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pbaz7 · 2 days ago

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CROSSING THE LINE — PART NINE ♡

paige x azzi

warnings: panic attack

word count: 5k

A/N: This chapter was a little sad to write but I liked detailed I was able to get with Paige's feelings . If you didn't see my post earlier I'm not sure where I'm going from here yet with this story. This might be one of the last chapters with like an epilogue or something but idk fully yet. Please let me know what you think and leave live reactions and comments if you can! Hope everyone had a nice holiday 😊

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Mid February 2024

Paige stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face pale, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. The weight of it all felt unbearable. Her mind churned with a constant noise—comments, critiques, expectations, all bouncing off the walls of her head. No matter how hard she worked, it was never enough. Each day was a new round of judgment, and she was so tired no matter how much she tried to hide it.

It was February, and UConn had only lost two games this season, but both had come with a heavy cost. The media storm that followed each loss made it feel like the world was spinning just a little bit too fast, dragging her along with it. Geno’s contradicting criticisms were always looming. She was too passive one game, too aggressive the next, but always too something. She shot too much, didn’t shoot enough, forced too many shots. Every mistake, every misstep, every decision, was held under a microscope, dissected and discussed endlessly.

Paige’s breath came in shallow gasps as she stared at herself in the mirror, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. The scoreboard in her mind was relentless. If she didn’t get at least 25, if she didn’t clearly dominate the game, she wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter that she was impacting the game in other ways—her assists, her defense, her leadership, her mere gravity on the court. None of that seemed to matter. Only the numbers in the point column.

The pressure was suffocating. No matter how many hours she spent perfecting her game, it was never enough.

Every morning, the first thought in her head wasn’t about the game ahead—it was about the headlines, the tweets, the messages people were sending. Every night, she lay awake replaying her mistakes, wondering how she could have done more. What if she’d pushed harder, passed differently, shot better? What if she had been more aggressive? The question haunted her like a shadow, chasing her down until she couldn’t tell where the doubt ended and she began.

The whispers were always there—people talking about her, criticizing her, claiming she wasn’t the player they thought she should be, the player she used to be. Even her own coach had joined the chorus of voices pointing out her flaws. She could feel the eyes on her during every practice, every game. Everyone was waiting for her to fall, to break under the pressure.

And sometimes, Paige felt like she might.

Azzi slowly noticed it over time. Paige had been quieter than usual during practice, a little more withdrawn in her celebrations, a little more distant. When they were on the court together, Azzi could see the way Paige was moving—slower, as if every step took more energy than the last. She was still putting in the work everyday, but it wasn’t the same. Her confidence, her usual fire, seemed dimmed. Azzi knew Paige well enough to recognize the signs.

So after a seemingly difficult practice for Paige one day, when the gym was nearly empty and the others were gathering their things, Azzi caught up with Paige. She stood in front of her, blocking her path to the locker room, her eyes soft but insistent.

"Paige," Azzi said, her voice gentle but firm. "What’s going on?"

"I’m fine Az," Paige muttered, her tone a little flat.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, especially considering her girlfriend's tone with her. She took a step closer, closing the distance between them.

"You’re not fine," she said quietly, her voice threaded with concern. "You’re putting on a mask, but you know I can see through it."

Paige hesitated for a moment, her gaze dropping to the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She could feel Azzi’s eyes on her, the concern there in the way she was looking at her, but for some reason, the words felt stuck in her throat. She didn’t want to admit how bad it was lately, how much it was all eating away at her.

"I don’t know," Paige said quietly, her voice laced with frustration, a vulnerability she wasn’t used to showing. "It’s just... everything’s too much right now. The pressure. The expectations. I feel like I’m drowning, Azzi. I can’t keep up."

Azzi's heart twisted as she took a step closer, her hand reaching out to gently grasp Paige's arm. "Talk to me, baby," Azzi said softly, her voice full of warmth and care. "You know you’re not in this alone. Whatever you’re feeling, you can share it with me."

Paige let out a shaky breath, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over. She could feel the walls she’d built around herself start to crack, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she wanted to let them fall. She wanted everyone to see everything—the weight of it all, the suffocating pressure she couldn’t escape. She wanted everyone to see just how bad they had made her feel.

"I just... I don’t know how to do this anymore Az," Paige admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "No matter how hard I try, I’m never enough. The media’s on me, Geno’s on me, even our own damn fans are on me, everyone has something to say, and I feel like I’m constantly failing. If I don’t score 25, if I’m not the one carrying the team every game, it’s like I’m invisible. Like I’m not good enough."

Azzi’s gaze softened even more as she took Paige’s hands in her own, her thumbs brushing over her skin with a soothing touch. "Paige, baby" she said gently, lifting Paige’s chin to meet her eyes. "You are always more than enough. I see everything you’re doing on the court—how you’re leading, how you’re supporting your teammates. You’re making an impact in ways that go beyond just points on the board. And I know how hard you’re working. Don’t let anyone—including yourself—tell you otherwise."

The emotion in Paige’s chest bubbled up, the weight of Azzi’s words landing on her like a balm. She wanted to believe it, wanted to trust that the things her girlfriend said were true. But it was hard to let go of all the voices in her head. It was hard to not think Azzi was just being a supportive girlfriend.

"I don’t know how to quiet my head," Paige said softly, a tear slipping down her cheek. "How do I keep going when it feels like nothing’s ever enough?"

Azzi pulled her into a gentle hug then, holding her close, her arms wrapping around Paige like a safe haven. "You don’t have to do it alone baby," Azzi murmured into her ear, her voice steady and reassuring. "I’m right here, every step of the way.”

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s shoulder, letting the tears fall freely now with no one else in the gym, no longer holding them back. She didn’t have it in here to be strong right now. She didn’t have it in her to be Uconn’s golden girl right now.

…

But then Uconn almost lost another game. Keyword being almost.

The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in around Paige as the weight of everything pressed down on her. She had been here a few times before, locked in this dark space, trying to silence the voices in her head, but today felt different. It was harder to breathe, harder to push through.

The game had ended with a win. UConn had won by 11 points, but it wasn’t enough. It never was. Not when you were the star. Not when everyone expected perfection. Geno had praised her performance, sure, but there was always that hint of disappointment in his voice—more could have been done. More passes. More assists. Fewer contested shots because that won’t help in March.

Paige felt like she could feel the media’s eyes on her the entire game, their cameras flashing with judgment as they pounced on every flaw, no matter how small. The fans, too, had their say—complaining that she should have dropped 30 points on an unranked team, that she was being passive and deferring too much to other players. She knew they didn’t understand. They couldn’t see what was really happening on the court, the way she was trying to balance it all, the way she was doing everything she could to make her teammates shine, to get everyone involved.

But none of that mattered. Not to them.

Paige sat on the floor of the suite, back against the wall, feeling like she was shrinking into herself. She knew better than to get sucked into social media. Azzi had told her, warned her to delete it all, to stop looking at the constant stream of opinions from strangers. But here she was, scrolling through her feed, eyes filling with tears as she read each comment, each demand for more, as if she wasn’t already giving everything she had even if it was slowly killing her.

She let out a shaky breath, biting down on her lip, trying to hold the tears at bay. But it wasn’t enough. The pressure kept building, the anxiety squeezing around her chest, making it harder to breathe. Paige put her phone down with trembling hands, the weight of it all sinking in, her head pounding with the noise in her mind.

Unable to stop herself, she softly banged the back of her head against the wall a few times, willing the thoughts to stop swirling.

Why wasn’t it enough? Why couldn’t she just be allowed to have a good game, a solid performance, without the world tearing it apart? Why did every win feel like a loss when the criticism outweighed the praise?

The tears finally came then, falling freely down her face as she sat there, trying to get a grip on her spiraling thoughts. The walls felt like they were slowly closing in, and she couldn’t stop the fear that was creeping into her chest. The fear that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be enough. That one day, the pressure would break her. That she would fall off the face of the Earth and everything for everyone else would keep spinning.

She hated feeling weak, hated how powerless she felt in this moment. Not being in control. But she just tried to hold onto the thought of Azzi still in her mind, a small thread of comfort in the chaos. Azzi would understand. Azzi always did.

The room felt so empty without her. The silence was suffocating, the isolation almost too much to bear. Each breath Paige tried to take felt shallow, and the harder she focused on her breathing, the more it seemed to slip away. The more difficult it became. Panic was creeping in, like a hand pressing down on her chest, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She could physically feel all of it—the weight of the expectations, the constant pressure to be perfect. Each thought, each criticism, each word from the media felt like it was wrapping itself around her throat, making it harder to breathe.

She knew she should call Azzi, to try to force some words out so her girlfriend knew how much she needed her. But her phone lay discarded beside her and Paige couldn’t bring herself to look at it. She knew the messages, the comments, that she would unlock her phone to would only make it worse. Her head was spinning, and she couldn’t stop it. Every time she tried to focus her thoughts, to breathe deeply, to imagine Azzi the panic only tightened its grip.

Then the door clicked open, pulling her back from the edge for just a moment. Paige’s heart tried to catch up knowing who it was, but the breath still wouldn’t come.

Azzi froze when she saw Paige, sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking. It only took a second for Azzi to drop her bag and throw her phone on the bed before rushing over. She didn’t hesitate, kneeling in front of Paige, taking her face in her hands. Paige couldn’t look at her, her breathing coming in sharp, uneven gasps.

"Paige," Azzi’s voice was gentle, but firm. "Look at me."

But Paige couldn’t. She was shaking, struggling, trapped in the chaos of her mind. Azzi saw it instantly—this wasn’t just sadness this time. This was another panic attack.

"Hey, hey, listen to me," Azzi said softly, her fingers brushing along Paige’s cheek, trying to steady her. "Breathe, baby. You’re okay."

Azzi’s own breaths were deep, slow, as she began to count, trying to guide Paige through the chaos. "In... one, two, three..." she counted, her voice low but steady. "Exhale... one, two, three..."

Paige’s chest heaved, her breaths sharp and ragged. She tried to focus on Azzi’s voice, but everything felt distant, blurry and out of reach.

"Come on, breathe with me," Azzi whispered, gently urging her. "In... one, two, three..." She let the air out slowly, counting as she did. "Exhale... one, two, three."

Paige’s body trembled, and Azzi could feel the weight of her distress, her panic. But she kept her voice calm, breaking each sentence into short, steady breaths.

"You’re safe," Azzi said, her thumb gently tracing over Paige’s skin. "I’m here. Breathe with me baby."

Paige’s breaths came in short, gasping bursts, still out of rhythm. She tried to follow Azzi’s lead, but each time she focused on her breath, it slipped further away.

"In... two, three," Azzi counted, her voice never wavering. "Exhale... two, three. You’re okay. I love you. I’m here."

Paige’s hands shook as she clutched at her chest, fighting for air. "I can’t... Azzi..." she gasped, her voice barely audible. She was drowning in the overwhelming pressure, feeling like she was finally losing the battle.

"You can," Azzi whispered, her own breath deepening as she counted. "In... one, two, three... Exhale... one, two, three." She leaned closer, her forehead gently resting against Paige’s. "Focus on me. You’re doing great. In, out. In, out."

The air in the room seemed to thicken, but slowly, Paige’s breathing began to soften. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. The frantic gasps slowed, her chest rising and falling with each breath, steadier now.

Azzi didn’t stop. She kept her hand on Paige’s face, gently coaxing her. "You’re so amazing, baby. You’re so strong. You’re so perfect."

Each breath they took together was a small step, and with every inhale, Paige felt the panic loosen its grip, just a little. Her hands stopped shaking as much, her body less rigid. Azzi’s voice was still steady, counting each breath, reassuring her.

"Good," Azzi said, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "That’s it. You’re okay now. Just breathe with me."

Paige’s breath was slower now, the panic starting to fade, replaced with exhaustion. She looked up at Azzi, her eyes filled with gratitude, but there was still a trace of vulnerability in her gaze.

Azzi smiled softly, her thumb brushing across Paige’s cheek. "I’m here," she whispered again, as though to remind Paige that she wasn’t alone. "I promise you’re never alone."

The storm hadn’t completely passed, but in that moment, with Azzi’s arms around her and her steady presence grounding her, Paige felt like she could breathe again.

After a few minutes of quiet, Azzi didn’t speak. She simply stood up and took Paige’s hand, gently guiding her towards the bathroom. Paige let herself be led, her body feeling light but exhausted, her mind still clouded and heavy. She felt empty, drained, but Azzi was there—her steady hand, her calm presence, like a lifeline in the chaos.

Azzi helped Paige undress. Paige didn’t protest, too worn out to resist, too overwhelmed to think about anything beyond the comfort Azzi was offering. When Azzi took off her own clothes and stepped into the shower with Paige, there was no rush, no urgency, just a quiet understanding between them as they sat in silence for a little bit.

Azzi began undoing Paige’s two braids softly as she kissed her girlfriends cheek or neck now and then. She then reached for the shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into her palm before gently massaging it into Paige’s wet hair. The warm water cascaded down over them, mingling with the steam, but all Paige could focus on was the soothing pressure of Azzi’s fingers against her scalp. Slowly, the tension in her body began to melt away. She leaned into Azzi, letting her eyes close as she rested her head on her shoulders, the simple act of being cared for grounding her even further.

Azzi didn’t say anything, her hands working methodically, rinsing the shampoo from Paige’s hair before applying conditioner. The quiet was comforting, the sound of water and Azzi’s soft hum in Paige’s ear were the only things filling the space.

When Azzi finished rinsing the conditioner out of her hair, Paige finally opened her eyes, meeting Azzi’s gaze. Azzi’s eyes softened, filled with a tenderness Paige couldn’t quite put into words. Her love for Paige was clear in the way she looked at her—gentle, unwavering, and so full of admiration.

Paige’s throat tightened, but she whispered, “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse, but full of gratitude.

Azzi smiled, her thumb lightly grazing Paige’s cheek as she leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. I told you, no matter what, I’m always in your corner and I’m going to help you get through this.”

The words settled into Paige’s chest. She wasn’t alone. Azzi was there, always there.

