck they could become friends. him killing cliffjumper is gonna be a huge hurdle tho! 

dont talk to me about airachnid

do people ship starscream and ratchet? I don’t ship it, but I do really like interactions between them. starscream is so terrible but he also gets hurt a lot. ratchet is grumpy and prejudice but he’s the best doctor and he’ll fix him up! I like when something terrible happens to starscream and ratchet cant help but feel bad for the guy. that’s the good stuff.

lastly i have been asked a few times on trinebee. im assuming this is bumblebee and the trine. i hadnt thought about it but it makes sense! if youre a starbee shipper, but you also support trine propaganda, then it only makes sense to bring bee into the trine. also bee and thundercracker are friends! the only ones who havent really had any interaction is bee and warp, and honestly idk if I see those two getting along but bumblebee is everybody’s friend so XD I’m sure it’ll work out!

and i think those are all the thoughts i have on the ships! 

no hate on anyone who ships any of these!!! you all do what you do, these are just my opinions, and honestly I’m just not a huge shipper to begin with haha. I am…unsure if there will be any shipping content in my au, I write my scenarios very much “canon but to the left” and so it comes out very sex-less because romance and intimacy is just not the type of content I’m in the business of writing. but, idk, i think about it sometimes. sometimes I think about the end of chapter one of thundercracker’s origin, the night starscream took thundercracker out on a not-date. i think, who knows, in some version of the story maybe they shared a kiss? maybe they went back to the apartment and things went further? maybe. but of course, in every version of the story, starscream is gone the next morning. 

happy valentrine’s day!

[nicnacsnonsense]

The thing is there really isn't similar imagery in the backgrounds. The only similarity in the backgrounds is that they both have lighthouses in them somewhere and those lighthouses look completely different.

But I do think this is maybe starting to get a little too bogged down in the imagery. A good visual parallel can absolutely cue the audience in to look for more parallels and similarities (or contrasts), but it's not actually necessary to creating a meaningful parallel (nor is it sufficient, but that's a unrelated conversation). So let's set aside the lighthouse and visual parallels for a second and look at the other points of comparison. Taking from above this are two scenes where "ed strangles a mean old white guy who’s hurt the ppl ed loves" so our three points are 1) mean old white guy, 2) hurt the people Ed loves, and 3) strangles (I know that's out of order, but this is going to flow better if I do strangles last).

Starting with mean old white guy, I don't want to leave it unremarked that there are actually a fair number of mean old white guys in this show, but that said that doesn't it can't be a meaningful point of similarity in this instance; we have to consider how being a mean old white guy relates to these two scenes. So with Izzy, Ed attacks him because Izzy is being homophobic (in that way that's also pretty misogynistic) poking at Ed's vulnerability and heartbreak and more broadly trying to police Ed's performance of masculinity. Ed attacks his dad because his dad is an abusive dick who beats his mom, which is suppose does loosely connect to Izzy's thing on the misogyny front, but it's fairly tenuous. (I am aware of the cut line where Teach Sr is mad Ed's mom made him weak but ultimately that line was cut and to my knowledge we don't know why.)

I do actually think this could be a meaningful point of connection, but sort flowing out from the parallel rather than flowing in. That is to say I don't think this is strong enough of a similarity to make a much of a case for there being a parallel here, but I think if we can find other evidence to help establish that there is a parallel between Izzy and Ed's dad, then we can use that parallel to inform us more about these characters. It could help strengthen the case that Izzy's behavior is meant to be abusive for people who won't believe that unless they see man hitting a woman or in the other direction it could help suggest that Ed's dad also policed Ed's masculinity (I absolutely do think he did that), some textual evidence to bring that cut line back into play even.

But we still need to build the case for that parallel. Next is hurt the people Ed loves. Big check on that for Teach Sr; the way it's presented is he hit Ed's mom and then Ed followed him out into the night and strangled him. He did it and it is immediately connected to what's happening in the scene. But with Izzy it's a bit more of a stretch. Not that he did it, Izzy definitely hurt Stede, tried to kill numerous times. The problem is it's not really that connected to what's happening here. Prior to Izzy getting into Ed's face, Ed's totally chill with him; there's no indication that he's bearing a grudge aout Izzy trying to kill Stede. And while Ed lashing out is immediately preceded by the mention of Ed's "boyfriend," but not in a context where Izzy is talking about having hurt Stede in the past or where Izzy is even trash talking Stede in any particular way. Rather, Izzy is putting Ed down for his feelings for Stede; he's insulting Ed for being heartbroken. So yeah, Izzy has hurt the person Ed loves, but that's not relevant to this scene, if the person Ed loves in the scenario is meant to be understood to be Stede (put a big old pin in that; we are going places in this post).

Which brings us now to the strangling. Ed choking Izzy and his dad are hugely important parts of these two scenes, enough to be the basis for argument that there is a parallel here worth further investigation all on its own. If we have the strangling we don't even need the lighthouses. (What a weird fucking sentence, lol.) The problem is the methods of choking not being similar enough actually is really important in this specific case. Because it's not as simple as Ed strangling his dad (he also kills him. And if Ed had killed Izzy, that would definitely be enough for a parallel, and also a special treat for me, but alas. Back on topic.) The most important, impactful thing in that whole sequence where Ed kills his dad is in the opening where he's telling the kraken version of the story, we get a shot of Ed's dad from the front where we can see the kraken's tentacle wrapped around his neck, strangling him, while Teach Sr grabs at it with both hands, trying to pull it away from his neck. Then later when Ed is confessing to Stede, we see the same shot again, but this time the tentacle has been replaced by a rope with Ed behind him, pulling on it. "I'm the kraken." The method Ed uses to strangle his dad is deeply embedded into the metaphor they've built. If you want to build a parallel based on the strangling, Ed's needs his metaphorical tentacle to strangle Izzy with. I don't think it needs to be a rope per se, it could be a rope or a tie or he could turn Izzy's own cravat against him or grab a string from Frenchie's lute, or pull his own sleeve down (picture with me for a moment Ed, with the pink robe falling off his shoulder as he uses his shirt sleeve to strangle Izzy. Beautiful). He just needs something.

