#conversations about the relationships they’re in

[luvergirl-866]

i don’t see what anyone could see in anyone else (but you)

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 6.0k

c/w - fluff, they’re both annoying and sassy, p has adhd highkey (twin)

a/n - inspired by the let’s be honest p annoying a video. i just love the girlfriends but best friends first dynamic iykwim ��. also took a lot of inspo from some tiktok lives 🩷 anyway yeah this is stupid and late for v day but better than nothing!!

It has been a good week.

On Sunday, Azzi made it a point to spend the day getting ahead on schoolwork as much as she could. Coach had been hinting at a grueling upcoming practice week and Azzi knows herself well enough to know she’d end up putting school on the back burner anyway. And that’s exactly what happened, because come Monday, every time she left a class with homework it would end up in her desk, left there to rot until basketball wasn’t her main priority anymore.

Coach hadn’t been lying—he never is about those things. Practice was torture, often running hours into the night as the girls were made to play again and again until they were good enough in Geno’s eyes. But Azzi had been one of the few on the team who loved it, feeling just as renewed as she was drained after each practice. The more exhausted she got, the longer practice went on, the better she performed. It was unusual for her and it struck up a certain confidence, creating a subtle pep in her step everywhere she went.

The only downside to the week was the lack of Paige Time. It’s been like that for quite some time now—really, ever since basketball season started. After the long summer spent basically attached at the hip, the school year was a rude awakening for them and November was even ruder. They were juggling basketball, school, marketing, and their own personal endeavors—especially Paige’s as she prepares to declare. On top of all that, finding time to love on each other has been difficult, if not impossible. Besides for a few kisses in passing and minor flirting in practice, they really only see each other at bedtime and briefly in the mornings.

Which is why, when Azzi wakes up in her girlfriend’s room, she can’t help but smile a little to herself before she’s even really awake. Because it’s Saturday, and the sun is shining through the curtains, and most importantly, they have nowhere to be today.

She can feel Paige’s presence behind her, and can hear the TikToks playing on her phone, signaling she’s already awake. Actually, TikTok might’ve been what woke Azzi in the first place. Now that she’s really waking up, she realizes that Paige has her phone speakers turned up way too high, and a pang of sleepy irritability goes through her. “Babe,” she mumbles into her pillow, “turn that down.”

Thankfully, the tinny noises stop, but they’re quickly replaced by the familiar teasing tone in her girlfriend’s voice. “Look who’s finally awake.”

“What time is it?” Azzi yawns, eyes still closed.

“9:30,” Paige replies.

At that, Azzi snuggles further into the blankets, the scent of Paige enveloping her. “Not even that early,” she says. “Might go back to sleep.”

“Can I wake you up at ten?” Paige asks. “I’m bored.”

“Yes,” Azzi concedes, used to Paige’s neediness, “you can wake me up at ten.”

“Aight,” Paige says, sounding pleased with herself.

Azzi shifts, feeling a little lonely what with Paige all the way on her side of the bed. They’ve had a whole conversation at this point, yet she’s still yet to receive a good morning kiss. It’s off-putting, to be honest. She expects Paige, ever the affectionate one in their relationship, to sidle up beside her now that she’s semi-awake.

Instead, to her shock, the TikTok sounds start back up again. And they’re just as loud as before.

“Paige,” Azzi exclaims, finally cracking her eyes open, turning over her shoulder to find Paige propped up against the headboard, staring calmly at her.

“Hm?” she asks.

Azzi sighs. She hates having to ask for the things she wants. Usually, Paige just magically knows and provides it for her. She must be too busy on stupid TikTok to remember she has a girlfriend who needs attending to.

In lieu of asking straight-up, Azzi reaches back, grasping for Paige’s thigh and looking up at her with big brown eyes.

Immediately, Paige tosses her phone to the side, chuckling. “Mm. Sorry, princess.” Sliding down under the covers, she situates herself closer until she’s hovering above her, close enough to drop a chaste kiss on her lips. “You wanna cuddle?”

“Obviously,” Azzi mutters, reaching up for one more kiss before turning back over, sighing when Paige snuggles up behind her.

“You gotta little attitude this morning,” Paige helpfully observes, nuzzling into the crook of Azzi’s neck.

Azzi closes her eyes, trying to let sleep call to her as it was just a minute ago. “Just miss you,” she says, a little vulnerable in the way she says it—and maybe that’s also due to the minimal clothes they’re wearing, the skin-on-skin contact always making her feel safe and comforted and exposed all at once.

Paige tuts sympathetically, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. “I know, baby.” There’s a beat of silence as they shift, Paige’s hand running over her stomach, trailing up to one of her breasts. “Missed you, too.”

As much as the touch turns Azzi on, it’s less the sexuality of it and more the sheer domesticity; the way they know each other’s bodies well enough to be comfortable with wandering hands that aren’t meant to lead anywhere. She breathes deep as Paige holds her gently, then clasps a hand over her’s, keeping her in place.

It’s only another minute before she’s drifting off again, Paige’s even breaths in her ear lulling her to sleep.

It’s peaceful—maybe the most relaxed she’s been all week. But as she lays there, trying to get a few more minutes of sleep, Paige’s breathing changes just a split second before she’s speaking too loudly in Azzi’s ear, “I’m hungry.”

Azzi startles a little at the sudden interruption. Her eyes fly open, though only to shoot a glare at her girlfriend. “Paige!”

“What? I am.” Paige frowns, pulling away to sit up and rub her stomach forlornly. “You took too long to wake up.”

Azzi sighs, rolling over onto her back. “I thought you were gonna let me sleep until ten.”

Paige shrugs at that, making big puppy eyes at her, and Azzi resigns to the fact that she will not be getting any more sleep this morning.

“Fine,” she grumbles, sitting up with some effort. “But I’m gonna shower first.”

She stands up, Paige’s eyes tracking her from where she sits on the bed. She whistles lowly as Azzi makes her way to the closet, likely due to the fact that she’s only wearing a pair of sheer panties. Azzi rolls her eyes, pulling on a pair of clothes for the walk down the hall.

Paige, of course, trails her to the bathroom, situating herself on the floor while Azzi starts the water. She watches intently as Azzi undresses, and Azzi catches her pout just as she’s stepping inside.

“What?” Azzi asks when she sees her expression.

“Can I come in with you?” Paige asks.

The offer is tempting, but Azzi is still sore from last night and in all honestly, she’s not in the mood after Paige rudely woke her this morning. “No. I’m only gonna be like five minutes.”

“I can help you.”

“I think I got it,” Azzi laughs, pouring soap onto her washcloth—something she is perfectly capable of doing by herself.

Paige stands up, walking over to Azzi’s phone on the counter. “Okay, then lemme play your music.”

Azzi doesn’t really have time to protest before Bossman Dlow is blasting far too loud over the speakers, and Paige picks up a hairbrush, admiring herself in the mirror as she sings. Azzi rolls her eyes, refocusing her efforts on cleaning up.

Paige looks over and catches the unamused look on her face. “Oh, sorry,” she says sincerely, picking up another hairbrush and holding it out. “You wanted a mic too?”

Azzi sighs. She gets the feeling she’ll be doing a lot of that today.

————————————

It’s not until awhile later that they finally get to the kitchen—mostly due to the fact that Paige kept showing her videos and making commentary while she tried to do her hair, causing the whole endeavor to take a lot longer than it should’ve. Ironically, Paige is the one whining about this by the time they’re finally ready.

“Bro, now I’m really hungry,” she says, continuing to rub her belly a bit like a pregnant lady—which makes Azzi giggle—as she heads to the fridge.

“What should we have, mama?” she asks. Then, as Azzi’s thinking about it, she says, “You’re right, pancakes sound good.”

Azzi hefts herself onto the counter. “Never said that.”

“You took too long to answer,” Paige replies simply. She roots through the fridge for another minute before sighing, turning around to face her. “Do we need milk to make pancakes?”

“Do you have pancake mix?”

“Um…” Paige walks to the pantry at this, taking another minute to search that before once again sighing dramatically. “No.”

“Then, yes. We need milk.”

“Why, though?” Paige asks, frowning. “Shouldn’t water work the same?”

Azzi scrunches her nose up at the thought of water pancakes. “Ew. No.”

Paige shakes her head at her. “Okay, Miss Picky.”

“I know you’re not talking.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Azzi hops off the counter, patting Paige’s chest as she walks past her to the entryway, searching for Paige’s keys. “C’mon, we can go grab some real quick.”

Azzi finds the keys and holds them out expectantly, unsurprised when Paige takes them without hesitation. “I guess. But no fucking around.”

They leave the apartment, and Azzi raises a brow as she watches Paige lock up. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean,” Paige says, taking her hand and beginning to walk, “we get in, get the milk, and go.”

Azzi swings their hands mindlessly between them. “If I’m remembering right, you’re the one who’s currently unmedicated.”

“Yeah, and I’m chill,” Paige says, pressing the button for the elevator. “My doctors just want my money or sum’, I’m fine without that dumb shit.”

“Paige, you woke me up five times last night because you had things to tell me and didn’t wanna forget.”

“Valid reason to wake you up.” Paige shoves Azzi inside the elevator, and once she follows, Azzi pushes her right back.

“I’m just saying. You’re easily distracted.”

“Nah.”

“We were making out for like an hour yesterday and you interrupted it to tell me a story.”

“It was a funny story,” Paige explains, taking her hand once again when the elevator doors open and dragging her out.

“Debatable,” Azzi quips, even though it was kinda a good story.

“And it’s not like we didn’t continue kissing after that. I just gave us a lil intermission.”

“You never needed intermissions while you were on your meds.”

They’re in the parking lot now, and Paige unlocks her car, nudging Azzi towards it. “Just get in the car.”

“Bossy,” Azzi mumbles.

Believe it or not, the two of them do have days where they don’t fight, argue, or even sass each other. Those days, however, come far and few between—making fun of each other is their love language and thus little spats happen more often than not. And with today being the first day in awhile that they’ve spent together—not to mention Paige’s apparent decision to be more irritating than usual—it’s no surprise that they spend the car ride fighting over music.

By the time they get to the grocery store, Paige is hyperfocused on making sure Azzi stays on track. When Azzi falls behind to smell a candle, she sighs and tugs her away by the wrist: “Bro, why are we going at grandma pace.”

Ironically, Paige, like the hypocrite she is, also finds an abandoned cart in the refrigerated section. Azzi is grabbing milk when Paige bumps her with the cart, getting her attention. When Azzi looks at her, Paige simply says, “Babe, watch,” and proceeds to hop on the cart and ride it down the aisle with the vigor of a small child.

Once the milk is secured, Azzi decides she deserves some remuneration for the taxing work of going out in public with her girlfriend. Stopping Paige on their way to checkout, Azzi looks up at her with big, brown eyes and says, “Can we stop in the books? Just really quick.”

Paige avoids her gaze. “Nah, I wanna leave.”

“Aw,” Azzi coos, running a hand down Paige’s arm somewhat seductively, “please, Paigey? I need new books.”

Still, Paige refuses to make eye contact as she says, “Aren’t you working on, like, two right now?”

Azzi doesn’t usually get this much pushback from her. She wonders exactly why Paige woke up and decided to annoy her today. Still, she knows Paige can’t say no to her. Placing her hand on Paige’s cheek, she turns her face, forcing her to look at her: the slight pout of her lips, the way her eyes widen enough to be convincing. “C’mon, baby,” she says. “I promise I’ll be fast.”

That’s the breaking point. With a sigh, Paige nods, allowing herself to be excitedly led to the book section.

Azzi decides that she’s no longer annoyed with Paige as she searches through the books, reading over the synopses of every one that looks interesting. She’s desperate for something new, even though Paige is right—she already has plenty.

Paige stays miraculously quiet for a solid five minutes, allowing Azzi to take her time and even browsing through a few books of her own.

Those five minutes, however, are as long as she gets before she happens to pick up a romance novel. Paige glances at her in that moment and she barely has time to hide the cover before Paige is gagging, most likely at the straight couple pictured embracing on the front of it. “That’s so gross.”

Azzi puts the book back on the shelf. “It’s no different than when we kiss.”

“Lowkey super offensive thing to say,” Paige replies. Azzi rolls her eyes, watching as Paige reaches down to grab a large book with colorful dragons on the cover. “This looks way cooler.”

Azzi takes a few steps closer to read the bold lettering on the cover, and then snorts. “Paige, that is a coloring book.”

By the time they get back home, Azzi has officially rescinded her earlier decision—she is definitely still annoyed with Paige.

—————————————

When they return to the dorms, despite Azzi’s oddly low patience for Paige’s annoying nature today, she still wants nothing more than to cozy up in bed with her and read her new book. They make the pancakes first, Paige doing nothing to help her case by arguing about how exactly to make pancakes. Once the two of them—plus half the team, who heard from Jana in the group chat that there would be pancakes—are fed, Azzi is ready to retreat back into Paige’s room.

However, most of the team is still there, and Paige’s oblivious ass is refusing to take Azzi’s hints, too busy chatting with their friends.

She’s tried everything: muttering to Paige that she’s tired (“I see a lil’ napski in our future,” is what Paige responds with), sitting herself on Paige’s lap in an unusual display of affection (“We run out of chairs or sum’?” Paige asks), and even aggressively cleaning everybody’s dishes (“I can do that, mama, you go hang,” Paige says, taking over).

At this point, it’s all she can do not to just yell at her girlfriend. She sits on the couch, listening a little sleepily as KK tells her some crazy story. The team is far too raucous for noon on a Saturday, probably in part to the ridiculous amounts of whipped cream and syrup they all used on their pancakes. In the kitchen, Aubrey and Paige start wrestling, and KK stops yapping to go join them. She jumps on Paige’s back, knocking her over and losing her balance in the process until they’re a heap on the floor. Aubrey steps on their backs, flexing, and the girls cheer rowdily.

Azzi is overstimulated.

Refraining from covering her ears, Azzi stands, giving up on the Paige aspect of her afternoon plans. She’s not sure she even wants Paige—who is hysterically laughing as she gets up from the floor—to be with her anymore. It’d be like forcing a hyper dog to cuddle. She’d probably end up getting bitten.

She’s hoping nobody will notice her slipping away, but Kayla does, tugging on a curl as she heads to the hallway. “Where ya going, babe?”

“Paige’s room,” Azzi says simply.

“She’s gonna notice you’re gone.”

Azzi glances at the scene behind them. Someone’s turned on ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ and Ice has now joined the kitchen boxing match. Paige just barely ducks a fist to the face before barreling into Ice’s stomach, once again ending up on the floor, giggling deliriously. The other girls have mostly lost interest at this point, which is fair—this isn’t exactly an uncommon occurrence.

