#definitely one of the best games of the year

[fuschiarulerinthebluebox]

Honestly this is one of the things I like about Rook, they’re NOT qualified for any of the things they’re doing. Like yeah they’ve got some background qualifications but they’re pretty average, just a normal person thrown into trying to save the world. They’re just a little guy ™ who’s personable and pretty solid at planning and utilising the skill sets of people around them (and frankly that’s a deeply undervalued skill in itself, like if you’ve ever had a bad project manager YOU KNOW how big a difference it can make). And let’s be clear, if you’re only picking the generic dialogue options it’s obviously going to feel like Rook has no fucking clue, the faction/background options add so much flavor, I love the little moments where Rook gets to nerd out with the rest of the group. Some of them definitely feel more impactful (looking at you Mourn Watch) but they absolutely allow Rook to speak peer to peer and be competent. But it’s not like the professionals know what they’re doing all the time either, just look at Lucanis at Weisshaupt.

I’ve seen a lot of really interesting takes, my fav is from @fanfoolishness, that even though no one directly addresses Varric’s death with Rook, they’re supportive/ hold space in their own ways (eg. Neve at the Wall of Light, Emmrich in the gardens, Davrin just taking a walk, Bellara having Rook help her light the braziers for Cyrian, Lucanis having Rook help plan the funeral). And navigating a death that big is hard even if you know someone really well, I do wish they had spent a little more time processing that after Rook figures it out but I get why they didn’t as far as timeline. My first play through was MW and I definitely had a moment of “oh no, I haven’t done any rites for Varric”. I do really like the head cannon/ theory that Solas inadvertently tied a little piece of Varric to Rook when he did his little blood magic nonsense, and Rook really is seeing some echo of him.

Along those same lines, as much as I love petting Assan and playing rock paper scissors with Manfred, I wish they had let Rook interact with the party more at the lighthouse outside of the special conversations. Rook in a lot of ways does act like the group therapist, and I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. Can it be a little tedious as the player? Yeah, but for the characters it’s a natural progression of trusting what is essentially your coworker to becoming friends you rely on. Then there’s the twisted funhouse mirror of this same progression with Rook and Solas, going from almost-enemies to not-totally-truthful confidants and then unlikely-unsteady-forced-proximity allies.

I think at its core, Rook feels like a companion to all these “Main Characters” because Varric chose someone like him. Someone who is kind and helpful (see also: all those complaints you can play a mean/evil Rook), makes goofy jokes, listens to the people around them, and isn’t necessarily a hero but can make those hard choices if they need to. And yeah at a meta level it could just be poor writing or the game having been worked over by so many changes over a decade, but if we the player trust Varric we have to remember that Varric and Rook have been traveling together for more than a year and Varric trusts Rook. Rook is leading because Varric trusts them to do what’s right, not because they’re the absolute best at everything, not because they’re a hero. Trust.

This was probably way longer than it needed to be and rambled a little a lot , but I do think it’s a pretty solid game especially after so many revisions, and keeps the souls of a Dragon Age game.

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[emthimofnight]

You ship espilver? What do you like about it? (I see a lot of people ship it but idk why but it’s cute)

Honestly, I like them because they are SUCH a hysterical duo. I've had people ask me why I made Mirage (my Espilver fankid) such a jerk, but like. Silver and Espio can both be absolute dickwads LMAO.

I first started liking them back in Sonic Rivals, where they first met! Most people ship Espio/Silver because of their friendship in IDW, but I think Rivals really highlights what makes their relationship so appealing to me.

Once they are on the same side, they are basically ride or die. It's so funny. There is a scene where Silver runs out of rings and can't use his telekinesis, so Espio proposes that they steal rings from Sonic and Tails for their own use.

Silver is like Yeah!! Good idea!! And willfully goes to shake down an 8-year-old for his lunch money, HAHA!! He even calls Tails "half-pint" like. Wtf is his problem.

They are super supportive of one another, too. Despite Silver's abrasive personality, Espio admits early on that for some reason he can't explain, he trusts the guy.

They encourage and support each other throughout the game, with Espio doing his best to restore Silver's confidence at several instances.

And when they succeed, they directly credit each other! Silver also sounds pretty flustered when Espio expresses his gratitude, it's super cute!! Definitely worth listening to the voice acting for this scene alone.

And of course, they have plenty of great scenes in the IDW comics! Espio is the first person to realize something is troubling Silver, and he reaches out to him in private in an attempt to comfort him.

So yeah, they are super cute!! ❤️ (I'm also a Silvaze shipper, but Espilver ended up being canon in my fankid AU bc I knew I wanted to make a Blazamy kid early on! My sapphic heart could not resist the pink/purple gfs.)

[pbaz7]

ONE SHOT: IN HER ORBIT

paige x azzk

warnings: drinking, sexual content, cheating

word count: 14.9k

A/N: Alright this combined like a hundred prompts ngl 😭 so i’m so sorry if it’s a little all over the place but I think it’s pretty ok. It’s definitely not as toxic as some of you wanted but it’s still there 🫣. Let me know what you think and leave like reacts if you can! Happy game day!!

—————————————————————————

Azzi hadn’t thought much about how far she and Amber had drifted until recently. They’d been together since her junior year of high school, the perfect couple that everyone envied. Amber was there for every game, every late-night phone call about college recruitment, and every post-game celebratory hug. When they both got into UConn, and Amber told Azzi she was going to go with her, Azzi thought it was a sign—proof that they were meant to keep building their lives together.

But somewhere along the way, things started to change. Amber was preoccupied with her own career goals, diving headfirst into internships, networking events, and her demanding course load. What used to be excitement about Azzi’s basketball career had faded into indifference and a lot of times, criticism.

“You’re stressing too much over practice,” Amber had said a few weeks ago when Azzi mentioned staying late to work on her shot. “It’s just basketball. A literal game. You’re already starting anyway, just come help me study.”

It was little comments like that, each one slicing a bit deeper than the last, that made Azzi feel like Amber didn’t really understand what this meant to her. What this meant for her career. Basketball wasn’t just a sport or a game, it was Azzi’s entire livelihood, her entire future.

That’s when Paige came into the picture.

Azzi didn’t expect to find comfort in Paige—at least not at first. Paige was composed in a way that made her seem untouchable, like she had the entire world figured out. As the face of the team, Paige carried herself with a quiet confidence that made her magnetic, always pulling people into her orbit naturally, whether she was in the locker room, on the court, or just walking across campus. People noticed her and they wanted to be noticed by her.

But Paige wasn’t just a star. She noticed things, little things, like how Azzi’s shooting percentages dipped slightly during stressful weeks or how her shoulders would slump after a particularly bad day. Paige stepped in without making a big show of it, offering help that felt more like a genuine friendship than obligation.

“You good, freshie?” Paige would always ask after practice, tossing a towel over her shoulder as she lingered by Azzi’s side. The question was always casual, but her tone portrayed something genuine—something that told Azzi she didn’t have to be fine if she wasn’t because Paige was genuinely asking about her well being.

It started with extra shooting sessions after practice. Paige would stay behind, helping Azzi find her rhythm again when her mechanics felt off.

“Don’t force it,” Paige would say, gently adjusting Azzi’s elbow. “You’re one of the best shooters in the world. You know the motion. Just let it flow naturally.”

Azzi felt like she could let her guard down around Paige. There was never any judgment, no criticism—just unwavering support. And when practice was over and the rest of the team had left, Paige didn’t rush off either.

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Paige asked one day after they’d spent an hour running through plays together.

Azzi hesitated, but Paige’s smile was disarming. “My treat. Call it payment for all the extra work I’ve been putting you through.”

They ended up at a nearby diner, talking about everything from basketball to their childhood and dreams. Paige was funny and unfiltered in a way that made Azzi laugh harder than she had in her entire life.

…

What started as casual basketball texts here and there quickly turned into long, rambling late-night conversations. Paige had a way of keeping Azzi on her phone for hours, their texts bouncing from lighthearted banter to deeply personal confessions every night.

11:34 PM

Freshie: I swear Geno’s trying to kill me with all these plays. My brain is mush

Paige: Mush isn’t good. Should I start bringing you flashcards?

Freshie: Flashcards? Really?

Paige: I’m trying to be supportive here Azzi. Don’t knock it till you try it

Freshie: Fine. But if I mess up this week, it’s on you

Paige: Deal. But you won’t

12:52 AM

Freshie: Okay, real question this time. Did you always know basketball would be your life?

Paige: I pretty much knew the moment I picked up a ball. Why?

Freshie: I don’t know. Lately, I feel like I’m just losing myself in it. Like… is this all I’m good for? Dribbling an orange ball lol.

Paige: You’re not just “good” for it. You’re great at it. But you know you’re more than that too. You just have too much going on to see it right now.

2:14 AM

Freshie: Do you ever feel like you’re failing at everything outside of basketball?

Paige: Lol every day.

Freshie: How do you deal with it?

Paige: I remind myself why I started. And then I text you and distract myself with your constant overthinking or rambling

Freshie: So I’m a distraction now?

Paige: Yeah, but a cute one so it’s ok

Azzi stared at the text longer than she should have, biting her lip before replying. Whenever Paige flirted it was always subtle, just enough to make Azzi’s heart pick up, but not so much that she couldn’t dismiss them as harmless jokes.

By the time Azzi finally fell asleep, her phone still clutched in her hand, Paige’s words about basketball echoing in her mind.

…

The first time Azzi showed up at Paige’s dorm late at night, it wasn’t planned. She and Amber had just had one of their worst arguments yet—Amber accusing Azzi of putting a “stupid game” above their relationship, and Azzi firing back that Amber didn’t even try to understand what she was going through before it ended in a shouting match and Azzi leaving her own room.

Paige opened the door in sweats and a hoodie, her hair still wet from the shower she just took.

“You okay?” Paige asked, stepping aside to let her in.

Azzi nodded, even though her red-rimmed eyes told a different story. She dropped onto Paige’s bed without waiting for an invitation, staring at the ceiling.

Paige didn’t press much. Just handed Azzi a bottle of water and laid beside her, their shoulders almost touching.

“Girl troubles?” Paige finally asked.

Azzi sighed, covering her face with her hands. “She just… doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me anymore. It’s tiring”

Paige hesitated, then looked over at Azzi saying. “For what it’s worth, I get you. And there’s these ten other girls known as our teammates that get you. So I promise you’re not as alone as you think.”

The words hung in the air for some time, heavy with something Azzi couldn’t name but felt deep in her chest as she laid there with Paige.

After some time passed, Paige, wanting to cheer Azzi up, let out a dramatic grumble as she sat up. “Alright, fine. We can watch Frozen,” she said.

Azzi laughed instantly as she grabbed a nearby pillow and tossed it at Paige.

Paige caught the pillow midair with ease, narrowing her eyes playfully as she held it up. “Don’t be rude,” she deadpanned, throwing the pillow back on the bed before turning toward the dresser for the remote.

When she turned back around, she caught Azzi pouting, her bottom lip jutting out dramatically. Paige froze for a second before shaking her head, chuckling softly. “You’re annoying,” she muttered, though the fondness in her voice betrayed her words.

Azzi’s pout turned into a grin as Paige climbed back into bed, remote in hand. Their shoulders brushed as Paige settled beside her, pretending to scroll through the streaming options with exaggerated effort. “Happy now?” Paige asked.

“Very,” Azzi said, leaning slightly into Paige’s side, her smile lingering as she watched Paige pretend to grumble under her breath.

…

This became a pattern. The more drifted from Amber, the more they argued and Amber hurled insults at Azzi. The closer she found herself to Paige. They started spending more time together outside of practice whenever they could. Paige would go to Azzi’s room to watch movies, always teasing her about her terrible taste in romcoms. Azzi would show up at Paige’s room whenever she wanted, sinking into Paige’s beanbag chair as they talked endlessly.

There was a lightness to being with Paige that Azzi hadn’t felt in a long time. Amber always seemed to expect something from her—more time, more effort, more of herself. But Paige just… let her be.

…

For Paige, the shift came suddenly and without warning. She didn’t realize how deep her feelings ran until one night when Azzi showed up at her door after another fight with Amber.

Azzi’s eyes were puffy, her hair a mess, but Paige thought she’d never looked more beautiful.

“What happened?” Paige asked, ushering her in.

Azzi shook her head, collapsing onto the bed. “It’s the same thing. She doesn’t get it. She doesn’t get me.”

Paige sat beside her, not saying anything at first. She just listened as Azzi vented, her words tumbling out in frustration.

“You’re amazing, Azzi,” Paige said softly when she finished. “If Amber can’t see that… it’s her loss.”

Azzi’s breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Paige could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the air between them heavy with something unspoken.

That night, as Azzi curled up in Paige’s bed and drifted off to sleep, Paige lay awake, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the truth: she was in love with Azzi.

…

For Azzi, the realization crept in slowly but hit her all at once. It wasn’t until she caught Paige looking at her during practice—really looking at her, with those dark, intent eyes—that she felt it.

Paige wanted her.

And the moment Azzi’s brain registered that, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting Paige too. It wasn’t just the way Paige made her feel seen, or the way her presence steadied Azzi in a way Amber never could. It was everything about her—the quiet strength, the soft encouragement, the way her lips curled into a knowing smile whenever Azzi said something sarcastic.

But she was still with Amber.

The guilt gnawed at her, but it didn’t stop her from staying up late to text Paige, or from seeking her out after practice, or from craving the way Paige made her feel. It was wrong, and messy, and complicated, but Azzi couldn’t help herself.

And the more Paige let her feelings slip—through lingering touches, teasing words, and the way her eyes softened whenever they were alone—the harder it was for Azzi to pull away.