Without thinking, Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her close. The water hit them both, but neither of them cared. They stood there, their bodies pressed together, holding each other in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

…

Steam lingered in the air as Paige stepped out of the bathroom dressed in a hoodie and sweats, her damp hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The soft shuffle of Azzi’s movements drew her attention to the bed, where Azzi had just sat cross-legged, a comb in one hand and two hair ties in the other.

"Come here," Azzi said softly, patting the space in front of her.

Paige raised an eyebrow, but the gentle look in Azzi’s eyes pulled her forward. She settled on the floor, her back to Azzi, who immediately began threading her fingers through Paige’s damp hair.

For a while, the room was quiet except for the faint sound of the comb gliding through Paige’s hair. Azzi broke the silence, her voice gentle. "You wanna tell me what’s been on your mind tonight?"

Paige was silent, staring at her hands clasped in her lap. She bit her bottom lip, her mind racing as she tried to find the words. "I just... I don’t know what people want from me anymore," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi paused briefly, her hands stilling before resuming their steady rhythm. "What do you mean?"

"It’s like..." Paige hesitated, trying to find the words. "It’s not about basketball anymore. Every game, every move—it’s a story for someone else to tell. I can’t stop thinking about what people are gonna say after every game, and it’s exhausting."

Azzi hummed softly as she began parting Paige’s hair for the braids. "Do you think about that while you’re playing?"

Paige nodded, her voice small. "Sometimes. It’s like... the game isn’t just the game anymore. There’s so much pressure to live up to everyone’s expectations, and it makes it hard to just... enjoy it. To be in the moment."

Azzi gently tugged one section of hair, starting the first braid. "Paige, baby, you’ve been playing basketball your whole life. You didn’t fall in love with it because of what other people thought. You fell in love with it because it made you happy.”

"I know," Paige said, her voice wavering slightly. "But it’s hard not to care when there’s so many expectations. It’s like... no matter what I do, it’s never enough for me to just get one day of silence. And I just don’t want to let anyone down."

Azzi’s hands worked steadily as she braided, her voice calm but firm. "You can’t control what people think or say, no matter how hard you try so we gotta let that part go. But you can control remembering why you play. You don’t owe anyone anything, Paige—not the fans, not the critics, not even me baby. You play this game for you and only you.

Paige was quiet for a moment, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweats. "It’s just hard to block it all out sometimes."

"I know it is," Azzi said softly, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. "But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve handled so much already, you’ve been through so much already and you’re still here, still fighting. That’s what matters."

Paige glanced over her shoulder, a small smile breaking through her thoughtful expression. "When did you get so wise?"

Azzi grinned, focused on finishing the second braid. "I’ve always been this wise. You’re just quiet enough for the first time to actually pay attention."

Paige chuckled, leaning into Azzi’s touch as she tied off the braid. Azzi ran her fingers over the finished work, smoothing down stray hairs before giving Paige’s shoulder a light squeeze.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and heading to the corner of the room to grab her basketball shoes. "Now, let’s go."

Paige blinked, looking at her with clear confusion on her face. "What? Go where?"

"The gym," Azzi said matter-of-factly, sliding her feet into some slides

Paige stared at her in disbelief. "Az, we just played an entire game and just got out of the shower. You’re crazy."

Azzi smirked, tossing Paige’s shoes onto the floor beside her. "Come on, Superstar. I’m not asking."

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the carpet. "I picked a crazy person to be my girlfriend," she muttered, though a small grin tugged at her lips.

Azzi stepped closer, brushing a playful kiss against Paige’s temple. "Definitely, thought that was in the fine print though."

With a dramatic sigh, Paige sat up, slipping on her shoes and tying them lazily. "You’re lucky you’re cute," she grumbled as she followed Azzi out the door to her car.

…

The gym was eerily quiet, the faint hum of the overhead lights the only sound as Paige and Azzi switched into their basketball shoes. Paige stood near the baseline, watching Azzi lace up her sneakers with an amused expression.

Azzi grabbed a basketball from the rack, dribbling it once before tossing it to Paige. "Check."

Paige caught the ball, raising an eyebrow at Azzi. "What are we doing?"

Azzi, already standing at the three point line, grinned. "We’re playing one-on-one."

Paige scoffed, spinning the ball lazily in her hands. "No, we’re not."

Azzi tilted her head, feigning innocence. "What, scared you’ll lose?"

Paige rolled her eyes, her competitive spirit sparking lightly at Azzi’s accusation. "First of all, I don’t lose one-on-one. Second, I definitely wouldn’t lose to my girlfriend."

Azzi smirked. "Then prove it. Play me. Otherwise I’ll just tell everyone you were scared."

Paige muttered something incoherent under her breath before lazily checking the ball back to Azzi.

Azzi immediately took advantage of Paige’s relaxed posture, going into a quick jumper from behind the arc. The ball arching beautifully through the air and swishing through the net.

"2-0," Azzi announced, her smirk widening.

Paige groaned, grabbing the ball. "Alright, that’s real cute."

When Paige checked the ball this time, she pressed a hand firmly against Azzi’s hip, cutting off her space. Azzi tried to drive left, but Paige stuck with her, their bodies brushing as they collided. Azzi pivoted, stepping back into a mid-range jumper that kissed the front of the rim before bouncing in.

"3-0," Azzi teased, grinning. "You’re looking a little slow tonight, P. You tired?"

"Yeah?" Paige’s voice dripped with mock sweetness as she checked the ball again. Azzi tried to hit another step back but it bounded off the rim.

They checked the ball and Paige jab-stepped to her left, forcing Azzi to shift her weight, then crossed over and exploded to the basket with a quick step. Azzi stayed close, but Paige used her body to shield the ball, finishing with a layup off the glass.

"3-1," Paige said, flashing a smug grin.

Azzi grabbed the ball, her competitive spirit ignited even though this was supposed to be about Paige. As they continued to play, their movements grew sharper and more physical. Paige backed Azzi down on one possession, bumping her with her shoulder before spinning for a fadeaway jumper. Azzi countered by cutting through the lane with a quick first step, using her speed to slip past Paige for an easy floater.

The teasing never stopped.

"Didn’t know I signed up for wrestling practice," Azzi quipped after Paige body-checked her on a drive.

"Yeah yeah," Paige shot back. "You’re not getting past me again."

Azzi grinned. "Oh, I’m passing you right now." She immediately drove left, brushing past Paige’s hip as she hooked her slightly and finishing with a reverse layup that left Paige shaking her head.

The game became more intense with each possession. Azzi swatted one of Paige’s layup attempts, the ball flying out of bounds. Paige groaned.

"You’ve never done that in your life" Paige said, narrowing her eyes as she retrieved the ball.

"First time for everything," Azzi replied, standing tall and grinning.

Paige responded by hitting a deep three-pointer, holding her follow-through for much longer than necessary as the ball sailed through the hoop. "9-8," Paige said, her smirk confident.

On the next possession, she used a quick hesitation move to fake Azzi out of position, draining another jumper.

As the score climbed, so did the tension. The gym felt warmer, their breaths coming faster, their earlier shower completely undone by the sweat dripping down their faces. Every drive and every block brought them closer, their bodies brushing and colliding in ways that blurred the lines between competition and something more.

At one point, Azzi’s hand lingered on Paige’s waist as she pivoted for a shot, and Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she smirked, leaning in slightly as she jab-stepped.

"You getting distracted on me?" Paige teased, her voice low.

" Nope," Azzi fired back, though her flushed cheeks suggested otherwise.

Eventually they were tied at 17, both breathing heavily as they sized each other up. Paige had the ball tucked against her hip, her gaze locked on Azzi.

"What do I get when I win?" Paige asked, her tone playful but laced with a hint of something more.

Azzi’s eyes narrowed, her lips curving into a smile. "You’re not going to win."

Paige chuckled, her confidence unshaken. "Guess we’ll see."

She dribbled slowly, luring Azzi to sleep on defense before hitting her with a fast combo move before she drove hard to the basket, finishing with a finger roll that danced around the rim before dropping in.

"18-17," Paige said, smirking as she checked the ball. "Told you, I don’t lose."

It was Azzi’s ball again and once she caught the ball back from Paige, she stepped back, shooting a quick three-pointer that hit nothing but the bottom of the net.

"19-18," Azzi said, mimicking Paige’s earlier tone. She smirked, stepping closer. "What am I getting when I win?"

Paige grinned, walking up to Azzi until they were nearly nose to nose. “A little something to remind you how giving I can be.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing. "You’re full of it."

The game continued, both of them refusing to give an inch to the other but finally Paige ended it with a three that rattled in after she hit Azzi with a hesi pullup.

"That’s game," Paige said, her voice triumphant as she grabbed her water bottle.

Azzi was smiling as she sipped from her own bottle, her grin unusually big. Paige noticed and raised an eyebrow. "You do know you just lost, right?"

Azzi kept smiling, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. "Yeah," she said softly. "But you weren’t thinking about anything else besides this game, were you?"

Paige blinked, her grin softening as realization hit her. For the first time in a while, she hadn’t been consumed by the weight of everyone’s expectations and opinions of how she was playing. She’d just been... playing.

"Huh," Paige said, her voice quieter. "I guess not."

Azzi smirked, leaning in close, her voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "See? I told you I’d help."

Paige leaned in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s, but before she could close the gap, Azzi stepped back with a mischievous grin.

"Nah," Azzi said, grabbing her water bottle and bag. "I’m a sore loser. You don’t get a kiss after beating me."

Paige laughed. "The winner’s supposed to get something."

Azzi tilted her head, her voice dipping into a sultry tone. "Oh? Is that what you want from me baby?"

Paige nodded, her smile growing as she stepped closer, but Azzi turned on her heel, heading for the door.

"You gotta work for it," Azzi called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with playful challenge as she walked away.

Paige stood there, dumbfounded, watching her girlfriend’s retreating figure. Despite everything she’d been feeling earlier, all the negativity and doubt, Azzi had completely unraveled it and left nothing but the Paige who loved to play basketball more than anything.

"Wait!" Paige called after her, grinning. "So, I’m really not getting any tonight?"

Azzi turned, walking backward as her smirk deepened. "Maybe," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "But like I said you gotta work for it P."

Paige chuckled, shaking her head as she jogged after her, a lightness settling in her chest. She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face, her eyes fixed on Azzi.

"Thank the gods," Paige muttered under her breath, her voice laced with a mix of humor and adoration, "and every single heaven above for Azzi Fudd."

The thought made her laugh softly to herself as she caught up, ready to follow wherever Azzi led her next.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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kentoxo · 1 day ago

Text

friction | reader (f) x crush!nanami pt.14

pairing: reader (f) x crush!nanami

synopsis: [AU] you have always had a crush on nanami. since the day you were hired as his personal assistant, you've been right at his side combating numbers and making money within the finance department for the company you two worked for. but, things take a turn when nanami catches wind of your feelings, and rejects you. little did he know the weight of his mistake.

warnings: angst, heartbreak, sexual tension, jealousy (future smut)

a/n: AHHH IM BACK YALL, IM SO SORRY I WAS GONE. life was doing its thang, but i have returned! here is a nice, warm part in attempts to apologize for my absence xo this might not be checked for spelling or anything so pls forgive me. its late and i have a baby cold but i wanted this part to come out already!

all parts: pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11, pt.12, pt.13,

December | Tokyo, Japan | Tuesday (after work)

“Haibara, he likes me!” You screech into your phone. Your pillow was at the mercy of your ecstatic chokehold. “The Nanami likes me!”

You had spent a good portion of your night talking with Haibara. He truly was the only one who you could share your excitement with, considering his friendship with Nanami. He was the only one who understood the stiff blonde and appreciated how you managed to sway his feelings. But, on that same note, he knew you pretty well and was the best at teasing you.

“You’re quite excited for someone who won’t give him a chance yet,” Haibara teases you. You frown at his words, hoping he’d react like you did. “Why don’t you just let him win you over already?”

“Because!” You reply sharply, jabbing your finger in the air. “He has to earn it, especially after what he’s put me through.”

Haibara lets out a sigh, “and if he decides to change his mind?”

You huff at his distasteful question, “he won’t.”

Haibara lets out a small snort, “didn’t realize you knew Nanami for as long as I have. My bad.”

Sucking your teeth, you sprawl your limbs out on your bed, your eyes distantly staring up at the ceiling, “you know I don’t know a whole lot about him… but he’s different towards me now. There’s something there that wasn’t there before.”

“Can’t argue with that one,” Haibara admits reluctantly. “I’ve never seen Kento act like this. He’s always been to himself.”

You smile triumphantly at his words, “it feels like I like him more because of that.”

“Don’t start,” Haibara taps at your confidence a bit. “Anyhow, let me leave you. I’m gonna order take out and watch a drama.”

You pout but nod to yourself, “thanks for the chat, Yu. Have a good night!”

“You as well, Y/N.” Click.

You toss your phone to the side, a wide smile lingering at your lips. Nanami has intentions to conquer you. And it wasn’t like you were going to deny him, despite prolonging his torture. He could write his confession and pass it to you like in grade school, and you’d still check the ‘yes’ box. Your stomach felt queasy at the thought of his re-attempt, considering his first confession still remained in your mind.

Albeit how that bad night went.

Inspired by Haibara (and the growling of your stomach), you get up to order yourself a bit of food as well. As you waited for the order, you fix up your hair so the delivery person didn’t think you were a hobbit. While you adjusted your face, your phone began to ring in your bedroom. You rush to fetch it, your stomach tossing with excitement for the food. But when you blindly picked up, Nanami’s raspy voice came into sound.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Nanami hums quietly, “how are you doing?”

You felt yourself stiffen, “a-ah, good evening, Nanami! I’m well– and yourself?”

“I’m doing well, thank you,” Nanami replies, his voice as smooth as butter. “What are you up to tonight?”

You awkwardly pull at your holiday PJs and smile embarrassingly to yourself, “‘m home. Just finished ordering some dinner. Is um, is there anything you need, Nanami?”

“Ah–” Nanami’s voice halts, the breath that follows filled with hesitance. “I didn’t want to alarm you, but I am at the lobby of your building.”