Azzi turns back to Kayla. “I doubt it.”

“Give her five minutes,” Kayla insists.

“She’s too busy being a little boy.” Azzi rolls her eyes, patting Kayla affectionately as she walks past.

In Paige’s room, she breathes a sigh of relief, the closed door offering some solace from the noise outside. Even better, Paige’s airpods sit on her bedside table; Azzi takes them and connects them to her phone, turning on the noise-cancelling setting. Pleased with the results, she settles into her side of the bed, picking up her book and beginning to read.

She gets maybe two pages in before a tap on the shoulder scares the shit out of her.

Jumping, she whirls around, to find Paige standing beside the bed with a sheepish smile on her face.

Azzi takes out an airpod. “Paige, what?”

Her tone comes out more exasperated than she means to and feels a little guilty about the confused look she gets in return. “I noticed you left. Kay told me you were in here.”

“Yeah, just reading.”

“I see,” Paige replies. She hovers awkwardly, then says, “why didn’t you bring me with you?”

Despite her irritability, affection blossoms in Azzi’s chest at her girlfriend’s clinginess, her need to be around her 24/7 if they’re together. And Azzi reminds herself that this is the first day they’ve really had with each other in a while, and Paige is missing her too. Gently, she says, “I tried, but it seemed like you were having too much fun.”

“I mean, I was having fun,” Paige says. “But I’d rather hang out with you than fuck around with those dumbasses.”

“You’re as much of a dumbass as they are,” Azzi quips. “Actually, they probably learned it from you.”

“Like father, like sons,” Paige nods solemnly. Then, unceremoniously, she throws herself on top of Azzi, nearly knocking the wind out of her and crushing her book between them.

“Ow, Paige!” she says, freeing her hands and book as Paige wriggles like a happy little worm on top of her.

“I missed you,” Paige mumbles into her neck.

“We’ve been together all day.”

“You left me alone out there.”

“I’ve been in here for like five minutes.”

Paige lifts her head to pout at her. “Five minutes too long.”

Unable to help herself, she leans forward, kissing the pout off Paige’s lips. When she pulls back, Paige chases after her, trying to deepen the kiss, but Azzi pushes at her chest. “I still wanna read my book.”

“Okay,” Paige says.

“I wanna snuggle with you,” Azzi continues. “But only if you let me read.“

“Okay,” she repeats. She’s staring at Azzi’s lips, though, which doesn’t spark a lot of confidence that she’s actually listening.

“Which means,” Azzi emphasizes, getting Paige’s eyes to snap back up to her’s, “no talking, no showing me TikToks. And no distracting me with sex.”

Paige pouts again at that, batting her eyelashes stupidly. “What, you mean I can’t eat you out while you’re reading?” Azzi flicks her forehead, and she snickers, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Joking. I’ll be good, don’t worry.”

Azzi actually believes her, crazy enough. It’s mostly due to the fact that she and Paige have been together for nearly seven years, so she has her pretty house-trained at this point.

Satisfied, she flashes a smile, picking her book back up. Paige scoots down the length of her body until she’s settled between Azzi’s legs, head resting comfortably on the soft expanse of her tummy. Once they’re situated, Azzi frees up a hand to scratch Paige’s scalp, which’ll keep her happy for a while.

They sit like that for around thirty minutes. The noise of their teammates has died down enough to know that some of them have left, though it’s obvious by the extra chatter that a handful is still hanging around. Paige actually falls asleep within the first ten minutes, which Azzi guesses is probably why she gets so much quiet time.

It still doesn’t feel like enough, though, when a knock sounds at the door. “Y’all decent?”

Azzi glances down at Paige—still fast asleep—and quietly calls out, “We’re good.”

The door swings open and Jana steps inside, followed closely by Ayanna. “We’re going to Chick-Fil-A,” Yanna says, “you wanna come?”

“No, that’s okay.” Azzi pats Paige’s head in a silent explanation. “I’m nap-trapped.”

“Aww, parents.” Jana pulls her phone out, taking a hilariously unflattering close-up of Paige practically drooling on Azzi’s stomach. Azzi giggles as Jana shows her the picture, and she’s distracted enough that there’s nothing she can do when Yanna approaches and jostles Paige awake.

“No, wait—!” Azzi exclaims, reaching out to try and stop her, but it’s too late: the damage is already done. Paige cracks her eyes open with a little groan.

Ayanna scratches the back of her neck sheepishly. Azzi glares at her, then strokes Paige’s hair, trying to coax her back to sleep. “It’s ok, P.”

“Mm,” Paige hums, lifting her head to blink sleepily at them. “Why’d you wake me up?”

“My bad,” Yanna says guiltily. “We just thought you might wanna get Chick-Fil-A with us.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Paige nuzzles back into Azzi’s tummy, surprisingly chill considering she hates being woken from her naps. “Thanks though.”

“Uh-huh,” Jana replies, already heading out the room while she smiles at her phone—Azzi assumes she’s uploading that picture to her close friends.

“Sorry,” Yanna says once again, more to Azzi than anything, before following.

Paige yawns, her warm breath fanning over Azzi’s stomach. As she cuddles back in, Azzi thinks maybe she’ll go back to sleep. She holds onto that hope and resumes her book, threading her fingers through Paige’s hair gently.

This time, it doesn’t work. Which is evident based on the way she lifts herself up on her elbows, giving herself just enough room to press a few kisses around Azzi’s stomach. At first, Azzi tries to ignore it, hoping maybe it’s a casual gesture.

But it’s not long before the kisses slow down as she takes more time on each one, mouth opening so that it leaves the skin of her tummy just a little wet. Of course, it’s out of Azzi’s control the way her thighs tense up, blood rushing straight to her core as her body reacts to her girlfriend’s touch.

Paige curls her fingers around the hem of her top, lips following her hands as they bunch the fabric up to give herself more space, stopping underneath her breasts. She looks up at Azzi, whose gaze is now focused intently on the top of her girlfriend’s head, and flashes a devious little smile before licking a stripe between her ribcage.

Azzi tosses the book to the side, not even bothering to mark her page, freeing her hands so she can use them to pull her girlfriend up by the shoulders, meeting her in the middle for a kiss that’s nowhere near chaste.

Paige is still lying heavily atop her, their chests pressed close together, but it’s still second nature the way Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s waist in an attempt to get her closer. Paige grins against her mouth at the feeling, their hips coming flush together which makes Azzi gasp despite herself.

“Mm,” Paige hums, beginning a slow, wet trail of kisses down her jawline. “Missed you, baby.”

Azzi can’t help but laugh at that. “We just had sex last night.”

“‘S been way too long since then,” Paige mutters into the crook of her neck. Her teeth graze gently over the sensitive skin and Azzi grips her tighter, thinking she might actually agree with Paige for the first time today.

Paige is obviously building her up, apparently horny after her power nap, and Azzi doesn’t plan on stopping her. This is usually how it goes, anyway, Paige being the initiator nine out of ten times. As Paige pushes her top up above her tits, she knows she has no problem with that.

Her hands are a little cold against Azzi’s warm flesh, nipples pebbled from the temperature change mixed with her arousal. Paige just begins to tweak one of them, making Azzi moan softly—her nipples have always been sensitive—when there’s a sharp knock on the door.

The two of them groan, Paige’s forehead falling against her shoulder.

“Y’all decent?” It is, once again, Jana.

Paige lifts her head, pausing to glance down at her hands where they palm Azzi’s bare tits, and keeping her gaze there as she says, “Not really.”

“Already?” Jana calls, sounding somewhere between amused and disgusted. “You’ve been alone for like five minutes!”

“What do you want, Jana?” Azzi asks before Paige can let out the cocky response she definitely wants to say. Her voice is a little breathy, thanks to Paige absentmindedly rolling a nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and she hopes Jana doesn’t notice.

“We’re not going out anymore. Too much work. I was gonna ask if you wanna watch a movie with us, but…”

“No,” Paige and Azzi yell at the same time.

“Okay, damn,” Jana sighs. “Just being polite. Don’t get pregnant in there.”

Her footsteps trail off, and they make eye contact and laugh, Paige leaning forward to press an amused kiss to her lips. “We have trifling teammates.”

“Don’t talk about our kids like that,” Azzi says.

“They’re some bad ass kids.” Paige gives her another kiss. This time, it’s Azzi who gives chase when she pulls away, but Paige sighs, and to Azzi’s disappointment, pulls her shirt back down.

Azzi pouts, arms traveling up to loop around the back of her neck. “Why’d you stop?”

“They’re still here,” Paige replies. “I’on want them to hear us.”

“They won’t,” Azzi insists. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No, you won’t,” Paige snorts. She kisses Azzi tenderly on the cheek. “Sorry, mama.”

As Paige scoots back down to her original spot, Azzi crosses her arms, feeling a little like a defiant child as she says, “You shouldn’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I know, baby.” Paige nuzzles against Azzi’s navel, doing nothing to help the heat between her legs. “When Jana and Allie are asleep tonight, I’ll get you right, I promise.”

Azzi huffs.

Paige chuckles softly at her, only making her more annoyed. “Thought you wanted to read your book, hm?”

“That was before you touched my tits,” Azzi replies.

Paige lays her head down. “Poor Azzi-Wazzi,” she tuts with faux sympathy.

“You’re a dick,” Azzi mumbles, picking up her book more out of spite than anything, sure she won’t be able to focus on it. She tries valiantly, though.

Her efforts are interrupted at the feeling of fingers dancing across her stomach.

Peering over her book, Azzi sees Paige walking her pointer and middle finger across the length of her tummy, an amused smile on her face as she watches herself. “‘I’m Azzi Fudd’,” she says, voice quiet and high-pitched, “‘and I have a big ol’ head’.”

Taking a deep, shaky breath to calm herself, Azzi returns to her book, pointedly ignoring her.

“‘Babe, do these pants make me look big?’” Paige continues, jumping her hand-Azzi around dramatically as she badly impersonates her.

“No, you look good,” she replies in her normal voice.

“‘You’re supposed to say that,’” Hand-Azzi whines. “‘Tell me for real’.”

“I’m not lying, I love those pants.”

“‘Babe, stop lying to me!’”

Paige sighs dramatically, as if she were actually arguing with somebody else. “I’m not.”

“‘Yes you are. And you’re probably cheating too.’”

“Baby, you know I’d never—“

Slamming her book down, Azzi grabs Paige’s hand, stilling her excessive finger movements. “Paige!”

Paige laughs, probably at herself, sitting up and stretching out. “What?”

“You are stupid,” Azzi replies a little vehemently. With Paige no longer on top of her, she gathers her things and gets out of bed, officially done.

“Where you goin’, mami?” Paige asks, getting up to follow.

Azzi holds a hand up. “I’m going to sit on the couch, so I can read.”

“You’ve been reading for so long,” Paige groans.

Azzi rolls her eyes, turning away and leaving the room.

Paige trails behind her. “They’re watching a movie in there.”

“Okay, then I’ll watch with them.”

“Cool. Wanna sit with me?”

“No,” Azzi says.

Paige grabs her by the waist, holding her against her front, leaning around to kiss her cheek. “C’mon, baby, you know I was just playin’.”

“Okay, and I don’t wanna be played with.” Azzi pulls out of her grasp, shooting a glare over her shoulder.

Paige raises an eyebrow. “Aight, sassy.”

Azzi doesn’t dignify that with a response. She just heads to the living room, flopping down beside Ice to join the movie. She’s relieved (and maybe a little disappointed) when Paige doesn’t follow her.

—————————————

Paige has left her alone for a good amount of time, maybe an hour. Azzi has KK to thank for that: the two of them have been fucking around, playing Fort, and making TiKToks while Azzi enjoys her peace and quiet. She stays in Paige’s apartment, knowing she’s still going to bed with her tonight. Just as long as Paige continues to keep her distance for awhile.

She’s lying on the couch, book held above her, glasses perched over her nose as she reads. The movie ended a while ago, and Morgan and Sarah still linger around, hanging with Jana, and Allie’s in her room. She sort of hopes they don’t hang around too long. As much as she loves her kids, they’re a lot.

Still, it’s manageable. That is, until Paige and KK come barreling into the room, laughing their asses off. Azzi squeezes her eyes shut, hoping they’re going to pass her, but to her dismay, they stop right in front of the couch.

“Babe,” Paige says.

“Yes,” Azzi monotones.

“We need your opinion.” KK cackles as Paige promptly turns around before starting to twerk—or at least, something that looks like it could be twerking—right in front of Azzi’s poor face. “It’s moving, right? There’s motion?”

On any other day, Azzi might sugarcoat it to be nice, but today she just says, “There is absolutely not motion.”

KK clutches her stomach, laughing so hard she almost wheezes.

Paige whips around, hands on her chest. If there were pearls there, she’d be clutching them. “Babe!”

“I told you!” KK yells, pushing Paige out of the way. Azzi groans as she, too, turns around and begins shaking ass. It is admittedly better than Paige’s attempt. “What about me?”

“Mm, it’s a little better.”

“You gotta teach us,” KK says, tugging at Azzi’s hand.

“Ooh, yeah, teach us,” Paige agrees, wiggling her eyebrows. “I’m a visual learner, by the way.”

Azzi scoffs. As if. She pulls herself free from KK’s grasp, then stands. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?” they both frown.

“Because I’m trying to relax and y’all are being weird,” she quips.

“Why don’t you come hang with us?” Paige offers, a little more gently, obviously realizing Azzi is actually a little annoyed.

“No, thanks,” Azzi says. “I’m already overstimulated enough just from listening to you guys.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows. “Where you going, then?”

Azzi sighs, glancing at the door, then to her girlfriend, then back again. “I think I’m gonna head to my room, Paige.”

KK gasps. “Oh, mom and dad fighting?”

“We are not,” Paige insists. Then she turns to Azzi with an exaggerated sad face. “Are we?”

“No,” Azzi says, which is true. They’re not fighting; she just needs a break. “I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Why’re you leaving?” Paige asks, stepping toward her.

“I just…I’m a little grumpy today. Not as patient as usual. I need a few minutes.”

Paige frowns, but KK, never one to read a social situation, laughs. “She really said she has a low Paige threshold,” she giggles, pushing Paige’s shoulder.

“We barely saw each other this week,” Paige says, ignoring KK as she reaches out to hold Azzi’s hands. “We’ve already been apart today.”

“I know, honey,” Azzi says. She decides against pointing out that all in all, they’ve only been apart for around an hour total this entire day. “I promise I’ll be back.”

“Like, soon, right?” Paige says, giving her big puppy eyes that she’s never been able to resist.