The First Slip Up

It was supposed to be a fun, carefree night—a random house party off campus that some of the team decided to attend. Azzi hadn’t been in the mood to go, not really, but Amber insisted. She liked these kinds of things, the big crowds, the chance to “network” with people Azzi didn’t care to meet. And maybe Azzi would’ve said no, but Amber had a way of making her feel guilty for turning things down.

“Bruh come on, Azzi,” Amber said with a heavy sigh as they were getting ready. “You literally never wanna do anything I wanna do. You can’t just be about basketball all the time.”

So Azzi went, pulling on a long-sleeve shirt she hoped would keep her warm in the brisk Connecticut air as Amber rushed her out of the door.

By the time they approached the house, the coldness of the evening had already sunk into her bones. Azzi hugged her arms tightly against herself, glancing sideways at Amber who had on two sweaters.

“I’m freezing,” Azzi said, hoping Amber might offer a solution.

Amber glanced at her briefly, shrugging. “You should’ve brought a jacket.” Her tone wasn’t harsh, but it wasn’t warm either. It was dismissive, like the problem was Azzi’s and not something Amber needed to worry about.

Azzi’s stomach twisted, but she didn’t push the issue, not wanting to argue anymore tonight. They stepped inside and the music was loud and the air was warmer than outside. Before Azzi could say anything, Amber spotted a group of girls she knew and disappeared into the crowd without so much as a glance.

Azzi exhaled and scanned the room looking for the team knowing at least one of them would stand out.

When she spotted Paige near the kitchen, surrounded by a few of their teammates, something in her chest loosened. Paige stood out in any room she was in, tall and composed, carrying herself with a natural ease that made people gravitate toward her. When Azzi made her way over, Paige looked up immediately, her eyes lighting up in a way that made Azzi feel like the only person in the room.

“Heyy, there’s the freshie,” Paige teased, her smile widening as Azzi came closer. But then her expression changed, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head. “You cold?”

Azzi blinked, startled. “What?”

“You’re shivering like crazy,” Paige said simply.

“No, I’ll be fine soon,” Azzi protested quickly, though her body betrayed her as another shiver ran through her.

Paige didn’t argue. She just pulled off her jacket—a soft, worn-in zip up that smelled like her soap and shampoo—and handed it to Azzi.

“Here,” Paige said, holding it out.

“Paige, you don’t have to—”

“Azzi,” Paige interrupted, “just take it.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment before reluctantly slipping it on. It was warm, the sleeves long enough to cover her hands that were still freezing, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Paige grinned, satisfied.

But even with the jacket, the chill didn’t seem to fully leave Azzi’s body yet. Paige must’ve noticed, because before Azzi could protest, Paige stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her.

The hug was casual enough on the surface—just a friend warming up another friend—but it felt like more. Paige’s hands rubbed slow circles on Azzi’s back and Azzi felt herself relax against her. Her head tipped slightly, resting on Paige’s shoulder, and for a moment, the noise and chaos of the party faded into the background.

“You’re freezing. You need to put on a jacket next time,” Paige murmured, her breath warm against Azzi’s hair.

“Amber was rushing me so I couldn’t,” Azzi said quietly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Paige stiffened slightly but didn’t say anything. Her hands kept moving, rubbing against Azzi’s back to warm her up, and after a moment, she spoke.

“Well,” Paige said, her voice soft but edged with something Azzi couldn’t quite place, “you have mine now so you’ll be fine.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Paige, and the way Paige was looking at her—it made Azzi’s breath catch. There was something unspoken in Paige’s gaze, something Azzi wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Thank you,” Azzi whispered

Paige smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course.”

The moment passed quickly—someone yelling Paige’s name from across the room, and she stepped away, though not before giving Azzi’s arm a quick squeeze and saying “I’ll find you later.”

Azzi wasn’t much of a drinker. She didn’t like how it dulled her mind or left her body sluggish, but tonight, after Amber’s repeated dismissals and her own growing frustration, she’d let herself indulge a little. Just enough to take the edge off.

Amber hadn’t noticed.

Azzi sighed again, watching as Amber laughed with a group of girls across the room. She had tried to hang around her girlfriend, to ease the tension that had settled between them for a while. Slipping her hand into Amber’s or leaning close during the conversation. But each time, Amber had pulled away or brushed her off.

“Azzi, not right now,” Amber said at one point with an edge of annoyance in her voice. “I’m trying to talk to them. You’re clingy when you’re drunk.”

The words stung more than Azzi cared to admit, and she found herself retreating, stepping back as Amber turned her attention fully to her friends.

She sighed again, deciding to walk away. But the house was packed, bodies pressed together in every corner, and Azzi quickly found herself a little stuck, barely able to navigate through the crowded room.

That’s when she felt a steady, warm hand resting lightly on her back.

“You good?” Paige’s familiar voice cut through the loud noise.

Azzi turned her head slightly, relief flooding through her as she saw Paige beside her. She nodded, not trusting her voice in the moment.

“Come on,” Paige said simply. As she guided Azzi with ease, her hand never left Azzi’s back as they weaved through the chaos. Paige moved like she was born to lead, her presence cutting through the crowd effortlessly, and Azzi found herself leaning into it, letting Paige take control.

When they finally emerged into a quieter corner of the house, Paige spotted an open spot on the couch and steered them toward it. They sank into the cushions together, and Azzi felt her shoulders relax for the first time all night.

“You good?” Paige asked again, her eyes scanning Azzi’s face.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. Thanks for... that. It was getting a little overwhelming in there.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” Paige said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You looked like you were about to elbow somebody out of the way.”

Azzi laughed softly. “I was definitely close,” she admitted.

They settled into their usual rhythm easily, the conversation flowing like it always did. They talked about everything and nothing. Azzi found herself laughing more than she had all night, the tension in her chest easing with every word. Paige had a way of making her forget everything else going on in her head, of making her feel seen in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

At one point, someone came over to talk to Paige, pulling her attention away for a moment. Azzi instinctively shifted, as she was about to get up to give Paige space and go talk to the rest of the team, but Paige’s arm shot out, draping casually over the back of the couch, her hand resting near Azzi’s shoulder.

“Stay,” Paige said, glancing at her. The word wasn’t a command, but it held weight, a quiet reassurance that Paige didn’t want her to go anywhere.

Azzi froze for a moment, the warmth of Paige’s arm so close making her chest tighten. She nodded, staying right where she was, even as Paige turned to answer the person who’d approached.

When the conversation ended, Paige turned back to Azzi, a small grin on her face. “You need anything? Water? Soda? Something stronger?”

Azzi hesitated for a second before shrugging. “Water’s fine,” she said, grateful Paige even thought to ask.

“I’ll be right back,” Paige said, standing and weaving her way through the room towards the kitchen.

Azzi watched her go, the space beside her feeling oddly empty without Paige there. She fiddled with the hem of Paige’s sweater, her mind wandering back to Amber—wherever she was in this house—and the sharp contrast between her and Paige.

When Paige came back, she handed Azzi a bottle of water before settling back on the couch, her body angled slightly toward Azzi.

“Thanks,” Azzi said, cracking the bottle open and taking a sip.

“No problem.” Paige studied her for a moment before tilting her head slightly. “You look like you’re over this party.”

Azzi chuckled softly, leaning back into the couch. “It’s not really my scene honestly,” she admitted. “Too loud. Too crowded. I don’t know half the people here, and the one person I came with...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Paige frowned slightly but didn’t press her for more. Instead, she just sat there as she thought for a moment. Then, as if deciding something, she turned back to Azzi and reached out her hand.

“Come on,” Paige said.

Azzi blinked, looking down at Paige’s outstretched hand. “What?”

“Let’s go,” Paige said simply, her fingers wiggling slightly as if to prompt Azzi to take her hand.

Azzi hesitated for a moment longer before setting the water bottle down on the floor and slipping her hand into Paige’s. Paige’s fingers interlaced with hers immediately, her grip warm as she tugged Azzi up from the couch.

“Where are we going?” Azzi asked.

Paige glanced at her with a small smile, her hand still holding Azzi’s tightly. “Somewhere better,” she said.

Azzi followed her without question, though her mind buzzed with curiosity. Paige led her through the crowded house, their intertwined hands drawing a few curious glances but nothing that lingered for two long. They climbed a narrow staircase, Azzi stumbling slightly on the last step, but Paige steadied her with a soft laugh, her hand tightening around Azzi’s.

When they reached the top, Paige guided her down a hallway and pushed open a door. Azzi blinked in surprise as the cool night air hit her face. They were on a small outdoor balcony, completely empty and tucked away from the noise and chaos of the party below. String lights hung lazily along the edge of the railing, casting a warm glow over the space.

Azzi let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The air was crisp but refreshing, and she was still warm from the drinks and the faint buzz of Paige’s presence. Paige’s jacket hung loosely around her shoulders, and though the cold nipped at her face, she didn’t mind.

Paige let go of her hand but didn’t step far, turning to lean her back against the railing and taking in the view. “Better, right?” she asked softly, her voice almost swallowed by the hum of the party below.

Azzi nodded, moving to the railing and resting her forearms on it. “Yeah. Way better,” she murmured, looking out at the dark yard below. She felt Paige’s eyes on her but didn’t turn, letting the comfortable silence settle between them for a moment.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Paige said after a beat.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. “You noticed?”

Paige scoffed softly, shifting to face her fully. “Of course I noticed, I’m me. Plus you’re not exactly the type to fade into the background but it feels like you kinda just been drifting tonight. Not as confident as usual.”

Azzi chuckled, her fingers playing with the hem of the jacket. “I don’t know. I guess... this just isn’t my scene,” she admitted. “I came because Amber wanted to….” She trailed off, shrugging slightly.

Paige’s gaze hardened a little, her jaw tightening at the mention of Amber, but she pushed the feeling aside. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here,” Paige said.

Azzi finally turned to look at her, her eyes searching Paige’s face. There was something about the way Paige was looking at her—intense but soft, like she was seeing every piece of her. It made Azzi’s stomach flip in a way she wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You are?” Azzi asked, her voice quiet but tinged with curiosity.

“Yeah,” Paige said, stepping closer now. Her voice dropped slightly.. “You’re the only one worth talking to here.”

Azzi’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she swallowed hard, glancing away briefly to compose herself. When she looked back, Paige had moved closer, so close that Azzi could feel the faint warmth radiating from her despite the cool night air.

Azzi leaned back against the railing, her hands gripping the edge lightly as she tilted her head to look at Paige. “You’re really sweet, you know that?” she teased, her tone light but her eyes giving away something deeper.

Paige arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Me? Sweet? Who would’ve guessed.”

Azzi smiled, her confidence sparking to life in the safety of their banter. “You make everything seem so effortless,” she said, her voice dipping slightly.

Paige let out a soft laugh, her eyes never leaving Azzi’s. “I could say the same about you,” she murmured, her tone quieter now..

The space between them felt incredibly small, and Azzi wasn’t sure if it was the drinks or the way Paige was looking at her, but she felt a pull, an ache between her legs that was as exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.

Paige leaned in slightly, her hands coming to rest on the railing on both sides of Azzi, effectively boxing her in. She wasn’t touching her, not quite, but the proximity sent a shiver through Azzi’s body.

“You warm enough?” Paige asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, her breath catching slightly. “Yeah. Your jacket’s helping,” she said, her fingers brushing the fabric lightly.

Paige’s eyes flicked down to the movement, then back up to Azzi’s face. “Good,” she said, her voice a little rougher now, her gaze holding Azzi’s.

For a moment, the noise of the party below faded completely, and it was just them, the night air, and the soft glow of the lights. Azzi felt her resolve slipping, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t fully control.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her face inches from Azzi’s now. “You’ve got that look again,” Paige said softly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“What look?” Azzi asked, her voice barely audible.

“The one that says you’re overthinking,” Paige teased.

Azzi let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Maybe I am,” she admitted.

Paige’s smile softened, and she reached up, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Azzi’s face. “Don’t,” she said simply.

Azzi didn’t know how to respond or how to react, so she didn’t. She just held Paige’s gaze, the space between them filled with an unspoken tension. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the soft hum of the night enveloping them.

Finally, Azzi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “Thank you.”

Paige’s brow furrowed slightly, and she smiled softly. “For what?”

Azzi hesitated for a second, her eyes flickering down to the jacket she was still wearing, then back to Paige’s face. “For everything,” she said simply, her tone almost vulnerable.

Paige’s expression softened even further, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Don’t mention it.”

She raised her red cup to her lips, intending to finish off the rest of the drink, but before she could finish it completely, Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Can I have some?”

Paige blinked, then grinned, holding the cup out toward her. “You can kill the rest,” she said casually, her fingers brushing Azzi’s as she handed it over.

Azzi took the cup, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she tipped it back, finishing the drink in a few quick swallows. The warmth from the alcohol spread through her chest, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as the warmth radiating from Paige, who stood just inches away. Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing behind her.

Azzi set the empty cup down on the railing, her fingers brushing over the smooth surface before she turned back to face Paige. She hadn’t realized how close Paige had gotten, her arms still braced on either side of the railing.

“You look good in my jacket,” Paige said, the compliment coming out smoothly. Her eyes scanned Azzi, lingering for just a second longer than they probably should have as she took her in.

Azzi felt a blush creep up her neck, but she masked it with a soft laugh. “Yeah? Guess I’m doing you a favor, making it look better.”

Paige smirked, her hand sliding casually to rest on Azzi’s hip, her touch light but deliberate. “Exactly,” she murmured, tilting her head as her gaze locked on Azzi’s. “You make it look better.”

Azzi’s breath caught for a moment, and she wasn’t sure if it was from the warmth of Paige’s hand on her or the way Paige was looking at her, like she was undressing her with her eyes. “You’re bold tonight,” she managed, her voice softer than she intended.