So despite all that, and as you might have picked up on, I'm not actually opposed to the idea that maybe there is a parallel between Izzy and Ed's dad here. But to get to that, first we need to jump a head a bit. Lets go a couple scenes later to where Ed is suiting up, and then looks at his reflection and says "I'm the kraken." There is our incontrovertible call back to the scene where Ed kills his dad. That sentence is pretty particular, it's not something he's likely to say in these two different scenes by coincidence. And furthermore it connects thematically across the two scenes. The first time Ed says is he's using it as a way to confess to Stede that he is not a good person, he's a monster. And in the second instance he is declaring the same to himself as he starts to fall into his downward spiral.

Now let's follow the narrative parallel backward. In the flashbacks what caused Ed to "turn into the kraken" was killing his dad. And then after that he never killed anyone directly again, not until right before he redeclared himself the kraken when he killed Lucius (or at least he intended to kill Lucius and thought he had, which is close enough for this parallel). The parallel to Ed killing his dad then is actually when he (almost) killed Lucius. Which is not to say that I think they are trying to imply a similarity between Lucius and Ed's dad; if anything it's a parallel of contrasts where there is meaningful analysis to be done in unpacking what the significance is in the two people he killed being so different, but that is beyond the scope of this meta, which is already too scopeful for its own good.

Now let's move back in time even further. The (attempted) murders were what pushed Ed over the edge into becoming the kraken, but what was it that pushed him to that edge? In the flashback it's the scene where Ed watches his father his father abuse his mother. In the present, its this scene that we started with, where Izzy confrints Ed. Boom, there's your Izzy-Ed's dad parallel. Its not to the scene where Ed is strangling the abusive dick, its to the scene where he's being an abuser. And now you can go back to all those comparisons I said you could draw if we could prove the parallel and plug those in.

And also, let's go back to the pin I put in the idea of Izzy hurting the person Ed loves. If the parallel is to the scene where Ed strangles his dad, then the part where Izzy hurts someone Ed loves has to have happened before this scene. But if this is paralleling the abuse scene, then Izzy should be hurting the person Ed loves in this scene. It's Edward. That soft vulnerable part of himself, that's the person who Ed loves that's paralleling his mother. Bring that cut line back, Ed's dad accused his mother of making Ed weak, and now that "weak" side of him is paralleling his mother.

And if we have Izzy paralleling Ed's dad and Ed is paralleling his own mother, then we're creating a parallel in Ed and Izzy's relationship to a married couple. Which ties perfectly into the fact that this episode also has Ed and Izzy paralleling Stede and Mary. (Another parallel of contrasts in that case. They're perpendicularing them?)

And I know maybe it sounds weird that I was pushing back against the other two scenes not being similar enough, when these scenes aren't seemingly that much more similar. And I can pick out the specific details to argue the case like was done with the other two scenes. The one scene being in Ed's home and the other in Stede's quarters which Ed was trying to make into a home with the abuse violating what should have been a safe space. The thrown plate to the torn and crumpled page and thrown book. The disgust at being presented with "slop" and the disgust at "whatever it is you've become". The storming out at the end of the scene. And there is definitely something very very about comparing the violence of Ed's dad backhanding his mom and the violence of Izzy stroking Ed's cheek. But really the point I want to make here is it's not in the random details you can point to as similar if you look at them right. Its about thematically, narratively what are these scenes doing, and that's where I think these two have the stronger parallel.

So I’m up to episode 10 of my most recent rewatch and I noticed something interesting in the scene where Izzy confronts Ed. At the beginning of the conversation the camera tends to stay with Ed in the left side of the frame and Izzy on the right, with the space between them in center. We do get some shots of just Ed where he’s in center (not included) but any shots that focus on Izzy still keep Ed in the frame with Izzy staying right of center.

So I am not a cinematographer by any stretch, but this seems all pretty straight forward to me? Like, we’ve got these two people having an argument so we’re showing them on literal opposite sides, and our shots are biasing toward whoever is speaking at the moment, but with an overall bias toward Ed, who we’re supposed to sympathize with.

But where it gets interesting is when Izzy makes his namby-pamby comment, and Ed pushes Izzy up against the wall. Izzy is still right of center, but take a closer look at what is now in the center of the frame.

The lighthouse painting. The lighthouse which represents both Stede and Stede & Ed together. In this moment while Ed briefly appears to have control of the conversation, this painting representing many of the things Ed wants and wants to be is prominently in the shot even while we’re supposed to be focused on Izzy. And as an added bonus just as Ed is consistently on the left side of the frame in this argument, the lighthouse is on the left side of the painting.

But then Izzy takes back control over the conversation. He reaches out and strokes Ed’s face, causing Ed to jerk back and let go of Izzy.

Izzy takes advantage of this to step closer to Ed, bringing him to center frame.

And even then he continues to get closer and closer.

And as Izzy whispers his threat to Ed we’re left with this: Izzy filling the center of the frame, with Ed only barely visible at the very edge, and the lighthouse missing from the painting, completely blocked out by Izzy.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

(interaction after 10 years at the reunion, reader was very good friends and they had kinda romantic affection but did never officially date because he is a royal and they both shy, so letter contact) WTF MALLEUS WHY DO YOU STILL LOOK THE SAME AHHHHHHHHHHHHH *falls to their knees with dramatic flair* I AGED LIKE SOUR MILK WORKING MY ASS OFF IN MCDUCKDONALDS AND YOU STILL LIKE SUCH A DAMN PRETTY MAN WITH PERFECT SKIN, LIFE IS SO UNFAIR AHHHHHHHHHHH

What comes after Ever After?