“Yes, soon,” she promises. She leans forward for a kiss, KK averting her gaze with an eye roll. “Play Fort with KK or something. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t,” Paige insists, sounding genuinely worried.

“You will. We have tomorrow, too, remember?” With one last kiss, Azzi releases her hands, grabbing her things to go downstairs. She just barely catches KK making fun of Paige for being a simp before she gets out the door.

————————————

“Open the doooor.”

“Az, c’mon, bro, lemme in!”

“Bitch, you’ve had plenty alone time, pleaseeee.”

Azzi stands by the door, laughing silently at her girlfriend’s pleading—which has been going on, unanswered on her part, for about five minutes now—until her face drops at the last sentence. “What did you just call me?”

There’s a distinctly panicked silence before Paige starts backtracking. “I mean, my beautiful wife who I love and respect. For real, let me in. We can be alone together!”

“Very poetic,” Azzi remarks.

Paige groans, and there’s a thunk that sounds a lot like a forehead hitting a door. “Dawg.”

Once again, Azzi goes quiet, and she can tell the exact moment Paige realizes this because there’s another thunk.

“Azzi, please, babe.”

Still, she doesn’t respond, and that’s when the singing starts.

“Pleaseeee, open the dooorrr,” she sings quite horribly. Azzi quiets her giggle behind a hand.

“Pleaseeee,” she continues, completely off-key. Sza level, my ass.

“No, Paige.”

“Baby, please! It’s almost dinner time.”

“For who? It’s barely four.”

There’s another beat of silence. Then, “Azzi, I’m gonna cry. Please.”

Obviously, Paige is bullshitting her. She’s not going to cry. But still, Azzi’s never been able to be stern with Paige. (And Paige calling her her wife earlier certainly helped matters.)

As soon as she cracks the door open, Paige is trying to barge through, but Azzi stops her with a foot in the door. “Hold on.”

Paige, obediently, stops.

“I’m still a little grumpy,” Azzi admits.

Paige nods. “Okay.”

“So…be gentle, okay? I don’t like being mad at you.”

“I don’t like you being at me,” Paige agrees.

“We’re in agreement, then.”

“A hundred percent.” Paige pushes at the door. “Now, can I come in, please?”

Azzi opens the door all the way, allowing herself to be tackled onto the bed in a very non-gentle way, but still, she laughs. Even when she needs space from Paige, even when she chooses it—she still just ends up missing her the whole time.

“Hey,” Paige says once she’s effectively pinned her to the bed. “Noticed your dorm’s empty.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

“I can finish what I started earlier,” Paige offers, suggestive smile on her face before she says, “unless you don’t want that, obviously.”

Azzi’s pulling her down before she can finish her sentence.

(“We’re getting a sweet treat later,” she says a little while later.

“Okay, princess,” Paige says, situating herself between her legs. “Whatever you want.” And then, she drops a kiss on the inside of her thigh before spreading her open, dipping her head down, and going beautifully quiet for the first time all day. They stay in bed for quite some time.)

When Azzi starts her period the next day, she proudly says to herself, “I knew I wasn’t going crazy.”

[yooniivrse]

moving in | myg

summary. in which moving in together isn't as simple as it seems, but no task is herculean with yoongi by your side

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: established relationship au, angst if you read this with a magnifying glass

word count: 3k

content: oc and yoongi finally move in together / yoongi is the sweetest but oc also wants to kick is ass half the time

warnings: none :3

notes: i'm back from my break, did you guys miss me :> this was inspired by an ask by an anon which you can find here (tysm anon ur amazing). likes, reblogs, comments and feedback is always so so appreciated. enjoy my loves!

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taglist | click here to join:

@petals4bangtan @futuristicenemychaos

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main masterlist

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Privacy was a luxury in Yoongi's dorm. You had known this from the moment you first started visiting him here—how his space, while technically his, was never truly his own. There was always a member walking past his bedroom door, the faint hum of conversations drifting in from the common area, or the occasional loud clang from the kitchen at midnight.

You never minded it too much—at least, that’s what you have always told yourself. But when Namjoon walks in unannounced for the third time this evening, catching you and Yoongi curled up on the bed, you let out an exaggerated groan.

“You guys ever knock?” you tease, though there is a tired edge to your voice.

Namjoon blinked, looking apologetic as he took a step back. “Oh—uh, my bad. Was just looking for my headphones.”

Yoongi sighs next to you. He shifts his body, pulling his hand away from your waist to rest it under his head. “They’re in the studio, hyung,” he mutters without even opening his eyes.

Namjoon makes a face of realisation before nodding. “Rightt. Thanks, man.” He disappears just as quickly as he had entered, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

You sigh, turning your body and draping your arm across your boyfriend. “You know, for a bunch of guys who's lived together for this long, you’d think knocking would come naturally.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound deep and low. “You’d think.”

It's annoying when you can't even have the few days that Yoongi isn't burying himself with work to yourself completely. But though Yoongi agrees with your sentiment about his members, you know that you're roommates aren't much better.

You lean into his side, nestling yourself against his warmth as you put your thoughts to the side. His arm automatically drapes over your shoulders, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of your sleeve. The silence that follows is comfortable, lulling you into a sense of ease—until Yoongi speaks again.

“You know,” he starts, voice lazy but thoughtful, “we’d have more privacy if we moved out together.”

The words send a jolt of awareness through you.

You stiffen slightly but don’t pull away, choosing instead to focus on the way his fingers trace slow circles against your wrist. He has mentioned this before—moving out. Not just for himself, but for the both of you. You have always brushed it off, too scared to give it serious thought.

“I dunno…” you mutter, eyes flickering up to the jagged ceiling.

The shift in the air was subtle, but you feel it immediately. Yoongi’s fingers still, and when you chance a glance up at him, you notice how his expression has hardened slightly, his jaw tight.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” His tone isn’t harsh—it never is when it comes to you—but there was something pointed about it.

“I mean…” You hesitate, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I just—I haven’t really thought about it seriously, I guess.”

Yoongi doesn’t reply right away. He just watches you, his dark eyes scanning your face like he's trying to read between the lines. “You haven’t?”

You swallow. “I mean, I have, but—”

“But?”

There is no malice in his voice, but the weight of his gaze makes you squirm. You exhale slowly.

"But...I don't know."

You're awfully conscious of the way Yoongi's chest moves up and down with every breath; awfully conscious of how his heartbeat is lost to the sound of your own nervous thoughts.

"Oh."

You expect him to continue speaking, but he doesn't, instead choosing to let the silence hang in the air.

The last thing you want is to hurt him in any shape or form, but you know you'll sound stupid if you put your thoughts into words. This isn't the first time Yoongi has brought up the idea of moving out together, and you've managed to evade giving him an answer every time. But the quiet drags on, becoming unbearable with the second and you give in.

“Yoongi, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t want to seem completely dependent on you.”

His eyebrows twitch. “What?”

“I mean, you already do so much for me,” you admit, fidgeting with the fabric of your hoodie. “I don’t want you thinking I can’t handle things on my own.”

Yoongi lets out a sharp breath, his head tilting slightly as he processes your words. “You think I’d care about that?”

You shrug, feeling silly. “I don’t know.”

Yoongi scoffs lightly, shaking his head. “You do realise I’m the one who keeps asking you to move in, right? It’s not like I feel obligated or something. I want you there.”

You bite your lip. “Yeah, but…”

His gaze flickers with something unreadable. “But what? If you genuinely don't like the idea, just tell me. I won't be offended.”

Yoongi would definitely be offended. Well, offended isn't the word he would use, but he'd be disappointed. It's a big deal for him to actually want to spend most of his days with someone who he knows he won't find himself constantly drained around.

But the last thing Yoongi wants is for you to be uncomfortable. Even if it stung a bit, he'd understand because it's you. He'd do anything for you.

You sigh. “I also don’t want you to get doxed or harassed because of me. What if someone spots us? What if it turns into a whole thing?”

Yoongi doesn't react right away. He simply watches you, his fingers tightening slightly around your wrist before he exhales. “You really think I’d let that stop me?”

You shift. “And besides,” you add quietly, “you’ve told me before that you need your own space—that people overstaying annoys you.” You glance up at him hesitantly. “What if I annoy you?”

Yoongi blinks. His lips part slightly, as if he's surprised you even had that thought. For a moment, he just stares at you.

“That’s different,” he said.

“How?”

“Because it’s you.”

Your breath hitches.

“I like having my own space,” he continues, voice softer now. “But I also like coming home to you. And yeah, people overstaying annoys me, but when have I ever wanted you to leave?”

You think back to all the times you've gotten up to leave his studio, only for him to pull you back down beside him. The times you’ve texted him that you were heading home from the dorms, only for him to insist you stay just a little longer.

Never.

The answer was never.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, the door swings open again.

This time, it's Taehyung.

“Oh, come on,” Yoongi groans, running his hand through his hair.

Taehyung blinks. “Uh—was just looking for my hoodie. My bad.”

As the door clicks shut once more, Yoongi turns back to you, deadpan. “If that’s not proof that we need to move out, I don’t know what is.”

You stare at him for a moment, then let out a breathy laugh.

“…Fine,” you mutter.

Yoongi’s eyes glint. “Fine?”

You sigh. “Fine. Let’s move out.”

A slow, satisfied smirk stretches across his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, leaning in slightly. His voice drops to a teasing whisper. “Because I already started looking at apartments.”

Your eyes widen. “Yoongi—”

He just grins, turning to fully wrap his hands around your figure.

────

Moving day comes a lot faster than you expect it to.

It's overwhelming, not just because of the sheer number of boxes but because of what those boxes mean. This isn’t just another visit to Yoongi’s place, nor is it a temporary stay.

This is different. Permanent.

And that scares you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, has been frustratingly calm about the whole thing.

He stands next to you in the elevator, hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking completely at ease. Meanwhile, your heart pounds against your ribs as the floors tick past one by one. You fiddle with the keys in your hand, the ones Yoongi had given you just this morning.

“This is really happening, huh?” you murmur, half to yourself.

Yoongi glances down at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You sound surprised.”

You exhale. “I am.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes twinkling with amusement. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“Yeah, but…” You hesitate. “It just feels surreal. Like, we’re actually moving in together. That’s a big deal.”

Yoongi hums in agreement but doesn’t seem nearly as fazed as you are. If anything, he looks… content. Maybe even excited, in his own quiet way.

The elevator doors ding open, revealing a long, well-lit hallway.

Yoongi leads the way, his stride casual, as if he has already memorised the path. When you finally reach the apartment door, he gestures towards the keys in your hand.

“Go on,” he says. “The first time opening the door should be yours.”

You glance at him, then at the door, suddenly feeling the weight of this moment settle over you.

Taking a breath, you slid the key into the lock and turned it. The mechanism clicks smoothly, the door creaking open to reveal your new home.

The first thing you notice is the vast emptiness that fills the walls.

The apartment itself is beautiful—modest yet modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that bathe the space in natural light. The hardwood floors gleam under the afternoon sun, and the walls, still bare, seem to echo your movements as you step inside.

But there was nothing here. No furniture, no decorations, just an open space waiting to be filled.

You swallow, feeling oddly displaced. Everything is so...hollow. It's eerie.

Yoongi, again, seems unfazed. He steps past you, kicking off his shoes and letting out a satisfied sigh. “Not bad,” he muses, glancing around. “I forgot how much I liked empty spaces.”

You stare at him. “Are you serious? It’s so… bare.”

Yoongi smirks. “Exactly.”

You groan, setting your bag down. “Okay, well, you might be comfortable living like some kind of minimalist monk, but I need furniture.”

He chuckles, watching as you wander further into the apartment. You run your fingers along the smooth countertop of the kitchen island and sneak a peak into the—unfortunately empty—fridge, before making your way to the bedroom.

The bedroom is the emptiest of all.

The only thing in there is a single mattress on the floor, still wrapped in plastic. No bed frame, no pillows—just the sad, lonely mattress sitting in the middle of an otherwise vacant room.

You turn to Yoongi, unimpressed.

“Really?”

Yoongi grins. “It’s temporary.”

“You didn’t even get pillows?”

“I forgot.”

You sigh dramatically, placing your hands on your hips. “You know, for someone who planned this whole move, you’re really underprepared.”

Yoongi shrugs. “We’ll manage.”

You shake your head with a fond smile before wandering back into the main living space. It's strange—this apartment was supposed to be yours now, but it still feels so foreign. Like you're just visiting.

As if sensing your unease, Yoongi comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’ll get used to it,” he murmurs.

You lean into him instinctively. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His voice was warm, reassuring. “It’s just a space right now. We’ll make it a home.”

You exhale, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little.

For now, this is enough.

By the time the sun has set, exhaustion has settled deep into your bones. The day had been spent moving the essentials—clothes, toiletries, a few kitchen items—and while you haven’t even scratched the surface of fully furnishing the place, it already feels like you have done enough heavy lifting for a week.

Now, standing in the still near-empty bedroom, all you want is to curl up somewhere comfy—somewhere that wasn't just a mattress on the floor.

It looks even sadder in the dim light. No bed frame, no pillows—just a single, plastic-wrapped mattress in the middle of a room that feels far too spacious for what little was inside. The walls are bare, the windows uncovered, leaving the city lights to cast faint, shifting patterns against the walls.

Yoongi, as usual, seems unbothered. He tosses his phone onto the mattress, stretching his arms over his head as he looks around. “Not bad,” he muses.

You turned to him, unimpressed. “Not bad? Yoongi, we don’t even have blankets.”

“We have hoodies. Besides, you have me.”

“Oh my god.”

He smiles, clearly entertained by your misery. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow,” he reassures. “I was too busy making sure everything else got here today. I figured we could survive one night like this.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his words. “One night? You mean the whole week until the bed frame arrives?”

Yoongi’s smirk falters slightly as he purses his lips. “…Maybe.”

You groan dramatically, flopping down onto the mattress. The plastic crinkles beneath you, making the moment even more pathetic. “This is not how I imagined our first night living together,” you mutter.

Yoongi chuckles, toeing off his socks before sitting down next to you. “How did you imagine it?”

You turn your head to look at him. “I don’t know. Maybe something a little more… romantic? Cosy? With an actual bed?”

Yoongi hums, lying back beside you. “So, no romance in a bare room?”

“None,” you say firmly. “Absolutely zero.”

There was a beat of silence before Yoongi suddenly rolled over, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him.

“Yoongi—” you yelp in surprise, but he only buries his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“You said no romance,” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement. “So I’m just making sure you’re comfortable.”