Paige’s smirk deepened, her thumb brushing over the fabric of the jacket. “Just telling the truth,” she said. “You look... really pretty tonight, Az.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in Paige’s tone. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her pretty, but the way Paige said it made her feel different. “You’ve had a few drinks,” Azzi said lightly, trying to deflect.

Paige leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it gorgeous.”

Azzi swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. She should’ve stepped back, should’ve said something to lighten the moment, but instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, her body betraying her. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Paige chuckled softly, her hand still resting on Azzi’s hip as her gaze flickered down to Azzi’s lips for the briefest of moments before returning to her eyes. “Only if you want me to be,” she replied.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shaking her head slightly. “You’re too good for that,” she said softly.

Paige leaned in just a little closer, her voice barely a whisper as she teased, “What do you mean?”

Azzi exhaled a quiet laugh, trying to brush it off, but the moment felt too heavy to laugh it off. “You’re a good person Paige,” Azzi said, her voice softening at the admission.

Paige smiled, a slow, satisfied grin pulling at her lips. “I am,” she said, a hint of pride in her tone.

Azzi didn’t respond immediately, her heart beating just a little faster as she glanced at Paige, the warmth from their closeness making her skin tingle. “So you’re not going to let me cheat tonight,” Azzi murmured, a little unsure why the words slipped out.

Paige didn’t pull away, though. Her hand remained on Azzi’s hip, her body still close enough that Azzi could feel the heat radiating between them. She just looked at Azzi for a beat too long, her eyes locked onto hers, saying nothing.

For a second, everything hung in the balance. Azzi felt herself holding her breath, her body unsure of what to do next. But before she could make up her mind, a voice interrupted the moment.

“Ahem.”

The sound was unmistakable—clear, direct, and too familiar. Azzi’s stomach dropped as she turned her head slightly, glancing over Paige’s shoulder.

Amber stood a few feet away, her eyes narrowed, her arms crossed over her chest. The discomfort was clear, but at that moment, Azzi didn’t jerk away. She didn’t pull back.

Instead, she stayed rooted to the spot, holding Paige’s gaze. For a heartbeat, she let herself savor the closeness, the pull of something real between her and Paige. Then, she finally glanced back at Amber—seeing the look on her face—and it hit Azzi with a quiet, unsettling clarity.

This was probably when Azzi should’ve ended things with Amber. The realization hit her harder than she expected, but it didn’t feel like a mistake—it felt like the truth.

Azzi didn’t break the moment quickly, though. Instead, she smiled softly at Paige, a small, genuine smile that conveyed more than words ever could. Paige’s expression softened in response, her eyes warm with something almost like understanding, even though she said nothing.

Azzi pushed gently against Paige’s waist, a quiet movement that separated them just enough to give her space to breathe. “I should go,” Azzi said, her voice soft but steady, as she stepped away from the railing.

Paige smiled at her, a gentle, almost wistful curve of her lips. “Get home safe, Azzi,” she said, her voice carrying an underlying warmth.

Azzi returned the smile. “I’ll text you,” she murmured, before turning toward the hallway. She couldn’t quite look back, not with that lingering tension between them.

As Azzi made her way down the stairs, she noticed Amber already ahead of her, walking with purpose, the distance between them increasing by the second. Azzi’s steps purposely slowed, her mind still racing with everything that had just happened—what she had almost let happen.

When they finally stepped outside, the crisp night air hit her, making her pull Paige’s jacket closer around herself. Amber, who had been silent up until now, suddenly stopped walking and turned sharply to face Azzi, her jaw set.

“What the hell was that?” Amber’s voice was low but heated, frustration clear in every word.

Azzi blinked at her, not breaking her stride as she pulled the zipper on the jacket higher, securing it snugly against the cold. “Nothing,” she said flatly, keeping her tone calm.

Amber’s eyes flicked down to the jacket, her brow furrowing as if noticing it for the first time. “Whose jacket is that?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi replied, her eyes focused ahead as she kept walking.

“It does matter,” Amber shot back, quickening her steps to keep up with her. “You’ve got some random person’s jacket on like it’s normal or something.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, the sound humorless. She finally glanced at Amber, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. “It’s literally a jacket, Amber. You’re being childish.”

Amber stopped in her tracks, her hands balling into fists at her sides as she stared after Azzi. “Childish?” she repeated, her voice rising slightly. “You’re walking around in someone else’s clothes, and I’m supposed to just ignore that?!”

Azzi sighed, exasperated, as she turned around to face her. “It’s really not that deep. I was cold and you wouldn’t give me yours so…”

Amber’s face twisted in disbelief, her frustration clear, but Azzi didn’t wait for her to say anything else. She turned back around, her hands burying themselves in the jacket’s pockets, and started walking toward the dorms again, leaving Amber standing there in silence.

The Second Slip Up

The night at Ted’s was supposed to be a break—a chance for everyone to unwind after a long stretch of games and practice. The team had been looking forward to it all week, and Azzi, too, had been excited to just let loose for a while. But everything had been sour before she even left. Her argument with Amber had been heated—one that nearly turned into a screaming match—but it was the same pattern as always. Amber had wanted Azzi to drop everything and come to the DMV for a week, something about an interview, but Azzi told her she couldn’t just throw her responsibilities aside. She had two games, practices, and meetings. Amber didn’t understand, once again insulting Azzi and it led to another fight.

Still, despite the tension, Azzi wanted to go out. Amber, always aggressive when she didn’t get her way, was all over Azzi the moment they walked into Ted’s even though Azzi wasn’t interested. She tried to pull Azzi into a dance, dragging her by the hand, her lips kissing at Azzi’s neck, whispering promises Azzi wasn’t sure she could still believe in.

Paige, on the other hand, was across the room, surrounded by a few of the girls from the team, laughing and “dancing” with a random girl who was at the bar. Azzi tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest when her eyes found Paige's across the crowded room. She couldn’t help herself—there was something magnetic about her, something that called to Azzi even from a distance.

The moment they locked eyes, Azzi felt everything inside her still. Amber’s hand was on her waist, pulling her into the chaotic rhythm of the music, but Azzi wasn’t moving, she couldn’t focus on anything except the way Paige was looking at her. Her usually bright blue eyes were darker than usual, her gaze intense as she sipped her drink, not blinking, as if she were daring Azzi to look away first. And for a moment, Azzi forgot how to breathe.

The world seemed to slow down. Amber was still murmuring into Azzi's ear, but Azzi couldn’t hear her. Her words were drowned out by the music and the rapid beat of her heart. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Paige. It felt like a secret shared between them, even though they hadn’t said a word.

Paige’s gaze never wavered, and Azzi could feel everything between them, like the entire room had been reduced to just the two of them. Amber, oblivious to the tension building, continued to cling to Azzi, her whispers falling on deaf ears. Azzi barely even registered what Amber was saying.

Azzi’s chest tightened as the girl dancing on Paige didn’t back off. Instead, she leaned in closer, her body grinding against Paige's as she ran her acrylics slowly down Paige's jaw, tracing the curve of her face and lips. Azzi watched the movement, her stomach twisting as Paige barely reacted. Her eyes were locked on Azzi, unmoving, unblinking, as if nothing else in the room mattered, not even the girl trying to press herself closer to Paige.

Azzi could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the possessiveness bubbling inside her, even though she had no right to feel it. Amber's hand was still on Azzi's waist, trying to pull her into the rhythm of the music, but Azzi couldn’t bring herself to care. Not while Paige’s gaze was still locked on her.

The girl on Paige’s body kept dancing, but Paige’s focus was unwavering. Paige smirked slightly as the girl's hands ran over her neck, as if she knew Azzi wouldn’t like it. Still, her eyes never leave Azzi’s.

It was like a silent challenge, a dare to Azzi to make a move, to step in and claim what could be hers, but Azzi was frozen. She was stuck, caught between the familiarity of Amber and the pull she felt toward Paige, the way Paige's eyes seemed to tug at her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.

Amber, noticing Azzi's lingering stare, tugged her closer, leaning into her ear. “Babyyy, you’re not even paying attention,” she said, but Azzi still barely heard her. All she could focus on was the way Paige’s gaze had deepened, how there was something raw and magnetic about the way she looked at her.

As Paige slowly took another sip from her drink, Azzi noticed how the girl's hand slid down Paige's side to her hips, and for a brief moment, Azzi wanted to rip her hand off. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She was still stuck in Amber’s grip, still trying to hold onto something that was slipping through her fingers.

"Who are you looking at like that?" Amber's voice cut through the haze, and Azzi blinked, tearing her eyes away from Paige to look at Amber, but the heat between her and Paige still lingered, like a flame Azzi couldn’t put out.

…

Azzi hadn’t planned on doing anything that night. She was determined to be respectful, to keep her distance from Paige and stay respectful to her relationship, like she always had. She’d made up her mind to stay out of the way, to avoid any of the tension that had been building between her and Paige. She thought if she could just make it through tonight without any issues, everything would be fine. But then after a few drinks Amber had to go and make everything complicated.

Amber wasn’t just rude that night. She was worse—she was dismissive, condescending, and cruel in a way Azzi hadn’t seen in a long time. It was though all the frustrations Amber had been bottling up for weeks finally exploded, and Azzi was the target. Amber fully snapped at Azzi when she pushed her off gently and tried to suggest they grab a drink instead of dancing. She accused Azzi of ignoring her all night, accused her of being self-absorbed, accusing her of not wasting her time playing a game rather than trying to better their relationship and so much more.. Each comment felt like a jab, cutting deeper than the last.

Azzi tried to brush it off at first, telling herself it was just the alcohol or a bad mood, but it didn’t stop. Amber’s insults, her passive-aggressive remarks, and the way she treated Azzi like she was nothing more than an accessory to her life—it all piled up.

The quiet argument had escalated quickly, spiraling out of control before Azzi even had a chance to process it. “Call me when you’re done being so fucking self-centered,” Amber spat. She didn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and storming out of Ted’s.

Azzi stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut behind Amber. A sigh left her lips, but she didn’t let herself dwell on it, she honestly didn’t feel bad about it. The tension in her chest loosened as she turned back to the team, who, like her, were already a few drinks in, their mood carefree and light. It was easy to slip back into their energy, letting the music and laughter fill the space Amber had left.

The drinks flowed freely, and with each one, Azzi felt herself relax more. She didn’t have to force anything; the team’s energy was infectious, and before long, she found herself genuinely enjoying everything. Paige was initially on the other side of the room, laughing with Evina and Olivia, but like a magnet, they naturally drifted toward each other. Neither of them said anything as their proximity closed; it was unspoken, almost instinctual, like gravity pulling them together.

Paige didn’t even realize how close she had gotten until Azzi reached out, her hand finding Paige’s wrist and gently tugging her closer. The tug wasn’t rushed or eager—it was simple and confident, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige felt her pulse quicken, but she didn’t hesitate. She let herself fall into the moment, her hands sliding around Azzi’s waist as the music guided them.

They started swaying to the beat, bodies pressed together as neither one of them said anything. Paige’s arms tightened slightly around Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer. Their movements grew more fluid as Azzi wrapped her arm around Paige’s shoulder, her hands coming together to rest on her head. Neither spoke a word, but their silence was filled with a quiet understanding, the tension between them growing.

Azzi’s eyes flicked to Paige’s lips, and Paige caught the movement, making her instinctually lick them. The air between them continues to grow heavier, their gazes dancing between each other’s lips and eyes, silently asking questions neither of them said out loud.

Azzi, trying her best to keep her composure, let her head dip down, resting lightly on Paige’s shoulder. Her breath fanning across Paige’s neck, the simple warmth of it making Paige clench her jaw. Azzi’s lips hovered tantalizingly close to Paige’s skin, not quite touching but close enough that Paige could feel the ghost of them. Paige’s fingers tightened slightly on Azzi’s waist, her own breaths shallow as she tried to steady herself.

Their dancing grew needier, the space between them nonexistent. It wasn’t just the physical closeness; it was the way they seemed to be silently communicating through every glance, every brush of skin. Paige closed her eyes for a brief moment, soaking in the sensation, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Azzi could hear it.

Without warning, Azzi crossed the line between hovering and touching.

Her lips ghosted over Paige’s neck, softly. It wasn’t aggressive or rushed—just featherlight kisses that sent sparks racing through Paige’s veins. Paige sighed audibly, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep her composure. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s hips reflexively, grounding herself so she didn’t lose it entirely in the middle of the bar.

Azzi noticed the way Paige’s body tensed under her touch, and it only fueled her. As she let her lips linger a moment longer, the pressure slightly firmer now in a few spots, before pulling back just enough to murmur into Paige’s ear.

“Meet me in the bathroom.”

Paige’s eyes opened, her grip on Azzi’s waist faltering as her heart raced. Before she could respond, Azzi was already stepping back, her touch slipping away like sand through Paige’s fingers.

Azzi didn’t look back as she walked toward the bathroom. Paige stood there for a moment, frozen, the ghost of Azzi’s touch and the warmth of her lips still lingering on her skin.

The music continued around her, the chatter and laughter of the team and other patrons filling the space, but it all felt distant now. Paige’s focus was entirely on the retreating figure of Azzi, her heart pounding as she weighed her next move.

Her lips curved into a subtle, almost involuntary smirk as she exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself. There was no real decision to make—her body had already made it for her. With one last glance around the bar, Paige slipped through the crowd, following the same path Azzi had taken moments earlier.

When Paige stepped into the dimly lit bathroom, her gaze locked onto Azzi, who was leaning casually against the sink. Azzi’s eyes flicked up to meet Paige’s, a small smirk tugging at her lips.

Paige didn’t say a word as she turned and locked the door behind her with a click, the sound echoing in the space. Her hand lingered on the lock for a second longer than necessary, steadying herself as she exhaled, before slowly facing Azzi again.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension between them thick. Azzi’s smirk faltered slightly, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she studied Paige’s expression. It wasn’t playful or hesitant—Paige’s eyes burned with something Azzi couldn’t place, her chest rising and falling as though she was barely holding herself back.