You jumped, goosebumps raising all along your arms. “U-um, can I ask why?”

“I, um…” Nanami’s voice streams off for a moment, heavy breathing ensuing. You assume it was because of the cold, and potentially the exhaustive walk over to your house. “It is a little embarrassing to admit, but my night is not going well.”

“Oh?” You were surprised. You’ve never seen too much of Nanami’s emotions until recently, upon his acknowledgment and confession of his newfound feelings for you. It was strange to hear the twinge of sadness in his voice, and his reticence to admit his woeful feelings. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is okay,” Nanami confirms, “but the thought to come see you felt right.”

A streak of red appears on your cheeks, “a-ah! Is that so…”

“Of course, feel free not to invite me in,” Nanami hums quickly, “I can understand the inappropriateness and suddenness of me appearing at your building. I apologize for springing this onto you.”

It’s true. You two were not dating, and weren’t near being official by any stretch. Nanami, just previously, was your boss, the person you looked up to. He signed your pay stubs and was the person who validated your work and relied on you to do his job well. He is not at the point to come to you and cry on your shoulder. It was simply the status quo not to do wifey things for someone who hasn’t even given you the title of girlfriend yet.

But, this was Kento Nanami we were talking about.

“Come upstairs,” you hum. You hang up, and look back to make sure your apartment was clean. Seeing that it was spotless, you quickly check yourself in the mirror, making sure your hair looks nice. Although you lamented not putting on at least some makeup, you were at that point in life where either he likes you as you are, or doesn’t and spares you that horror. You pull down your black sweatshirt, immediately realizing that it was not yours, but the one you borrowed from Tae.

You let out a sigh. You washed his sweatshirt with the rest of your laundry, and then just assumed it was yours as it was in the pile. You rush to the kitchen to make a note to return the sweatshirt. As you finished the sentence, a quiet knock was heard at your door. Your feet quietly tip tap over, gently unlocking everything. As you opened the door, you were met with a bag of food in your face.

“Hold this,” Nanami sounded, his large hand dangling the delicious smelling food before you. Your eyes lingered on Nanami, before looking over at the delivery man right behind him.

You quickly put the food on the coat rack, and bow at the delivery man, “let me grab the money, please give me a moment.” As you prepare your stride, a cold hand grabs your forearm. You turn around to look up at Nanami, who gives you a small smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” Nanami hums. He turns to the delivery man, takes out his wallet, and pulls out a large bill. “Thank you very much. Keep the change as your tip.” The delivery man beamed at his large tip, bowing contently at Nanami before rushing down the stairs.

You could only stare at Nanami, as he let go of your arm to let himself in. He locks the door behind him, and begins to strip off his winter garments. He was… wearing glasses. You ogled at him, your heart strings being pulled at. His jaw was clenched, his breathing getting used to the sudden warmth of your home. His hair was once again messy, his body ornate in comfy clothing, very contrasting to his usual office get up.

Nanami notices your eyes, and smirks, “never seen a blind man, Y/N?”

“A-ah, I’m sorry for staring,” you quickly apologize, “I don’t see you in glasses often.” A strand of his hair lands on his forehead.

“Ah, well,” Nanami’s entire body faces you entirely, and he pushes up his lens with his middle finger, “wearing contacts at night increases the risk of forgetting that they’re still on. I usually remove them the moment I get home.”

Here’s the Nanami you know best, “that’s a good point.”

You two stand in a bit of awkward silence before you look up at Nanami and gesture to the living room, “would you like a cup of tea?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

He takes his seat on the couch while you bring your food over to the kitchen island. You quickly ignore it to put a water-filled kettle onto the stove. “Honey, sugar?”

“Hold on both, thank you,” Nanami hums.

You nod, quickly paying attention to your food. You look over at him awkwardly, “are you hungry? I had no idea that you would be coming, I would have ordered more food…”

Nanami quickly raises his hand, “please, my visit was completely unprecedented. You couldn’t have prepared for it.”

You quietly stare at him. You could see the distance in his eyes, his hands resting on his knees. One of his legs bounced with some sort of anxiety, his thumbs twiddling around one another. You noticed that he barely kept his gaze towards you, looking back down after each brief silence. It felt like there was a bubble around him that he wasn’t quite ready for you to pop yet.

With a small smile, you bring out two plates and carry it with the bag of takeout. You join him on the couch, and quickly begin to unbag your food. Nanami only watched as you began to divide your food in half. He quickly sits up and holds your forearm gently, stopping you from continuing. “There is no need, please enjoy your meal, Y/N.”

“Food always makes me feel better when I don’t really feel the best,” you hum quietly. You gently remove his hand from your arm and give him a curt smile. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

He looks at you, grimacing a bit. You squeeze his hand reassuringly before putting it down to continue separating the food, “I hope you like stir fry with rice, ‘cause that’s what I got.”

Nanami could only stare at you with awe. There was something there that he couldn’t quite explain. A feeling. A semblance of safety, and some sort of nostalgia. As you divided the food in your comfy clothes, he couldn’t help but feel like it should have always been this way. He watched as you cut up a few of the vegetables and meat, and added extra gravy to his plate.

“Y/N,” he starts with another futile attempt.

You look over at him and smiled, “I have soda and beer. Which do you fancy more?” As you waited for his answer, you noticed the food was just warm. “Ah, let me microwave these a bit.”

You carry the plates over to the kitchen and begin to microwave them, finding the opportunity to prepare his small cup of tea upon the boiling of the water. You prepare the herbs and bring it to him, the greens steeping in the water. He takes it from you gently, his eyes still glued to you as you go to the fridge and look over at him. “Have you decided?”

He blinks for a few moments, “a beer, if you don’t mind.”

You grab two beers and pop the caps with the bottle opener on your fridge. You join his side once again and place his beer on the available cup holder near him. Nanami’s hazel eyes stare at you, with your hand eagerly holding your beer, waiting to toast. He quickly puts the tea down and takes the beer in his hand, earning a few giggles from you.

“Are you anxious, Nanami?” You asked, your voice breathy. “I have some oils I can burn if it’ll help put you at ease.”

“No, no, it’s not that at all,” he begins quietly before he clinks his beer bottle with your own. You both take a swig. His Adam's apple protrudes alluringly, his bottom lip shining with the carbonated booze. “It’s just that…” Before he could finish, his eyes burned down at your sweatshirt.

You join him and look down, searching for a stain, “ah, did I spill something already? I just washed this, and it’s not even mine…”

“This isn’t your sweatshirt?” He had a hunch, but he wasn’t looking forward to being right.

You nod, “it’s Tae’s, the barista you hired? He lent it to me when I was starting to get that bad cold I got recently.”

“Ah.” It was the only word that came out of Nanami’s lips. He silently grabs your beer and puts both drinks down on the coffee table. As the ringing of the microwave sounded, you watched as Nanami stripped off his own sweatshirt (a beautiful navy blue shade) and put out one of his hands. You stare puzzled before you notice he begins to flick his middle finger, requesting the sweatshirt you were in.

Obediently, you strip the sweatshirt off, feeling your cheeks warm from the Hello Kitty shirt you had underneath. But Nanami pays it no mind, his hazel eyes unwavering as he fixes his sweatshirt before pulling it over your head. He lets go, allowing you to pull down the sweatshirt. The immediate smell of green tea and hinoki wood intoxicates you, the scent of Nanami taking you over. You could get drunk from his smell, unable to contain the feelings in your heart.

“Please feel free to ask me for warmth whenever you are cold,” Nanami instructs, his eyes satisfied with your new look. He reaches over your face, and pushes a strand of loose hair to the back of your ear. “This color suits you nicely.”

You can feel your face go completely hot, “y-yeah?”

“I’d like to see you wear my dress shirts someday,” he says with a cheeky smile. You then jump, your face completely flushed. Nanami searches your face, confused by your reaction. But he quickly bites his tongue, realizing his words slowly. “A-ah, I’m sorry Y/N– that was highly inappropriate.”

“It’s fine! I think the food is ready!” You escape by rushing over to the microwave, slowly bringing over two steaming plates of food. You put both plates down and retrieve the remaining plastic utensils and condiments from the bag. Fixing his plate, you quickly gesture to his plate, giving him the go to eat.

As he picks up the plate and fork, you quickly grab a few napkins from the bag and place it by him on the table. “I hope it’s not too hot,” you murmur quietly as you pick up your own plate. “I’ll wait for you to eat if you want it to cool down a little.”

Nanami shakes his head, a small chuckle escaping his lips, “I can eat hot food, Y/N, don’t you worry.”

“I have to worry about you, Nanami,” you say simply, “can’t do much about it now.”

In this turn, Nanami felt his own heart skip a beat or two. He couldn’t help but stare at you adoringly. Despite not being able to talk about his woes, you didn’t force it out of him either. He never realized the power of companionship until he was here, eating half of your full meal, in your extremely warm apartment while you were in your PJs. He had always thought ethereal women always remained in the books of fairy tales. But then here you were, eating your food with your plate almost a little too close to your face so you didn’t spill and soil his sweater.

“Mm!” You hummed with a mouth full of food. Quickly chewing and swallowing, you looked up at Nanami, “please tell me how much you gave the delivery man. Let me pay you back before you go.”

Nanami looks down at you and shakes his head, silently turning to his food to begin eating. “Technically I am eating the food, therefore I owe for the meal as well.”

You snort, “I offered you half, Nanami. So with your logic, I owe you half.”

Nanami puts his plate down quietly. He picks up a napkin and dabs his lips clean before taking a swig of his beer. “Y/N, every time I come to your home, there seems to be a trend where bad things happen.”

You look at him, your expression puzzled, “how do you mean?”

“As in, every time I’ve come to visit, something unexpected happens, typically leading to something unideal for you,” Nanami says quietly.

“Ah, please don’t say that,” you say in a sad tone, “it’s purely coincidence that everything has happened the way it has.”

“Right, but now I think it’s true,” Nanami hums, looking over at you. There was an unwavering seriousness in his expression, his hazel eyes warm yet convincing. “It’s nothing bad, truly, but it is quite dangerous.”

“What is?” You reply in a whisper.

He leans over to you, his face beside yours, “my feelings for you are developing in such a way where I might accidentally skip a step or two in this relationship.”

“H-huh?” You let out in a stammer.

He backs away, but takes your hands into his own. He gives your hands a light squeeze, his smile capable of curing all woes you could have. “I have no intentions to rush this relationship,” Nanami begins, “once I make you mine, my intentions are to go at your pace completely. But I need you to understand that my feelings for you have progressed further than the current state of our relationship.”

You eye him, feeling your face burn to a crisp. “A-are you trying to s-say that you…” Your eyes fall down to your legs, your heart unable to take this much feeling in the air.

Nanami quickly chuckles, “maybe not that far, but I’m realizing now that I really do need you in my life. Because if you can make me feel better without addressing my sadness directly, then I believe I’ve always needed you in my life.”

You felt your mind go stupid, your heart going into emotional cardiac arrest. “Nanami… anybody would do this for the person they care about.” Your voice was weak, quiet. You were always ready to undermine yourself. But Nanami will never be taken by it.

“Right, but I’m glad I’m being cared about by you,” Nanami hums, “I don’t care about anybody when my eyes and heart are set on you.”

You weren’t sure what was in the air, but considering Nanami’s hold on your hands and his adoration-filled eyes, you weren’t prepared for what was going to happen next.

Taglist (OPEN)

@blossomedfloweroflove @numblytemporary @everyoneandtheirmothers @animechick555 @inthedarkshadows000

@m-arj-1 @julk4e @hadassery @swoozleee @angxlsatvrn

@v1x3n @s-witch-bitch @furgusonn @watyousayin @thechaoticarchivist

@simp-manhwa @5sos-wdw @ffyona1214 @phantombaby @evangel44xxcds

@ukiyodestiny @jasminelee324 @eurydxceorphxus @moonlightazriel @s3rp3ntsssc0ve

@dusty-dweller @wifenanami @bokuatsubro @ayesayman @starry-eyed--dreamer

@gradmacoco @nymphsdomain @whatelsecouldgowrong @myynameisbuckyy @nanamjai

@a-sor @typicalchels @celestialzdiviner @satoru-is-the-way @sannieworshipper

@shibataimu @galagcica @a-cloudy-dreamy-day @aporcelainphantom @monikosman1311

@fashionably-a-hippie

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento smut #kento nanami #kento x reader #kento x y/n #kento x you #jjk kento #jujutsu nanami

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wlwlibrary · 3 days ago

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I'm super hyped for this so here's my predictions (totally not biased lol)

sorry if it's a little all over the place... (I was really tired when making the bracket list so excuse my spelling mistakes, namely supercorp with b T-T and 2017 instead of 2018)

So first 8 brackets top left, I don't know a lot about these ships but I do know Bubbline and they're quite popular so my guess is they definitely win at least one if not 2 rounds.

Brackets 8-17 middle left, again, don't know a lot about these ships except Lumity and they are really popular on ao3, top 3 ship actually. They will make it to the semi-finale because they have little competition (see brackets 1-16).

The next brackets are interesting... brackets 17-20 middle left. Korrasami, well known and liked will definitely win their first round BUT no way they will win against Supercorb. Supercorb is top 1 femslash ship on ao3 and one of THE most popular and well known femslash ships in history (along with SwanQueen and Clexa, honorable mention to Xena x Gabrielle bc they were the OGs).

Brackets 21-24 middle left, pretty confident Agathario will win these 2 rounds. Brand new ship that gained a lot of traction pretty fast. Sadly, I don't think they stand a chance against Supercorb either bc Supercorb just has such a long standing history while Agathario has just emerged. And what makes a ship strong imo (i dont mean the dynamic itself but its relationship to fandom) is endurance, like how long does a significant portion of the fandom continue to create fanworks and talk about the ship even after the original source material has ended.

Brackets 25-28 middle left, I could see both XenaGab and Avatrice winning the third round. XenaGab is the OG but it's not as well known and popular as Supercorb or SwanQueen for example. So maybe Avatrice has a chance because I've seen people posting about them.