You huff, feeling the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto your lips. His body is warm against yours, and despite the lack of pillows or blankets, there is a surprising sense of comfort in simply being here with him.

“You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

Yoongi hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “And you’re complaining less now.”

You roll your eyes, though you don’t bother arguing. Because the truth is, despite everything—the bare room, the mattress on the floor, the emptiness surrounding you—you still feel at home.

And that has nothing to do with the apartment itself.

It has everything to do with him.

────

The next day, after waking up sore from sleeping on a mattress with no pillows, you and Yoongi ventured out to buy furniture.

It should have been an exciting experience—picking out the things that would turn your apartment into a home. But instead, it became clear within the first fifteen minutes that you and Yoongi have vastly different approaches to shopping.

Yoongi? He was practical. Minimalistic. The type to point at the first couch he saw and say, “That one’s fine,” with zero hesitation.

You, on the other hand, wanted something comfortable, something that felt lived-in before you had even sat on it.

Which was why you're currently standing in the middle of a showroom, arms crossed as you glare at the stiff-looking grey couch Yoongi is sitting on.

“You actually like this?” you ask incredulously.

Yoongi leans back slightly, patting the armrest. “It’s firm. Good back support.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s a couch, not a cloud.”

“It should at least be soft enough to sit on for more than ten minutes without feeling like you’re in a waiting room.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

You scoff. “Says the man who literally naps more than anyone I know.” You gesture to the couch. “Can you actually see yourself sleeping on this?”

Yoongi pause. His lips press together like he wants to argue, but then he slowly looks down at the couch as if re-evaluating his choices.

You can see the exact moment he realises that you're right.

“…Maybe not,” he mutters.

You smirk. “That’s what I thought.”

With a victorious huff, you grab his hand and pull him toward the other section of the showroom, stopping in front of a much softer, cosier-looking couch. You plop down on it immediately, sinking into the cushions with a satisfied sigh.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he sits down next to you. “This is your dream couch?”

“Try lying down.”

Yoongi shoots you a look but does as you say, shifting until he is lying back against the cushions. You watch as his eyes flutter shut for a moment, his body visibly relaxing.

“…Okay,” he admits. “It’s nice.”

You grin. “Exactly.”

Yoongi cracks one eye open. “But it’s too big.”

You scoff. “It’s a normal-sized couch.”

“For a family of six.”

“For two people who want to be comfortable.”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his temples like this was the hardest decision he has ever had to make. You know he's being dramatic on purpose, but you also know he doesn’t actually mind letting you win. He just likes to put up a fight first.

“Fine,” he mutters, sitting up. “We’ll get this one.”

You beam. “Thank you for admitting I was right. I know, I know, I'm so amazing.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, unable to fight the smile on his face, but doesn’t argue.

Furniture shopping continues in much the same way. You bicker over dining tables (Yoongi wanted a small one, and you wanted a bigger one “for guests,” which made him scoff because, in his words, “What guests?”). You argue over rugs (“Why do we need one?” “Because it makes the space feel cosy, Yoongi!”).

But despite the back-and-forth, it wasn’t frustrating. If anything, it was fun.

By the end of the day, after picking out a bed frame, a coffee table, and a bookshelf you have absolutely no room for but insist on getting anyway, you both collapse onto one of the display beds.

“We should’ve just bought a fully furnished place,” Yoongi mumbles, staring at the ceiling.

“And miss out on all these cute domestic moments? Never.”

Yoongi glances at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cute, huh?” he murmurs.

You grin. “Very cute.”

Yoongi sighs dramatically but subtly reaches over, intertwining his fingers with yours.

And just like that, your new home was slowly coming together.

[ihaznoclue]

Just recently came across your blog and saw requests were open again! I especially love the Sonic fics in the movieverse.

I’ve seen scenarios where there was a teen!Wachowski and is essentially a sibling to them. I thought it would be cute for something like Sonic, Knuckles, and maybe even Shadow (he’d have joined the family, obviously) acting protective brothers over their human sibling since they’re not nearly as strong or durable. Any scenario would do, though I can’t help but think of if it involved dating someone and they would react like: are they cool enough? Are they strong enough? Are they working for G.U.N.???

Anywho, if you get to this, I would like to see how you write it out. Thanks!

Omg yes I was thinking about something like this and I'm all for it!

Pairings -> Sonic the Hedgehog, Kunckles the Echidna, Shadow the hedgehog x Sibling Reader (platonic)

Warnings -> None

Note -> Them being protective over their human older sibling

Genre -> Fluff

Sonic The Hedgehog

I feel like he will be the less protective one out of the three of them

He would probably ask a lot of questions though to get some information about them if you were dating someone

But in all seriousness I feel like he would help you

Since he thinks he's the most romantic guy out there

Sonics just a goof, a dork

"You have a what!?" Sonic screamed out which made you quickly cover his mouth as you shushed him

"Be quiet Sonic, Mum and Dad doesn't know yet, dad would probably freak out if I told him now" You spoke out

Sonic moved you hand as he was awe "Aww you told me before anyone else?" Sonic was so happy that you told him

"But in all seriousness, what are they like?" Sonic asked "Are they cool? Sporty? Popular?"

"Woah calm down, I will tell you everything, just don't tell the other though, I'll tell them myself soon"

"Tell me the details Sib"

Knuckles The Echidna

He would be the protective one besides Shadow

Like he doesn't want your heart to be broken by a weakling

But you reassure him that this person was really sweet and wouldn't do anything to hurt you

"A what now?" Knuckles asked, Knuckles wasn't quite familiar with the term partner so you explained it to him in a simple way

"A partner is where me and that people are together in a relationship where we love each other" You explained to him hoping he would get it

Knuckle just nodded, his face still in a frown while his arms was crossed against his chest

"Are they strong enough to protect you, If not then they are not worthy of your kindness" Knuckles huffed

You just rolled your eyes "I hope they are, but please Knuckles they are really sweet and wouldn't let anything happen to me I promise"

"Have you told the others" Knuckles asked

"I did tell Sonic, but later I will tell Shadow and hope that goes well"

"You should tell him now"

Shadow The Hedgehog

Oh boy

This was going be a long conversation with you and Shadow

Shadow was quite the grumpy and protective type

You knew he was gonna ask questions about them anyway

"Hey Shads" You greeted him while he was sitting down the comfy couch

"Hey" He gruff, as he watched the TV in front of him, "I need to tell you something"

Shadow the turned off the TV then looked at you

"Are you hurt?"

"No! no I'm not I just need to speak to you about something"

"That is?"

"I have a partner"

His ear flicked at that word, he was then processing what you just said than it finally clicked

"You mean that you are in a relationship with someone?"

You nodded "Yep" Nervously sweating

"Are they secretly working for G.U.N? Are they strong enough to protect you? What if they hurt you later in the future?"

"Woah slow down Shadow, No they don't work for G.U.N if they did then I wouldn't be with them"

Shadow stared at you then sighed

"I will be fine Shads, If anything happens I know you and the others will protect me"

-A<3

[vanillatwistgirl]

🌟 General Astrology Observation

🔮 Disclaimer: Astrology is a tool for self-reflection and insight, not a fixed destiny. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. My posts are based on personal observations and general interpretations—everyone's birth chart is unique! 💫✨

~ People with strong Earth placements (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn) tend to be practical, dependable, and value stability, but they can struggle with change and spontaneity.

~ Water signs (Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces) in personal planets often experience deep emotions but may struggle with emotional boundaries.

~ Fire sign risings (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) have a natural presence that makes them stand out, even when they’re not trying.

~Air signs (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius) in Mercury make excellent communicators, but they may overthink or detach emotionally in conversations.

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🌙 Moon Sign Observations

Aries Moon – Feels emotions intensely but moves on quickly; prone to impulsive reactions.

Taurus Moon – Needs comfort and security; struggles with change but is incredibly loyal.

Gemini Moon – Expresses emotions through words but may intellectualize feelings instead of feeling them deeply.

Cancer Moon – Deeply intuitive and nostalgic; emotions are tied to home and family.

Leo Moon – Needs to feel special and appreciated; craves warmth and recognition.

Virgo Moon – Analyzes emotions rather than expressing them; needs order to feel emotionally stable.

Libra Moon – Seeks harmony in relationships; dislikes conflict but may struggle with emotional indecisiveness.

Scorpio Moon – Feels everything intensely but often hides emotions; deeply transformative.

Sagittarius Moon – Needs emotional freedom; happiest when exploring new experiences.

Capricorn Moon – Practical with emotions; may struggle with vulnerability but is deeply reliable.

Aquarius Moon – Detached in emotional expression but deeply cares about humanity as a whole.

Pisces Moon – Highly empathetic and dreamy; emotions can be overwhelming and sometimes escapist.

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

Venus in Fire signs (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) – Passionate and bold in love, but they can lose interest if there’s no excitement.

Mars in Air signs (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius) – Uses words and intellect to resolve conflicts rather than direct confrontation.

Pluto in the 1st House – People with this placement often have a powerful presence and can go through many personal transformations.

Chiron in the 7th House – May struggle with wounds related to relationships but can become a great healer in love once lessons are learned.

[lilianne-tarot]

⋆.˚PICK A CARD: "What Are They Really Feeling About You" ⋆.˚

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　˚　.　　　　　 . ✦

I. II. III.

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Hey there loves! Welcome to another PAC reading on my blog page—I hope you all enjoy it! Comment down what you felt about the reading and if it resonated with you and please show some love, Your support means everything to me!<3

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

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⋆✮ Pile I

"I have so many feelings for you, but I don’t know how to handle it."

These cards are laid out in front of me, and whew—the energy is giving emotional confusion and major mixed signals. Like, imagine someone typing out a long-ass paragraph to send to you, deleting it, and then hitting you with a dry "hey" instead. That’s the vibe we’re working with here. typical situationship situation. There’s this undeniable connection between you two—the kind which makes yalll like, "what are we?" . But The World Reversed tells me they feel like something between you is incomplete or not quite where it should be. Maybe y’all had a near miss, an almost-relationship, or things just never fully clicked into place the way they were supposed to. OR—they’re still caught up in past issues, cycles, or even other people who are messing with their perception of this connection. And then—BOOM—the Queen of Swords Reversed—This person sees you as intelligent, sharp, and perceptive, but also a bit intimidating. They might feel like if they were to step to you, they’d have to bring their absolute A-game because you don’t fall for weak, half-hearted energy. (And tbh, they’re lowkey scared of getting called out if they’re moving weird). They could also think you’re a bit distant or hard to read at times—like, do you actually like them back, or are you just naturally that cool? (Spoiler: they’re dying to know).

Okay, but what’s holding them back? The Five of Cups is coming in here , showing that this person is stuck in regret, sadness, or some kind of emotional baggage that’s stopping them from moving forward with you. If this is an ex or a situationship, they definitely still think about you, but they’re too caught up in the "what went wrong" instead of focusing on "what could go right." I just feel like this spread is mainly for people who are stuck in a situationship or are pondering over an ex. So yeah, they feel something deep and nostalgic for you, whether you’ve known each other forever or not. They might replay certain memories, old conversations, or even compare new people they meet to you—because you set a standard, babe. There’s something pure about how they feel toward you, even if their emotions are a hot mess express. They might fantasize about simpler times between you two, or even wonder if there’s a way to rekindle or repair things if you’ve grown apart. They feel drawn to you in a way they can’t ignore. You’re on their mind more than they’ll ever admit (probably even to themselves).

At this point, it’s their move. Will they break free from their past and step toward you? Or will they keep living in the land of "what ifs" and "almost"

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˙⋆✮ Pile II

"They are literally perfect, I’m obsessed."

Like, this person thinks about you way more than they probably should. Your person doesn��t just think of you in passing—nah, you stick in their brain like a catchy song they can’t get rid of. There’s something fated about this connection in their mind (Wheel of Fortune is SCREAMING destiny vibes, and especially when I RARELY get this card in my spreads so you just KNOW). Whether they admit it or not, they feel like you’re significant in some way. They don’t know why, they don’t know how, but the thought of you feels important—like a turning point in their life, even if nothing has happened between you two yet. But here’s where it gets messy (and a little spicy). The Judgement card is staring me in the face like 👁️👄👁️, and I’m telling you right now, your person sees you as someone who forces them to self-reflect. You’re triggering something deep in them. This person sees you as someone who’s put together, maybe even out of their league. You give off an "I know who I am, and I don’t settle for less" vibe—even if you don’t feel that way inside, that’s what they’re perceiving. They might assume you have high standards that makes them second-guess how they should act around you. (Like, are they worthy???)

And the funny part? They think you have your life figured out. But seriously, you project this energy of wisdom, tradition, and stability, and it’s making them think twice before approaching. "What if they don’t take me seriously?" is a VERY real fear they have. They don’t want to come at you wrong and fumble before they even get a chance. Also, sidenote—this card sometimes gives ‘teacher/student’ energy. Not literally, but like, they feel like they could learn a lot from you. Now, let’s talk about the Two of Pentacles Reversed, because this is where the real mess begins. This person is struggling internally when it comes to you. They admire you, they think you’re lowkey untouchable, and they are absolutely not treating this as just a casual crush or just lightly. Whether they realize it or not, And let me be real with you—they’re not going to approach unless the universe forces them to. They’re waiting for some kind of cosmic push (Wheel of Fortune) to make things happen because right now, they’re paralyzed by their own overthinking. THEY ARE TIED UP IN KNOTS ABOUT THIS.

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˙⋆✮ Pile III

"Who are they?? Why do they live in my head??"

Ohhh, Pile 3’s situation is serving mystery, intrigue, and a whole lot of overthinking on their person’s end. If this is someone who only sees you from a distance—like a coworker, a classmate, or someone —then whew, the way they have created an entire personality for you in their head is actually insane.

To them, you are literally the hardest puzzle they've ever encountered, and it's driving them nuts. Like, you know how in movies, there’s always that one person who walks into a room and suddenly the main character is hyper-aware of their presence? That’s you to them. Even if you don’t talk much, or at all, your energy is too loud to ignore. They probably observe you a lot but feel like they never get the full picture. It’s giving “they seem so cool but I have no idea what’s actually going on in their head”. You might be quiet, reserved, or just really selective with who you engage with, and that makes you feel even more untouchable to them. If you are talkative or social, you still confuse them because you might act differently around different people. One second you’re laughing with someone, the next you’re in your own world? It’s throwing them off. 😂 But here’s the thing: this isn’t just curiosity. No, bestie, this is a full-on obsession. They don’t just want to know more about you—they NEED to. Their brain is playing detective without their permission. The Magician here is interesting because it means they think you’re in control, while they feel completely out of control around you. It’s giving “they probably don’t even know I exist, but I can’t stop thinking about them” energy. due of 10 of cups here, I can say, they’ve already mentally placed you in a soft-focus fantasy movie of their future.(just marry yall😭😭) They don’t just see you as someone cool—they see you as someone who could be the perfect person for them. even if they’ve never spoken to you, they already imagine what kind of relationship they’d have with you. You are the “dream person” in their head, but here’s the problem: they have no clue who you actually are. It’s like they’ve created a whole storyline about you without fact-checking it first 😭. Basically, their mental image of you is 50% real, 50% a fanfiction they wrote in their head.