The silence was broken when Azzi took two quick steps forward, closing the distance between them in an instant. Without warning, her hands gripped the front of Paige’s shirt, pushing her back until Paige’s shoulders hit the cool wall with a thud. Azzi’s lips were on hers immediately, the kiss urgent and messy, tongues battling one another as they fought for control.

Paige’s hands instinctively went to Azzi’s waist, her fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as she pulled her even closer. Azzi pressed against her fully, her grip tightening on Paige’s shirt, but it was clear neither one of them was willing to give up control.

Then, in a quick movement that left Azzi momentarily stunned, Paige flipped their positions, slamming Azzi’s back against the wall with a force that made her gasp. Azzi’s head tilted back slightly from the impact, her lips parting in surprise, but her body instantly responded to the dominance radiating from Paige.

The heat coursed through Azzi, her breath hitching as she met Paige’s gaze. No one had ever handled her like this before—there was a certainty, a confidence in Paige’s actions that excited Azzi.

Paige didn’t give her much time to process, her lips crashing back onto Azzi’s with the same fervor as before. Her hands slid down Azzi’s sides, gripping her hips firmly as she pressed her body against Azzi’s, pinning her to the wall. Azzi let out a soft moan against Paige’s lips, her own hands tangling in Paige’s hair as she pulled her even closer, the world outside that bathroom disappearing entirely.

The two of them stayed locked in that rhythm, bodies pressed impossibly close, lips and hands moving with an urgency that neither seemed able—or willing—to control. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s hips remained firm, holding her in place every time Azzi tried to shift, a silent but undeniable reflection of her dominance.

As their kisses deepened, Paige’s lips began trailing down Azzi’s jaw. She kissed and sucked softly along the curve, her movements careful not to leave any marks. Azzi’s head tilted instinctively, giving Paige better access even as her mind began to catch up to her body.

The thought of Paige leaving marks on her skin—of something so visible, so undeniably real—triggered a sudden flicker of realization. Azzi’s heart pounded in her chest, her breathing shallow as she tried to fight the pull of Paige’s lips, her touch, her everything.

“Paige…” Azzi’s voice came out barely above a whisper, shaky and uncertain, her resolve faltering even as the word left her lips. Paige didn’t seem to hear her—or maybe she did and thought Azzi was whispering her name for other reasons—because she continued, her lips sucking against the sensitive spot just below Azzi’s ear, drawing a sharp inhale from her.

Azzi squeezed her eyes shut, pulling every ounce of willpower she could muster. This time, she took a deep, steadying breath and whispered more firmly, “Paige stop.” She gently pushed at Paige’s shoulders, just enough to create a space between them.

Paige stilled immediately, her hands falling away from Azzi’s hips, her hazy eyes snapping up to meet Azzi’s. The awe and unfiltered admiration written across Paige’s face made Azzi’s chest ache, her throat tightening painfully as she tried to find the right words.

“We can’t,” Azzi said softly, the words catching in her throat as her hands lingered on Paige’s shoulders, not wanting to completely let go yet.

Pain flickered in Paige’s eyes briefly but she quickly masked it as she reached out, her hand gently cupping Azzi’s cheek slowly. “It’s okay,” she said softly, forcing her voice to sound understanding.

“I…Um... I should go,” Azzi said quietly, her voice barely audible over the thundering in her chest. She turned to leave, but Paige’s voice stopped her.

“Get home safe Az,” Paige said softly.

Azzi didn’t turn back as she walked out, her mind a storm of emotions, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her chest. She couldn’t look at Paige again. Not right now.

…

Later that night Azzi finally mustered the courage to go talk to Paige. She needed to explain, or at least some kind of resolution to everything swirling between them. The night’s events—especially the kiss in the bathroom—kept replaying in her mind, and she couldn't get rid of the knot in her stomach. She knew she couldn’t just let things sit unresolved between them. But she didn’t know what to expect when she knocked on Paige’s dorm door.

As she walked down the hall toward Paige’s room, Azzi felt her heart pound in her chest. Her hand hovered over the door, and for a moment, she paused, wondering if this was the right thing to do. But before she could knock, she heard something from inside Paige’s room—a sound that made her blood run cold.

“Paige! Oh my god, Fuck Paige.” A girl’s voice, excited and a little too loud for the quiet of the dorms.

Azzi’s stomach dropped. She froze, her hand still in the air. The sound of the girl calling Paige’s name echoed in her ears, and Azzi could feel a wave of nausea rise in her throat. Her pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her chest.

It hurt, even though Azzi couldn’t explain why. She wanted to shake it off, to remind herself that she wasn’t with Paige and that she had no claim on her, but the sting wouldn’t go away.

She stood there for a long moment, paralyzed by the sick feeling in her stomach. She couldn’t even bring herself to knock on the door anymore. Instead, she backed away, feeling like she couldn’t catch her breath. The feeling of walking into Paige’s room and finding that girl with her—that girl whose name she didn’t even know but who had already made Azzi feel small—was too much.

Azzi turned and walked quickly down the hallway, away from Paige’s room, her heart racing in her chest.

…

For the next few weeks, Paige and Azzi kept things friendly, almost as if that night at Ted's had never happened. They didn’t bring it up once—no awkward glances, no mention of the kiss. They were good at pretending. To anyone else, they were just two friends hanging out, enjoying the occasional late-night talk, laughing at inside jokes, and sharing glances across the room. And for a while, that worked. They kept it light and uncomplicated. But Azzi knew, deep down, that something had changed.

It wasn’t until they found themselves at another party that the cracks started to show again. Clearly alcohol was their biggest enemy. This time, it was more of a low-key kickback in someone’s suite—still loud and filled with the hum of music and chatter, but less crowded than a full on party. Azzi was grateful for that; she didn’t want to deal with the crowds of people that had made everything feel so messy the last time.

Amber hadn’t so much as glanced at her all night, spending the majority of her time with some girl from her law class who kept trailing after her, whispering in her ear, and laughing like they were in their own little world. Azzi didn’t mind. In fact, it was a relief. She didn’t want to deal with Amber tonight. She just wanted to get through the evening without any drama—something she knew she was starting to crave, especially when it came to Paige.

Paige was there too, of course, as she always was. She wasn’t exactly the life of the party, but she was still fun to be around. Her usual carefree energy, though, was tempered by something tonight. Azzi couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was something in the way Paige held herself, the way she lingered a little too long in Azzi’s space when they shared a laugh, or the way their hands brushed as they passed each other in the small crowd.

For a while, Azzi managed to focus on other things—laughing at jokes, chatting with some of their teammates, and even dancing a little. But it wasn’t long before Paige’s presence became undeniable again. Every time she looked in Paige’s direction, there was something magnetic about her. She found herself gravitating back toward her, unable to resist the pull.

And then, of course, the alcohol kicked in. The drinks kept flowing, and just like the last time, the line between friendly and something more began to blur. Azzi caught herself looking at Paige longer than necessary, noticing the way the light hit her face or how her lips curled into a smile when she said something funny. Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, responding to the subtle cues, the closeness they shared.

The night seemed to slip into a haze after a few too many drinks. The music was louder, the air warmer with the scent of alcohol and bodies pressed together. Azzi, already feeling the effects of the alcohol, found herself near Paige again. Azzi tried to focus on something else—anything else—so her eyes flickered back to Amber, still deep in conversation with the same girl from her law class.

Azzi wasn’t even upset, she was just curious about the situation, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Paige followed her line of sight, eyes narrowing slightly as she saw the same thing Azzi did. Amber was leaning in, her lips too close to the other girl’s ear, her body language clearly more than friendly. For a moment, Paige didn’t know what came over her, but she felt a spark of something, something protective that pushed her forward. Before she had a chance to second-guess it, she stood from her spot and pulled Azzi gently but firmly onto her lap on the couch, wrapping her arms around her waist.

The sudden proximity caught Azzi off guard. She could feel Paige’s heartbeat against her back, the warmth of her body pressing against hers, and the weight of Paige’s arms as they tightened around her. Azzi tensed slightly, not sure how to react to the intensity of the moment. But then Paige’s voice, soft and soothing, brushed against her ear.

“Just relax,” Paige whispered, her breath warm on Azzi’s skin. It was as if the simple words unlocked something inside Azzi. She felt her body hum, a subtle tension easing as Paige’s words settled in her mind. She leaned back slightly, her head resting against Paige’s chest, the solid thump of her heartbeat grounding her.

Paige’s voice was soft against Azzi’s ear as she whispered, "You know you're much prettier than whoever she's talking to." Azzi couldn’t help the hum that escaped her lips, the sound almost a mixture of appreciation and something else.

Paige’s voice dipped lower. “I would never do you like that.”

Azzi stayed still for a moment, leaning comfortably against Paige’s chest, but her words came out without hesitation. “You did.”

Paige froze for a second, confused, her arms tightening around Azzi instinctively. "Whatchu mean?"

Azzi let out a breath, her heart racing with the weight of the conversation, and she turned her head just enough to rest her cheek against Paige’s chest. “That night after Ted’s… I came to talk to you.”

Paige stiffened, her jaw clenching slightly. She didn’t need to hear more. She already knew exactly what Azzi was talking about. The air between them shifted, the lightness of their previous banter now replaced by an unspoken tension.

She tightened her grip around Azzi, not out of force but to keep her close, to prevent the moment from slipping out of her control. "I was drunk," Paige said quietly, though her tone betrayed a hint of guilt.

Azzi didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her chest felt tight, not just from the closeness, but from Paige’s words. She didn’t know why it hurt more to hear that it had been a moment of drunken weakness than if Paige had just admitted it had been something more. But she swallowed hard, pushing the sting of it down.

“Yeah, well.” Azzi finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between them, as cutting as the silence that followed.

Paige let out a frustrated breath, but instead of getting defensive, she spoke with more restraint. “You wanna know something?” Her voice was quieter now.

Azzi nodded her head gently against Paige’s chest, her heart pounding in anticipation. She couldn’t bring herself to look up at Paige just yet, not wanting to see what might be written on her face.

Paige’s lips brushed against Azzi’s ear as she spoke, lowering her voice even more, making Azzi shiver. “Your name slipped out.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at that, her body instinctively turning, as if the words had unlocked something inside her. She was trying to turn to face Paige, to process what had just been said, but Paige’s grip on her tightened, keeping her in place, pressing her body flush against hers.

“Don’t. Just listen,” Paige murmured. Azzi felt the heat of Paige’s breath against her neck, and despite the knot in her stomach, she couldn’t pull away. Paige’s arms were like anchors, steadying her in the midst of the storm inside her.

Amber’s gaze shifted across the room, her eyes narrowing when she spotted the two of them. She had been too distracted by the girl from her law class, but now that she was looking, it was impossible to ignore the way Azzi and Paige were practically wrapped around each other. Paige’s arm was snugly around Azzi’s waist, their heads tilted toward each other, too close. Amber felt a surge of anger rise within her as she watched Paige’s lips move near Azzi’s ear, whispering something she couldn’t hear but could certainly imagine as Azzi’s eyes fluttered closed and she crossed her legs.

Amber’s grip on her drink tightened, and her pulse quickened. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Azzi was lost in the moment, but then, out of the corner of her eye she felt Amber’s gaze. The air seemed to thicken, and Azzi could feel the tension spike instantly, even before Paige noticed.

Amber’s eyes were locked on her and Paige, and the fury in her gaze was clear. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her posture was rigid. Azzi knew Amber well enough to see the storm brewing in her eyes, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like it was directed solely at Azzi. It was as if Amber was furious with Paige too.

Paige, however, seemed to enjoy the spectacle once she noticed. Her smirk widening as she notices Amber staring at them. She didn’t break eye contact with Amber. Instead, she leaned in closer to Azzi, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper that sent an involuntary shiver through her.

"You want me to let go?"

Azzi’s eyes flickered toward Amber, still standing across the room, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. Azzi paused, her heart racing as she considered Paige’s question.

She knew Amber was watching. And yet, as her mind spun with uncertainty, her body couldn’t help but answer for her. She shook her head softly, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, "No."

Paige’s smile was slow and full of satisfaction, a gleam of triumph in her eyes as she tightened her hold on Azzi, pulling her impossibly closer. Azzi felt the pressure of Paige’s arms wrapping around her, keeping her in place as Paige’s lips descended on her neck, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss against the sensitive skin there.

Azzi's breath caught in her throat, her body trembling slightly from the gentle caress as she bit her lip. Paige made sure to angle her head just enough so that Amber could see every move, every touch. The kiss lingered for a moment longer than necessary, the intimacy of it undeniable.

Paige pulled away just slightly, her gaze flicking over to Amber, locking eyes with her again in an almost mocking way. She knew Amber was furious, but it seemed like the moment only fueled Paige’s smirk, her confidence growing as she deliberately pressed closer to Azzi, the whole scene laid out in front of Amber’s watchful eyes.

Azzi, still caught in the feeling of Paige’s touch, swallowed hard, trying to focus on the situation at hand. But Paige had effectively shifted the focus back to Amber, making sure that whatever was happening—whatever was about to happen—Amber couldn’t look away.

Paige kissed Azzi’s neck a few more times, each press of her lips making Azzi’s pulse quicken.

The soft, lingering touches felt like they were meant for no one but her, and for a moment, everything else faded. Azzi’s breath became shallow, her body leaning into Paige’s embrace, her mind clouded completely by the heat of the moment.

But then, the spell was broken.

Amber, whose eyes blazing with a mix of rage and intoxication, stormed across the room. Her movements were unsteady. Without hesitation, Amber yanked Azzi off of Paige, the movement more forceful than necessary.