You crumple to the floor with an exaggerated wail.

You had rushed to the reunion straight from your shift at McDuckDonald’s, still dressed in your work uniform. Curling into yourself like a shrimp, your blue apron horribly creases, one fist crushing your visor hat. The smell of french fry grease and cheap hamburger patties makes you queasy even through your tears.

Malleus stares down at your fallen figure. For what seems to be the longest time, he doesn't react, only casts a shadow over you like a tall stone set in front of the sun. Then he silently bends down, his raven robes spilling onto the floor as he extends a pale hand.

As if he is Death itself, come to reap souls.

"Rise, child of man."

You blink up at him through your sobs.

He is perfect. His alabaster skin as smooth as wax, his hair the same darkness as a starless night, his mouth full and wistful. The scales that crown his forehead are crystalline, shining like obsidian gemstones. It's still him, the Malleus Draconia of yesteryear.

In all the letters exchanged, all the stories shared, all of the holiday cards sent, this was the face you pictured. The face of an old friend. A crush you still clung to, in spite of the social disparity.

But a prince and a pauper do not belong together, you had told yourself back then. Continued to tell yourself, even today. And now, looking him right in the eyes, that truth hurt more than ever.

Life really is so unfair.

When you don't dare to budge, Malleus sighs, waving his unclaimed hand. Your body suddenly feels bouncy, lighter than air and--in a whirl of verdant sparkles, you're gently eased back onto two feet.

"This lowly display does not befit you," he frowns, tutting as he brushes the dust and dirt off of you. "You must take care to present yourself with dignity and pride--else, how can you be considered my companion of equal standing?"

"Equal? Y-You've got to be kidding, right? I get acne and wrinkles, but you're still you. In a few decades from now, that fact won't have changed."

"It is true that human lives are fleeting and fragile. The lifespan of a human is but a fraction of that of a fairy." Malleus folds his arms, the fabric of his long sleeves billowing from the motion. "However, there is use for spoiled milk as cheese and yogurt. Rotting fruit becomes wine. Age belies wisdom and experience.

"Here is advice imparted onto me by Lilia—advice he may not have gleaned in the days of his reckless youth: it is not how long one lives that determines their worth, but what that life accomplishes with their time that determines that worth.”

“I’m just a human,” you whisper. Meek, uncertain. “What can I possibly hope to achieve?”

“You have already done so much.”

Something flickers in his eyes. A feeling, fervid as a flame. He beholds you with such intensity that you fear your knees may give out and you will collapse again.

What he says next makes the ground fall away and leaves you tumbling into an abyss.

“You have touched my heart.”

[engie-ivy]

(Not really micro and a day late, but I had to write the Valentine's prompt!)

@wolfstarmicrofic 14th: First I Love You

1110 words

Director's assistant Remus never expected to be working together with famous actor Sirius Black.

Never Expected

Remus never expected to have a crush on a filmstar. As a self-proclaimed film connoisseur (or a film snob as Mary calls it), he had always considered himself to be above such things. He judges actors purely on their performance, their persuasiveness, their story-telling abilities, always impartial and always objective.

Until he saw his first film starring Sirius Black.

Remus was floored. Turned out, he wasn't as above crushing bad on an actor as he thought he was. After being exposed to a couple more films with Sirius Black, once he got a bit more used to those piercing grey eyes with that mischievous glint and that ever-perfect hair effortlessly elegantly falling over that gorgeous face, he could see that Sirius Black is also a great actor. He can make you laugh, he can make you cry, he can make you love him and he can make you hate him, and as much as Remus hates the term, he eventually accepted that he is and always will be a fan.

Remus never expected to have a career in the film industry. He did go to the Film Academy, because he just has such a passion for films, he couldn't ignore that calling. But he isn't the type to go to all the industry parties to make connections with important people and build a career. He had expected that he would be doomed to doing one unpaid internship after the other, while making his money serving coffee.

During one of his internships, however, he met famous ex-filmstar and now famous film director Minerva McGonagall. Remus is nothing if not opinionated when it comes to films, and especially the techniques that go into making films, and he likes to share that opinion, doesn't matter how high a status the other person has. Surprisingly though, Minerva McGonagall wasn't offended by Remus’... outspokenness, but rather impressed, and she offered Remus an actual job in the film industry as her assistant director.

Remus never expected to be making a film with Sirius Black, to be on the same set as Sirius Black, to interact with Sirius Black, to give directions to Sirius Black, but yet, here he is.

And what Remus never ever expected was for Sirius Black to one day after filming ask Remus to practice lines with him. Practicing lines lead to conversations about, of course, films, films they love, films they hate, films they think are overrated and films they can watch over and over again. And when Remus talks about films, he forgets to be nervous, he forgets to be star-struck, and he just talks.

Though talks about films also lead to talks about their lives, about their experiences in the industry, the people they love, their hopes for the future. And Remus learns that in real life, Sirius Black is still breathtaking, still charming, still effortlessly elegant, but he's also a person. A person with a troubled past, with family issues, with fears and insecurities, and Remus loves him all the more for it.

Remus never expected to find Sirius looking at him so many times when they are on set together, for Sirius’ hand to linger on his when they reach for the script at the same time, for Sirius’ eyes to dart over to his lips when they're having their private conversations.

But there's always that voice in Remus’ head that's constantly telling him

He's too good for you

So when Sirius’ fingers stroke the back of his hand, Remus quickly jerks his hand back, when Sirius holds him a little too long hugging him goodbye, Remus pulls away, and when Sirius slowly leans in, Remus takes a step backward.

Sirius plays an eighteenth century nobleman who's struggling to stay in power as head of his family, without becoming as morally corrupt as the rest of them. They're currently filming a scene regarding a subplot where Sirius’ character has feelings for someone who's only second in line of a struggling family.

“Lupin, you're frowning,” McGonagall says. “Give me your thoughts.”