Bestie, listen… If you’ve ever caught them staring at you like they’re trying to solve a crime, that’s exactly what they’re doing. They’re dying to know who you actually are because right now, you exist as a walking mystery and a romanticized daydream in their head.

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog—it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[myloveer0]

My lovely darling

Girlfriend Ambessa Medarda X Fem!reader

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Summary: You were just trying to survive your family reunion when Ambessa Medarda—your girlfriend—showed up unannounced. Now, you have no choice but to introduce her to your entire clan. What’s got you nervous isn’t just introducing any partner—it’s the fact that you’re dating a woman who also happens to be twice your age.

💋 Enough with the smut we need sweet girlfriend Ambessa💋

Well… I didn’t expect everyone to like it that much, but anyway, here’s part 2. Part 3 will be last and be upload the day after tomorrow.... Enjoy reading!😊😉

Part II

This was not how tonight was supposed to go.

You had it all planned out—show up to the family reunion, smile through the awkward small talk, dodge questions about your love life, and make a graceful exit by faking a headache. The perfect escape. Then you'd be back to your regular life—your job, your apartment, and most importantly, your girlfriend.

Simple. Easy. Safe.

But Ambessa had other plan.

Amazing? She literally flew from the other side of the country just to see you—because she missed you already. Like you’d left her and promised to be back after two weeks.

And now, here she is, showing up before those weeks are even over… and demanded to meet your parents. You should’ve run. You should have. But with Ambessa’s hand wrapped firmly around you telling there was no turning back.

So now, here we were. Standing on your parents’ porch, the warm glow of the house lights peeking through. You could still hear the muffled sounds of laughter and conversation from inside, but all you could focus on was the weight spinning on your mind.

“You nervous?” Ambessa asked, her voice low, amused.

You shot her a look. “You think?”

She chuckled softly, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “Relax. They’ll love me.''

You release a nervous laugh. You weren’t so sure about that.

Standing in front of the double doors, the weight of what was about to

happen doubled this time. You turned to face Ambessa, your heart pounding so loud..

“Bess…” you began. Ambessa raised an eyebrow, waiting. “B-before we go in, I need to say this. No matter what happens—no matter what my parents say—I’m still with you. Nothing will change, okay? We’ll stand together, even if they’re started to go against us.”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a smirk, but her eyes softened. “Of course, dear,” she said with that same effortless confidence, like there was never a doubt in her mind. Like nothing could shake her.

Was she even nervous? She was about to meet your parents for the first time, and yet she looked so calm, so in control while here you are looking like a frightened wet penguin. Wasn’t meeting the parents supposed to be the most terrifying part of a relationship? Even more nerve-wracking than getting married?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you reached out to adjust her suit. Your fingers brushed against the lapels, but you didn’t realize they were trembling until Ambessa's hand gently closed over yours.

You already imagine all the worst-case scenarios before the night would end, and none of them sat well with you. You could possibly lose Ambessa. Or your family. Or worst, both. Just the thought of it made your chest tighten painfully. You didn't want to choose between the people you love.

The mere possibility of it was unbearable. You don't know if you can take it.

Ambessa's touch was grounding, steady, like everything you needed in that moment. Ambessa gently cupped your chin, guiding your face toward hers.

“Little one… look at me.”

You met her gaze, and the calm, steady confidence in her eyes was enough to slow your racing heart.

"Calm down... Everything’s going to be alright. We will be alright." Her voice was soft yet steady "Don’t be nervous—I’m right here, okay?"

You nodded, swallowing hard, and she gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

Before you could chicken out, you took a last deep breath before you swung the door open. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you both stepped back inside, and it felt like the entire world paused.

Every conversation stopped mid-sentence.

Every fork froze halfway to someone’s mouth.

Your uncles, who had been lounging on the sofa watching football, paused mid-game, their attention snapping at your direction. Your aunties, mid-gossip, fell silent, their eyes narrowing at the front door. Even the children, who’d been running around shrieking with laughter, slowed to a halt, retreating to their parents like they were afraid on something.

Every pair of eyes—at least thirty family members crammed into the living room and dining area—snapped right to you and your unexpected guest. A shiver ran from your toes all the way up your spine, your heart pounding in panic.

You were just introducing your partner to the family, like your cousin did, but they never gave that kind of attention—the way they’re staring at you and Ambessa now.

It was like time had hit the brakes.

And how could they not?

When the woman beside you was an attention grabber, what more Ambessa was intimidating. She stood taller than the average man, her broad, powerful frame impossible to ignore. Every movement she made was deliberate, exuding a quiet authority that demanded respect and commanded attention the moment she entered a room.

Even board directors didn’t dare challenge her—no one did. Her employees were even terrified of looking onto her eyes or crossing path with her.

You blinked multiple times, trying to steady yourself, before glancing at Ambessa. Not a single hint of nervousness crossed her face. She stood tall and composed, completely unbothered by the dozens of eyes glued to the both of you. You could practically hear the collective whisper ripple through the room.

It wasn’t nice being gawked at, especially by this many people, especially when their eyes keep on shifting from you and Ambessa.

Ambessa was dressed in that perfectly tailored red and black suit—one that probably cost more than your car—she stood out in the best way possible. It was just a casual family gathering, and yet, there she was, looking like she’d stepped off the cover of a high-profile magazine.

And then, through the stunned silence, you spotted her.

Your mother. Eyebrows shot up so fast you thought they might hit her hairline.

You could feel your pulse in your ears. This was it. No turning back now.

Your mother’s brows knit together, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of you and Ambessa standing side by side. She didn’t miss the closeness between you— and the way your hands brushed together.

Like she knew.

Like she had already put the pieces together but was desperately hoping she was wrong. But then, with a practiced calm, she clapped her hands together and forced a smile.

“Alright, everyone,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “Let’s not hover. Go on, continue enjoying your food.”

Slowly, like someone had hit play on a paused movie, people started moving again. Conversations resumed, but not without the occasional glance thrown our way. You could feel them peeking, eavesdropping, pretending they weren’t doing exactly that.

And then your parents moved in.

You drag Ambessa as you led toward the dining room. Your mother stood by the table, stirring the salad with slow, deliberate movements. She didn’t look up right away. Your father appeared behind her, his expression was unreadable, but his eyes flicked from you to Ambessa—and then back again

Meanwhile, your mother’s gaze turned laser-focused as you both stopped in front of her. Her eyes immediately darted down to yours and Ambessa's intertwined fingers.

Which made your palm run ice cold. Ambessa must’ve felt it too because she tightened her grip slightly, giving you support as her warmth seeping into your skin.

You glanced around the room, wishing the ground would just open up and swallow you whole. Why was everyone staring at you like you were the evening’s drama? You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air.

Your mom’s lips pressed into a thin line. “And who,” she began, her voice deceptively polite, “might this guest be?”

Before you could say anything, Ambessa took a step forward.

“Ambessa Medarda,” she said, offering her hand with the kind of poised confidence that could melt glaciers—or in this case, try to thaw your mother’s frosty demeanor. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet Y/N's parents.”

Your mom stared at her hand like it might bite, but she eventually took it—barely—but then turned to you, her eyes pointing dagger demanding an explanation. Your Dad, still buffering, finally shook himself out of his daze and gave Ambessa a quick handshake.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. "Ambessa, this is my mom and dad. Mom, Dad… this is Ambessa."

...

"She’s… my girlfriend," you added, your voice softer but clear.

For a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped.

You could feel the shock ripple through the room. Eyes widened. A few audible gasps echoed in the sudden silence, and you swore even the ticking clock on the wall seemed louder than before.

You understood their reactions perfectly. Your whole life, they had known you as a straight woman—never once had you hinted otherwise. You were so good at hiding it. And now, here you were, standing before them, introducing your first-ever lover… who just so happened to be a woman.

It wasn’t just introducing Ambessa; it was, in a way, coming out. Tearing down the version of you they thought they knew and revealing something they’d never expected. You could see it in their eyes—the shock, the disbelief, the scrambling to process what this meant. And being the only gay person in the family? It was a whole new revelation for everyone.

And as much as you tried to steel yourself for this moment, you couldn’t help the nervous knot twisting in your stomach..

Your mom’s eyes widened,

''G-girlfriend?” she repeated, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard you right. The word hanging in the air like an accusation.

She immediatly stopped on what she was doing. Then, with a disbelieving shake of her head, she let out a sharp little laugh. “Since when did you have a lover? And her? really… a woman? Y/N”

You felt like you were going to be sick. Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to nod. “Yes.”

Her lips twitched—not a smile, more like an involuntary reaction she couldn’t quite control. “Are you being serious? Right now?”

Before you could answer, Ambessa’s voice cut in.

“Yes,” she said firmly, her gaze locking onto your mother’s “We’re serious.”

From the look on Ambessa's face, she was clearly quite upset by your mother’s tone.

Your mother was just about to start arguing when your father gently pulled her aside, murmuring something to calm her down. Surprisingly, she let him, though the tension in her face made it clear she was far from pleased.

“Now, now… save the conversation for later,” your father said smoothly, shooting you a look before turning back to Ambessa. “A-ambessa right? Have you had dinner yet? I bet you haven’t. Why don’t you grab a plate and help yourself?”

Relief flooded you, and you shot your father a grateful look. He only smiled, giving you a quick wink.

You were about to guide Ambessa toward the food when you noticed she hadn’t moved. Furrowing your brows, you turned to her. “Bess…?”

Before she could answer, you caught movement from the corner of your eye—Ricktus, her ever-loyal guard, stepping inside, both hands occupied with something.large.

“Before that,” Ambessa spoke, “I’d like to give something first.” She gestured toward the items in Ricktus’ hands. “I brought some gift baskets. It’s not much, but I didn’t realize Y/N had quite a big family.”

All eyes turned toward the baskets, and you could practically hear the collective shift in the room. These weren’t ordinary gift baskets—they were luxurious, the kind only the wealthy could afford. Even from a distance, you could see the careful arrangement of imported wines, artisanal chocolates, and items that looked far too expensive for anyone to afford.

Your father let out a nervous chuckle, offering a polite tone “Ah—thank you, you didn't need to but that’s very kind.” He reached out to take one, but Ricktus didn’t let go. Instead, the guard gave a small, respectful nod.

“Forgive him but they’re quite heavy,” Ambessa said evenly, her tone smooth yet firm. “Let my men carry them—just tell us where you’d like them placed.”

....

The meal was tense. You could barely swallow the food in front of you, your stomach knotted with nerves. Other than Ambessa, the martini in your hand was the only thing giving you strength. Your mom was definitely more upset than you had imagined. She had been demanding for years that you finally introduce someone—and here you were, doing exactly that. But clearly, this wasn’t what she had expected. What a way to suprise everyone..

It had been hour, and the crowd had thinned as the night stretched on. A few of the younger kids had finally tired themselves out, curled up in corners or carried off to bed by their parents. The once lively energy had settled into something quieter, more subdued.

Some of your aunts had struck up light conversation with Ambessa—mostly out of curiosity, you suspected—but you could tell they were still hesitant. And then there was your mother.

She hadn’t said a word to you.

Not since then. Not since everything.

She wasn’t throwing a fit or making a scene, but that almost made it worse. The way she moved around the room, politely engaging with everyone except you—it was deliberate. A silent cold shoulder. Like you hadn’t just been laughing together at your uncle’s joke moments ago.

And damn, it hurt.

Meanwhile, Ambessa? the unbothered queen, savoring every bite like she was at a five-star banquet instead of sitting in the middle of this emotional minefield.

She was even enjoying your mother’s homemade mac and cheese, which was shocking considering how picky of an eater she was. Even a world-renowned chefs had to bent over backward trying to impress her, and yet here she was, casually indulging in a simple family recipe.

You sat beside her leaned in slightly, your elbow resting on the table, your head propped up by your hand as you watched her. Seeing her eat—actually eat, rather than picking at her food like she usually did—made you happy. It was such a simple thing, but it meant something.

Your voice was low, “I like what you did to your hair.”

Ambessa's usual free-flowing curls were now braided back into a triple dutch braid, weaving tightly along her scalp in thick sections into the center one. A few white strands near the front contrasted against the dark, adding a striking edge to her already commanding presence. She looked good. No—she looked ridiculously good.

Ambessa paused mid-bite, glancing at you. “Ah, yes, little one… You did say you liked it this way.” She smirked, setting her fork down. “So, I had it styled before I got here.”

Your lips parted slightly. “You did it… for me?”

She hummed, taking another bite, as if it was no big deal.

Your heart stuttered, and heat crept up your cheeks. “Well, I do like it,” you admitted, staring at her shamelessly. “I can see your face clearly. You look so—”

Ambessa cut you off, her gaze sharp and knowing. “I see what you’re doing, little one.” Her voice dipped lower, teasing but firm. “But don’t flirt with me right now. You might not like what I do to you in front of your family.”

You choked on your drink. Your cheeks burned as you quickly averted your gaze.

What is wrong with this woman?!

Ambessa just chuckled, sipping her wine like she hadn’t just sent your brain into a tailspin.

You were lost in your little moment, completely wrapped up in Ambessa’s teasing, when someone cleared their throat. You both turned, and it was none other than the devil itself—your mother.

Your stomach dropped. Shit.

How could you forget she was sitting just two seats away? You had been so caught up in Ambessa’s presence that you completely overlooked the fact that your mother had full view of your shameless flirting. You could only hope she didn't hear any of it.

Wine glass in hand. Then your mother began to approached and took a seat—this time, directly in front of you. The shift was small, but it was enough to make the entire table fall quiet.

A few of your family had noticed it too.

Your mom wasn’t done. You could feel it. Maybe she was just waiting for the crowd to subside, which, in a way, was a relief—at least you wouldn’t have to endure her torture in front of an audience.

Your mother, set down her drink with an audible clink and looked directly at Ambessa “So,” she began, “Ambessa… what do you do?”