Well, whoever wins of the aforementioned, SwanQueen will trump them, pretty sure.

Bottom left, I have high hopes for Chaggie because they had a really steep incline on ao3 with the release of Hazbin Hotel. Again, I don't think they'll win against SQ but there is a tiny tiny chance. I guess it all depends on the demographic this shipping contest reaches.

Quarter finals give me a headache bc I just know it's gonna be Supercorb vs. SwanQueen AGAIN. Kinda reminds me of Zimbio March Madness 2018 (just realized I wrote 2017 in the pic whoops). Anyway that's gonna be stressful lol personally I really want SQ to win that round :,)

So in semi-finals on the left we have Lumity against either SQ or Supercorb, so basically ao3 top 3 vs. top 1 or top 2 spots ahhhhh

Moving on to the right side...

Bracket 1-8, top right, Catradora will win it all up quarter finals where they're gonna loose to Gelphie or Caitvi. I don't know a lot of the ships but I'm pretty confident in my prediction.

Brackets 9-16 are really interesting because we have two newcomers or more like revival in Gelphie's case. Both pretty new ships but insanely popular at the moment, literally all over Tumblr. I can't really say who's gonna win between Gelphie and Caitvi, it all depends on who these polls reach. However, I'm leaning towards Caitvi simply because I feel like it's slightly more popular.

Brackets 17-20, it's gonna be a show off between Harlivy and Rhaenicent. Harlivy has a pretty solid fanbase that's been around for quite a few years which gives them an edge, but I wouldn't underestimate Rhaenicent (personal bias? what, no. jk).

Brackets 21-24 I have 0 idea how this is gonna turn out, all ships are pretty equal popularity wise. I guess Sanvers might win and Morgwen but afterwards? No idea.... Harlivy or Rhaenicent will be part of the quarter finals though.

Bottom 8 brackets, Wenclair will win 2 rounds at least. They've been really popular when Wednesday was released but I feel like they have died down a bit since then. I'm quite unsure if Clexa or Farcille would have a chance but just to be sure I put them as possible candidates for the quarter finals. Although the fandom Clexa has been mostly dead for too long (if I'm wrong pls correct me) and Farcille is still too new and unheard of in the entirety of femslash fandom.

My bet is still on either Rhaenicent or Harlivy for semi-finals.

So, semi finals...

I firmly believe that SQ or Supercorp, depending on who's winning quarter finals, will make it to the final. From the right side I'll place my bets on either Caitvi or Geplhie simply for the fact that my feed has been flooded by fanworks of them and because of the sensation of the ships.

Now regarding who will be the final winner... Could be either of the finalist, I really can't say. I'm hoping for SwanQueen but I'm having doubts due to the fact that there are really strong contestants before the final, Supercorp and Lumity, although Supercorp is the bigger threat.

The final itself is basically new vs. old-school ships, no matter who wins on the left haha.

That's it, obviously this is super biased and how this contest turns out is entirely dependant on what fandom spaces are reached but I'm really excited. Like there are possible demographic differences regarding live action vs. animation and eastern vs. western media.

Let me know your thoughts on who's gonna win and who you favor :D

Welcome to the Unofficial Top Femslash Ships Bracket!

Many people on Tumblr might have engaged in the practice of "shipping" in relation to "media". Some, according to legend, even have opinions on these matters.

If the above happens to apply to you, you might be eligible to vote in this bracket! We have pitted the most popular femslash pairings against each other to see who will emerge victorious. Round 1 polls drop on Thursday, December 26th at 4PM PST, and will run for three days.

Check current vote counts here!

FAQ:

How was the bracket made and seeded?

This bracket was made with a combination of centreoftheselights' Ao3 data, the Tumblr 2024 Year in Review list, and a few notes of historical interest, and seeded according to the results of this survey!

What are your stances on voter fraud, campaigning, bribing people with drabbles and/or art, etc?

Enthusiastically in favor! We do, however, ask that you don't DDOS Tumblr, and ideally don't commit any murders that can be traced back to us.

I have an issue with [x] being included in this poll.

This poll is a celebration of fandom and fandom history; we're aware that there are certain issues with some of the listed pairings and sources, but they are a part of that history. Please do not take this as an endorsement of anything included in the bracket, and refrain from harassment.

In general, please remember that this is intended to be a fun time for the wide community which is fandom culture, and treat each other with respect!

Bracket Schedule!

#shipping #femslash #ship brackets #shipping contest #swanqueen #swan queen #sq #supercorp #caitvi #gelphie #rhaenicent #korrasami #catradora #my predictions #totally not biased lol #ships

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five-rivers · 13 hours ago

Text

Smoothie Chapter 1

Started a fic based on this post. Enjoy!

The doors of Long Now creaked open in front of Danny, and he walked in, murmuring thanks to Long Now. The doors closed again behind him, and once they did, Danny could hear the wonderful sound of Observants shrieking for Clockwork to do something emanating from the Viewing Hall.

He sighed, disappointed. Most of the time, when he visited Long Now, he didn’t come for any specific purpose, but today he’d hoped to get some help on a history paper (he didn’t even know where to start, and it was a whole ten percent of his grade by itself) and to get a snack (his parents had forgotten to get groceries earlier in the week, and the nearest grocery store had been trashed by a ghost fight, so it was unlikely they’d get any today, either). With the Observants yelling at him, it didn’t sound like he’d even be able to hang out with Clockwork.

The Observants would probably throw a fit if they noticed Danny here, too. He glanced back at the doors, but Long Now had, rather coyly, in Danny’s opinion, not only barred them but maneuvered a pair of large gears and a stout chain over them.

It looked like Long Now wanted him to stay, anyway. He looked up. For some reason, he always felt a little more comfortable addressing the huge clockwork mechanism at the center of the lair as Long Now, even though Long Now was the entire structure around him. “I don’t suppose you have any snacks I can eat?”

Danny thought he could probably find his way to the kitchen on his own… But also that it would be a bit rude to wander in and eat Clockwork’s food like that without asking. If Long Now gave him permission, though…

The gears in the walls moved, sliding open a door on the other side of the entryway. Danny grinned. “Thanks!” he said, quietly.

He followed the movement of gears and chains through narrow hallways until he reached a small, but well-appointed vaguely modern kitchen. At first, Danny couldn’t see a refrigerator, but then a door swung open invitingly, and Danny realized that Clockwork had a walk-in fridge.

Cool. Literally.

He snickered at his own joke, then stepped up to the doorway. “It is okay for me to take some of this, right?” he asked. The door didn’t slam in his face, so he took that as a yes. He went in.

Clockwork’s (cavernous) fridge, as it turned out, was as meticulously arranged and organized as the rest of Long Now. Each kind of food seemed to have its own dedicated and labeled space. Wandering, Danny read Rampion - Witch’s Garden on the shelf under some salad, Turkish Delight - Charn underneath some odd, long, squarish blocks, and Pomegranates - Stygian Shores.

He puzzled at the labels for a little while, before he realized that they must be - what did Sam call them? - cultivars. Cultivars of different kinds of plants. Ghostly cultivars? They looked interesting. Maybe later, he could ask Clockwork if he could bring some to Sam, she liked that sort of thing.

In the meantime, though… He looked around at all the fruit on the shelves and a bucket labeled Spirit Ice - Far Frozen and decided. “I’m going to make a smoothie,” he told Long Now.

There was a rustle outside the fridge, and Danny peeked out to see that a blender had been deposited on the kitchen counter. He grinned and went back inside to find his ingredients.

The ice first, of course. Then, he needed some fruit. He started to browse. What looked good…? The pomegranates, Sam said they were good for you, and he'd liked them when she gave him some. Then a bowl of Snow-Ripe Strawberries - Three Dwarves’ Cottage. The Immortal Peaches - Kunlun looked good. He'd have to peel and pit them before putting them in the blender, but he'd have to prepare the pomegranates, too, so it wasn't an issue. Ooh, he wondered how good Orange - Clockwork Nirvana of Mechanus tasted for Clockwork to put his name on it. Although that might just be a coincidence. Then, Fairy Apples - Autumn Court rounded out his selection.

That was probably enough to make a decent smoothie, but he’d really like some milk, or maybe a banana, to make it thicker. He scanned the shelves again. He hadn’t noticed any bananas, but he was sure he’d seen milk. There! Looking Glass Milk - Wonderland. It even looked like whole milk when he sloshed it back and forth in its glass container, which was better for this kind of thing than skim milk.

He carried his loot back out to the kitchen proper and pulled out a cutting board and knife so he could get everything prepared before he tossed it in the blender. He’d wash up as soon as he was done.

First the ice (a little hard to chip into useable chunks, but his own ice powers helped), then he opened up the pomegranate by cutting off the ends and scoring the sides so he could peel them away (and he didn’t make the kitchen look like a crime scene, so take that, Sam). He brushed off the seeds into the blender. They looked kind of cool, the little seeds sifting down between the larger chunks of ice. Then, he plucked the stems off the strawberries and cut them in quarters before dropping them in (that always made them blend a little better when he was at home). He decided to juice the oranges, rather than dropping in whole slices, since the skin of the sections might not blend well. That left the apples, which he cored and cut into little chunks, and the peaches, which he dithered over. He’d never actually peeled a peach before, but although he didn’t mind the fuzzy outside when he was eating slices, he didn’t want the little hairs in a smoothie. Eventually, he decided to just go for it. It didn’t matter how mangled the pieces were before they went into the blender, after all. Finally, he poured the nice, thick milk over the whole thing, filling in all the nooks and crannies.

Danny made sure the blender lid was securely fastened before he started to pulse it. He’d made the mistake of not checking once before. Thankfully, any large kitchen mishaps at home could be blamed on the hot dogs, so he’d gotten out of that without getting in trouble.

Soon, the contents of the blender were a nice, smooth, thick, pink with a few dots of darker colors here and there. He found a glass big enough to hold the smoothie in one of Clockwork’s cabinets, then poured it in.

On the other side of the kitchen, a door creaked open, and Danny, holding the smoothie, investigated. The room on the other side was the cozy little dining room that Clockwork sometimes served Danny tea in.

“Thanks,” Danny told Long Now again, before finding a seat. He’d drink his smoothie here, then clean up the kitchen, and if Clockwork was still arguing with the Observants… well, Danny should probably go home at that point… He sipped his smoothie. Oh, that was good. He took another, deeper gulp.

The smoothie was very good, in fact. One of the best he’d made, if he did say so himself. All of the flavors balanced perfectly, and the temperature and texture were just right. Although they might not be for someone who wasn’t a cold core ghost. The good thing about having ice powers was that he never got brain freeze anymore.

Leisurely, Danny drank his smoothie. He didn’t trouble himself to drink it very quickly. He wanted to stay long enough for Clockwork to finish with the Observants. He at least wanted to say ‘hi.’

But by the time he finished the smoothie, Clockwork was still nowhere to be found. He sighed and carried his empty cup back to the kitchen. What he really wanted to do was find a comfortable place to curl up in and go straight to food coma land, but he really couldn’t leave Clockwork’s kitchen like that.

He put the blender in the sink to soak a little (he should have done that before, but he’d forgotten), then washed the cutting board and knife. There were some crumbs in other parts of the kitchen - and those were not from him - and a few places were dusty, so Danny wiped those down. Long Now helpfully produced a broom and dustpan, and Danny swept the floors as well. Then, he went back to the sink and started taking apart the blender.

The door of the kitchen swung open and Clockwork flew in, shoulders tense and tail flicking with agitation. He made a beeline directly for Danny.

“Oh, hi!” said Danny, raising the pitcher part blender. “I was just cleaning up–”

“What did you eat?” asked Clockwork. He didn’t sound mad, exactly, but there was an urgency in his tone that put Danny immediately on edge.

“A smoothie?”

“With what in it?”

“Um, some of the stuff from your fridge,” said Danny, gesturing with the blender. “Some milk, ice, and fruit?”

“What exactly?”

“Um,” said Danny. “Snow strawberries, eternal peaches, a pomegranate, a clockwork orange, fairy apples, and… I think that was it? And the milk and ice.”

“Show me what you took,” said Clockwork.

“Okay,” said Danny. “I’m sorry, Long Now opened the door, and I asked if it was okay, I didn’t mean to take stuff you were using later…”

Clockwork’s lips had gone very thin, and Danny could see wrinkles spread out from the corners of his eyes and mouth as he aged forward.

“Sorry,” Danny said again.

“It is not your fault, but I must see what it is that you ate.”

Danny nodded and went into the fridge. He pointed out each place that he’d taken something from, even the ice and milk. He had gotten some of the names wrong, but he was pretty sure he got everything.

However, with each thing Danny pointed out, Clockwork looked more and more stressed. Even when Danny had just taken one fruit out of a whole basket.

“I’m sorry,” repeated Danny, tapping his fingers together nervously. He didn’t entirely understand what he’d done wrong, but it was clear he’d screwed up. “I don’t know these cultivars, but I can get you new fruit from the store or something?”

Clockwork turned to him, face grim. “These labels are not cultivars. Rather, they are not only cultivars. They are the places they come from. These pomegranates from the River Styx are the brothers and sisters of the one that bound Persephone to Hades for half the year. The apples are the ones that the fae of the Autumn Court use to trap people in their realm. The orange carried with it some of the Laws of Mechanus, although I do not know how those will behave exposed to the other fruit. None of these things were for eating. They are dangerous and powerful things those Realms have given me as gifts.”

“Oh,” said Danny, feeling very small and stupid.

Clockwork rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If the Observants had not blocked me, I never would have allowed Long Now to even show you this room.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” asked Danny. “Should I try to throw up or something?”

“No,” said Clockwork. “It is far too late for that. As for what will happen… If it were only one or the other of them, then the effects would be clear. There would even be some precedent for eating one then another. But when you ate them all at once, all blended together…” He shook his head. “Regardless, you cannot be left bound. We will have to negotiate for your release.”

“Release?” asked Danny, feeling queasy.

“From the obligations you incurred by eating those things. Some of them, I think, will not be so difficult. Others… There are some things I must put into order before we can leave. Stay here. And do not sleep.”