“It just…” Remus begins, trying to voice his thoughts. “Seems a little far-fetched that someone without money or social status could catch the eye of someone like Sirius’ character.”

McGonagall opens her mouth to respond, but Sirius is first.

“Why on earth would my character be concerned with money or social status when it comes to how he feels about someone?”

“They have nothing to offer him!” Remus says. “And I just don't think your character should ignore that!”

“He's not ignoring it,” Sirius counters. “It just doesn't matter to him.”

“But those things do matter,” Remus insists. “Pretending they don't would be naive, and naivety goes against everything your character stands for.”

“My character also stands for persuasiveness and going after what he wants despite the obstacles, and that includes the person he wants.”

“But he's also a man driven by ambition who's always thinking about his place within high society and never takes any unnecessary risks when it comes to everything he has achieved!”

“He can be all that when it comes to business, but still follow his heart in other matters.”

“His heart?” Remus asks.

“Yes,” Sirius says defiantly. “His heart. His brain is undoubtedly telling him all about the world of differences between them, and how difficult this is going to be, but in these matters, he listens to his heart.”

Remus shakes his head. “How can he be so sure what his heart wants after such a short time?”

“There's a connection between them, a connection you don't find often,” Sirius says. “Surely you must see that?”

“I do,” Remus admits. “But what remains if that fades?”

“It won't just fade,” Sirius says confidently.

"But how do you know that?” Remus asks almost desperately.

“Because I love you!”

A silence falls.

“He,” Sirius stammers. “He loves…”

“Maybe it's time for a break,” McGonagall says, looking from Remus to Sirius.

The set empties, until it's just Remus and Sirius left.

Remus says nothing, but just gets up and walks over to Sirius, until he's standing right in front of him, searching his eyes for the confirmation of his words.

“Do you really not want to give us a chance?” Sirius asks hoarsely.

Remus opens his mouth, but then closes it again and he can't help but laugh. Remus places his hand on Sirius’ cheek. “I was an idiot for thinking I could fight this,” he says. “But I still think you're going to break my heart.”

Sirius covers Remus’ hand with his own. “And I still think I can prove you wrong.”

Remus never expected he would ever want to be wrong so bad.

[nereidprinc3ss]

you’re my best friend

in which spencer reid has to teach your young son how to make friends nicely after a day at the park gone awry

fluff!! warnings/tags: fem!reader, husband!spencer yum, boy dad spencer enters the nereidprinc3ss cinematic universe!!!! yayyy!! but you still have a baby daughter as well, Spencer would 100% give his children old people names I'm sorry, gentle parenting Spencer my beloved a/n: I really miss spring its my favorite season so I found this draft that feels very springy and it makes me very happy also.. the name... like queen... also this is old so its probably not winning a pulitzer

The sun beats down just shy of hot on the sheath of fresh grass where you and Spencer are comforting your crying son—the ground beneath your blanket is a lush, verdant carpet, still cool with springtime rain but not wet. 

All of this pleasantry is lost on your son Oliver. He’s too focused on the scraped knee he sustained when he got pushed over on the wood chips. Marianne, your baby girl, is gurgling happily in her little bassinet next to you. Whoever said raising girls was harder had obviously never met the Reid siblings. Oliver is a drama queen—something you suspect��he inherited from his father. 

“See? All better,” your husband is saying, wedding band glinting as gold as the curls that fall to his eyes as he smooths a bandaid over Oli’s wound. Seeing him like this never gets old.

Oli’s crying chokes to a confused halt. 

“It still hurts,” he complains. 

“I’m sorry, buddy. But you shouldn’t’ve pushed.”

“I wanted to be her f-friend,” Oli says, his sweet little bow lips (all Spencer) beginning to pout again. 

Your husband wipes Oliver’s already teary cheeks gently. “I know, but she didn’t know that. Not everybody likes to be pushed, even when you’re playing, because it’s kinda mean, isn’t it?”

“I was not being mean.”

“Do you push all your friends?”

“Sometimes,” Oliver says stormily. Spencer gives him a knowing look. 

“Are you sure you didn’t push her just because she’s a girl?”

Little shoulders raise and drop heavily. Guilty. 

“I know it’s sometimes hard to make friends with girls, but they generally don’t like being pushed. Not anymore than boys do. Maybe even less.”

“Then how do I make friends with them?”

Spencer considers this. 

“Well… how do you usually make friends?”

“I ask if they wanna play.”

“Sounds like you already know how to make friends with girls, then. That’s all you have to do.”

“How did you be friends with mommy?” Oli asks, bunching the blanket in his little hand. You smile to yourself.  

Spencer’s eyes flash up to you for only a second, his lips parted in what only you would recognize to be amusement. 

“I was super nice to her. Me and mommy are really good friends, right?”

Oliver nods dutifully. 

“Do you know why?”

A shake of his little curly head, this time.

“Because when you’re nice to someone, it usually makes them want to be your friend. Not always. But you have a much better chance that way. If I pushed mommy the first time we met, I don’t think we’d be here today.”

Your lips flatten to zip in a laugh. To Oliver, this is a very serious matter. To you, too. It’s important that he grows up to treat people well. 

“Why not?”

Spencer dodges the question smoothly. 

“Why don’t you try going to apologize to her? She might not want to talk to you, and that’s okay. But if you say you’re sorry, maybe you guys can play nicely together.”

This determines the already willful Oliver, who pushes up clumsily before running down the knoll on his short legs and approaching the swing set where his earlier assailant now plays alone. He stops far enough away that he can make a break for it if she gets a fixing to push him again. Smart boy. 

You and Spencer observe the interaction carefully, and while you can’t hear what’s being said, things seem to go well. Soon they’re making their way to the little kid’s playground in tandem. 

“Super nice, huh?”