Azzi stumbled slightly, the abruptness of the action catching her off guard, but before she could even regain her balance, Paige was standing up quickly, her posture stiff, her jaw clenching with anger. She stepped in front of Azzi, putting herself between them, her eyes flashing as she looked Amber up and down.

“Don’t fucking touch her like that,” Paige’s voice was low but still controlled enough.

Amber, still fuming, sneered at Paige.. “I can touch her however the fuck I want to,” she spat, her voice slurred just enough to reflect how drunk she was. She took a step toward Azzi, her hand reaching out again as if to make her point as she tried to grab Azzit.

Paige stepped between them before she could get any closer. “Yo, you needa chill,” Paige said.

Amber ignored her and reached for Azzi again, but Paige’s hand shot out, stopping her in her tracks. “Bro, she’s not going with you. You’re crashing out,” Paige said. Her eyes locked on Amber’s with a mix of warning and restraint.

Amber let out a bitter chuckle, her drunkenness masking the anger simmering beneath. “I promise you haven’t seen that yet,” she snapped.

Paige didn’t flinch. She didn’t step back. Instead, she moved closer, her jaw clenching even tighter. The air between them was thick and for a moment, it felt like the room had gone silent, everyone holding their breath to see what would happen next.

Just as the situation was about to tip over the edge, Evina appeared out of nowhere, throwing her arm around Paige’s shoulders casually.. “Yo, you good, P?” she asked, her voice light but carrying enough weight to cut through the tension.

Paige didn’t take her eyes off Amber, their gaze still locked. “Yeah, I’m good E.”

Evina, still sensing the storm brewing, gently started nudging Paige back, her arm firm around her shoulders. “Alright, then. Let’s keep it that way,” she said, her tone calm as she tried to defuse the situation before it exploded.

Paige let it happen, allowing Evina to put some space between her and Amber, though her eyes never left Amber’s face. The message was clear.

Amber’s voice cut through the heavy silence.. “Azzi this is bullshit, let’s go.”.

Azzi didn’t move from her position near Paige, her body tense, clearly caught in an internal battle. Her eyes flicked between Amber and Paige, knowing her answer but unsure of what to say. How to say it.

Amber’s frustration turned to disbelief as she took a step forward, her movements aggressive. “Azzi, are you fucking serious right now?” she snapped, her voice rising. She tried to get closer to Azzi, but Paige was there again, stepping in and blocking her path.

“She clearly doesn’t wanna go with you, just let it go,” Paige said.

Amber scoffed, glaring at Paige like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She can speak for herself. She’s not a fucking toddler,” she shot back, her anger bubbling over.

The words seemed to snap Azzi out of her internal battle. She straightened her posture, inhaling deeply as she finally found her voice. “I’m just gonna stay with Paige tonight.”

Amber froze, her expression shifting from anger to shock as the weight of Azzi’s words sunk in. “What the fuck do you mean you’re staying with Paige tonight?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, the disbelief clear.

Azzi’s gaze didn’t falter as she replied, her voice a little firmer this time. “You can go be with whoever you want from law class and I’m going to stay with Paige.”

The room seemed to still, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Azzi didn’t need to elaborate further. The implication in her words was clear, and Amber understood exactly what she meant.

Amber let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head in disbelief as she looked between Azzi and Paige. “Wow,” she muttered. “Almost three years of my life down the fucking drain.”

For a moment, Amber stood there, her chest rising and falling as if she wanted to say more, but no words came. With a sharp turn, she stormed toward the counter. Grabbing an empty glass, she poured herself a hefty drink, the sound of liquid hitting glass cutting through the tense silence.

Azzi exhaled shakily, her shoulders slumping as the weight of the moment settled over her. She stared at the floor, processing everything, her mind racing with emotions she couldn’t untangle.

Paige noticed. She stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Azzi’s back to draw her attention. Azzi glanced at her, her watery eyes betraying the calm facade she was trying to keep.

“You good?” Paige asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

Azzi gave her a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she murmured, but the slight tremor in her voice told another story.

Paige studied her carefully, reading every detail—the tenseness of her shoulders, the glossiness of her pretty brown eyes, the way her hands fidgeted. She saw it all: the hurt, the relief, and the overwhelming weight of the decision Azzi had just made.

After a moment, Paige leaned in slightly. “You wanna get outta here?”

Azzi blinked quickly, trying to chase away the tears that were trying to spill over. She looked at Paige, the question hanging in the air like an open door, a perfect escape that she desperately needed. With a small nod, she said.

“Yes. Please.”

Without another word, Paige slid her arm around Azzi’s shoulders and Azzi melted into her side, leaning her head slightly against Paige's as they made their way to the door.

Some people in the room seemed to register the moment. Heads turned the weight of their departure together a little more serious.

…

After that, it was like the universe conspired to give Azzi small, quiet signs the rest of the night, reassuring her that she’d made the right decision.

The first came in the form of Paige when they got back to the room. She didn’t push or pry for information or what this meant for them; she simply held Azzi, her arms wrapped securely around her while silent tears slipped down Azzi’s face. It wasn’t dramatic or loud—just a quiet release as Azzi processed the reality of what had happened. She wasn’t exactly sad, but the weight of ending a nearly three-year relationship pressed on her chest.

Paige didn’t say anything. She didn’t try to fill the silence with platitudes or ask if Azzi wanted to talk. She just stayed there, letting Azzi’s tears fall against her chest, dampening her chest.

That was the first sign—because Azzi didn’t know anyone else, besides sweet and gentle Paige, who would hold the girl they were in love with while she cried over her ex. It was a selfless love that Azzi hadn’t experienced before, the kind of quiet genuine love that didn’t demand gratitude or expect anything in return.

Eventually, the tears slowed, Azzi’s body growing heavier in Paige’s arms. Her breathing evened out, her exhaustion catching up to her.

Paige didn’t move, didn’t let go, even as Azzi drifted to sleep against her chest, her tears drying where they’d fallen.

The next moment the universe seemed to confirm Azzi had made the right choice came later that night. Paige hadn’t fully let herself fall asleep yet. She was hovering in that space between wakefulness and rest, a part of her instinctively still alert because she knew what might happen.

Hours later, Azzi began to stir, soft murmurs turning into restless movements as her breathing changed. The effects of a bad dream pulled her out of sleep, and she woke with a slight panic.

But Paige was there.

Within seconds, Paige tightened her arms around Azzi, pulling her back down to the mattress, whispering groggily, “It’s just a dream, Az.” Her voice was a little raspy from sleep, barely above a murmur, but it anchored Azzi.

Azzi stayed still, her breath shaky as she tried to gather herself. Paige, still half-asleep, spooned her tightly, her hold warm and reassuring, her presence a contrast for Azzi’s frayed nerves. They didn’t say anything for a while, letting the silence stretch out between them as Paige’s coconut-and-vanilla scent surrounded Azzi.

Azzi lay there, her mind racing as she processed everything—where she finally was, who she was with, and how different it felt. Finally, she whispered, “Are you awake?”

Paige squeezed her tighter, pulling her closer into the spooning position, and hummed in response, the sound low in Azzi’s ear.

After a moment, Paige’s voice, still thick with sleep, asked, “You wanna talk about your dream?”

Azzi hesitated before asking, “How’d you know it was a bad dream?”

Even in the dark, Paige smiled, though Azzi couldn’t see it. “I noticed on a few road games,” she said softly, “you tend to have nightmares when you’ve had a lot of sugar that day.” Her voice carried a teasing warmth as she continued, “Almost like your mind needs to burn off all the extra energy or something.”

Azzi couldn’t help but let out a quiet laugh, her heart feeling lighter in a way she hadn’t expected. The way Paige noticed things like that—small, seemingly inconsequential details—made Azzi’s chest ache in the best way.

In that moment, Azzi allowed herself to fully confirm what she’d known for a while: Paige was the right one for her. She pressed herself further into Paige, her back snug against Paige’s chest, and interlaced their fingers, her palm pressing against the back of Paige’s hand.

Paige felt the shift and whispered, “You good?”

Azzi nodded, humming her confirmation, but Paige wasn’t fully convinced. “You can’t sleep anymore?” she asked gently, her thumb brushing over Azzi’s knuckles.

“No,” Azzi admitted quietly.

Paige tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s hair as she murmured, “What do you need? I can make you some tea or something.”

Azzi hesitated, her mind swirling. The weight of the day, the relief of being held by Paige, and the pull of something deeper. Finally, after a long moment, she shifted closer to Paige—though there was hardly any space left between them—and guided Paige’s hand lower, resting over her waistband, silently telling her what she wanted.

Paige stilled for a moment, processing Azzi’s request. Then, her fingers tightened slightly around Azzi’s hand. “Are you sure?” Paige whispered, making sure Azzi was fully in control of what she wanted.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Paige’s in the faint light spilling in through the blinds. “Yeah,” she whispered back, her voice steady despite the vulnerability in her gaze.

Paige leaned forward, pressing a soft lingering kiss to Azzi’s lips. She then trailed a few more kisses down Azzi’s neck, her movements slow, giving Azzi time to change her mind if she wanted to. Paige’s breath brushed against Azzi’s ear as she murmured, “Are you sure, Azzi?”

She nodded softly against Paige, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “Yes I’m sure,” she whispered.

Paige searched her face for another moment, wanting to be absolutely certain. When she found nothing but certainty in Azzi’s expression, she smiled back, her features softening. Her free hand brushed a strand of hair from Azzi’s face as she murmured, “Okay.”

She leaned in again, her lips trailing along Azzi’s jawline, her lips filled with nothing but care. Paige moved slowly, wanting to savor every moment and make sure Azzi felt safe after everything from earlier that night. After her lips have traced every part of Azzis neck, Paige softly grabs her jaw pulling her towards into a soft kiss. Their lips and tongues dance with one another perfectly as Paige leads them.

The kiss grew more urgent, both of them succumbing to the warmth spreading through their bodies and the slight alcohol still in their system. It was the kind of heat that made the air feel heavier, the kind that drew them closer despite the impossibleness of closing the already nonexistent gap between them.

Paige let out a low groan when Azzi nipped at her bottom lip, sending a shiver down her spine that she felt all the way to her toes. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips at the sound, emboldened by how easily she could unravel her.

Trying to turn in Paige’s arms to face her fully, Azzi shifted, but Paige tightened her hold, her hands firm as they kept Azzi in place. “Stay like this,” Paige murmured against her lips, her voice rough and breathless.

Azzi sighed softly at the words, her body relaxing into Paige’s as she allowed herself to be guided, her hands coming up to rest on top of Paige’s that were trailing up Azzi’s stomach to palm her breast under her sports bra. Making Azzi moan quietly.

Her head tilting slightly to give Paige more space, their lips meeting again in a kiss that was softer this time but no less consuming.

The world outside their little bubble ceased to exist. There was nothing but the sound of their uneven breaths and the muffled sounds of their kisses filling the 3 a.m. silence. Paige squeezed Azzi’s chest slightly, her palm warm as it anchored Azz here and there, Azzi couldn’t help the way her chest rose and fell a little quicker, her heart racing each time Paige palmed her breast or circling her fingers, as she surrendered to the moment.

The air between them is a little sticky with heat, the silence punctuated only by the occasional gasp or hum of pleasure as Paige's hand explores more boldly. Azzi's breath hitches when Paige's lips trail lower again, brushing against the soft skin of her neck, as she sucks softly here and there. A warmth spreads through Azzi and she tilts her head to give Paige more room, her body quickly reacting in ways she hadn't expected. It usually took her so much longer.

Paige is completely lost in the moment too, her fingers grazing over Azzi's skin, exploring the curves of her body with a gentle urgency.

She can feel the quick rhythm of Azzi's heartbeat beneath her touch and the slight tremor in her movements every time she takes a deep breath. It's a silent conversation between them, that speaks of trust and longing, of desires barely held in check.

Paige pauses just for a moment, her lips hovering over Azzi's skin. "Can I leave marks?" she whispers again, her voice still soft but filled with a hint of need. Azzi reaches back as her fingers curl into Paige's hair, tugging her down to meet her lips for a moment. "Just make sure it’s below my jersey," she murmurs.

Paige nods at this as she goes back to sucking on Azzi’s neck, only sucking harshly when she angled herself enough to be near her chest. This made Azzi hum quietly each time as she grew more needy.

The tension between them thickens as Azzi, unable to hold herself back, pushes herself back against Paige with more urgency.

Paige doesn't hesitate, sensing her need, and her hand slides into Azzi’s shorts down to where Azzi's body is calling out for more. The touch alone causes a soft whimper to escape Azzi’s as Paige drags her fingers through her wetness.

Azzi's whimpers, her body reacting immediately to the feeling. Paige smiles to herself, the sound of Azzi's breathless response sending a rush of heat through her.

"How do you like it, pretty girl?" Paige whispers, her voice low and teasing Azzi a little as she continues rubbing against her, brushing her lips along Azzi's neck.

Azzi barely manages to catch her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. It's almost too much for her to process, her body demanding more but her mind clouded with desire that she never wants to end. She struggles to find her voice, a soft tremble in her response. "I don’t know... I haven’t done a lot," she breathes, her words catching.

Paige chuckles softly, her lips gently tracing the outline of Azzi's jaw, coaxing her to speak. "You still gotta tell me what you want," she murmurs, her thumb brushing Azzi's lips.

Azzi, breath hitching, whines quietly in response, the word spilling out of her before she even fully realizes it. "Rough."

A slow hum escapes Paige at the confession. There's a slight pause, a moment where she evaluates, making sure Azzi is sure. "You wanna try it?" she asks.

Azzi nods, eyes half-lidded, her voice almost a whisper. "Just a little for now."

Paige nods with a small, satisfied smile.