Clockwork left the way he’d come, leaving Danny alone in the kitchen once more. There was something smug about how the door latched itself.

“You tricked me,” said Danny, reproachfully.

The ticking in the walls sounded like giggles. He didn’t receive any other response.

With nothing else to do until Clockwork came back, Danny finished washing the blender.

#danny phantom #fic #my fic

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drowned-captain · 1 day ago

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The Rebound - Pitfighter!Vi x Fem!Reader - Ch. 1

A/N: Hellooo this idea came to me in my mind brain. This is going to take place during the time of Vi’s pitfighter era (duh). I’m kinda hitting the ground running with this one, so bear with me lol. I’m aiming for some angst and drama! This is pretty much the first fic I’m writing so I hope you readers enjoy! I’m also writing this on mobile (and I’m kinda new to posting on tumblr) so I apologize for any possible weird formatting. This will most likely be a multi-part story :) Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!

MDNI! (18+ only).

TW// Mature themes like violence, drinking, possible drug use, infidelity, mean/triggering thoughts

Summary: You are a Zaunite going through a breakup. Your partner was once your entire world for nearly three years until you had enough of them going behind your back. After being reclusive in your home for weeks, you decide to rejoin society. You find yourself curious about Zaun’s latest fighting champion, but she might have other intentions with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are laying in your bed like you have been for the past few hours. Or has it been days? Weeks? Who knows. The only time you made yourself get up was to grab a snack or to go to the bathroom. Other than that, being curled up in a bunch of blankets has been all the comfort you can give yourself without the usual embrace of your ex-partner. You have a photograph of the two of you pinched between your fingers, the image blurry from the pooling of tears in your eyes. You adjust your head on your pillow slightly to lay your cheek on a dry spot, inhaling deeply through your nose and cringing at the snot retreating back into your nostrils.

You roll over on your bed, facing the empty spot next to you. Your face crinkles in sadness at the absence of the person you considered your everything. In frustration, you shove the pillow next to yours and it falls off the bed, hitting the floor softly. Your mind wandered to how many people that lying rat had laid down in the bed you two shared. Your fist clenches in rage, and you merely slam your fist at the spot next to you. Your hand just bounces easily, encouraging you to sit up and toss the picture you were holding elsewhere as you slammed your fists into the bed. A frustrated scream escapes your lips before you tire yourself out, leaving you panting and wiping tears, snot, and saliva off of your face with your already soggy sleeves.

You remain seated there on your knees, just staring at the ruffled mess underneath you. The anger and sadness in your mind tore each other apart like a couple of fighting cats, and you slump into yourself. You finally pick your head up and look around your room, and all you see are reminders of them. Photographs, trinkets, and clothes that they couldn’t come collect because you were serious when you told them to never come back. You know that you’ll have to return them eventually, but it’s just too painful to even touch their possessions. You’ve had enough of surrounding yourself with these painful memories.

You bring your shirt to your nose and take a congested whiff, and despite having your nose compromised your head recoiled at your own stench. Groaning, you scooted yourself off of your bed. Your knees and ankles popped from not being used in a while as you walked to the bathroom. You glanced at yourself in the mirror and sighed at your state.

Your hair was stuck to your face from the tears, your eyes were swollen and red, entire face shiny from the oil buildup. You have to pull yourself together, girl!

After a much needed shower, you felt a little bit better. You wandered off back into your bedroom, briefly glancing out of the curtain on your window to see what time of day it was. It appeared to be later in the day, maybe too late to go out and actually do something. However, the pain from your surroundings was enough of a deterrent to encourage you to step out anyways.

You threw on some casual clothing, finishing it off with some light makeup. For the first time in a while, you felt pretty. It was almost like a little makeover for your depressed self… but you would’ve felt a lot better about it if the makeup you used wasn’t one of your many “I’m sorry” gifts from your ex lover.

You sigh, slipping some shoes on before locking your place and heading out into the streets of Zaun. It didn’t seem like much changed around the street except for the growing trend of people dying their hair blue.

Zaun’s noises were a much needed change from the echoing of your own sobs in your bedroom. You keep your head low as you wander around. You don’t really care where you end up— you just have to get some (not so) fresh air. You pretend not to hear whistles that you know are directed at you. In another world, the attention might have been nice. You left your apartment feeling pretty, but your mean mind once again beats you down.

‘If you were as pretty as you think you are, you wouldn’t have been cheated on. You weren’t pretty enough to them since they did what they did MULTIPLE times.’

You shake your head, feeling tears threatening to gather along your waterline. You sniffle and pick your head up, looking up at the darkened, foggy sky to blink the tears away. As your head returns to a neutral position, your eyes catch a glimpse of some posters on the wall that you walked along. The wall had many of the same poster, but most of them had been drawn on with blue spray paint. Your analytical eyes were quick to find a readable one.

It said something about where to place bets for tonight’s match in The Pit. There were the names of some contestants listed below, but you couldn’t care less about the names of the people getting their teeth punched out tonight. Judging by the distant noise, it doesn’t seem like it’s too far at all. However, the crowd of people coming towards you— some cheering and some angry — tells you that you just missed the fight. Oh well.

You walked against the crowd, letting yourself keep walking. There was distant music that was getting closer and some colorful lights coming from many buildings. You looked around, realizing that you had wandered into the ‘livelier’ strip of Zaun. People walking by smelled of alcohol, sex, and cigarette. This would normally bother you or warrant your face scrunching up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment.

With your shoe dragging to a stop, you look around the area and contemplate going back home for a few seconds. But you shake your head.

“No, I’m tired of being at the apartment. I’m going to treat myself,” you say to yourself with a determined look on your face.

“Treat yourself to a psych ward if you’re going to stand there talking to nobody,” says a random guy to your left. A bouncer.

You turn to face him, your face twisting into an awkward smile.

“You gonna go in or not?” He asks, crossing his arms. You look past him, your eyebrows raised at the amount of people in there. You can hear the bass of the music booming through the walls.

“Uh.. sure. Yeah. I’ll give this place a shot,” you say, clicking your tongue and winking at him for your lame pun. He just scoffs and stands aside, opening the door to let you in.

When you step inside, you contemplate turning right back around. There are so many people in here that you can feel sweat landing on you from all the dancing people. You awkwardly shimmy your way through the crowd until you reach the bar area. A groan escapes your mouth when you see that the bar is also pretty backed up. But alas! Someone gets off of one of the barstools. You shove your way past people and take a seat, sighing at the slight relief of not being elbowed or having your shoes stepped on by people lost in the music.

The bartender makes eye contact with you, and you yell out for two shots of raspberry vodka. After a few moments, the bartender slides two shot glasses of the tinted liquid in front of you.

As you reach for the glass on the right, a bandaged hand has already grabbed it.

“Thanks,” says the woman, throwing her head back and downing the shot before slamming it down on the counter. Her forehead bonks onto the counter as well, black hair sprawling out.

Your mouth is agape and your hand is still in midair where your now empty shot glass rests. Your eyebrows furrow in irritation, and you nudge the drunk girl’s shoulder with your hand.

“Hey! That was not for you. You’re going to have to pay for that shot,” you say. The woman rolls her head to the side, an annoyed scowl on her face.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she growls, her words slurring. She peels her face off of the counter and runs a hand through her hair, fixing her bangs into place.

Before you can say something to defend yourself, you close your mouth upon seeing those wrapped up hands of hers; the bandages on her knuckles were stained with blood. Her glossy eyes meet yours, the scowl on her face relaxing a bit upon seeing your face.

‘This girl is probably one of those fighter people. Better not agitate her even more.’

You quickly break the eye contact and grab your only shot left and down it, feeling the burn all the way down to your stomach.

“Who are you anyways? You don’t look like you belong here at all,” she says, leaning in a bit so you can hear her past the music.

You honestly can’t tell if she’s trying to find a reason to escalate a fight or if she’s genuinely trying to have a conversation. Glancing at her, you can see bruises on her face even underneath her smeared, black makeup.

“This was the only free seat,” you say, not making the contact with her in fear that you’ll get socked in the jaw. What if she perceives eye contact as a threat?

“Lucky me,” the girl says with as she plops her chin onto the counter. You breathe a sigh of relief now that her posture is a bit more relaxed.

“So do you have a name or not?” she asks again.

Finally turning your head to look at her properly, you answer, “It’s definitely not as important or well known as yours might be.”

Her silvery eyes glance up at you, “You watch the fights then?”

“I can assume that you’re one of those pit fighters judging by your, um…” you look at her bloody knuckles once more and at the bruises on her face, “demeanor.”

The woman lets out a laugh, “You’re a such a dork,” she slurs, picking her head up. “You could just say no. But I’ll have you know that I’m at the top of the food chain in that pit. You should come see me.” She flexes her bicep, and you glance at her beefy arm before looking back at her smug face. Drunk people are so damn weird.

“….Right,” is all you can say.

“Now how about that name of yours?” She asks with a smile, “I would like to know the name of the lady who bought me a shot.”

“I didn’t b— ugh.. whatever. It’s (y/n).”

“I like that name. Caitlyn is such a pretty name,” she says, smiling weakly.

“I said (y/n).”

“That’s what I said. (Y/n).”

You roll your eyes and disengage from the conversation by turning slightly away from her in your seat.

“You’re not going to ask me my name?” She asks, using her foot to turn your barstool back to her.

“…What’s your name?”

“Vi,” she answers, resting her head on her hand. You just nod, feeling awkward. Needing more liquid confidence, you wave the bartender down again and order a lemondrop martini.

“A martini, huh? Aren’t those usually called princess drinks?” Vi says with a wink.

“Since when?” you raise one of your eyebrows at her. Vi just laughs.

After the bartender brings you your drink, you take a sip and cough a bit at the strength of it.

“You don’t drink very often. I can tell,” Vi says with a playful smile.

“You seem to drink too much judging by your behavior,” you retort. You somewhat chug the rest of the martini, already feeling the buzz in your head. You order shot after shot, not really paying attention to the flirtatious stuff that Vi is telling you. You wonder if your ex lover did the same shit to the people they brought to your bed.

“I’m just having fun,” Vi says, having ordered some beverage for herself and taking a swig.

“No you’re not,” you say, the alcohol helping you speak your mind, “If you’re anything like me, you’re here to forget. To numb some type of pain.”

Vi’s face and body language went from drunken flirt to mild shock.

“Yeah,” you say, looking at her, “I don’t belong here, you’re right. But neither do you, is what I’m thinking. That’s what I’m reading off of you.”

Vi lowers her drink, staring at you.

“See, you know I’m right ‘cause you have nothing to say,” a smile on your face as your words slur.

Vi’s face turns into a scowl again, “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I don’t want to know a damn thing about you,” you bark, narrowing your eyes at her, “So stop flirting with me and get a grip.”

Vi stands up from her seat, her body tense. A bearded man who sat on the other side of her put his hand on her shoulder, making her sit back down. You were scared for a brief second, but you didn’t let it show. Thank goodness Vi had some sort of friend with her to keep her in check.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your wallet, leaving some cash on the counter.

Vi looks at her friend, briefly coming to her senses. She then huffs, her attitude completely changing. She takes a few gulps of her drink before saying, “You should really get a grip on yourself too, then. Don’t let it get like this,” she glances down at herself.

You don’t say anything in response, but you know she’s right. You have to practice what you preach.

You wave the bartender down once more, making a gesture. The bartender comes back with two plastic cups of clear liquid, and you push one towards Vi.

“Sober up, Vi,” you say. You stand up from your seat and take your cup of liquid, making your way through the crowd towards the exit.

Vi grabs the cup you left, taking a sip and expecting it to burn, but it doesn’t. It’s just water.

End of Ch. 1

#vi arcane #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane #pit fighter vi #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #arcane vi x reader #arcane vi x you

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just-zy · 2 days ago

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Some life she hoped

pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem Reader!

summary: Meeting again after so long wasn't really on your bucket list, neither did you receiving an apology.

A/N: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I apologize for the inactivity, I've been losing motivation on writing lately and ik this doesn't make up for it but I hope it does something to you 😞, the imagines are rotting in my drafts. Anyways, cheers to another year!

Warnings!: kind of angsty, mostly.. but that's about it!

Masterlist

There was always this nagging feeling keeping me from loving again, these past months I've been feeling nothing but grief. What once was love I couldn't stop giving, turned into something I threw all away after finally leaving my first love.

A year passed by and still, I would look for her at places I hoped she'd be in, for a mere coincidence I might get a glimpse of her, somehow, some way I wish I did. But then, I met Naveen, in a way our love felt so different. She wanted me to be hers, I gave her a chance, more than a few. It all felt like it wouldn't work out, but this last chance I gave her, I held on for dear life for it to actually be true. But it all felt like I was toying with myself more than I do her.

So I let her go, not for me, but for Naveen to find someone more worthy of her love.

A place I didn't hope to see her, but there she was, looking flawless as ever. How she looked under the night's gaze, and the stars reflecting on her eyes.

"Y/N?"

Jenna.

"What are you doing here?"

The same reason why you're here.

"Why can't I be? Better yet, what are you doing here?" I chuckled lightly while I felt my heart ache in a bittersweet dream.

She huffs, "I don't know, I just had the idea to... chill here for a bit and dip."

This place, a view of the beach while we're up on a hill with a singular bench. This was where we used to hide away from everyone, from the cruel world.

I quietly made my way towards her, "Mind if I?", she scoots a little further, I sat down with my hands on my pockets.

Winter was our favourite season, we loved watching the beach while listening to the waves and spouting out nonsense. A part of me hoped we didn't end the way we did, I had so much more to tell her that I can't speak about now.

"How are you?" She quips while still having her sight on the beach. I blew out the breath I didn't know I was holding. "I'm good, all's well. How about you?"

"He broke up with me."

He was no good for you anyways.

"How are you holding up?" I cautiously asked while I started rubbing my hands together, it was getting too cold. "I realized, I really needed this, even when we were together it all just felt too suffocating. I didn't need him anyway."

Then why did you disregard me for him just like that?

I hummed with a disdain. But she doesn't need to know that.