“I really wanted to be your friend,” Spencer counters, scooting closer to Marianne’s bassinet. “Hi, angel,” he coos, demeanor instantly softening as he strokes her soft cheek. You can’t help smiling. The look in his eyes is truly something to behold. “God, I’m never gonna get over how much she looks like you.”

You preen and try to hide it. “You can’t possibly know that yet. Her skeletal structure is far from fully developed.” 

“Uh oh,” Spencer says to Marianne, offering her a quarter of a strawberry from a Tupperware. “Mommy is starting to sound like me. Is that scary, or what?”

Marianne cackles and burbles and takes the fruit with her little clutching fingers, only missing her mouth the first time she tries to eat it. 

“You’re so good at this,” you murmur thoughtlessly. The moment Oliver was born he’d been a natural. Earlier, even. You saw it in his eyes the second you tearfully told him you were pregnant. He’s a man of many gifts—and that extends to the way he parents. 

His gaze turns to you, still just as soft, but more knowing, on you. It’s comforting, to be known and seen and loved like that. 

“Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Corny,” you tease.

He shuffles on his knees to be closer to you. “Biologically factual.”

Your eyes flutter shut as he pulls you into him with an arm and presses a firm kiss to your head. 

“Have I told you how much I appreciate you recently?” He murmurs into the quiet dark against your temple, shielded from the spring sun. 

You’re melting in his hold, the way you always do. “Mhm.”

“Good. There’s nobody I’d rather be super nice to.”

You breathe him in—feel the rush of happy chemicals flood your brain.

“What if I pushed you?”

“You wouldn’t do that,” he asserts, pulling back and framing your face between his hands. 

“But if I did.”

He regards you with narrowed eyes. 

“Why? Am I in trouble?”

“Maybe.” But you say it too coyly. The corner of his mouth twitches. 

“I’d forgive you,” Spencer murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. “But if you want to be my friend, you can just ask, lovely.”

One more quick peck, and he’s situating himself to lay his head in your lap once more. You slide his sunglasses on for him once he’s settled, and he catches your hand, kissing your knuckles. Your lips twist. 

“You make it so hard to want to push you. I need you to be mean.”

He laughs. 

“Too bad. I like being nice to you.”

[alwaysless]

Fellow William analyst, greetings! I hope you are well, I hope you don't mind a question/ask.

I am curious about your thoughts on the lack of reaction we see of Will at the "one life" reveal at the dinner scene, if you haven't already shared your thoughts before! We know Annabel wasn't shocked, but what about Will?

It took me longer to answer than I thought, sorry

I'm not sure I can say anything new, but yes, it's pretty damn suspicious. The composition of the frame stylized as broken glass, makes it easy to draw Will with everyone, and a frame later we see him with other panicking students, so RnF didn't show his reaction quite intentionally.

But I also want to talk about his behavior further. In the next episode, Will doesn't behave the way you expect him to. Given his weak-willed personality, it seems like he should be scared and overwhelmed by the prospect of a survival game (like Morella for example) but he's confused at best, and moreover, confused by everyone else's reactions. He even tries to justify the deans, basically gaslighting the rest of the students.

Will is not afraid, but he does not understand why others are. I have only two possible explanations: either he knew, or he just doesn't care, just like Annabel. Or maybe both.

Maybe he has played these games before. Maybe he doesn't plan to fight for a second life (at least not in Nevermore, again just like Annabel). Maybe because he is somehow connected with the academic staff with all his doll aesthetic, there is no second life for him in general, he just works there. There are many options, but here I would prefer to focus on his parallels with Annabel - two characters whose reactions we don't see in this frame.

This is actually not the only scene where they are absent, contrary to common sense. In episode 6 we see the merit board for the first time. Most of the names on it are blurred, but some can be distinguished. Among them are Lenore, Annabel, Duke, Morella, Ada, Prospero and Will. All of them, except Annabel and Will, are present in the room at this moment.

I wouldn't have paid much attention to this scene if it weren't for Prospero. Why is he there? He doesn't speak a single line, and we haven't been introduced to him as a character yet. His presence here is useless. So maybe the idea really was for all the characters whose names were visible on the board to be in the scene(or at least have already been introduced, like Annabel).

So what about Will? My main problem with shapeshifter characters is that they can be anyone, anywhere, at any point in the story. Especially if they can also create their own copies. He could have already been introduced and we just didn't notice.

Now let's talk about the games these kids love to play so much. We know that Annabel is a talented chess player, and Montresor constantly uses card game slang. But did you know that it was William Wilson from Poe's original story who was a cardsharper? I just think it's such an interesting detail. Nevermore`s Will has never been seen like this, but considering how much of a board game aesthetic this webtoon has, I think it's important to note this.

And finally, there is a similarity that also makes them very different: both Annabel and Will have ribbons as an essential symbol, but it has a completely opposite meaning for each of them. For Annabel, the ribbons are a symbol of madness, fear, and perhaps her golden cage. It appears in her hallucinations after Lenore's fake death, as well as when Ada shows her her main fear.

Will, on the other hand? The ribbons are his weapon. He uses them to tangle other people. Curious, although his spectre is obviously a marionette, he doesn't have a control bar for strings, he controls the strings himself (not always successful but still).

No matter how weak-willed Will is, he's the only one in Annabel's group who isn't influenced by her. She blackmails Montresor, Prospero respects her as a leader and friend, Ada admires and envies her. But she doesn't have anything on Will. In the chess allegory, he will obviously be a pawn (and I`ll write a whole post about it, I swear), but not Annabel's pawn. I have an idea that sooner or later, Montresor will think of using Will to find dirt on Annabel in revenge. After all, given their spectre abilities, it's easier for them to find out lenabel's secret.

So, let's summarize what we found. Absolutely nothing. This post turned out to be longer than I had planned, because I was a little carried away, but I hope you found something interesting for yourself in this stream of thoughts.