"Mm. Okay." She adjusts so she can tangle her fingers in Azzi’s hair to tug slightly, pulling her head back just enough to expose more of her neck. Her other hand continues its journey, her movements deliberate as she works Azzi up, feeling Azzi's pulse quicken beneath her touch.

Azzi immediately gasps as Paige yanks her hair back again and inserts her fingers at the same time. Paige keeping Azzi close as she works her fingers in and out.

Azzi, who has always prided herself on her composure, found herself straining to stay silent. Every brush of Paige’s lips, every gentle tug of her hands in Azzi’s hair and the way she was moving in and out of her with ease, sent shockwaves through Azzi that begged for release in the form of a sound. But she bit down hard on the inside of her cheek, refusing to let the smallest escape.

Their situation was far too complicated for anyone to find out like this, especially not their teammates. Azzi’s mind flickered briefly to how disastrous it would be if someone heard them, but even that thought wasn’t enough to fully pull her back from the haze of desire Paige had her in.

Paige noticed the tension in Azzi’s body and the shallow rise and fall of her chest. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she trailed kisses and bites along the column of Azzi’s neck, testing just how far she could push her.

“Struggling, huh?” Paige whispered, her lips brushing the shell of Azzi’s ear.

Azzi shivered but didn’t respond, her nails digging slightly into Paige’s arm definitely leaving nail marks. She bit her lip harder, trying to focus on anything other than the way Paige’s mouth was wreaking havoc on her self-control.

Paige chuckled softly at her silence, the sound vibrating against Azzi’s skin and making it even harder for her to stay quiet. “Relax,” Paige murmured, her voice softer now, her lips pressing a kiss just below Azzi’s ear. “I’ll make sure you stay quiet.”

The reassurance helped, only a little, but it was still a battle for Azzi to keep her composure. Her heart raced as she nodded faintly, leaning back into Paige, trusting her to keep them both grounded.

They stayed just like that for some time. Paige whispering in Azzi’s ear as she worked in and out of her and Azzi biting her lip or pushing her face into the pillow to try to muffle some of the sounds slipping out of her.

Eventually Azzi starts pushing herself further into Paige trying to match her rhythm as Paige's grip tightens in Azzi's hair, pulling her head back just enough for her lips to brush against Azzi's ear. Her voice a little rough, full of her restrained desire as she mumbled, “You feel so fucking good.”

Azzi whimpered at the words, her breathing unsteady as she said, “It’s so hard to stay quiet.” Her voice cracked slightly, her desperation evident, and it made Paige’s chest tighten in the best way.

“I know,” Paige chuckled softly, her tone laced with amusement. “I can tell.” Her lips grazed Azzi’s jawline before she whispered, “You’re doing so good.”

The praise sent heat through Azzi’s legs, and before she could stop herself, she was desperately reaching back to grab Paige's head and pulling her into a desperate kiss. It was the only way she could think to quiet herself, to channel everything she was feeling without letting any more sounds escape.

Paige groaned softly into her kiss, her hands sinking deeper into Azzi, her other hand still tangled in her hair as she held her firmly in place. She met Azzi’s need with her own, kissing her deeply, almost possessively. Azzi whimpered again at the new angle, and Paige swallowed the sound, her lips and tongue moving against Azzi’s in a way that made the world around them disappear.

Azzi’s neediness grew, her hands clutching at Paige as if letting go would shatter her. The kiss deepened further, their breaths mingling as Azzi melted into Paige, unable to think of anything but the way her body responded to Paige as if it had never been touched before.

Paige pulled back just enough to murmur against Azzi’s lips, her voice breathless but teasing. “You still good on being quiet?”

Azzi’s eyes fluttered open, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed as she whispered, “Not if you keep fucking me like this.”

Paige chuckles before leaning back down to pull Assi into a kiss as she continues working her fingers in and out of Azzi. She wants to do so much more to her but she’s taking it slow for Azzi who is less experienced. Not long after, Azzi's legs are squeezing around Paige's hand as she starts to chase her release.

Paige senses Azzi's growing struggle to stay quiet, knowing just how difficult it’s going to be. So she brings her free arm under Azzi, guiding her hand to Azzi’s lips. “Bite down,” Paige whispers, her voice low.

Azzi hesitates for a moment, confusion flashing across her face before the pressure builds as Paige starts curling her fingers perfectly as she adds her thumb to Azzi’s clit. Feeling overwhelmed by this she does exactly as Paige instructed. Her teeth sinking into Paige’s hand, a sharp, almost desperate grip as her body starts trembling. Her legs squeezing Paige’s hand impossibly tight as she finishes all over her hand.

The sensation sends a wave of heat through Paige, but the bite is harsh, almost painful, as Azzi fights to stay silent. Paige, feeling the intensity of the bite, clenches her jaw but when that's not enough she quickly presses her lips to Azzi's shoulder, the sting of her own discomfort igniting a need to counter it. Her teeth graze Azzi's skin, just enough to distract from the sharp bite, as both of them are caught in the tension of the moment as Paige coaxes Azzi through her release.

As Azzi’s breathing finally began to slow, still uneven but no longer shaky as Paige pressed soft kisses to her shoulder and the back of her neck. Grounding Azzi as she murmured against her skin, “You’re so beautiful... so perfect Azzi….” Her voice was a soothing balm, wrapping Azzi in warmth.

Azzi felt herself going limp against Paige, her body almost like dead weight, but Paige didn’t let go. She held her firmly.

After some time, Azzi shifted, turning to face Paige. Her brown eyes were hazy, her lips slightly parted as she tried to process the moment. Paige reached up, her wet fingers brushing Azzi’s lips gently.

“Open,” Paige whispered, her voice soft but commanding.

Still in a daze, Azzi obeyed without hesitation, parting her lips as Paige slid her fingers into Azzi’s mouth letting her taste herself. Azzi instinctively wrapped her lips around them, her eyes fluttering as she felt the intimacy of the gesture. Paige’s eyes softened, a quiet smile gracing her lips as she watched Azzi experience something new, her thumb of her free hand brushing over Azzi’s cheek.

Paige slowly withdrew her fingers, leaning in to kiss Azzi tenderly. Their lips met in a slow kiss that felt like a question and an answer all at once. When they finally broke apart, Paige cupped Azzi’s face, her thumb grazing her jawline.

“You okay?” Paige asked, her blue eyes searching Azzi’s for any hint of hesitation or regret.

Azzi nodded, her eyes hooded, her voice barely above a whisper as she said, “Yeah... I’m more than okay.”

"Come here," Paige whispered softly, as she tugged Azzi closer. Azzi let herself be pulled, settling onto Paige’s chest with ease. Her head rested just over Paige’s heart, and the steady, rhythmic sound filled her ears. It wasn’t completely calm, though—it was hammering in her chest, quick and unsteady, a stark contrast to the soothing hand Paige had resting on her back.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her voice quiet. “Your heart’s beating fast.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, the vibrations against Azzi’s cheek. “Of course it is,” she admitted, but she didn’t offer any further explanation. She didn’t need to—Azzi already knew what it meant.

Azzi opened her mouth to say something, to ask if Paige was sure about all of this, but before she could, Paige leaned down and caught her lips in another kiss. It wasn’t rushed or full of heat like the others they’d shared tonight—it was grounding, a soft reassurance.

When they broke apart, Paige murmured, “Just relax Az. We can talk about it later.”

Azzi nodded, settling back into Paige’s chest as her breathing evened out. She reached down to intertwine their hands, wanting the simple connection, but she froze when her fingers brushed against Paige’s hand. Her eyes widened slightly as she felt the harsh indentations there.

She gasped softly. “Oh my God,” Azzi whispered, realizing she’d left marks.

Paige chuckled again, her tone more playful this time. “Yeah… I don’t know what the hell you’re going to do when I start doing everything else.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, letting out a small laugh as she tucked herself back against Paige’s chest. The teasing didn’t faze her at all because she knew it was lighthearted. Instead, she focused on the comforting rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat, the sound lulling her further into a state of peace she hasn’t felt in a while.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi allowed herself to sink into the moment fully. As she listened to Paige’s heartbeat, soothing her to sleep, the truth she’d been fighting hard to ignore surfaced in her mind. She was in love with Paige. Completely and irrevocably.

And for once, she didn’t feel the need to push it away as she kissed Paige’s neck softly before drifting in her arms.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Girl and Her Boys