"That's good, knowing you're finally... freeing yourself—"

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

I—

"I know what I did to you was wrong, so wrong but I still did it anyway. I wasn't the perfect girlfriend for you, and I know you knew that too."

But, I needed you the most. I wish you at least had the time to think about me, about us. The moment you let go of me, a piece of my heart shattered with you.

"You know, I really meant when I said I hoped we were together in another life. I wish I'm better for you there, when then wasn't enough, I hope it's more than enough all the way on a multiverse."

...

I walked mindlessly in the library my friend worked in, I heard footsteps making it's way to my direction, I glance to my right, getting a good look at River, "Did you know? NASA actually finds out that there's more than just one world? I mean- there's this multiverse that's living like us but, in reverse, do you get it?" She looked really excited to share the story with me, and of course it caught my attention.

I chuckled at the thought, walking back to Jenna's place. I walked up to her door and gently knocked. With a click and a swift open of the door, there Jenna stood in her pajamas.

"I have a fact you might like to know."

She giggles at the story I had just told her, "Well if that were true, I hope we lived together in a mansion with millions of animals."

...

"Y- Yeah.."

Tucking my hair, my breathing went rigid as it suddenly felt too hot for me to think. I got up, bidding Jenna a good night's rest.

"Y/N– I... I hope you're doing okay."

I didn't dare spare her another glance. I knew I had moved on from her, but why is it that whenever I think about her, it all feels so heavy?

If I hadn't met you, I probably would have had more love to give.

A/N: this was shit but okay ig, I hope y'all enjoyed this more than I did. I did this in one sitting, so ik it's bad.

#jenna ortega imagine #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday x reader #tara carpenter x you #astrid deetz x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x fem reader #x female reader #fem reader #x fem!reader #x reader

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seiwas · 2 days ago

Note

sniff hiccs i’m back begging for mattsun + friends -> lovers + stomach (ALSO ILY)

thanks for sending saint!! sorry i'm getting to this so late, ily 🥺

mattsun + stomach + friends -> lovers

contains: pining mattsun, christmas fluff!, seijoh 4 dynamics bc ofc they are a scheming conniving bunch, kind of ambiguous?? but there is def something, suggestive innuendos, fluff!!!!!!!!

ugly christmas sweaters aren't issei's thing. not one bit.

they're itchy, first and foremost, and you'd think, with something that horrendous, they might as well have some kind of redeeming quality (like wool-soft thermal lining)—but nope, they're equally as uncomfortable as they are ugly.

the hem of this year's sweater, in particular, rides up his disproportionally long torso, making it impossible for him to reach forward or upward for anything. the cuffs of his sleeves land at that awkward length that just barely covers his wrists, leaving his fingertips cold. for issei, an essential criteria of any good sweater is that the sleeves must be long enough for him to pull over his knuckles—a quality that this one definitely does not have.

plus, it's ugly. (did he already mention that?)

"oh shit," takahiro wheezes, holding in his laughter as he reads the text on issei's sweater. he bites down his side comment and nods his head instead, "i respect it."

issei stares at him, deadpan.

since arriving at hajime's apartment for your group's yearly christmas celebration, issei's kept himself confined to the kitchen. there are many reasons for this: one, the alcohol is much easier to refill back here; two, not everyone's arrived yet; and three—

"'unwrap me, baby?'" hajime steps into the space, eyebrow raised as he tilts his head at the very obvious red bow adorning issei's sweater. the gold text on the fabric is even more evident.

"i swear," takahiro tells hajime as he swings an arm around issei's shoulder, "if this isn't his profession of lo―"

"shut the fuck up," the taller male elbows him as hajime chuckles across the room, "it's the stupid theme."

issei hates christmas sweaters, and yet every year, without fail, you manage to rope him in to wearing one away. regardless of its stupid theme.

"well, they should be around ten minutes out," hajime replies, checking the notifications on his smart watch, "so if you plan to… you know…”

issei shrugs, taking another sip from his glass of gin, "s'just a small crush."

but everyone knows it's much more than that.

you and tooru arrive with arms full of gifts. one by one, you approach them, present in one hand as you go in for a hug with the other. it's a typical, normal thing you do, but his heart instantly hammers the moment you stand in front of him. the soft smile you give him is one he knows well, and if he wants to be a little hopeful, it's one he thinks you give to him, alone, too.

your arm wraps around issei's waist as you lean in for a hug, the blend of your shampoo and perfume hitting him all at once. the alcohol has done much to ease his mind, but little to dull his senses, his arm instinctively bringing you closer. when you linger in his hold for just that bit longer, all his thoughts turn silent.

everyone’s known of this thing between you and issei for a while; it's hard not to notice after all the years of mutual pining and undeniable chemistry. it’s even gotten to the point that tooru’s added the event of you and issei getting together to his christmas wishlist.

but, you always say you don't think issei sees you like that, because if he did, he would have said something by now. which, to issei's defense, the only reason he hasn't said anything is because the last time someone tried to ask you out, you said, "i'm not looking for a relationship right now."

takahiro argues that it's been a few years since then, and that your answer would have been very different should issei have been the one to ask. but still.

"'santa baby, oh baby yes baby,'" hajime squints at your christmas sweater, reading the words slowly.

"dude, you have to stop reading that shit out loud," takahiro groans.

tooru laughs from the couch, "unwrap me, baby’ and that? cute! you’re talking through your sweaters."

issei's expression remains unbothered as he watches you turn shy, meeting his eyes for a brief moment before walking over to join tooru on the couch.

"at least issei's the only one who takes the themes seriously,” you jokingly huff and pout.

issei should have known his friends were up to no good tonight, with the outright teasing and the weird way hajime’s been acting this entire time.

the kitchen is surprisingly full right after dinner; cleanup duty is typically left to you and issei because it’s the only other thing the both of you can do—plus, it makes for a perfect combination: your speediness in cleaning the countertops and his ease in handling dinner plates make for an efficient team.

but tonight, everyone’s seemed to fit themselves into the tiny space, pushing you closer and closer to one another.

“mattsun, can you pass that big bowl in the cupboard?” tooru calls out, pointing at the space overhead.

issei’s gaze follows the direction of his finger, his arm reaching up high to get it.

then, it happens too quickly after that.

from an ‘accidental’ bump to a slight shove, hajime backs up into takahiro who manages to push you out of balance, leading you to cling on to the next best thing to keep you standing—

which just so happens to be issei’s stomach, lean muscles and smooth skin on full display from the way his christmas sweater has ridden up while reaching for the bowl that tooru just so happened to coincidentally ask for.

he shivers almost instantly—whether from the coolness of your fingertips or the plain fact that it’s you, he has yet to determine.

you look flustered, apologising profusely as you turn to move away, but as everyone else seems to exit the space, issei puts his hand over yours to keep you in place.

the action makes you still.

“you okay?” he manages, still a little dazed as his eyes look for yours.

the stare you return is a mixed bag of shock, confusion, and uncertainty—as if you’re not sure if you’re reading into this correctly.

so maybe it’s the alcohol, but when he jokingly asks, “taking ‘unwrapping me’ literally, huh?” while motioning to his sweater, he doesn’t think much beyond the intention of trying to lighten up the mood—of trying to make you laugh despite the awkwardness of the situation.

your eyebrows shoot up briefly before you dissolve into stifled laughs. the hand you’d rested on his stomach relaxes and you feel him do the same, his subtle sigh of relief blowing small wisps of hair away from your forehead.

this is enough for him—just the two of you in the kitchen, laughing over another one of these mishaps like it’s happened plenty of times before (because it has; too many times that he wonders if it’s normal for friends to find themselves in these situations).

but you push it just that bit further and tease him back, snorting as you mimic the words on your sweater, “guess i should say ‘santa baby, oh baby yes baby.’”

and if you both notice the evident hardness pressing into your thigh, neither you nor issei says a thing about it.

a/n: this def crosses a boundary in their friendship and they get together after a few days, just in time for new year’s 😌 unmentioned but reader has also had the fattest crush on mattsun since forever, they’re just really good at hiding it. and reader also thinks that mattsun is just naturally flirty with everyone else (he isn’t).

#matsukawa x reader #hq!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #issei x reader #hq!!#issei #shotorus.workbook #ask #rep #saint.🩸#shutupsaint #sorry this is so late!!!!#a lil christmas ficlet!!! ive been wanting to do something holiday themed for a while hehe

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unfriendlies · 3 hours ago

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while seeing the havoc his ex wracked inside his apartment did startle him and cause him more stress and anxiety, it was just things that were destroyed. material possessions that could be replaced. they might not have the same sentimental value but a lot of what was broken were things that his ex had gifted him so he was okay with letting the items go. garam wanted to shake his head, he wanted to tell angel that they shouldn't drive themselves further into living in fear. he wanted to believe his ex would leave him alone, that he'd move on in a couple weeks or as soon as he found somebody new to sleep with if he hadn't already found someone. with what happened, garam couldn't even say with any ounce of confidence that axel hadn't already been sleeping with other guys while they were together. "i think cameras might be a bit much, maybe we can get one of those ring doorbell things. they have the little camera in it so it'll serve more than one purpose." it was easier to convince him to get one if it didn't solely function as a camera. at least with that gadget, they'd be able to see and talk to who was at the door on one of their phones so they wouldn't even have to physically open the door. plus, if axel did try to come over again, there'd be physical proof of his harassment. "i want to be able to take care of you, too." he whispered, trying to hold his composure as angel got closer to him. his heart was beating so fast as the other's lips pressed to his neck, garam hoped angel couldn't tell. sure, he wanted the other to know the effect he had on him but he didn't want to lose the control he had over his own body and end up aroused like last night. that's why, when angel let go of him and stood up, garam let out a quiet sigh of relief. he just sat there looking up to the other, remaining quiet for a few seconds to appear like he actually had a choice in the matter. of course he was going to agree but it didn't hurt to pull out these cute, sweet words from angel. a few seconds passed and garam was nodding his head. "let's make a day of it," he agreed. garam stood up as well, only he had done so on top of angel's bed instead of on the floor so he'd at least be closer in height to angel. his arms lifted over his head as he stretched, lifting himself up onto the tips of his toes but only for a moment as he quickly lost his balance but he stayed steady enough to remain on his feet. he knew full and well that he was already very much exposed and stretching like he had only exposed both his legs and his lower stomach, as his shirt had unintentionally lifted a bit too much, even more. but he did say he'd make angel pay for the reaction his own body had to their little activities last night. garam was going to take every opportunity he could to make angel feel as flustered as he did last night. "mind if i take a shower first? i'd invite you to join me but i do recall you answering the door in just a towel last night." he giggled a bit before his expression turned stone cold as he hopped down off the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. "don't do that again, by the way. you never know who's on the other side of the door. what if it was some sweet old lady who came to you for help and she strokes out at the sight of your glistening abs? your body is just too dangerous to be showing it off all willy-nilly."

Angel simply nodded at the man’s request. Knowing he would never let either of them get that far under the influence. That wasn’t what he wanted. Feeling the pressure against his hands Angel shifted his gaze. He looked down at their hands and back up to Garam only to see the man looking away. He stayed silent as he listened to the other man. He appreciated him being honest in this moment. Jealousy. It seemed to be the root of their problems. Well and Darius, which Angel made a mental note to talk to. His new friend had been rather affectionate since Garam came. Now that he and Garam spoke, it was time to set proper boundaries with him. Angel did feel terrible for kissing two men in one night. Especially when one of them saw it happen. He could see where Garam was coming from. He would be upset too.Angel continued to listen. Taking in everything Garam had to say. He wasn’t a fan of the man downing himself. This is what made him interrupt, “Garam…Garam listen to me. Let’s not worry about that right now. Okay?” He spoke softly placing his hand on the man’s cheek. Angel leaned slightly to get a better view of his face. “Neither of us is ready to choose anyone. I’m enjoying whatever we have going now. No pressure. No titles, just me and you. Okay?” Angel was now leaning forward whispering in the man’s ear. He could tell Garam was getting tense thinking of Axel breaking in. Now was not the time to tell him he already did. Now he was trespassed from the building. He needed the man to feel safe. Angel hated himself for it but he continued to keep quiet. “Garam, I’m sorry he destroyed your apartment. That must have been a lot to deal with on your own” Angel’s face dropped slightly and began rather serious. It was making more sense why his best friend was cold when he returned home. It wasn’t just the kiss. It seemed to be many factors that came into play. Angel ran his thumb over the man’s cheekbone and allowed his hand to slip to Garam’s neck. “Today we can make some phone calls to have more security put in. I’ve already been thinking of getting a camera for the door. Maybe a code that we give to no one.” Angel began spouting ideas nothing to calm his best friend down. As his hand moved to his neck Angel’s fingers played with the ends of his hair, a small smile gracing his lips. “We can get a bat. I said I’ll take care of you. I meant that.” He said quietly as he pressed a gentle kiss to Garam’s neck. “Now can we go get these pancakes you want? Now I’m craving them. What do you say?” Now whispering against his neck. Angel pulled back now and pulled his touch away as he stood up. “Let’s make a day of it. We can get pancakes at this great spot I know. Take a walk over to the mall. Look at some cameras. Maybe even buy one. Oh! Stop at the art store. I need some supplies. Even grab lunch, maybe? What do you say?” Angel chose a secret weapon. A pout and big eyes as he clasped his hands together. He began to whine begging the man to say yes. It took a lot of strength to keep from laughing but he was desperate. He didn’t want to be sad anymore. These heavy and tough conversations were taking a lot out of him. “Pleaseeee baby” he whined once more.

#threads #thread: min garam #garam & angel #ang3lmoan

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fuctacles · 23 hours ago

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Dude, That's My Ghost! - the smut

Ayo, the smut part of my gift for @hellfireloserclub is now up on Ao3! Tysm for the great prompts that made it happen :D <3 And thanks @steddieexchange for organizing! I love writing gift fics <3

First piece here, second below, or you can read it in full on Ao3

La Petite Mort

After a week of Eddie making him come before sleep, Steve finally asks:

"What do you get out of it?"

The hairs on his chest move gently with invisible fingers raking and tugging at it.