You winced internally. Here we go

______

Taglist:) @jhyoos @dakotapaigelove @daenerysluvrr @marve1stranger @angrywhisperslove @ghostie1131 @natsaffection @vyvvycg @euphoricnyctophilia @cloudstoday @imconfusrd @chezze-its

[soubeomies]

꒰୨୧◞ ₊˚ 𝓘𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾

⤷ 𝓟𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 �� leehan x fem!reader

⤷ 𝓦𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ﹕reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress, other than that none rlly!

⤷ 𝓖𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾 ﹕ fluff

⤷ 𝓦𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝓒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 ﹕880

⤷ 𝓐𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝓝𝗈𝗍𝖾 ﹕ive been so so so obsessed with this song lately and its been stuck in my head, give it a listen guys <3

⤷ 𝓢𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 ﹕both you and leehan were first-timers when it came to forming a relationship, but leehan is always gonna try his best for you!

now playing 🎵 shy love — ivoris

⭑｡𖦹°‧

forming a relationship with leehan has got to be one of the cutest things ever. both of you were new to this whole entire.. dating thing. though the both of you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

seeing that valentine’s day was just around the corner, leehan can’t help but feel confused. he has never done anything of the sort. he has never spent time with someone on valentine’s day.. let alone with his girlfriend! 

it all felt so foreign to him, but for you? he’d try it all!

⭑｡𖦹°‧

first step, flowers! every good boyfriend always gets his girlfriend flowers on valentine’s day.. right? he thought to himself. he nervously walks into a flower shop, the gentle and floral scent greeting him upon his entry. he inhales the sweet scent before looking around. confused on what to get, an employee approaches him.

“you look confused, is there anything specific that you’re looking for?” she asks. he turns to look at her, “ah! actually.. i don’t know.. it’s almost valentine’s day and i wanna get my g—girlfriend some flowers..” his voice softens at the last few parts, not used to being able to call one his girlfriend.

the employee could only chuckle gently at his nervousness, “do you know what she likes?” she asks. leehan thought for a while before speaking, “t—tulips i think they’re called?” he blurts. he remembered a conversation between the two of you as you mentioned something about you adoring tulips. his brain couldn’t properly wrap around what you specifically said.

the employee nods whilst she guides him to the section adorned with beautiful tulips. “here are our tulips, feel free to look around and call me when you need any help!”

he inspected the tulips closely, the alluring cup-shaped flower that bloomed in vibrant colors. walking up to one that had caught his attention, he calls out for the employee. “i think i want this one” he says calmly.

not long after, he succeeds in buying you a bouquet of beautiful white and pink tulips.

⭑｡𖦹°‧

next is chocolates! what’s valentine’s day without some nice and sweet chocolates?

he swore he remembered what type of chocolates you liked. approaching the grocery store, he comes to the realization that he in fact did not remember which chocolates you specifically liked.

he arrived at the aisle where the chocolates resided, only to stare at them for a few minutes. he pondered over which ones he thought would be your favorite.

he grabs some heart-shaped milk chocolate mini bites whilst hoping for the best. he approaches the cashier and proceeds to pay for the milk chocolates that he could only assume you liked.

⭑｡𖦹°‧

now that he’s gotten the flowers and chocolates, all he needed to do was to surprise you with them on valentine’s day. luckily for him, he had already made plans with you in order to spend valentine’s day together to have a picnic which was tomorrow.

arriving home, he realizes that he was smiling to himself, imagining how cute your reaction would be to his gifts. but, a part of him still wondered if he had messed up anything.

did he actually hear you right? did you actually have tulips as your favorite flower? did he guess right? did you actually like milk chocolate?

though he quickly shook the thoughts away and assured himself that everything would go perfectly fine.

⭑｡𖦹°‧

the day has come, the day where love is practically in the air. he got up with excitedly, before he continued to put on a simple outfit as well as spritzing the cologne that you had gotten him.

reaching the area you and leehan had planned to meet up at for the picnic, he stands and anxiously waits. he had the flowers and chocolates in hand, occasionally looking at the time on his watch.

not long after, his eyes wandered around as they laid on you. in a beautiful and flowy dress. his cheeks flush a hint of a pinkish hue, his eyes lingering on you. you approach him with a picnic basket in hand. “hi! sorry, did i make you wait?” you ask.

he was silent for a few moments, letting himself take in your beauty. it really hasn’t hit him that you’re his..

he finally realizes you asked a question, “o—oh me?? ahahaha! no i just arrived..” he says nervously. you can only smile at his response. “happy valentine’s day.” he says with nervousness painted all over his face.

“i got you these..” he murmurs as he brings his hands from behind his back, showing you the tulips and milk chocolate he got you.

you gasp, seeing that he successfully got you your favorite flowers and type of chocolate. “seriously!?” you say excitedly, he pauses as he looks at you anxiously.

“i—in a good way?” he asks. “yes in a good way! they’re so beautiful, thank you!” you assure, before he could even process your reaction you had already gone in for a hug.

he can’t help but get all shy, his eyes reluctantly wrapping around your waist gently. 

“i love you.” you say with nothing but adoration in your voice. he melted at your words before gathering the courage to even say it back. “i love you more..”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ networks : @kstrucknet @k-nets

© soubeomies 2025 all rights reserved ♡ do not copy/repost my works.

[leaderwon]

VALENTINE'S DAY WITH JAKE!

Synopsis : Jake serenades you with a surprise song, proving that nothing says "I love you" better than music and flowers on Valentine's Day.

Warnings : kissing, fluff, swooning

Wc : 4.3k+

masterlist

Valentine's Day was one of those holidays that had always seemed picture perfect in your imagination, red roses, chocolate boxes wrapped in ribbons, and a warm glow filling the air. But the reality had often been a bit different. However, this year was already proving to be an exception, all thanks to Jake.

The sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon, casting hues of pink and orange across the sky. You stood at your apartment window, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. Jake had texted you that he was on his way with a "special surprise." Knowing Jake, that could mean anything, from a spontaneous late-night drive to a meticulously planned evening.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. Heart racing with excitement, you opened it to find Jake standing there, grinning ear to ear. He looked effortlessly handsome in a light blue button down shirt and black jeans, his hair slightly tousled by the breeze.

“Hey, beautiful” he greeted, his eyes twinkling. “Hey yourself” you replied, your cheeks warming at his compliment. “What’s this big surprise you’re talking about?”

He held up a bouquet of vibrant red and white flowers, their fragrance filling the hallway. “Step one of your best Valentine's Day ever” he declared with a playful wink. You laughed, taking the flowers from him. “They’re gorgeous. Thank you.” “Only the best for you” he said, his voice sincere. “But that’s just the beginning. Come with me.”

Curiosity piqued, you set the flowers on the entry table and slipped on your coat. Jake led you outside, where his car waited. The drive was filled with easy conversation and laughter as he expertly navigated through the city streets. After about twenty minutes, he pulled up to a cozy park illuminated by fairy lights.

“We’re here” he announced, his smile widening. As you stepped out of the car, your breath caught at the sight before you. A small clearing had been transformed into a magical scene, blankets spread across the grass, lanterns hanging from tree branches, and a guitar resting against a nearby tree.

“Jake” you whispered, overwhelmed by the effort he had put in. “Do you like it?” he asked, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Like it? I love it. This is amazing.”

Relieved, he led you to the blankets and helped you sit down. The cool evening air was offset by the warmth radiating from the lanterns and Jake’s presence beside you.

“There’s one more thing” he said, reaching for the guitar. Your eyes widened. “Are you going to play for me?” He nodded, a shy smile tugging at his lips. “I wrote something for you. I’ve been working on it for a while, and I thought tonight would be the perfect time to share it.”

Emotion swelled in your chest. Jake had always been talented with music, but the thought of him composing something just for you was beyond anything you had imagined.

He adjusted the guitar on his lap and strummed a few chords, his fingers moving with practiced ease. The melody was soft and beautiful, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. When he began to sing, his voice was steady and filled with emotion.

“When I see you smile, the world fades away, Like sunshine chasing clouds on a rainy day. Every little moment, every glance, You’ve got my heart in a sweet romance.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you listened. The lyrics were a testament to your relationship, every shared laugh, every late night conversation, every moment that had brought you closer.

As he reached the final verse, his gaze locked onto yours.

“So here I am, with my heart in my hands, Hoping you’ll understand. You’re my forever, my always true, Valentine, my heart belongs to you.”

The last note lingered in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The raw vulnerability in Jake’s performance left you speechless. “Jake” you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion. “That was beautiful. I don’t even know what to say.” He set the guitar aside and took your hands in his. “You don’t have to say anything. Just being with you is enough.”

Unable to hold back, you leaned in and kissed him, pouring all your gratitude and love into the gesture. His lips were warm and familiar, grounding you in the moment.

When you finally pulled back, Jake rested his forehead against yours. “Happy Valentine’s Day” he whispered. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Jake.”

The night continued with laughter, stories, and music. Jake played a few more songs, some covers and others original compositions. You sang along when you knew the words, your voices blending harmoniously.

As the temperature dipped, Jake wrapped a blanket around both of you, pulling you close. The stars above shimmered, and the world felt perfectly still.

“This has been the best Valentine’s Day ever” you said softly. He kissed the top of your head. “It’s because I’m with you.”

Your heart swelled with love for the boy who had turned an ordinary evening into a magical memory. Jake had a way of making every moment feel special, and tonight was no exception.

As the night wore on, you knew that this was just the beginning of many more unforgettable moments together. And no matter what the future held, you would always have this night, a testament to love, music, and the beautiful journey you were on with Jake.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[threepoint14art]

Day 2: confession

YAYYY TODDAI YAYYYYYY YAYYYY!

Alright, time to talk about what possessed me to ship them and how I think this confession would play out.

For me, both Mai and Toddy are lonely in their own ways.

Toddy carries the weight of her relationship with Bon—she loved him deeply and genuinely, but it was never reciprocated romantically. Beyond that, she’s his friend, yet she feels out of place among Bon’s other friends, as if he’s almost embarrassed to admit he enjoys her company. She has no deep connections with anyone her age; Bon prefers his “better” friends and even some guy he just met over her. She’s left standing on the outside, alone.

And it’s not like she doesn’t know why. Toddy is blunt to the point of rudeness, struggles with social cues, and lacks tact in conversations. She doesn’t sugarcoat things or bother with fake niceties—either because she doesn’t realize how harsh she sounds or because she refuses to play along with social conventions she sees as meaningless. Some social rules make sense, don't be too loud, don't look sloppy, dont chew with your mouth open. But fakeness? That serves no purpose. In a world that often pushes people like her aside, she holds her ground. She’s independent, skilled, and knowledgeable. Why pretend to like something she doesn’t? Why follow unwritten social rules that seem arbitrary?

Mai, on the other hand, mostly sticks to her family. People don’t really like her, and that’s fine—she doesn’t resent it. She can’t resent much of anything. Her mind is wired for relentless positivity, to the point where she struggles to understand sadness, let alone why some people need to feel it. She’s loud, strange, and exhausting to be around, so most people don’t stick around. They have their real friends, and Mai is just… there.

Like her sibling, Mai believes love is unattainable for her. Not because she’s unworthy, but because she’s missing some fundamental pieces of what makes a person "normal." And that’s okay. She’s just too weird to be loved in that way—it’s not self-deprecation; it’s just a fact. No reason to be sad about it.

Their similarities draw them together. They’re both "too much," both incapable of filtering their words, both struggling with empathy in conventional ways. But instead of clashing, they understand each other. Mai blurts out whatever comes to mind, not to be cruel, but because that’s just how she is. Her response to emotional distress is suffocating positivity because that’s all she knows. Toddy doesn’t bother with fake pleasantries or polite omissions—why would she? To her, honesty is the only thing that matters. The very things that alienate them from others become a shared language between them.

They’d start as friends—close friends—confusing everyone around them. After all, Toddy is someone who is all caught up on looking "good" and "proper", while Mai is the weirdest kid in school. By all logic, their relationship should be antagonistic

But then there’s Mai, showing up at odd hours, pestering Toddy late at night just because she can. Toddy, exasperated, telling her to dress warmer because it’s freezing. Mai ignoring her, dragging her along to one of her favorite spots—a quiet place where the stars shine brighter than anywhere else.

And there, under the vast sky, she confesses. No theatrics, no layers of mystery, no grand gesture. Just simple words, because that’s how Toddy likes things.

And Toddy says yes. Loudly. Immediately. Throwing herself into a hug, because that’s how Mai likes things.

[drdemonprince]

I sent you an ask months ago about this guy I met on a dating app who was doing ENM/poly (he wasn’t even sure which) really badly and things had gotten messy between us.

Things have gone batshit crazy since then. Like we settled into just a friendship given that he wasn’t sure what he was doing plus he told me that I know this other person. I live in a small town so I’ve been trying to think who it was. He gave me hints like they’re also ND and work in a similar field to me. Anyway things had finally settled then this other person broke it off with him.

He came to me and told me he was heartbroken and just a wreck. I asked him straight who this person was. My therapist had said it actually wasn’t ok that they both knew the deal with me and I didn’t know who she was so there was this weird imbalance of power. He finally cracked and told me. So yeah it’s a friend of mine. I did not suspect it was her because until recently she was living with her husband and was keeping this hush. Kinda mortifying as we discussed my initial dramas with this man, that we had sexted and gotten really intense before I decided for sure the whole ENM thing was not for me and he didn’t know what the fuck he was going. So she knew it Him and they were together when we had this conversation and just played dumb.

So now I know who it is and she knows about me but doesn’t know that I know.

Then one night she starts talking about this crazy ex she had been dating and calls him possessive and controlling etc. Turns out he had been dating other people with her full knowledge and blessing but when she started expressing interest in also dating others he flipped out and got jealous.

In the meantime he’s venting and projecting all his emotions and experience onto me and wanting support, even though he kinda fucked me over. Like sending me screenshots of messages between them and rants through the night. Plus the two of them had been discussing my dating life between them even though I told him stuff in confidence.

So she dropped a big hint in conversation that it was Him. And I was like oh no way is his name ____ and she’s like Yes! So we’re both like Oh no way, even though she already knew about it and I also knew about her. It was silly.

Then she messaged him to say for him not to hurt Me and now we all finally know that we all know.

Moral of the story, don’t fuck around with relationship structures you have no idea about. Especially if you’re coming out of straight hetero marriages and just kinda decide you want to have to fun but actually you fuck shit up for everyone involved and it all gets messy because you’re actually insecure as fuck and just looking for someone to fix you…

jesus christ anon put BOTH these people in the clown car, none of them can communicate and they're not showing you any respect. ewwww. like i get it's a small town and maybe you wanna forgive your friend for her part because she just didn't want to bring things up and make it awkward but it's definitely information to keep in mind when dealing with conflicts with her in the future id say. whattta mess

[hughesyluvr]

Faking It For Real

Jackhughesxreader

Fake dating trope

5,173 words

It wasn’t supposed to be real. None of this was supposed to matter.