Platonic Stobin + Eddie || wc: 2.3k || rating: G || tags: platonic love, platonic fic, platonic stobie (steddin?), tooth-rotting fluff, humor || Robin's worried the boys have some shenanigans planned for her Spring Band Concert... and she's right

~~~

If Eddie Munson had just watched Steve’s basketball game like a normal person, instead of a nonconformist lunatic, everything would’ve been just fine. Robin really should’ve known better, shouldn’t have been surprised when he showed up carrying a giant sign with Steve’s name and player number on it that read ‘best ball shooter’ with a little devil on it. 

Whenever Steve had the ball, Eddie screamed louder than the most obnoxious dads. At some point, the man pulled a damn kazoo out of his pocket along with those stupid, plastic hand clappers to celebrate Steve’s first three-pointer. 

Everyone was staring, the boys on the bench turning to sneer at him. She could feel the people around them slowly scooching away and her face burned with embarrassment. Finally, after two rounds of the Star Spangled Banner via kazoo, she turned to beg him to sit down only to then catch Steve wave out of the corner of her eye. 

She could see the blush across his face, not from exertion, but from a smile so wide that it glistened in his eyes. Eddie waved, face on fire. Robin gave him a scathing side eye when he’d turned to her and said “What, I just wanted him to notice me,” with a mischievous glint to his smile.

Robin had assumed Steve would be the bigger person and move on. He never said anything after the game, only smiling ear to ear like a puppy dog after doing a particularly impressive trick. However, she greatly underestimated her soulmate’s ability to be an absolute shit head.

Which is how a typically casual Friday night at the Hideout for Eddie’s gig turned out to be exceptionally uncasual and supremely atypical. 

She was clad in head-to-toe pastels. Nancy hadn’t agreed to come to the show, but she allowed Robin to rummage through her closet, fully on board with her and Steve’s shenanigans. Robin had picked out a pair of white heels, lavender stockings, a frilly, pink dress, and– her piece de resistance– a white cowboy hat. 

Steve’s outfit was made up of his own clothes, just taken to new heights. He wore not one, but two polo shirts, the white collar underneath popped up over his pale pink polo on the outside. His acid washed jeans looked tighter than normal, and he’d paired them with shiny, white, Adidas high-tops. Robin had laughed as she dug through his glove box on the ride over, pulling out her favorite electric blue sunglasses for him to wear. They tied the entire outfit together.

Steve had suggested making signs, “In case he can’t hear us when he’s on stage,” and definitely not as payback. All in all, they were pretty impressive. Each one dripped glitter over the sticky bar floor, although the pink puff-paint held together nicely. Robin was particularly proud of her own sign, ‘rock and roll is for sinners and winners’. She was, however, surprised when she read Steve’s ‘I’ve got the devil in me’ sign. They’d made a bit of a spectacle of themselves, waving them high above their heads as they screamed along to the few lyrics they actually knew.

The band razzed Eddie about it, but none of it mattered in the long run. Robin remembers the embarrassed flush scrawled across Eddie’s face when he caught sight of them. He’d strutted across the stage, trying to move as far from them as possible. Much like the small crowd of confused regulars creating a wide, empty space around them. In the end, Eddie always came back, smile wide and genuine and full of love.

So here Robin sits, stewing with anxiety while trying to think of what they’ve got planned now that it’s her turn. She fiddles with the trumpet in her lap as she waits for the Spring Band and Orchestra Concert to start. Her black slacks from last year are uncomfortably tight around her hips, and the white blouse her mom picked out keeps snagging on the back of the too small plastic chair she’s perched on. The garbled mess of voices ringing through the gymnasium matches the zinging swarm of bees in her stomach.

She frantically scans the crowd in front of her, but doesn’t spot them anywhere. Robin’s parents and grandparents are going to be here and she knows the boys will have something obnoxious planned. They’ve been suspiciously nonchalant all week, almost sickeningly nice.

But when the freshman band starts playing, she still can’t find them, surprised they’re not sitting up front. She tries to look around but can’t find them in the crowd. Disappointed, she starts to wonder if they actually forgot. Robin did her best to bring up the concert as little as possible, not wanting to give them time to plan anything extravagant. She wonders now if that was a mistake.

When it’s finally time for the upperclassmen’s turn, she’s forced to give up her search. She plays her melodies, counts her bars, and tries to forget about how her boys aren’t here, knowing there must be a hell of a reason to miss it. 

The brass section dwindles down to the woodwinds. The notes fade out completely, leaving a one beat pause before the flutes are supposed to take off in a frenzy. Robin hates playing songs like this. It feels like a cheap trick, some kind of gimmick her music teacher comes up with to see if he can pull one over on unsuspecting families who think the song has finished. 

It works, like it always does. Soft, scattered applause breaks out in the crowd. Her teacher’s smug smile is wiped from his face as loud, obnoxious clapping echoes off the gymnasium walls. The kids are failing to contain faint giggles and snorts of laughter. Even though this happens almost every year, it’s definitely never this damn dramatic.

Robin sits up just a little bit higher to peek over the winds section and, sure enough, in the dead center of the crowd, there’s a head of frizzy, curly hair standing tall and proud. Aside from the outburst, Robin’s actually impressed Eddie managed to dress up a bit. He’s wearing what has to be one of Steve’s navy button down shirts along with his nicest pair of black skinny jeans, sans rips and holes.

Apparently being in a band doesn’t translate to understanding when a song is actually over. He glances around, red bursting over his cheeks as everyone stares back at him. Robin has to stand slightly to catch a glimpse of Steve sitting next to him. Her best friend is slowly sinking down into his chair in a fruitless attempt to hide. He’s wearing a light blue button up, most likely with his beige slacks. Steve’s flush is somehow an even brighter shade of red than Eddie’s. He’s hiding an awkward laugh behind his fist, and Robin can’t help but smile wide and unguarded at the mirth shining in his eyes. 

These two absolute idiots.

Eddie opens his mouth, but thankfully whatever he’s about to say is cut short by Steve grabbing a hold of his shirt sleeve and yanking him back down into his seat. Robin manages to catch Steve’s eye, and he breaks out into a stupid, adorable puppy-dog grin. He does his signature little finger wave. She snorts, matching his gesture.

Eddie leans in front of Steve’s face to look at her between rows of heads and waves manically back and forth. Robin’s fully laughing now as she waves back. There’s an elbow in her side and before she can snarl at the guy next to her, he nods towards where the conductor stands glaring at her, hands hanging in the air waiting to continue the piece. 

The flutes start up, but it’s still a few bars before her first note. So of course her eyes stray to the clarinets. Vickie’s already looking at her, smiling small but genuine. Beautiful and divine. Vickie rolls her eyes fondly and Robin only replies with a half-hearted shrug. 

The boys manage to make it through the rest of the concert without causing another scene. The conductor prompts the band to rise for a bow, and polite applause breaks out throughout the crowd once more. That’s when she hears it– hell, everyone in the school probably hears it. 

Eddie and Steve wolf whistle at the same time. It’s followed by an eruption of plastic clapper applause and shouts of ‘Go, Buck!’ and ‘Hell yeah that’s my Birdie!’ Robin can’t contain the bubbles of happiness bursting in her chest, leaving her light as air. 

She looks out and sees Steve holding another homemade sign covered in glitter that reads ‘Buckley blows the best horn’. Just as Eddie explodes a confetti popper– what Robin assumes is the first of many he has stashed in his pockets– the principal appears out of thin air to scruff them both by the neck and drag them out into the hallway. She can’t read his lips from this far away, but she can see Eddie yapping away, completely unbothered. 

Fuck, Robin truly loves these boys. Her goons, her dinguses, her schmucks.

The band leaves through the side door, heading straight to the music room to store their instruments before meeting their loved ones in the cafeteria. 

“Hey,” Vickie says, out of breath from jogging to catch up, “you did a really good job.” Robin doesn’t think Vickie could specifically pick her out from the rest of trumpets–at least hopefully not– but she takes the compliment anyway. 

“Thanks,” she shouts, a little too excited. And in typical Robin fashion, has zero follow up comments. So they walk down the hall together in silence, students around them buzzing with excitement. 

Vickie clears her throat, and bumps her shoulder against Robin’s. “It’s really nice your boyfriend came to watch you play.” Vickie sighs, deflating, “Wish mine had, anyways.” 

Robin doesn’t even process Vickie’s second statement before screeching, “I’m not dating Eddie Munson! We’re just friends.” 

“Oh,” Vickie smiles, emerald eyes wide and beautiful at Robin’s little outburst, “I guess I meant Steve Harrington. Everyone knows you’re dating. And, I mean, I see you two together in the morning sometimes– not that I’m stalking you or anything,” but her adorable stumbling doesn’t matter in the face of Robin’s blatant disgust. 

“Ugh gross absolutely not, he’s like my brother. My dingus, my very platonic soulmate. Like a long-lost twin separated at birth kind of thing, but also way more annoying.” 

“Oh good,” Vickie answers. Her eyes grow large, mouth falling open in shock as she stutters, “I’m sorry, I mean… It's not good. But it’s not, not good. You know?” 

Robin actually doesn’t know, so she just smiles, bumping shoulders again because the spot where their shoulders touched before is still tingling and she wants more. Vickie relaxes next to her. They’re quiet after that, but it’s a good quiet, filled with stolen glances and hidden smiles. It’s not until they’re both headed back towards the cafeteria when Robin finally realizes what Vickie said. 

“I’m sorry your boyfriend couldn’t make it,” Robin placates, hopefully drawing up enough of a fake smile to make it seem real. She does feel bad for Vickie, but she’s not sad about it. 

Vickie pulls her lips between her teeth into a thin, angry line. She groans in annoyance, and it’s the most Robin’s ever seen her complain, almost always a bubbly ray of sunshine. It reminds her of when Steve gets bitchy, and she love it. “He could’ve made it if he actually wanted to be here,” she huffs. “Apparently going to a party with his friends is a better way to spend his Saturday night.” 

Robin’s eyebrows are raised when Vickie turns to look at her, causing her to scoff out a laugh. “I know, I shouldn’t complain,” Vickie says, obviously not meaning a single word, “but the person you’re dating is supposed to watch your crappy, high school band concert, right?” 

Person. 

Vickie didn’t say boyfriend, she said ‘person’ you’re dating. It probably doesn’t mean anything… definitely, for sure doesn’t. It still doesn’t stop Robin from blushing like one of the hundreds of women Steve hits on every day at work. Fuck, she’s no better than one of Harrington’s bimbos. 

“They should definitely be here.” Robin smiles at her sympathetically, and Vickie thanks her before they walk into the noisy cafeteria. “I’ll see you Monday?” Vickie asks, heading off to visit her family. Robin nods, feeling the dark blush blossom on her cheeks as Vickie smiles, eyes shining with delight.

Robin finally spots her own family, and it’s standard procedure. Congratulations from her parents, telling her ‘Nice job’ and ‘You all sounded so good’ but it’s the comment from her grandmother, whispered in her ear in a tight hug, which catches her off guard.

“Your boy’s waiting for you,” she nods over Robin’s shoulder. She turns to find Steve grinning his dopey I love you smile at her. It’s her favorite, something special just for her. Lost in her soulmate’s gaze, her grandma gives Robin a soft elbow to the stomach to grab her attention. “I think you found yourself a good one.”

And honestly, Robin can’t find it in herself to spout her usual arguments of ‘he’s not my boy,’ because Steve is hers. He’ll always be hers just like she’ll always be his. They still love each other, still plan to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s just not the kind of love most people expect. 

It’s a kind of love that’s theirs, and theirs alone. 

Well, and Eddie’s too, of course.

Robin smiles back at her grandmother, a wet sheen to her eyes. “Yeah, I really did, didn’t I?”

[suckunaa]

hate to be lame - hockey!satoru gojo x artist/influencer!reader

summary - you and satoru gojo have been best friends for years. you've also both spent years pining after each other on and off. when you like him he's wrapped up in a new relationship. when he admits to himself he has feelings for you, suddenly you're completely infatuated with the guy you just met at brunch. the timing never seems to be right and you're starting to think that just maybe, that's a sign that the two of you are better off as just friends.

chapter 3 - it's always on the tip of my tongue (masterlist) prev

word count: 6.3k

contains: f reader, crude language, a lil bit of fluff and a lil bit of angst 18+ only MDNI

it had been a couple of weeks since you had ditched gojo at brunch. you hadn't seen him since, though not for lack of trying on his part. you weren't even actually going out of your way to avoid him; his team had had three consecutive road games and you had a quickly approaching deadline for some art pieces a gallery had commissioned from you for one of their upcoming shows. you tended to turn into a hermit the closer you got to finishing pieces, wanting to devote every ounce of yourself to your craft.

satoru understood that, of course he did, but despite you insisting you were fine, he could tell you were still upset with him. your texts were infrequent and often emotionless, a far cry from your usual demeanor. he'd tried to see you immediately after he had realized you had left him behind at brunch, but mei mei had beat him to your apartment and wouldn't let him in. when he’d asked why she’d replied with “if you have to ask then you definitely don’t get to see her.”

the thing was, satoru was not actually an idiot. he might speak without thinking, say careless or stupid things to get a laugh, had a laid back demeanor the majority of the time - but he wasn’t an idiot. you leaving brunch in a huff was both a dream come true and a nightmare all at once. dream come true because the only logical conclusion he could come to was that you were mad about his run in with rumi because you reciprocated the feelings he secretly had for you. nightmare, because he knew how bad it had looked, the way rumi had held onto his arm, the kiss she had initiated.

he wasn’t actually sure what you had seen, for all he knew just seeing him and rumi breathing the same air might set you off - a thought he had only because seeing you that close to the guy you went on a date with last month would probably cause him to crash out. the only reason he didn’t feel that way when he saw you around choso was because he knew with absolute certainty that neither you nor his teammate were interested in the other.

but he didn’t want to have this conversation over text. he wanted it face to face, where neither of you could hide behind emojis and memes and more importantly, where he couldn’t chicken out. for as certain as he felt what you ditching him at brunch meant, there was still a part of him that was unsure. maybe the reason you’d gotten mad and left had nothing to do with rumi. maybe he’d said something that hadn’t initially bothered you but the more you thought about it, the more it pissed you off. or maybe the reason you’d gone home alone despite just having invited him over had nothing to do with him and maybe your distance from him the past two weeks also had nothing to do with him.

maybe.

but, satoru gojo wasn’t actually an idiot.

◎・v・●・v･○・v・◎・v・●・v･○・v・◎・v・●・v･○・v・◎

it wasn’t like this was the first time you’d gone more than two weeks without seeing satoru. hell, it wasn’t even entirely unusual. it was true that you both made an effort to hang out when your schedules allowed, but you were both entrenched in demanding careers that there had been times it simply hadn’t been possible to see each other.

but you had always been available to him emotionally even when physically you were kept apart. he’d complain about something and you’d sympathize and coddle him or you’d tell him he was being a baby and to suck it up. however, when he’d complained to you yesterday about feeling like his coach was riding his ass for no reason, all you’d said was “that sucks.” no words of advice, no witty quip, no offer to bring him his favorite ice cream - nothing.

you were starting to feel a little bad. kind of. after your disastrous brunch, mei mei had come over and you had been completely open and honest with her. your feelings for satoru (to which she had replied “yeah i know”), how you thought you two were on the same page, how you had invited him over because you wanted to a throw yourself at him, how you’d seen him with rumi.

you’d been embarrassed when you started crying; embarrassed because you knew mei mei was your one friend who had always clocked the fact that you had feelings for satoru and had never even pretended to believe you when you insisted otherwise. embarrassed because despite what you had seen with him and rumi, you couldn’t get it out of your head that he had been extra flirty and physically affectionate with you and all that made you wonder now is if you’d missed your chance by being too chicken shit to say anything to him before he had ever met her. embarrassed because despite that, your imagination had already run wild and convinced part of you that he was all but in love with rumi now.

embarrassed because you were crying over satoru fucking gojo.

he was your best friend. you knew his reputation for having a string of flings was based in reality, that the rumors of him being a fuckboy weren’t just rumors. you knew he’d never once said “i love you” to any of his past girlfriends, not even the one he’d dated for two years (his longest relationship). he had never once in all the years you had known him expressed interest in a serious relationship.

you two would be huddled up on your couch, watching a romcom and while you were waxing on poetically about how romantic the story was and how you wanted something like that, he’d be rolling his eyes and complaining that the whole movie was unrealistic and would never work out in real life.

you should have known better than to fall for your best friend.

but mei mei had let you cry that night, had coddled you and brushed your hair while you tried to watch a tv show to distract yourself. she had made sure you showered and ordered dinner while you did so, made sure your skincare routine was done after getting you in your coziest pair of pj’s, braided your hair for you while you watched a documentary on renaissance painters. she made sure you drank enough water (“have to replenish all those tears you just spilled” she’d joked but you knew she was looking out for you), got you into bed and turned on your favorite show to fall asleep to.

she had eventually gotten into bed next to you, stealing an old oversized shirt of yours to sleep in, and it had been comforting when you’d woken up from a nightmare about everyone you loved leaving you to turn around and see the familiar shape of mei mei’s back, her light snoring the only indication she was asleep (she was an incredibly still sleeper and that had always freaked you out just a bit).

and the next morning, you had woken up to find out that she had woken up before you, the smell of breakfast drawing you out of your room. she had let you eat and enjoy your coffee in relative silence, and when you had finished she had put her own mug of coffee down on the table and looked you straight in the eyes with a gaze that was hard to turn away from.