"...I like watching...well...that sounds bad..."

Steve laughs.

"Yeah, a bit."

"...it feels good...making you feel good...I always liked giving...and now it feels like..."

Steve waits, but when all he gets is quiet static, he frowns.

"Like what?"

".....like I have a body again...for a second...I can feel you against me..."

His eyes widen.

"Oh. I thought it was just my imagination."

"...what?..."

"When I come, it feels like you're here."

They ruminate in silence for quite a while, before the radio starts switching through stations, like Eddie's trying to grasp a thought. His thoughts must be going very far away, considering Steve stops recognizing the language of the stations he's catching.

"...la petite mort... "

Steve raises his eyebrows.

"The orgasm thing? Uh..." He knows Robin had mentioned it to him at some point. "The little death?"

"...oui..."

"Okay, come back to America, please," Steve snorts, and the stations start switching back. He hums in thought. "So it's like I die for a second? And our souls touch?"

"...that sounds... both sweet and disgusting somehow..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles. "But do you think it's possible?"

"...dude...I summoned...a demon...everything is possible..."

"Fuck, you're right." He falls back against the pillows. "So when I die, will we fuck as souls?"

"...you proposing to me?..."

His next laugh is dry and humorless.

"I lost my soulmate, so might as well."

"...what happened?..." Eddie manages to ask softly despite the jarring sounds of the radio.

"I don't know," Steve shrugs, his mood plummeting. It's been half a year and it doesn't stop hurting, still doesn't make sense. "I met him and our marks just... disappeared."

"...wait!..."

"Dude!" Steve jumps, startled by the sudden peak in volume.

"...sorry, but... I saw your mark?...the little bird..."

"Ah," he smiles, genuinely this time. "It's Robin. I guess I was too greedy wanting two soulmates, right? She's my platonic one, but I was hoping the other would be The One, you know?" he sighs. "Still kind of cruel of the universe to dangle it in front of me and then just... yank it away."

"...what the fuck man..."

"I know."

"...I'd make a rebound joke... but that's just fucked up..."

They don't speak for a while, radio static being the only sound in the room.

"I mean, I still have Robin, and now I have you too," Steve thinks out loud, staring at the crooked ceiling. "I don't have a soulmate, you don't have a body, maybe it was meant to be."

"...you ARE proposing to me!..."

Steve laughs.

"Sure, why not? Wanna seal it with a kiss?"

It's fun, having Eddie around. Maybe the most fun he's had since high school. He doesn't tell Robin, afraid she'd try to psychoanalyze him, but she knows him too well and worries anyway.

"You never go anywhere."

"You stopped hitting on the babes."

"What about your bi awakening?"

So he goes out with her, meets new people and acts his best, thinking all the time how much better it would be in bed with Eddie, with the phantom touch of his hands and mouth. He can't get drunk with him, but maybe they could dance, somehow?

When he gets back, all the air is pushed out of his lungs as he's being pressed against the door.

"What the fuck, man?" he laughs.

"... I am...so bored..."

"Did you read through the books I brought?"

"...twice..."

An invisible mouth is assaulting his neck and he wishes it could leave marks.

"Jesus," Steve breathes out, "The library nerds will think I'm one of them—ah!"

He's suddenly pulled to the floor, his zipper flying open.

"You're that bored you need to suck cock?"

"...I always need... to suck cock...."

"Okay then, have at it."

It's only after he comes, ruining another pair of jeans, that he remembers his trail of thought from earlier.

"Do you want to dance?"

"...what...?"

"You can pick the song. I was at the club with Robin tonight, and I thought..." he trails off, shucking away his jeans and pulling up his boxers. It's quite an unorthodox dancing attire, but he doesn't know what his partner is wearing anyway.

The radio switches to something new. It's still heavy, the way Eddie likes it, but more suitable to embracing each other in a slow dance. A metal ballad. Something presses to Steve's front, grabbing his hips. He sighs.

"This is nice," he says, hands hovering before hopelessly falling at his sides. "I wish I could touch you."

His head is cradled towards an invisible shoulder. He can feel the pressure, but the comfort is barely there, and he wonders if this is all he's going to get until the day he dies.

They dance to a couple of songs before falling into bed, too exhausted for anything else. The presence of another person next to him lulls Steve to sleep.

Almost every day, he brings Eddie new books and newspapers, figuring it would do him good to be up to date with the outside world. Usually, he has nowhere to be, so he enjoys the scraps of companionship when he reads silently, while he pretends to be doing his coursework.

He's watching the pages of the local paper flip in the air, when suddenly, there's a slam on the desk they share.

"...HE...SHAVED...MY HAIR!..."

"Fuck!" Steve slams his knee against the wood. "What happened?!"

The newspaper slaps in front of him, on top of the books he's been half-reading through, and one of the photos dents under an invisible finger.

"...He!...Shaved!...My hair!..."

Corroded Coffin headlining at the Halloween Festival

"...He stole my body!...and my band!!!..."

"Eddie, please stop yelling," Steve winces at his ghost friend's volume. He snatches the paper to get a better look at the small, black-and-white photo.

"...Can't!..."

Eddie keeps trashing in his periphery, all the loose objects around them rattling like there's an earthquake. Steve swats him away, moving closer to the lamplight. He taps the face of one of the men in the photo.

"He kind of looks like that guy from the festival," he muses, turning both his head and the paper like it could make the photo clearer.

"...That's me!..."

"This," Steve points to the front-man with a shaved head and a guitar in his hand. "Is you?"

"...Yes...except...it's the demon!...and he cut my hair!..."

He stares at the photo.

"It was in May. I've talked to a demon. I shook hands with a demon." Then, a dreadful realization hits him. "Eddie," he chokes out. "What was your soul-mark?"

"...nail bat..."

"Oh my god..." He drops the paper and falls heavily back on his chair. "I saw it disappear." Involuntarily, he looks at the empty skin of his forearm.

"...What...was yours?..."

"A swarm of bats," Steve answers, tracing the space with his finger.

"...fucking love bats..."

He laughs.

"...why nail bat...?"

Steve hums. He doesn't like talking about it.

"I fought monsters with it," he gives the short version and Eddie, thankfully, doesn't pry.

"...that's badass..."

"Thanks," he smiles. "We're soulmates," he finally says out loud, then frowns. "Were soulmates?"

"...well...we both still have souls..."

"Right. But do you think he could have... fucked it up somehow? The bond?" Steve worries.

"...I still like you...and have no other marks...do you?..."

"Just Robin and you, apparently."

"...so..."

"So..."

"...soulmates?..."

"Soulmates." Steve smiles genuinely into the ether.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #mine #steddie fanfiction #soulmate au #steddie soulmate au #ghost eddie munson #steddie fic #steddie one shot

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kenziebluex · 2 days ago

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The Broken Heart That Makes Us

Happy Friday! Comment to be added to the taglist ☺️

Story Description:

Your arranged marriage is on its last legs. After making an agreement with your step son, Megumi, you are puzzled when you are faced with finally making a decision.

Your whole life so far has been planned for you, leading you to struggle with the idea of moving on and finding something stable…someone stable.

Will you finally be able to let go of the life that was made for you? Will there be others out there willing to pick up the pieces?

(18+) Pairings: Toji, Goji, Geto, Nanami, & Choso.

Read on ao3: TBHTMU

Chapter 3:

You turned around and posed in the mirror to get a better look at how the latex stretch black pants hugged your backside and your matching black strapless lace up corset gave you a nice shape. Even though you were only 26, you noticed the difference in how you dressed compared to the other parents that came to pick up their kids from the dojo.

“Finding the sweet spot between acting like a mom and acting my age is….a task.” You groaned at your reflection, debating whether to find a nice jacket to use as a cover up.

‘Mmm… I am meeting my son’s teacher after all…’ You started to regret your choice of clothing. To be fair, you weren’t sure what Gojo’s intentions were when he invited you out. But dammit when was the last time you actually went out to have fun?! You felt the fruits of your youth slowly spoil as your whole life became just working, stressing and taking care of a 16 year old.

You decided that you deserved to be daring today and donned a pair of lace up black sandal heels and a contrasting blood red mini purse to throw over your shoulder.

Before stepping out of your new 3 bedroom condo, you passed by Megumi’s room and took a small peek through his bedroom doorway. You watched as he diligently did his homework while bopping to the music in his headset. You thought to yourself that this is the type of comfort he deserves. Lost in his own world while he chases his dreams. You just hope you’re doing enough to get him there.

You tapped your phone on to remind yourself of the time as you stepped out of your front door. You rode the elevator down to the lobby and exited the condominium. It was dark and a shadowy figure lingered outside. You wondered if Gojo had arrived and you picked up your pace to exit the lobby.

“Oh great. You saved me so much time knocking on every door.” Your breath hitched and you clutched your purse as the man emerged from the shadows and into the dim lamp post. You eyed the double doors back into the lobby and debated whether you should make a run for it. Instead, you swallowed thickly and erased any emotion on your face.

“Are you y/n Fushiguro?” The man asked. His hair shielded by a black beanie that looks like it transitions to a shiesty and all black clothes. It only took one glance for you to notice that he might be carrying a weapon in his back pocket as you noticed he kept patting for it.

“I don’t go by that name anymore. That means that nothing associated with that name has any business with me.” You explained begging internally the man will just bow out and let you go. A million thoughts bulldozed through your mind, starting with how he found out where you lived in the first place.

“Tsss…look. I know this must be realllly awkward but your ex husband owes us some money and sold your name as collateral. That slippery bastard looks like he’s on the run but you were much easier to find.” You started to see stars. You held onto the wall to prevent yourself from fainting. It became clear to you that whether you were associated with Toji or not didn’t matter because he just sold you out to some loan sharks.

‘In the end, I still can’t escape his bullshit.’

“How much does he owe you?” You bit out clutching your fist. After everything started falling into place, something comes to fuck it all up.

“Probably around 10 of those condos your pretty little ass just skipped out of.” He laughed lazily. Fury built up in your belly.

“Can you cover it?” He eyes you mockingly and his gaze trailed disgustingly lower.

“Fuck no!” You hissed and attempted to cover yourself. You looked around for anything that could fight him off and any neighbors that could be stumbling by. But before you could call out to someone he approached you and palmed his back packet.

The man yelped as a sleek blue biker helmet collided with the back of his head. He collapsed on the ground, limp and lifeless. You looked up at his attacker.

Exhaling as if he was holding in his breath, Gojo eyed the loan shark’s motionless body. Worry, anxiety and fear exited your body all at once as you felt your legs lose strength.

Gojo was quick and caught you against his firm hand while you stumbled into his chest. You allowed his gentle hand to calm your nerves as he stroked your head similarly to how he stroked your back yesterday. You attempted to bury yourself in Gojo’s white shirt and black bomber jacket and trying not to get your makeup on it. But he pushed your head in anyway, not caring whether your makeup will leave a stain.

“Do you want to live with me?” You heard Gojo whisper almost thoughtlessly. Your head fell backwards and your confused expression met his embarrassed one. Almost like he didn’t mean to say that out loud.

He gently pushed you back and shoved his helmet into your chest. You took the helmet but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his face.

He was red. Beating red. And looked to the side trying to avoid eye contact with you. His eyebrows furrowed almost like he was scolding himself for saying that outloud. You looked down at the helmet in your hands and chuckled inwardly at his cute reaction.

“Put that on.” He took the helmet back and fastened it on your head.

“A smile a day keeps the therapist away.” He laughed to himself while buckling the safety strap under your chin. He took your hand and mounted his sleek blue Ducati motorcycle and guided you to board behind him. He fastened the extra helmet that hung on the handlebars of his bike on his head and turned the bike on. He paused before doing anything more.

“I won’t ask about the problems you’re going through. But seeing him corner you like that made me want to do more than just knock his lights out.” He twisted his wrist and revved up his motorcycle with a loud growl.

“I can’t promise that I’ll stop there next time.” He continued. With Gojo, you felt a cloud of safety and protection. You wrapped your arms around his torso and squeezed.

“…I’ve never had anyone other than Megumi protect me like that…Thank you.” You weren’t sure if you were loud enough over the rumbling of his bike but he seemed to have heard you and took a deep breath. You felt his back expand and then recede against you as he hauled up his foot on his back. You two disappeared into the darkness.

✿❀○❀✿

“Shitttt I hope it’s not closed.” Gojo droned as you arrived at a dimly lit skyscraper. He put the stopper on his bike and took your hand to help you dismount. He hung the helmets on the handlebars of the bike.

While entering the luxurious skyscraper, you advanced towards the entrance while taking in the posh surroundings. The host at the door recognized Gojo immediately and sprinted to take his jacket from him.

“Welcome back, sir!” The host greeted Gojo formally and you turned towards him marred by confusion.

“Who the hell even are you?!” You spoke with your eyes. He erupted in an amused bellow and he took your waist and pulled you flushed against his side.

“I didn’t come alone tonight. Show us a good spot.” Gojo ordered casually. You tried to fix your face to copy his nonchalant one but quickly failed when you entered the restaurant- no…specialty cafe as it seems that the restaurant only served expensive desserts.

“Are you sure you should be eating here? You know, since you also have to practice martial arts.” You joked low enough for only Gojo to hear. He clicked his tongue.

“A sweet treat every now and then doesn’t hurt.” Gojo paused and looked down at you. Lustful sky blue eyes bore into yours. “Everyone gives into their urges eventually.” He stated with a deeper meaning attached.

You felt your cheeks warm but then the host spoke you out of your trance.

“We always leave the balcony open to the Gojo clan.” The host beamed. You felt Gojo himself tense but when you looked up at him, his face remained expressionless.

“Enjoy.” The host bowed and broke away to signal a waiter.

You broke away from Gojo to bathe in the sea of lights in the city as you relaxed against the railing to the balcony. You thought back to the dinner parties your dad had you attend while wooing investors. You internally shivered.

“If I knew you were a trust fund baby, I would’ve seduced you months ago, Gojo-sensei.” You jested while resting on your elbows. Large pale palms rested on either side of you as Gojo hovered from behind you. You stretched your head back and he peered down at you.