You had agreed to the whole fake dating thing with Jack Hughes months ago, when the PR team for the New Jersey Devils approached you with the idea. It seemed simple enough: attend a few public events, put on a show, and keep things convincing for the cameras. The story would spin itself.

But now, as Jack’s arm brushed against yours as he walked you through the crowded party, the weight of his touch felt different. His hand, once confidently placed on your back to guide you through the sea of bodies, lingered a little too long.

You couldn’t quite place it, but there was something there. Something in the way his gaze flickered to yours every time you laughed or smiled, his eyes just a touch too warm. You tried to push the thought away. This was fake dating, after all.

Except Jack wasn’t acting like he was faking it.

The night had started as any other event the two of you attended for the sake of the “relationship.” A bunch of New Jersey Devils players, their families, and sponsors were gathered at some high-profile gala. Jack had dressed perfectly, as always, in a crisp black suit that fit him like it was tailored just for him. It was hard to ignore the way people gravitated toward him. The world seemed to be watching his every move.

And then, there was you—his “girlfriend,” the girl he was supposed to be acting like he was head over heels for. The cameras were on you, capturing every glance and gesture, as if you and Jack were just like every other couple attending one of these events.

But there were moments. Small ones. A little too intimate to be just for show.

Like when Jack’s hand brushed your shoulder in the elevator on the way up. You had made a comment about how the night felt like it was dragging, and Jack had chuckled, his thumb tracing a small circle on the fabric of your dress as if it was just a reflex. His touch lingered for a beat too long before he pulled his hand back, as if he realized too late what he was doing.

Or when you were sitting on the couch, sipping your drink and chatting with the other guests, and Jack had leaned in just slightly, his arm resting casually on the back of the sofa. His fingers brushed against your hair as he reached for his drink, the movement so natural that it almost felt like it was real.

You caught yourself leaning into it, savoring that brief moment of closeness.

When he spoke next, his voice was lower than usual, quieter, like he was trying to keep the conversation just between the two of you. “You okay?” he asked, his gaze flickering to your face, eyes soft despite the attention around you.

You nodded, heart skipping a beat. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess.”

Jack’s lips curled into a smile, and he shifted closer, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. “Want to head out early? We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, really. I’m good.” But you hadn’t realized just how much you appreciated his offer until he pulled back, and that strange, inexplicable ache settled in your chest.

He noticed it too. It was the way his gaze held onto yours a fraction too long, like he was trying to read something in your eyes. Then, with a soft sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, a distraction, a way to break the silence.

“Anything good?” you asked, trying to force normality back into the moment.

Jack didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced at the screen, his thumb scrolling, before he looked at you. “Just… checking in with the guys. They’re already at the bar. Guess I’ll be meeting them later.”

His words felt almost too casual, but the way his lips pressed together afterward suggested there was more to it. His focus was now divided, but for a second, his attention drifted back to you, a lingering look that had you questioning just how fake this all really was.

You had almost forgotten how to breathe when Jack’s hand brushed against yours again, this time completely unintentional—or so you told yourself. But there was something in the way his fingers lingered just for a fraction longer than necessary, the way his touch seemed to settle over you like a promise, that made your heart race.

You quickly pulled your hand back, but Jack noticed. His eyes darkened for a second, as if he was trying to gauge your reaction. But instead of acknowledging it, he cracked a smile and turned his attention back to the conversation with the other guests.

It was maddening, this back-and-forth between the two of you. Moments of pure affection, fleeting touches, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you—it felt like everything but the cameras was real.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” Jack said suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, his breath warm against your skin. “Want anything?”

You shook your head, trying to play it cool. “I’m good for now.”

But as Jack walked away, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle way his shoulders seemed to sag, the weight of the night pressing down on him. It was like he was letting go of the mask he wore for the world, even if only for a moment. The real Jack, the one who wasn’t a perfect, untouchable hockey star, was just underneath the surface. And you saw him.

You sat there, pretending to listen to the chatter around you, but your eyes kept drifting back to Jack. He was at the bar now, his back to you, talking to a few of the other players. His laugh rang through the air, low and genuine, and for a brief second, you wished you could be the one to hear that laugh without the cameras, without the constant pressure of performance.

Jack’s phone buzzed, and you saw him glance at it briefly before slipping it into his pocket. But the small exchange didn’t escape your notice—the way he quickly checked the message, like he was expecting it, and the way his fingers tightened around his glass afterward.

A subtle tension had settled in the air between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what was really going on behind his carefully composed facade. Was this just for the cameras, or was there more to it?

The night dragged on, but Jack kept finding excuses to come back to your side. The longer you spent together, the more his presence seemed to fill the empty spaces. Whether it was a simple hand resting on the small of your back as you walked, or the way his fingers grazed yours when you sat together, everything felt… real.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to push the thoughts away. This was supposed to be temporary, a convenient arrangement to satisfy the PR team. But with every passing minute, it felt harder to deny the growing connection between you.

When Jack returned, drink in hand, he took a seat next to you, his leg brushing against yours. He glanced over, his lips quirking into a playful smile as if he knew exactly how his proximity was affecting you.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” he teased, nudging you with his elbow. His touch was light, but there was something behind it, something that made you feel like the world outside of the two of you no longer existed.

“No, you weren’t,” you replied, your voice coming out softer than you intended. “I’m just…” you trailed off, unable to put the feeling into words.

“You’re just what?” Jack asked, a hint of curiosity in his voice. He was leaning in slightly, his body language open, as if he was genuinely interested in what you had to say.

You hesitated, unsure whether to voice what you were really thinking. The line between fake and real was already so blurred that it felt like one wrong word could make everything fall apart. “I’m just… confused, I guess,” you said, the words escaping before you could stop them.

Jack’s expression shifted, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes before he masked it with a smile. “About what?”

You shrugged, trying to act casual, but your heart was pounding in your chest. “About this whole thing. The… fake dating. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.”

Jack studied you for a moment, his gaze intense. “I get it,” he said quietly, his voice softer than before. “It’s not easy to keep up appearances.”

It wasn’t the response you were expecting. You had anticipated him to laugh it off or make a joke, but instead, his words felt almost too honest. And the way his hand subtly brushed against yours—just enough to make your pulse quicken—made you wonder just how much of this was for the cameras.

The conversation was interrupted by a loud cheer from across the room, where a group of fans had gathered to watch the latest game highlights on a screen. Jack stood, instinctively offering his hand to you.

“Come on, let’s go watch,” he suggested with a grin, his earlier seriousness vanishing into the air.

You hesitated for a moment, still feeling the weight of the conversation between the two of you, but then you took his hand. The warmth of his palm against yours sent a shiver through you, and it was so easy to let him guide you through the crowd.

As you watched the game, Jack’s hand never fully left yours. He’d rest it on your thigh when he made a point, his thumb tracing idle patterns against your skin. The feeling of his touch, so casual yet so intimate, made your stomach flutter in ways you couldn’t explain.

When the game ended, the room erupted in cheers and laughter, but you felt like you were caught in a bubble with Jack. His eyes met yours once again, and for a brief second, everything felt like it could be real. Like the lines between fake and genuine had completely vanished.

He leaned in close to you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You look beautiful tonight.” His words, soft and sincere, sent a warmth spreading through you, and for the first time that night, you weren’t sure if you could distinguish what was real and what wasn’t.

The night stretched on, and the music in the background seemed to fade into the distance, leaving only the sound of your breathing and Jack’s steady presence beside you. You couldn’t help but notice how the quiet moments between the two of you carried more weight than any of the loud conversations or crowded rooms around you. There was something magnetic about Jack—something that made every little touch feel like it meant more than it should.

You tried to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest, telling yourself this was just part of the act, but it was harder than you thought.

Jack leaned over, his lips brushing against your ear once again as he whispered, “I need some fresh air. You wanna come with me?”

You turned to face him, surprised by the sudden request. “Now?”

He gave you that playful, boyish grin you couldn’t resist, his eyes twinkling under the dim lights. “Yeah. The crowd’s getting to me. Plus, I just want a moment to breathe without all the cameras.”

You nodded, though your pulse was quickening at the thought of being alone with him. Without the ever-present eyes of the crowd, the cameras, and the pressure to act, it almost felt like it could be real.

Jack led the way through the party, slipping past the chatter and laughter as he guided you toward a balcony overlooking the city. The air outside was cool, but the night was warm enough to be comfortable. You leaned against the railing, trying to shake off the nervous energy coursing through you. Jack stood next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, but not so close that it felt overwhelming.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything. The silence between you felt natural, like it had always been this way. And yet, the tension was palpable, simmering just beneath the surface. Jack broke the quiet with a soft laugh, his voice hushed.

“I guess this is a little more peaceful than inside,” he said, his tone easy, but you could hear the undertone of something deeper.

You turned to face him, unsure of what to say. “Yeah. It’s nice to get away from all the noise for a bit.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared. There was no PR, no cameras, no fake dating. Just the two of you standing there, sharing this small, intimate moment together.

Jack took a step closer, his hand brushing against your arm. “I’m glad you came with me,” he murmured, his voice softer than before. His fingers lingered against your skin, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the sensation.

“You sure this isn’t for the cameras?” you teased, trying to lighten the mood, but it came out quieter than you intended.

Jack smiled, but there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. “Maybe it is,” he replied, his hand moving slowly to rest on your back. “But I think I actually needed a moment with you… without anyone watching.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the way he said it so earnestly, without hesitation. You tried to ignore the growing heat in your cheeks, the way his touch made your heart race.

“It’s a little late for this, don’t you think?” you asked, but the teasing tone was gone from your voice. Instead, you found yourself holding your breath as you waited for his response.

Jack’s eyes darkened slightly, his hand tightening against your back as if he was afraid you’d pull away. He didn’t say anything at first, but the way his gaze lingered on you told you everything you needed to know. His face was inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your cheek, the softest touch that made your skin tingle. “I don’t think it’s ever too late,” he murmured, his voice low, the words just for you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, the proximity to him overwhelming. Every part of you wanted to lean into him, close the gap between you, but something held you back. The weight of everything—of the cameras, of the fake dating, of the lines you had agreed not to cross—kept you frozen.

But Jack wasn’t frozen. His fingers curled around the edge of your dress, his touch warm and gentle as he guided you closer. His lips brushed against your ear again, his words so quiet you almost didn’t catch them.

“I know this isn’t real, but…” His voice trailed off, and the hesitation in his words made your breath catch in your throat. “I think… I think it could be.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Could it be real? Was this more than just an act? The questions swirled in your mind, each one more complicated than the last.

You turned to face him, your chest rising and falling with every shallow breath. His gaze was steady, searching your face, as if waiting for some kind of answer. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that made you want to reach out, to close the gap between you, but the weight of everything still lingered between you.

Finally, you spoke, your voice trembling just slightly. “What does that mean, Jack?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes flickering to your lips for a moment before he slowly, carefully, closed the distance between you. His lips brushed against yours in a soft, hesitant kiss, the sensation lingering longer than it should have. The kiss was slow, exploratory, as if he was testing the waters, unsure of whether it was something you both wanted.

You responded almost immediately, your body moving on its own as you kissed him back, deepening the connection. The world seemed to fall away as everything else faded into the background. There were no cameras. No fake dating. Just the two of you, finally letting go of the pretense.

When you pulled away, your foreheads rested together, both of you breathless from the kiss. Jack’s hand was still on your back, holding you close, and you couldn’t ignore the way his fingers brushed against your skin, sending a shiver through you.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” he whispered, his voice raw and full of emotion. “Not with you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to process what he had just said, trying to understand what it meant. But as you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that whatever this was—whether it was real or not—it was more than you had ever expected.

The world around you felt like it had slowed down, each second stretching out as you stood there in Jack’s arms, both of you still catching your breath from the kiss. The weight of the moment, the pull between what you both wanted and what you had been pretending to be, hung in the air like an unspoken question.

Jack’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm on your skin, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if the press, the cameras, and the expectations of the world really mattered. Because right now, it was just the two of you, and in this small bubble of intimacy, the lines between fake and real didn’t seem so clear anymore.

“I don’t want to pretend either,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly, betraying the storm of emotions swirling inside you. The words felt heavy, like a confession that had been waiting to be spoken for too long.

Jack’s eyes softened, a flicker of something tender crossing his features. He stepped back slightly, but his hands remained on your waist, grounding you both in the moment. “Then what are we doing?” His voice was quiet, barely above a murmur, but it carried a weight that you felt deep in your chest.

You swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. The idea of crossing that line, of turning this from a performance into something real, seemed terrifying in the best possible way. But you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced whenever Jack was near, or the way his touch made you feel like you were the only person in the room.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to the floor before meeting his eyes again. “But I don’t want to stop seeing where this goes.”

A small, almost relieved smile tugged at Jack’s lips, and for the first time that night, he seemed to let go of the carefully constructed façade he had been holding up. The vulnerability in his eyes mirrored your own, and it was like, for once, neither of you had to pretend.

“I’m not good at this whole… real relationship thing,” Jack said, his voice a little rough, like the confession was something he had been holding back. “But with you… I want to try.”

His words made your heart ache, the sincerity in his tone resonating through every inch of you. You could see the conflict in his eyes—this wasn’t what he had signed up for. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. You both stood there, taking the first step toward something neither of you could fully explain.

The sound of laughter from inside the party snapped you both out of your daze. Jack reluctantly let go of you, his hand lingering on your arm for a moment before he stepped back. The cold air hit you both as you both took a breath, your hearts still racing from the kiss, from the honesty that had just been shared.

“You want to go back in?” Jack asked, his voice quieter now, as though the reality of the situation was settling in. His gaze held a mixture of uncertainty and longing, like he wasn’t quite sure how to move forward.

You nodded, though part of you wanted to stay in the stillness of the night. The party, the cameras, the world outside felt so far removed from what had just happened. But as you both walked back toward the balcony doors, the bubble of intimacy seemed to shrink with every step.

As you reentered the party, the noise and bustle of the event rushed back, and it felt like nothing had changed. Jack kept his distance for a moment, letting you step into the room ahead of him. But then, just as you were about to rejoin the group, you felt his hand on your back again, his fingers pressing lightly against your spine, like a silent reassurance that he was still there, still with you.

You looked over your shoulder, catching his eye, and for a split second, it felt like the whole world was just the two of you again. His lips quirked into a small smile, and though there were people around you, laughing, chatting, and pretending like everything was normal, it felt different now. Everything had changed.