Here, take funny little Will everyone. He deserves to be noticed.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Caitlyn x Gn!zaunite!reader, where she is mid-arresting them and reader pretty much flirts their way out of being lpckes up? Smutty pls?

Secret Third Option

|| Caitlyn Kiramman x gender!neutral!zaunite!reader

|| Warnings; smut, reader is arrested, criminal reader, basically public sex, cliché, accidental kiss leads to more, flirting to get out of arrest, feeling denial, swearing, fingering, praises, keeping quiet, orgasm, finger sucking, hickey, dom Caitlyn/sub reader

|| Summary; when escaping arrest, reader flirts their way out of it and into something else.

Requests closed!

Started; January 19th

Finished; February 14th

Note; it's been a while since I wrote fics, quality might be down. Also, HAPPY VALENTINES DAYYYYY 💕💕

~~~

To say you were in trouble... would be a tiny bit of an understatement. Just a tiny bit. Had you been out running the law? Okay, maybe. There may have been a chance that you were. You'd dipped around the corner, hoping to lose whoever was chasing you. Only for you to run directly into another enforcer. Not just anyone, either. Caitlyn Kiramman.

You tried to backtrack, but her partner had caught up and gotten you from behind. Cuffing your wrists. Boy did you want to slap that smirk off Caitlyn's face.

"You're more quiet than I imagined," Caitlyn pointed out. Signalling for the other officer to leave you with her. He nodded and headed off while Caitlyn took hold of the cuffs. Forcing you to walk forwards, assumably towards the Upper City and your holding cell.

"What? Expecting witty comments, Princess?" Your remark came out more like a grunt, feeling the way she made the cuffs push into your back. Something about being this close to her made your cheeks flush.

"There it is," damn. You walked right into that one, didn't you?

You could do two things here. Either, accept what had happened. Lame. Fight your way out, a little more promising. Or... the secret third option. Flirt your way out; which is honestly more fun than the other two.

"Does this mean you like it rough, Kiramman?" You glanced back at her, referring to the feeling of how she dug the cuffs deeper into your back. It was uncomfortable in a way that could almost be described as enjoyable.

"Shut up and keep walking," Caitlyn responded. It was certainly going to be tough breaking through that professional barrier of hers. You were determined to do it, though. There was still time on your side before you reached your cell.

"Anyone ever tell you you're hot?" A smirk formed across your lips the moment your back hit the wall. Caitlyn had you pinned, cuffed hands above your head; your eyes going to her lips. She looked pissed, but at least she wasn't taking you to prison just yet. You were stalling.

The alley was dark, cold. Not a lot of people travelling through. It wasn't the nicest looking thing in the world, then again you were in Zaun. What were you to expect? The only nice part about it was the fact that you and Caitlyn were alone. So really, anything could happen here.

"What's your game?" She demanded, there was a fierce look in her eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"No game. Just looking for a little fun before I get locked up, maybe convince you I'm not so bad while I'm at it." You told her, her eyes narrowed and for a brief moment... she looked to almost be considering it. Unless of course, that was merely your desire playing tricks on you. Surely she wouldn't... right?

"Yeah, right." Caitlyn's tone was laced with a deadly sarcasm, one that couldn't help but make you grin. You'd started to push yourself forwards but your foot got caught around hers and the next moment the two of you were tumbling.

Before you even realized it had happened, the fall had landed your lips to hers. Although, neither you nor Caitlyn fought it.

When the kiss ended, you stared into each others eyes for a long moment. The enforcer cleared her throat, cheeks flushed," that was... unexpected."

"You enjoyed it," you couldn't help but smirk, seeing behind the emotions she was trying to cover up.

"I- I did not-" Caitlyn's cheeks flushed, trying to show at least some authority after what had happened. Falling in love with a criminal would be insane, after all. Completely illegal, too. Wouldn't it? Although the longer she looked at you, the more pull towards you she felt. She was feeling things for you that she knew she shouldn't. It would only end with getting herself in trouble along with you.

"Really? Then why are you blushing?" Lifting your hand to her cheek, you gave the redness a flick with your finger. Caitlyn slapped your hand away.

"Anyone would be embarrassed after that," she really did try to cover up her feelings, it was cute watching her scramble together any excuse she could. You knew it had effected her, though. Caitlyn's heart was racing so fast that it was just barely audible.

"Bullshit," there was a grin on your face while you watched her eyes widen. Knowing that she was caught red handed.

Her mind was getting away from her, fantasizing about all the things the two of you could have been doing.

Fuck it.

It's not like your crime was that bad anyway.

"Damn it," Caitlyn muttered before her lips found their way back to yours. A soft moan coming from your throat. You couldn't believe this was happening, but damn you weren't about to complain.

Caitlyn soon had your front to the wall, her hand slipped around your waist and into your pants. Gently fingering at first, then she picked up the pace. The harder she went, the louder your moans got. God, she was sending shivers down your spine. Your whole body tensing under the intense amounts of pleasure flooding through you.

The enforcer leaned forwards into you, her chest up against your back and her lips against your ear. Whispering into it," you're doing so well, darling.. just keep your voice down a little more, wouldn't want to get us caught- would you?" She smirked when all she got from you was a whimper in response. Feeling how your knees buckled, you falling into her. Caitlyn wrapped her free arm around you, keeping you up and pressed into her.

The wetness collected around her fingers, acting almost as a lobe. Allowing her to easily move her fingers along you, Caitlyn's middle finger pressed just a little harder on that perfect spot. A loud gasp echoing off the alley wall from you.

"Shhh," Caitlyn murmured, her hand trailed along your body until it stopped at your mouth. Cupping it to help you keep quiet. You whimpered into her hand and she trailed kisses down your cheek, to your jawline, then neck.

It wasn't long before the enforcer had you completely crumbling. Cumming onto her fingers. She removed them from your pants, bringing them to your mouth. Caitlyn took her hand off and you opened your mouth, letting her push her fingers in so you could suck yourself off them.

"Perhaps you aren't as bad after all," the enforcer murmured, kissing your neck and leaving a hickey there.

[renku]

Red (Part I)

BINI Mikha Lim x Male Reader

A/N: Sorry it took long for this fic. There are no actions here yet but I plan to put it all in the next one. Apologies again, work is just taking too much of my time.

「 Si besarte fuera pecado, caminaría feliz por el infierno. 」

「 If kissing you were a sin, I would happily walk through hell. 」

∼ ∼ ∼

Wandering around for a considerable amount of minutes made some people look. Few attempted to ask what's wrong, ‘cause painted all over your face was straight up discomfort. Not a single soul—maybe, too intimidated.

“What's taking her so long?” you murmured. It's already past nine and having to explain what took both of you long isn’t what you signed up for. Ticks from the clock makes it even more frustrating. Game night plans? Uninterrupted long sleep ‘til morning? All gone.

Patience continues to drop exponentially; pulling out your phone in a haste to call her. First ring. Second ring. Third ring. Finally, she picked up.

“Hotshot! What’s up?”

Unbelievable. “Uhm... hate to break your enthusiasm, are you intentionally keeping me wait?” trying to sound calm as much as possible. “You still have an event to attend, miss. If I might add.”

“Relax! We’re not going to be late,” she remarked with same attitude.

“Mik- miss, you know me. It’s not that I care, I just hate waiting,” a composed response coming from you. Trying not to sound mad.

“Give me five more minutes! I promise I’ll come down right away.”

“My goodness, Mikhs. Still the same,” a comment you could’ve said but chose not to.

Five minutes. Intrusive thoughts urging you to go up continues to rise. Just a bit more.

“Hotshot!”

Guess it won’t be necessary. After of what it felt like forever. You turned around to see if all the wait was worth it. Long, black dress, fine makeup—not too strong yet not too light to highlight her facial features, and her signature red hair put you in a trance for a few seconds. This is not something new in your part, but yes, her beauty is more captivating than what people can see in their screens.

Mikha did her best to come down quickly. “I'm sorry if I made you wait,” she said with a pouty face. You hate it when Mikha does it. She knew she's at fault but always get away.

“All set?” you asked.

“Yes, yes, can hit the road now. By the way, how do I look?”

“Is that really necessary? You’re Mikha Lim,” you replied in a sarcastic note, as if you're shaking off the question.

Mikha rolled her eyes. “Tss... Fine...”

She walked towards the main door where the car is waiting outside. You followed right away and took the back seat with her. Giving a nod to the driver and he started to drive.

Silence filled the vehicle for a few minutes before the driver turned on the radio, adjusting the volume. Their song—the latest—Cherry on Top came right in. It was a success considering the hype they got from the fans. Who would’ve thought she’d reach this kind of milestone. It made you proud—just not being vocal about it.

“How are your parents?” a question from her out of nowhere, breaking the silence that was filled only by the song.

“They’re doing fine. Always have.”

“Glad to hear that. I kind of miss them.”

You chuckled. “I guess they feel the same. They always ask if we’re still in touch.”

“What did you say?” she asked, looking at you with curiosity and anticipation. “Well,” you paused, “I told them it’s not frequent like it was before. You’re a celebrity now.”

Mikha fell silent for a moment, before giving a faint smile and subtle nod. “Can’t say you’re wrong, it did change some things.”

“Like what?”

“You know... the old times,” she replied in an almost inaudible voice. You're not sure what she meant but it did hit you. No words were coming out of your lips. What should you say? Is it even necessary? A series of questions piled up but nothing was asked. It would be also completely useless since both of you arrived at the destination. The drive did not take much time, it was a surprise.

“Wait,” you said before getting off the car and going to the other side to open the door. You offered your hand and Mikha obliged before giving her thanks. The media knew that the members will come here so it’s no surprise cameras are flashing around.

As soon as she stepped out, you quickly wrapped her shoulders with your coat. Weather during December is quite a killer. No doubt that the dress can barely keep her warm. Mikha gracefully headed towards the entrance, maintaining the image most idols practice—perfection. It irks the hell out of you. She’s pretty much close to what you see in social media and all but can’t still ignore that uneasiness inside you. A thing that people can easily judge.