“Call me Satoru.” He said softly. You shook your head and broke eye contact, directing your gaze forward again.

“Unlike you, I know boundaries.” You sighed. Without wasting a beat, he gripped your bicep and spun you around to face him. He pinched your chin and forced your gaze to connect with his again.

“It didn’t seem like that when you were holding me nice and tight earlier.” He hovered his face just centimeters above your lips. You gripped his shirt as his body heat flooded your palms.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered. Your eyes fluttered closed.

“Have you had time to look at our menu?” You and Gojo broke apart in response to the waitress arriving. It didn’t seem like she was aware that she was breaking a moment but the racing of your heart thanked her.

You approached the table and Gojo pulled out your chair for you to sit. As you looked at the menu, each dessert looked like it would make your wallet cry.

“P-Please give me a minute.” You laughed nervously as you scrunch your eyebrows to focus. The only thing you can afford here is the water and maybe an espresso shot.

“There are just soooo many nice things here. I literally can’t decide. ” You spoke through your teeth, clearly feeling pressure over the menu.

Gojo snapped his menu closed.

“We’ll just go with one of everything.” Gojo answered while you were mentally lashing out at him.

You closed the menu and gave the waitress a strained but polite smile while she took the menus.

“I say I’m taking you out and you are still eyeballing the price.” Gojo scoffs while taking a sip of the water left on the table.

“I never trust a man who says he’ll foot the bill. I’d rather at least order something I can afford.” Toji absolutely killed that idea for you and you haven’t trusted a man for funds since. You crossed your arms and sat back comfortably on your chair. The wispy light from the candle reflected on Gojo’s cheek and made his glassy eyes contrast the dark sky behind him.

“Fair enough.” He tilted his head voicing his response and took another sip of water. You traced your finger on the mouth of the tall glass of water standing next to you. You couldn’t help but focus on his lips as they touched his glass. The way his tongue wets his lips sends your mind into a spiral. He notices you gawking and a small chuckle escapes his lips. You rolled your eyes to the side innocently and struck up conversation.

“So other than training students at the dojo, what else do you do?” You huffed, swiftly pulling your own water glass to your lips. The relaxed grin on his face fell. You felt the atmosphere shift a little.

“You said it yourself didn’t you? I’m a ‘trust fund baby.’ Beloved son of one of the number 1 richest clans in the city.” He responded with heavy sarcasm. You drew your lips together tightly. You gathered that family was a triggering subject. Well, it’s not like you are daughter to father of the year either. But even though Gojo seems to wear his heart on his sleeve, it seems that it’s just armor to hide his true feelings.

“Eh. I don‘t know. Blood relatives suck sometimes.” You snapped back. Your elbows rested on the table and your chin fell comfortably onto your palms. For a second you saw Gojo’s eyes go wide, lost looking at you but he then quickly regained his composure.

“I’d rather form my own family. Like me and Meg. There’s something about loving someone and them loving you back just because of the person you are and not because you’re related.” You continued. Gojo lowered his glass and listened to you intently. You smiled down at the fire that danced on the candle and allowed one of your hands to rest on the table.

“I’ve seen family members treat their own children like pawns and burdens to be neglected…” Gojo flinched at your statement and his hand rested on the table as well. You rested your palm on top of his and gazed at him softly.

“But blood doesn’t make it an obligation to love people like that.” Gojo intertwined his fingers in yours and scanned you curiously. He gently rubbed his thumb against the back of your hand.

“Hmmm? You sound like you had a tough love life.” He mocked and you choked out your water. You rolled your eyes as the tone of the date returned to being playful.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just thinking out loud.” You retook your hand and folded it into your lap. Gojo pouted at the lack of touch.

“Here you are! We pulled up another table to make room for all of the other desserts. Is there any flavor you would like to try first?” The waitress accompanied by 2 assistants rolled in the entire catalog of sweets. Gojo shook his head.

“We’ll figure it out.” He stood up and started making room for various desserts on the table. One particular dessert caught your eye.

“Hey. Pass me the (insert flavor) parfait.” You pointed at the neatly decorated yogurt. Gojo picked it up and inspected it curiously. He stalked to the other side of the table and knelt down to your level. Taking the long spoon out the dish, he lathered some whip cream on top of it.

“Open wide~.” He cooed while floating the spoon towards your lips. Your brows twisted and you leaned your head back in rejection.

“You’re fucking joking.” You answered dryly. Gojo shrugged and turned the spoon towards himself and prepared to take a bite.

“Hey-!” Your mouth hung open in protest and Gojo used the opportunity to sneak the spoon into your mouth. The parfait was heavenly and the flavors melted the tension in your body. You finished enjoying the taste and you took another glance at a satisfied Gojo, unsure whether to protest some more or to let him continue.

You felt a hand rake the back of your head as Gojo’s lips advanced towards yours. However, he teased you and instead tongued the corner of your lip where whipped cream was left. You froze in your chair.

“Damn good. Should I eat the rest of the desserts like this?” Gojo taunted and then traced his tongue on your bottom lip.

A pleased sigh fell from your lips as your tongue met his, battling for dominance. Your lips touched and it felt like electricity ignited throughout your body. You closed your eyes to soak up his taste and you heard him place the parfait glass and spoon on the table.

With free hands, Gojo gripped both your thighs and glided them up and down your legs, barely ghosting your core with his thumbs. He pressed his lips against you punishingly and parted your legs to situate himself in between them.

You gripped his shirt to prevent yourself from falling backwards. One hand dragged up your body and he teased your hardened nipple under your black corset. Gojo released your lips and then proceeded to leave trails of kisses down your neck.

He moved his hand from your chest to your clothed cunt and pressured his grip against it. You bit your bottom lip.

“Gojo…the waiters could come in.” You panted trying to keep your fevered voice as low as possible. He smirked against your collarbone as his teeth grazed your shoulder.

“I’m not doing anything wrong. Just enjoying dessert.” He quipped while peppering more kisses up your neck and started massaging you gently. You felt yourself becoming soaked in his clutch. Your thighs closed around his wrist. You cupped his chin and turned him up to face you.

“You’re really not funny.” You whispered while he looked up at you with fire pooling his irises. He released you and shoved his hands in his pockets to shuffle his way back into his seat. You shifted your knees back under the table while trying to regain your composure.

Gojo took a small dish of elegantly dressed mochi and took a bite while holding contact with you. He allowed two fingers to linger in his mouth while he licked off the flavor. He slowly sucked the flavor off of the long digits and then reached for another piece.

You tried to avoid eye contact while you took another spoonful of parfait. The rest of the evening was quiet but the haze of desire still remained.

taglist: @beetusbritt ❤ @nousija ❤ @notleclerc divider by @cafekitsune

❀ follow for more ❀ ao3: kenzieblue❀

-kenzie & des

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jjk gojo #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk nanami #jjk choso #jjk fanart #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo

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dannyz0ur · 2 days ago

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Tim Wright [MH] — NSFW Alphabet

god did i have fun writing this 😈 and i hope you have fun reading it!!

*all these headcanons are assuming s/o and Tim are already in a relationship, I don’t see him as one to have fuck buddies or one-night-stands.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) It’s a different story between Tim and Masky. One will check up on you, ask how it was and how you feel, if you need anything, and will clean you up if you just wanna cuddle/sleep after. And then the other one is less attentive. At most he’ll lazily clean you up if you insist and bring you water if you really need it and he’s not feeling lazy enough not to do so. And he just won’t stay around longer than necessary, in his mindset he’s got “better shit to do.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) I feel like Tim’s and Masky’s favorite body part of themselves is their arms. ‘Cause they’re strong, useful, and Masky loves to easily pin you down while Tim loves holding you.

Now their favorite body part of yours would be your ass and thighs. Idk he strikes me as a thigh man. And ass. Ass and thigh. Masky doesn’t really mind that stuff as long as he’s got a hole to put it in (sorry but he’s just not romantic like that).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Breeding kink, anyone? Tim would have one. Thinking about knocking you up and making a pretty little family really does it for him. Yk gives him hope that he can have a normal life for a little bit. Even if you can’t get pregnant, he likes to entertain that idea in his head while he’s balls-deep in you. So that means he will cum inside as long as you let him. Oh also he cums a lot, and it’s more thick than watery (bro doesn’t have a balanced diet cmon y’all, with all those blackouts and stuff? yeah I think not).

Masky likes cumming on your face, with your tongue out. Feels like he’s marking you. But also humiliating you. So he gets a little kick out of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Tim doesn’t need Masky to front to be stealing your underwear, lemme tell you that. If he could, before you were dating, he was already making a collection of used underwear of yours. Yes he sniffed them while jerking off and yes he sniffed them to sleep sometimes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) I’d say you’re not his first but, again, he doesn’t strike me as the kind to have fuckbudies or one-night-stands. Ig he knows what he’s doing and he’s a good learner when it comes to what you like, but he’s not like a fuckboy or anything-

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Doggy, leap frog (yk basics from behind, he loves your ass remember?), if Tim’s tired then he’ll let you ride him. Now Masky likes it from behind too but more forceful, he’ll like- make the bed creak and won’t stop til he’s either done or you’re begging him to stop. He might not even stop if you blackout on him, who knows.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Tim’s rarely goofy at all so no. He’s got more of a romantic, focused attitude when it comes to intimacy with you. And Masky just doesn’t talk at all unless it’s to give you a command or degrade you. He fucks you like he hates you. He doesn’t though, he’s more… obsessed with you? Tim’s there cause he’s in love, Masky lets him bc he’s obsessed. Makes sense?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) we all know our man is hairyyyy and if you don’t mind he doesn’t trim regularly, he can’t bother to do so with so much stuff in his mind. If you do mention it he’ll try to keep it trimmed for you. Don’t expect him to shave entirely (at least not often).

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Ok so. You had to work it out with Tim before he could be comfortable being intimate with you. He’s got trust issues so it took a while before he actually felt comfortable being intimate and vulnerable. Not a bunch of “I love you”s and cuddles the first few times, that happened after a while. Now Masky just… can’t be intimate for the life of him. Ask him to be a little more intimate and he’ll laugh at your face (chuckle, we know he doesn’t laugh a lot).

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Before you? Rarely, like twice or thrice a week maybe. After you? Yk, before dating you but when he was stalking getting to know you? A lot. When he’s with you he prefers to take it out on you, so rarely once more.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) well well well… this is a long one if I elaborate, so lemme just list them…

previously mentioned breeding kink, breathplay, dacryphilia, somnophilia, sadism, corruption, degradation. These are both Tim’s and Masky’s so uh have fun.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Tim prefers privacy, so your/his bed, the shower, etc. Masky doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll have you whenever he wants you. He finds the car the most common place to fuck you in, though. If you’re out doing something or he just came home frustrated and you go out to greet him, he’ll just drag you to the backseat and fuck the daylights out of you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) For Tim it’s if you’re doing anything domestic. Doing dishes, cooking, cleaning, fixing/cleaning the car? He’s gonna reward you real well later. For Masky it’s whenever he’s pent up or frustrated, he’ll take it out on you by fucking you because he knows he can’t afford to hurt you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Tim hates the idea of actually hurting you. Yk knife play or slapping you. Most he’ll do is spank you and even then he’ll ask if he was too rough and apologize. In contrast, Masky has no restraint. He will do whatever he wants to you, whenever he wants, and you know better than to disobey…

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Oh, Tim gives you head like he’s starving. Not like… not messy and eager like Toby would (Toby alphabet also in production) but he’s relentless, gives you good head and won’t stop until you’re overstimulated. Masky hardly ever uses his mouth on you. Only to tease you to the point of tears and then fuck you into oblivion. And he lovessss to force his thick cock down your throat and gag on it- (sorry)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) I’m not original at all with this but idc. Tim’s slow and sensual, maybe he’ll go hard and slow as he gets closer to cumming. Masky just… he doesn’t think about that. If he wants to go agonizingly slow he will, and if he wants to rearrange your guts until your hole bleeds then he will.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Tim isn’t a fan. Masky usually fucks you so rough it feels like a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) As long as you talk it through and already built that trust with Tim, he’s probably open to try things with you. Masky will not ask you if you want to try anything, if he wants to he will. If you propose things to him he’ll laugh at your face (again.)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Tim can last up to 2 rounds if the first one wasn’t physically demanding, Masky just needs to cum so as long as he does that he doesn’t really need another round. Unless he’s in a mood and wants to torture you. He’ll drag it out no matter how many times he cums.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) I feel like none of them do. If you do have toys none of them would be interested in trying them, but if you want to implement them, Tim would be totally fine with that, just talk it through. Masky would spiral and ask if he’s just not enough or something, so maybe don’t try with him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Tim doesn’t tease you further than verbally, doesn’t see the need. Masky’s whole deal is teasing you and making you cry for him, so he’s very unfair I’d say.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Loud enough for only you to hear. Grunts and deep, low moans. Masky does not make sound, actually. Somehow he manages to keep it together while making you cry and scream his name.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) If you catch him off-guard you have a chance to hear Tim whimper, but it’s a rare chance. Like, riding him and you kiss a hickey on a specially sensitive part of his neck, and you’ll probably get him to whimper.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) ok so as previously stated, hairy, all over. Strong arms and overall chubby yum yum 🤤 now about his size I’d say average, about 6.5-7 inches and thickkk you’ll feel that dick all the way inside you every timeeee

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Tim’s is not that high, I’d say average. He’s usually busy and tired, most he’ll do is lazy, cuddly sex if you two really need it. Masky’s a little higher but because that’s his coping mechanism for when he’s frustrated.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Tim falls asleep after making sure you don’t need anything else, he falls asleep easily cause he’s with you and you tired him out hehe. Masky doesn’t even stay in bed after he’s done with you. He’ll go out either for a smoke or to do anything else.

hope you stuck around and liked it as much as i liked writing it 🤤 remember reqs are open! here's the list of characters i'll write for!

#reqs open #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #masky x reader #creepypasta masky #masky marble hornets #tim wright marble hornets #gravity falls #tim marble hornets #tim wright #marble hornets #tim wright x reader #tim wright headcanons #tim wright mh

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