Jack leaned in slightly, his lips brushing against your ear again as he spoke in a low whisper. “We’re not pretending anymore. I’m done with that.”

The words sent a thrill through you, the finality in his tone making your heart skip a beat. For a brief moment, you let yourself forget about the world outside, about the pressure of what was expected from you both. The kiss you had shared, the unspoken promise between the two of you, had sealed something that couldn’t be undone.

You didn’t know what it meant for the future, but right now, you didn’t care. All that mattered was that you and Jack were standing there, in that crowded room, and for the first time in months, it felt like you were finally being real with each other.

The night continued, the event winding down as the guests began to filter out. But through it all, Jack remained by your side. He didn’t let go of you, his hand finding yours whenever you least expected it, guiding you through the crowd, making sure you were always close, always near.

As the evening drew to a close, Jack pulled you aside, away from the noise of the party. His eyes were searching, his expression more serious than it had been all night.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice low, as if he wasn’t sure how to say what was on his mind. “About what we’re doing. About us.”

You held your breath, unsure of what was coming next.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to make this work, with everything going on.” His hands slipped into his pockets, his shoulders tense, like he was trying to work through the thoughts that had been racing through his head. “But I want to try. I really do.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. There was no more pretending, no more playing a part. In that moment, Jack was as real as it got.

“I want to try, too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the hum of the fading party.

Jack’s gaze softened, and for the first time all night, he smiled—truly smiled—as if the weight of the world had finally been lifted.

The night continued to fade around you, the noise of the party blending into the background as you and Jack stood there, in your own world. The weight of his words still hung in the air, his admission that he wanted to try, that he was willing to make this work, felt like a promise. And for the first time, the walls that had surrounded both of you seemed to fall, leaving only the rawness of your emotions.

“Let’s get out of here,” Jack said, breaking the silence that had settled between you. His voice was soft, as if he was afraid to shatter the moment, but there was a quiet resolve in it, too.

You didn’t hesitate. The idea of leaving the noise behind, of finding a quiet place with him where it could just be the two of you, felt like the perfect escape. Without a word, you followed him through the crowd, your hand slipping into his as he led you out of the bustling venue. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, the noise of the party slowly fading as the door clicked shut behind you.

Jack turned to face you, his eyes searching yours, as if making sure this wasn’t just another moment in the haze of the night. His thumb brushed gently over the back of your hand, sending a soft shiver through your body.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “About us?”

The question caught you off guard. But it wasn’t because you didn’t know the answer—it was because Jack had never been this vulnerable before. The cool, confident exterior he usually wore had cracked, and you saw him for who he really was in that moment. And what you saw was someone who cared, someone who was scared of being hurt, just like you.

You nodded, your grip on his hand tightening just a fraction. “I’m sure,” you said, the words coming out more confidently than you felt, but there was no doubt in your mind. “I want this. I want to be with you.”

Jack’s eyes softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Good,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet relief. Then, without another word, he stepped closer, his free hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered on your skin, the touch so gentle, so intimate, that your heart skipped a beat.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear. There were no cameras, no expectations, no pretenses—just the two of you standing in the cool night air, ready to take that next step.

And then Jack leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was different from the one earlier, less urgent, more tender. His mouth moved against yours slowly, as if he were savoring the moment, tasting the sweetness of it, allowing the connection between you to deepen.

You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened. The world around you seemed to blur as you both gave in to the growing desire that had been simmering between you all night. You pulled him closer, your body pressed against his, the heat between you unmistakable.

But just as the kiss began to grow more intense, Jack pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice low, almost pained, as if he feared crossing a line that couldn’t be undone.

You took a deep breath, your pulse racing from the closeness, the intensity of the moment. “Yes,” you breathed out, your fingers gently brushing against the side of his face. “I’m sure. I don’t want to pretend anymore, Jack.”

The weight of those words hung between you, and Jack’s expression softened. His hand slid down to your waist, pulling you against him once more as he kissed you again, deeper this time, more sure. And as his lips moved against yours, everything else faded into the background. There was no acting, no performance—just the two of you, lost in each other.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, Jack rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he were trying to collect himself. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his hands still gripping your waist, as if he never wanted to let go.

“I don’t think I can do this in secret anymore,” he said softly, his voice filled with both excitement and uncertainty. “I don’t think I want to.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, the intensity of them hitting you harder than anything else he had said all night. There was a weight to his admission, and the vulnerability in his tone made everything feel more real.

“I don’t want to either,” you whispered, your voice full of conviction. “I’m done pretending. I want to be with you, Jack.”

His lips curved into a smile, one that was full of warmth and affection. “Then let’s make it real,” he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

You couldn’t help but smile back, the weight of everything falling away as you finally realized that this wasn’t just some game or some PR stunt. It was real. And what you had with Jack was something that couldn’t be faked.

Jack kissed you again, this time with a sense of finality. It wasn’t rushed, but it was full of purpose. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if memorizing the feel of you. You leaned into the kiss, your arms winding around his neck as you pulled him closer, your body fitting against his in a way that felt so natural, so right.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless and a little dazed, Jack rested his forehead against yours once more. “You’re incredible,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the tenderness in his words filling your chest with warmth. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased gently, making him laugh softly, the sound rich and genuine.

For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no cameras, no spotlight. There was just you and Jack, standing together in the quiet of the night, with nothing else to hide behind.

“Let’s go,” Jack said after a moment, his voice more determined than before. “Let’s make this real. Let’s stop pretending.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. The world outside, with all its expectations and pressures, didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was Jack, and the love you were ready to embrace.

[clementine-kesh]

saw a really good post about how people conceptualize abuse in interpersonal relationships as something that’s always done with ill intent from the abuser and in doing so ignore the fact that for the vast majority of cases that’s simply not true. a conservative christian parent may send their gay or trans child to conversion therapy out of a genuine fear for their soul, a person might isolate their partner from friends out of a genuine insecurity that they’ll leave for someone better. but even though the intent may not be malicious, it might even be born out of love or care for the victim, the end result is still inarguably abuse.

and since i didn’t want to derail a post talking about real world issues with media crit stuff i’m talking about this here instead, cuz i do think it’s a very important thing to consider when analyzing character dynamics. so often people will try and counter discussions of toxic elements of a dynamic by saying something along the lines of “well they have some good moments together” or “but they clearly love each other!” as if those things completely negative the possibility of abuse. talk to anyone who has ever been in an abusive relationship and they will likely have complex feelings about it because abusive situations are rarely all bad. which still doesn’t mean they’re not deeply harmful, traumatic experiences, but abusers aren’t some evil bogeyman and rhetoric that positions them as such does a lot more harm than good

[togetherness23]

Conversation

implicit Edward/Henry

Additional Tags for AO3: Apologies, Conversations, Developing Relationships, did you know that Edward was at the site of the Flying Kipper crash in the TVS?, (Henry wasn’t conscious enough at the time to have known that, sadly), Friendships, no beta we die like Henry almost did with the Kipper

Summary: Henry tries to apologize; Edward tries to amend.

Notes: First proper TTTE fic?

“What’s got yourself in a stir?” Edward had asked him one cool evening. They were both waiting at the big station, the smaller engine having just tidied up the yard.

“Your wheels have been creaking rather loudly since you pulled in. Either you haven’t been to the Works in a while,” Edward mused, knowing that would’ve been unlikely, “or you have something on your mind.”

It had been a few weeks since he had went out for maintenance himself. That was the culmination of a broken crankpin and a special train that was hours late.

He had felt fortunate that Henry was the engine waiting at the station- he could tell that his face lit up as he heard him whistle triumphantly, wearily pulling into the station, was one with the cheering enthusiasts as they crossed the platform. But after Edward returned to the sheds, they hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk more.

However, though he meant to spark conversation, the bigger engine seemed rather uneasy.

“Reminiscing.” Henry said plainly, causing Edward to purse his mouth. “Not fond ones.”

“Did… someone…?” Edward wasn’t sure how to prod. Did someone prompt this?

“I’ve been seeining Percy with Gordon and James a lot more frequently. He’s been really… well, puffed up in the boiler as of late?”

“It’s nice that he’s come so far since then.” Edward grinned at the thought of Percy scrambling the inside of Gordon’s boiler with his antics yet again.

“Still, can’t help but think back on his first day.” Henry frowned. “When you were near the sheds with him and I stormed up…”

“Oh, but that was in the past!” Edward was quick to laugh.

“I can’t let it go.” The big engine sighed, a large hiss now exhaling out of his funnel. His eyes fell to the gravel beneath their rails.

Edward was just as quick to stop. Percy didn’t sing the tunnel song in front of him again, did he?

“Percy certainly likes you now,” he consoled. “Of course, he was quicker to the shunt, but surely he’s over it by now.”

“But I nearly did that to you.”

And, for whatever reason, Edward found himself unable to reassure.

“…But you didn’t. Percy stopped you, we had a laugh about it, and you didn’t try it on again.”

“I’m sorry,” Henry grimaced, “Won’t you at least let me be remorseful?”

“I’m not stopping you,” Edward replied. Was he?

“It wasn’t right of us- of me- to have ever doubted you”, Henry spoke further. “Of course Duck and BoCo were mad when we were chattering about you. They’re your friends. They knew you would’ve persevered from the start. Me, James, Gordon…”

“I can’t blame you for thinking these things,” Edward replied, selectively creaking his front wheels. “I was due for maintenance. You said it yourself, I was positively straining when I pulled that train!”

Henry didn’t feel any better with Edward chuckling at the memory.

“Well- but— you’re so much better than the lot of us—”

“Don’t put yourself down so much for my sake.” Edward firmly interrupted. “Aren’t we friends again?”

“Well, you were always a good friend.”

“Only because you’re a good one to have.”

“You’re just saying that,” Henry replied, still looking down. “You’re kind, Edward. You really know how to stoke one’s firebox. I admire you for it.”

“I admire you too.”

It was said so casually, so softly, that in any other conversation with the other engines, it would’ve surely been drowned out either through sheer noise or banter.

Henry had stopped hissing steam.

Edward kept going. “That night, when it was pouring and I made it to the station hours late with the visitors… you know, I didn’t make it through out of sheer kindness. You saw how red my face was by the time I pulled in.”

“You minded the comments we made. You heard about them.” Henry muttered.

“No, I hadn’t thought of what you said,” Edward replied. “I was reminded of what you did. Remember the days when you were in your old shape?”

“Whatever could you mean by that?” Now it was Henry’s turn to laugh sadly. “When you had to pick up the work after me when I broke down? Or when we completely shunned you while we were on strike?”

“It’s not any particular memory. But seeing you, an engine with problems noticeably worse than my own- who was doubted by so many, including the Fat Controller…”

“The Controller.” Henry’s stare went wide, then focused again. “That’s right. Y’know, I had never seen him so angry at you before- that night you pulled in late.”

“How you were able to bare it all those years ago, I wouldn’t know,” Edward grinned for a moment, but then let his face fall. “I almost couldn’t believe he actually said the possibility of sending you away. But in the end, he didn’t. I- we’re all glad for it.

And that’s exactly what I’m talking about, Henry. The odds looked impossibly stacked against you- your poor design and subsequent performance, all of that. And yet… here you are now. You persevered.”

“But that wasn’t all me. You picked up after many of my jobs. Who knows- if you weren’t there, maybe the Controller would’ve given up on me earlier.”

Almost like that one cold morning, Edward thinks to himself.

“Huh?”

“Oh, sorry, just thinking of one of those busy days. Carry on.”

Conversation for another night.

“Well…,” Henry began, retracing his route of thought, “wait, no. I’m still trying to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“That’s because I want us to be friends again,” reiterated Edward. “And I can’t very well do that while you’ve walled yourself up in shame yet again.”

There was another pause.

Then, a crack of a smile.

“Did you just say ‘Walled up in shame?’ I can’t believe you, Edward.”

Henry was in stitches, allowing a full smile to spread his bufferbeam. And Edward couldn’t help it- he laughed wholeheartedly with him, feeling funny in the boiler.

“But,” Henry switched back to a more neutral expression, “you shouldn’t feel like you have to be fine every time you see me.”

“It’s okay—”

“Edward.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Edward, you haven’t been okay for a while,” Henry said bluntly. “I can see it in your face. And in not being able to even talk about these things without chuckling it off.”

Edward, his eyebrows furrowed, stared directly ahead at him. Henry continued.

“I wasn’t alright either, all those years ago. And even now, I still go through the motions every other day when there’s something bothering me. But this doesn’t mean you won’t ever be okay again. Just that you don’t have to pretend that it never happened at all.”

“I’m sorry, yes. I just…”

Was this Henry, giving him wisdom? What could he say to that?

“I just miss you.” Edward almost blurted. “I don’t wish for you to feel like you have to make up so much for me. I’m not worth the trouble.”

“Of course it’s worth it to make up to you.” Henry replied, serious. Then, his face softened. “I miss you too.”

I want to do this together.

It couldn’t be clearer. Not where they were now and where they wanted to go- but that he was with him.

And we could be okay.

“If it’s any worth, you were always my favorite engine to share a train with.” Edward somehow beamed brighter.

Henry could feel the lights on him, causing his face to heat. Were the station lights always so warm?

“Well, I may have a longer train tomorrow. I don’t suppose a certain engine at Wellsworth would be willing to lend me a wheel over Gordon’s Hill?”

“They might, if you whistle loudly enough...”

——

The Flying Kipper was heavier than usual. The big green engine still hauled it with all his might, feeling rather emboldened.

Slowing down to a stop at Wellsworth Station, he whistled loudly with a peep! peep! peep! and called for help. A blue tender engine quickly chuffed up with a peep! peep! and buffered up to the end of the train.

“I’m ready!”

“So am I!”

And they set off together.

[shorthaltsjester]

sorry to say but i do actually think the focus tlovm puts on showing the workings and backgrounds of npcs is actively taking away from one of the main things that made campaign 1’s story compelling (notably. vox machina and their bonds with each other beyond the people they’re in love with)

[starbylers]

Thinking again about how intimate talks at sunset while working together on a mission is soon to be canon…

Feels like mutual love interest behaviour to me idk

[spending-life-pretending]

no bc when you stop and think about the full implications of fitz and the fool calling each other “beloved” you do have to go a little crazy. it’s required. because what do you mean that 6 sentences after fitz thinks, “being fitz had never been that enticing an existence” the fool summons him back to himself by calling him “beloved” and renewing their bond. what do you mean fitz refers to this as “burning my identity into me.” what do you mean “the word echoed through me, rebounded me from my fraying edges, found and bound me.” what do you mean. are you not going insane.