~~~

“Finally!” you exclaimed. “Finally, what?” Mikha asked out of surprise. “We finally escaped the them.”

“Oh, is that it?” Mikha giggled.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing! I just find it cute how you maintained a straight face despite hating being exposed to public.”

“As you said, exposure. Might as well do my best shot not to look funny when I'm about to be broadcasted all over the country,” you noted in quite a sarcastic note. “I know I'll be all over the headlines the next day.”

She flashed a wide smile to the statement. “We should go to the girls, they're probably expecting us by now,” Mikha expressed as she took your hand. Her hand holding yours stirred up some memories—nothing special—but all of it was pure, honest, and innocent. It was a treasured recollection buried deep within.

There were not as many tables as you expected; finding the girls was a piece of cake. They already know you so there's no need for those scripted and awkward introductions. You suck at any social setting and this is no exception. Good thing Mikha is here to cover up for that. Seeing her somehow gives you comfort, despite your mind already making an escape plan to flee the scene.

Drinks were served during all the hours of chit-chats and laughter. For the sake of being a good sport, of course, you did take shots as much as you hate drinking. Same goes for Mikha. From what you know, she can’t hold much but that was years ago. She probably improved, right?

But no, you approached her to check. “Miss? Hey, are you okay?”

She can't keep a straight face and form coherent words. Evidently, she's drunk. “You should probably take her home. The party’s good as finished anyway. We’ll take it from here,” Aiah said from behind.

“Yeah, seems like it. Thanks,” you replied, giving her a smile.

“And hey, you care for her, right?” Aiah interjected. Question took you by surprise. “She looked forward meeting you today. It wasn’t by chance that you’re the one she brought tonight. I knew she insisted you to join her. I know it. But, anyway, take care.”

Her last words were puzzling. Wasn’t even close to your story, but enough of it. You need to bring her back to the hotel first. The car was just right at the main door and the driver immediately assisted in getting Mikha inside the car. Luckily, no cameras were around.

“Let’s go back to the hotel, please. Thanks.”

“Right away, sir.”

Mikha’s completely passed out on the way back. It’s not clear when was the last time you saw her like this. Hate to admit it, this is the only time when you see her up close. Like real close. The light outside shines upon her face and in that moment, she looked beautiful—more than her visuals, in every way—weirdness, childish attitude (sometimes), kindness, and aspirations. A look beyond that admired face that many can see.

The ride only took twenty minutes. “Do you need anything, sir?” the driver inquired.

“No, I can take it from here. You can take the rest of the night. Thank you very much. We'll contact you if anything will come up. Thanks again for today.”

“Very well, sir. Thank you. Have a good night.”

“Good night as well.”

You hurried to get the other door to help Mikha. She’s lightweight but given her current state it became quite difficult to bring her to her room. Asking her room number beforehand really paid off. The place also has little to no people; fewer eyes, the better.

After successfully entering her room, putting her to bed was the first thing to do, then took off the shoes immediately. Changing her into sleeping clothes would be the final boss. But you know you already lost before it even started. It’s just not on your watch.

“What should I do? Damn it...”

~~~

Mikha woke up. She checked the clock and it’s already past seven in the morning. A familiar face surprised her—Aiah. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning, too. Dumbass.”

“Did you follow me here?”

“You should drink first,” Aiah replied, taking a glass of water and handed it over. “Here.”

Mikha took it all in one sip. “Hey, explain yourself,” she followed.

“Let me finish first cooking our breakfast. Take a shower and change, then I’ll tell everything while eating.”

Curiosity fueled Mikha up. What Aiah told her was done in a matter of minutes. She’s already at the table when Aiah just finished setting up the table. Mikha took her sit and her friend followed suit with a suggestive smirk. “Okay, spill it. All of it.”

Aiah gave out a laugh and Mikha is not having it. “Hey, enough already!”

“Fine, fine... you really don’t have any idea, do you?”

“We’re not having this conversation if I have any.”

“He called. Last night. He said he needed help.”

“Help with what?” Mikha asked, almost demanding for an answer right away. “Helping my light drinker friend,” she answered pushing her forehead.

“He didn’t want to undress you to change your clothes. Gosh, so cute! If I was in your place I wouldn’t mind if he’ll see me naked!”

“HEY!” Mikha exclaimed, still making Aiah a bit surprised despite expecting her reaction. “Chill, sis! I’m just kidding. It’s not my fault if your plan failed.”

“I know,” Mikha said in a gloomy voice. “It’s just that I don’t want to look desperate in front of him and, I have this feeling that he doesn’t see me the way I see him...”

“I’m pretty sure he feels the same way. Or kind of. He’d not accept your invitation as your date yesterday if he’s not interested,” Aiah stated, sipping the fresh cup of coffee.

The thought started spread out inside Mikha’s mind. She doesn’t know how to take it; should she follow Aiah’s word or wait for you to confess yourself? Having a breakfast like this isn’t helping at all.

“It’s up to you. I just gave the option.”

“Yeah... I know.”

“Then, I better get going. My bed is calling me. Ciao!”

Aiah left. Mikha tried to relax for a bit to collect her thoughts and make a reasonable decision. Hopefully one she won’t regret. She walked around the room to calm down some nerves, but then she noticed the black dress on the couch.

“Oh, right. I need to return this.”

Mikha stopped by at the company to return the dress to their wardrobe. As she went inside the room, she saw you, having a small chat—a good one, it seems—with Stacey. Mikha was almost unnoticeable by how she entered, but what gave her away was where Stacey was standing.

“Mikhs!”

“Uhm, he- hey... Sorry to interrupt...”

“No, we’re just done talking, are you staying here until afternoon?” Stacey asked. “I’m afraid I’m not,” Mikha replied. “Oh, I see. Just need something?”

“Need to return the dress I wore yesterday, that's all.”

The two of you just exchanged glances; words don't need to heard and letting the eyes do the talking. You can see in her eyes; something bothering her and that need to let it out, just holding it due to Stacey’s presence. Luckily, she excused herself out of the room and just told Mikha to see her before leaving the building. A moment of silence filled the room, quite chilly too.

“What is it? Let it out.” Mikha didn’t expect that you know what’s going on in her mind. “I know you have something to say, spill it out.”

Your tone made her even nervous, pressured, even. Heart beats faster, can’t look straight to your eyes. Mikha is lost for words. She hates it.

You're still waiting for a response, never leaving her eyes. “So?”

“Can we- can we talk about it outside? Just not here. I'm- I'm not comfortable.”

To tell the truth, you’re quite intrigued. She’s not being herself. The girl you knew all along doesn’t hesitate to speak to anyone in front of her. But, if it’s something serious, you’re more than welcome to give her a favor.

“Where do you want to talk?” you asked.

“Your place would be most suitable,” Mikha responded quickly. You’re puzzled by her choice but of all the places she could pick, why yours? It doesn't matter anyway. Curiosity is killing you now.

“Okay, my place then. Shall we go now right away, or do you still have some matters to attend here?”

“Let me just say goodbye to Stacey. Then, we can go.”

“Sure thing. Take your time.”

“All right. Thanks.”

She went on her way to go to her friend. You picked your things up before going down the lobby to wait for her. Walking down the hallway, questions continue to fill your mind while trying not to get caught up about it. But, you can’t stop asking yourself one question: “Is it because, she’s hiding something but it’s too serious she’s cautious with it?”

You can only wait for her before finding out the answer yourself.