“you have to tell satoru how you feel.” you flinched at the bluntness of her words, shifted uncomfortably in your seat. when you didn’t say anything, she pressed on. “it’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to you. everything that happened yesterday was based on assumption.” she paused, head tilting to the side. “i mean, to me it’s clear as day that the two of you have feelings for each other. but neither of you have ever actually said it out loud to each other. you just finally admitted it to me last night even though i clocked that at least two years ago.”

she paused again, this time to take a sip of her coffee. “you don’t know what happened with rumi. you turned away before you actually saw them kiss - which i’m not blaming you for. he told you he barely knows her, if you really think he was reciprocating your actions and feelings yesterday, would he really be stupid enough to throw that all away for some chick he barely knows? and yes, i know we’re talking about gojo. that’s why i know how much he cares about you and values your relationship.”

more silence, you both sipping on coffee while you mull her words over. eventually you reply, looking away from her because you swore she was staring straight into your soul and you didn’t want to deal with the harsh reality of being seen. “you’ve never said any of this to me before, you know. you’ve just always tried to get me to admit to my feelings, but you’ve never really told me what you… observe on his end.”

because mei mei was an observer. that’s why your feelings for your best friend had been so obvious to her. she paid attention to details that most people barely noticed, was intelligent as all hell and could put together fragments of puzzle pieces others didn’t even know existed. she wasn’t afraid to question people, dig around to find the information she was looking for. and yet, she had never once told you that she thought satoru felt the same way, had never pushed you to admit your feelings and that it would be fine because it was obvious he felt the same way.

“look, i may love to scheme a little and stick my nose in everyone’s business, but i’m not cupid interfering in everyone’s love life.” you arched an eyebrow at her, her hands immediately flying up to say wait. “it doesn’t count if someone is cheating and i tell their partner to look into it, okay? but i thought if you ever finally told him how you feel, it should be because you were confident enough to do so, not because i forced you.”

another beat of silence. “and now?”

“i can’t watch one of the people i care the most about continually get hurt. that’s why you need to tell him. it’s either going to work out or it’s not, but do you really think you’ll get over him and not spend your life wondering what if if you never say anything and just try to push past your feelings?” you wished she didn’t make so much sense. part of you resented her for being so straightforward when all you wanted to do was keep playing pretend.

a long, drawn out sigh leaves your lips, followed by a groan before you put your head down on the table top and closed your eyes. you would have probably sat like that forever if you didn’t know that mei mei, stubborn and headstrong, would sit there for just as long until you decided to say something.

you didn’t though, not for a couple more minutes. and then finally, you picked your head up, shoulders sagging as you nodded. “fine. i’ll tell him. but… i just need to find the right time.” you thought your friends eyes were going to bug right out of her head, but you held up a hand before she could open her mouth. “i will do it, i promise. i just need to clear my head first, and i think we’re both pretty busy the next week or so.”

this seems to satiate mei mei, her face conceding as her features relaxed. she had then stood up and made her way behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders to hug you from behind. your hands lifted up to rest on her arms, giving her a gentle squeeze. “thank you, for… all of this. and taking care of me.”

mei mei pressed a kiss to the side of your head, smoothing your hair as she let go of you and stood up. she’d stayed for another half hour before leaving you alone. all you had wanted to do was have another day of wallowing in your feelings but you had pieces to work on, and working on them was the next best therapeutic thing for you.

and that was where you had spent most of the past two weeks, holed away in the little studio space you rented to work on your art in. you were currently sitting on a stool in front of an easel, eyes carefully studying the painting in front of you. it was almost finished - anyone else looking at it would have thought it already was.

but there was something you couldn’t place your finger on, something that left you feeling like it was unfinished. you couldn’t figure out what though, a frustrated sigh filling the room before you tore your gaze away, looking around the space that surrounded you. it was bright, full of large windows to give you natural light, messy in a way that made sense to you, plants because you liked taking care of them and they made the space feel all that more homey.

and then your eyes landed on a canvas propped up against one of the side walls. it was full of blues and purples, some sort of depiction of night time at the beach. that was what satoru had told you, at least. the last time he had visited you at your studio you had allowed him to have one singular canvas that he could do whatever he pleased with. this had caused him an endless amount of joy, and besides the fact it kept him out of your hair, it had made you happy to watch the childlike wonder radiate off him.

fuck.

it hit you then, that maybe the reason you couldn't figure out what was missing from the painting in front of you was the fact that you had left your relationship with satoru unfinished. he was still your best friend, you still wanted him to be in your life always, you still had deep rooted feelings for him, and you still hadn't told him yet. you did intend to keep your promise to mei mei, but every time you psyched yourself up to do it you found a way to talk yourself out of it.

you couldn't put it off any longer though, the strain on your friendship was eating away at you and maybe even more importantly, you fucking missed him. and so, you picked up your phone and texted first mei mei and then satoru. you weren't going to hide anymore.

"fuck, I know it's supposed to be cold but is it really supposed to be this cold?" mei mei pulled her black team coat over herself tightly as the two of you walked to your seats. she was also friends with a good amount of the team and had probably been to just as many games as you had - and she was right. the air in the arena felt a little more chill than normal, and you had started to think you were being oversensitive with the thought of talking to satoru afterwards. it was a relief, actually, when your friend voiced her complaint and you mentally scolded yourself; you had to get a grip.

"I'm gonna go and get us some coffee, I'm gonna be grumpy if I don't get some caffeine and warmth in me..." you nodded in response as mei mei walked off, leaving you to get settled into your seat alone (row one, because of course satoru made sure you had some of the best seats). you were earlier than you had meant to be, intending to show up a few minutes before the puck drop and instead, the players were just now taking to the ice for warm up.

and there he was, satoru gojo gliding gracefully on the ice. ever since you'd known him, you'd always loved to watch him play hockey. even in middle school, he'd been incredibly skilled already. laser fast and fearless, watching him had left you in awe. he had been your introduction to hockey, and when he found out you'd never even been ice skating before he had insisted on taking you to the ice rink to teach you.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you noticed him raising a hand and waving at someone - no, waving at you. you gave him a wave back, a small smile curling at your lips instinctively. it didn't take long before fans were trying to get his attention and his focus was drawn away from you. what mattered to you in that moment was the fact that you had gotten his focus first.

you watched as the team participated in warm up drills, biting back a laugh as sukuna turned to yell at whoever accidentally hit him with a puck only to find it was yuji, the older brother's expression softening as he rolled his eyes and turned his focus back to what he was doing. you had always thought it was kind of sweet, the way sukuna, who was tough as nails always, softened up just a bit when it came to his younger brothers.

you were better friends with choso out of the three. choso who always seemed to look out for you in his own way, was always there to lend an ear when you needed one. unlike your relationship with gojo, the one you had with choso was rooted in purely platonic feelings. you suspected he knew of your feelings for satoru but unlike mei mei, he had never brought it up directly. instead giving advice that gently pushed you in the right direction without adding any pressure.

cho gave you a quick wave as he skated by, mei mei finally returning with two coffees, holding one out to you. you grabbed it greedily, taking a cautious sip and feeling your body relax as soon as you felt the warm liquid wash down. "know what I've always noticed when I come to games? especially when you're here." you turned your head to look at your friend as she sat down, her eyes trained on the scene in front of you: hockey fans standing around the glass to watch warm ups, some with signs asking for pucks, hopeful they might catch the attention of their favorite player.

she glanced at you and caught your raised eyebrow, smirking as her attention went back to the ice. "gojo almost always only goes to say hi to the kids trying to get his attention. all those wannabe hockey WAGs?" her chin gestured to a couple of pretty girls, dolled up and positioning themselves to get noticed. "he never gives them the time of day."

you shrug, trying to pretend you don't know what she's getting at. "unfair to characterize them as wannabe WAGs, pretty girls are hockey fans too." mei mei shoved your arm gently, eliciting a laugh from you as you grinned over at her. "alright you know what I was getting at you stubborn brat." you leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, finishing off the rest of your coffee before settling back into your seat. "I know I know, thank you mei mei. let's just focus on the game for now or else i'm gonna lose my nerve."

besides the fact that you knew she would hold you accountable later about being honest with satoru about your feelings, mei mei was one of your favorite people to come to games with. she knew the game inside and out, was the first to yell at the refs when they made questionable calls and the first to cheer choso on when he dropped his gloves to fight a player on the other team who had made a questionable hit on megumi. she was passionate and it made watching games all the more fun for you, feeding off of her energy. it was actually what had finally gotten you to bother to actually learn most of the rules to the game so you also knew when refs made shitty calls (or when they let things go that they shouldn't have), though satoru had tried for years to get you to care about them.

the game ended eventually, a blowout that saw the final score 4-1 - satoru's team had won. they were fucking good, and you realized how much you had missed watching them play. it had probably only been a month since you had last been to a game, but you were making a mental note to try to come to them more regularly.

you and mei mei stayed in your seats even as the crowd started to clear out. the players were already off the ice, back in the locker room while a mix of after game interviews and showers happened. you typically would wait for satoru outside the locker rooms, but tonight as the arena grew quieter and quieter you found you kind of preferred this, the chill air and the muffled silence.

or maybe it was just you making it harder for satoru to find you when he was ready to leave, there was no real telling. even so, mei mei sat with you until he did find you, and only then did she get up. "i'm going to grab dinner with geto and some others, let me know if you need me."

you nodded before she left, giving satoru a curt nod before she made her way out of the arena. wordlessly, he moved to sit next to you. neither of you said anything, watching as the ice was cleaned in silence. eventually, you leaned your head over and rested it on his shoulder, your hand reaching out to take hold of one of his. instinctively, his own head rested on top of yours, squeezing your hand tightly like he was afraid to let go of it.

"I'm sorry." "i'm sorry."

you both said at the same time, causing him to let out a soft half-chuckle while you let out a deep sigh. you gave his hand a squeeze, shutting your eyes. "we need to talk but... we should probably go outside. I don't want to hold up everyone trying to clean and leave." he agreed and the two of you untangled from each other, gojo following you up the steps and eventually to the players exit. "I assume you drove?" you ask him and when he nods in confirmation, he leads you to his car. you get in, the familiar smell of leather and the air freshener he liked to use putting you a little more at ease.

he drives off, and you don't ask him where to. you think you know, and as soon as he pulls up to the park you two discovered five years ago you were proven correct. you and gojo had found this park one night when, after far too much sugar, he had insisted you go on a long walk through the city. you had stumbled on this park, hidden away in a quiet part but with the most lovely, well kept flowers.

you had instantly been infatuated with the place, and upon seeing how much your face had lit up when you saw all the different flower varieties, satoru had declared this park to be your place - yours and his. as a silent rule, neither of you ever brought anyone else here, though you had come here on your own several times when you wanted to be alone to think but didn’t want to be cooped up inside; he had done the same.

you wordlessly walk over to the swing set, sitting down on the left side like you always did while he took the right swing. you use your feet to sway back and forth a little, tempted to just start swinging fully to put off the conversation further. but before you can, satoru breaks the silence. “y/n, i’m in love with you.”

you blink, head snapping towards him immediately. “what?” you asked, disbelieving. in all the ways you had imagined this conversation going, satoru telling you he was in love with you right out the gate had never been on the table. “fuck, i didn’t mean to just say it like that,” he fumbled through his words. “i mean, i kind of did. i was planning on telling you tonight but like. i thought we’d have a long conversation first.”

he laughed, though you knew it was his nervous laugh, his face full of worry as you two looked at each other. you blinked at him a couple more times, the shock starting to fade, though your eyes were still wide and you wouldn’t have been surprised if your heart beat right out of your chest right then and now. “i… i’m in love with you, satoru. i was also planning on telling you tonight.” you paused for just the briefest of seconds, not giving him any sort of time to react.

"that's why I left you at brunch the other week, I was so fucking mad at you. I was very clearly hitting on you and I thought you were reciprocating because you were way more touchy than even you usually are and then you took too long coming back from the bathroom and I was starting to get worried and then I saw you with her satoru, I saw you with rumi." you paused, only to catch your breath, holding your hand up to stop him when he opened his mouth to reply - and to his credit, he shut his mouth immediately.

"you were standing so close to each other and that sounds so stupid to get jealous about but you'd already ditched going to the restaurant opening with me to go with her. because yes while we're confessing things, I was so fucking jealous you went with her. how the fuck did you just forget you and I had made plans? that really fucking hurt, actually. and then you had the audacity to be even a little jealous over me going with choso instead when in reality you should be thanking him because he was, in fact, the main reason I had a good fucking night. and don't start some bullshit about me and him, you know we're just friends. we're both a little too hung up on people who don't care about us."

you let out a choked, bitter laugh. holy shit, your heart was still racing at what couldn't possibly be a healthy rate, and the thought of this conversation going wrong still made you sick, but it also felt good - really fucking good - to get all of this off your chest.

"I know you and kamo are just friends don't worry," satoru interjected, your last words stinging him a little. hung up on people who don't care about you? he cared about you, probably a little too much. he opened his mouth again, this time to defend himself but you beat him too it, your ramblings not finished - now that you'd started you had to get it all out.

"so do you know how absolutely shitty it felt to see you and the woman you ditched me for standing so close, her hand holding on to your arm. and then I saw you kiss her! that's when I left, i clearly had misread what I thought your intentions were and I felt so fucking stupid. and mad. and upset. and hurt." you let out a long breath. "okay, now you may speak."

"jesus..." he muttered under his breath, running a hand over his face. gojo could barely process the fact that you told him you were in love with him too. instead, all he could think was that what he had been worried about had been true: you were mad at him and you had seen him with rumi.

he was such an idiot. he should have put physical distance between him and her when she’d come up to him but the truth was, rumi didn’t mean anything to him. he barely knew her, and so as stupid as it sounded, he simply hadn’t thought anything about the fact that they were standing together so closely, that she had her hand on his arm.

he hadn’t been expecting her to kiss him. fuck, he didn't even know where to start. this wasn't the big romantic speech he'd thought he'd deliver, no instead everything felt like a total fucking disaster. he turned his head to you, reaching out a hand and felt slight relief as you reached back and allowed him to hold your hand.

"first, i'm sorry for all of it. I'm sorry I ditched you to go to the opening with rumi. I felt like shit for doing that to you, it just honestly had slipped my mind." he stopped, shaking his head because his own words sounded pathetic to him. "it wasn't because I don't care about you or I take you for granted. she and I just ended up at the same party and i'd had a few drinks and she brought up going together and I agreed. kind of nice to find out you really were jealous though."

you narrowed your eyes and shot him a look and he widened his eyes, shaking his head again, this time in a panic. "no, no, no that came out wrong. it's just, shit y/n, i've had feelings for you for so long and anytime I came close to telling you, you'd introduce me to a new boyfriend or gush about this new guy you'd bet at a coffee shop. I've just never been sure if you ever saw me the same way."

god, he was royally fucking up, he could feel it. this was his big chance and he was ruining it - he genuinely wasn't sure why he had a reputation for being such a ladies man when he couldn't even get his thoughts out in the right way the one time it mattered the most.

but you gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and he was just relieved that you hadn't dropped his hand immediately. and so he forced himself to press on. "as for brunch? I wanted to go back to your place so bad. I wanted to finally get to kiss you and tell you you're the most beautiful person i've ever met and not only that but the funniest and most patient, the person I feel the most comfortable around. she kissed me. and I know that sounds lame and i'm not trying to excuse it because as soon as I realized what she was doing I should have pulled away immediately. I left her awkwardly as soon as I could."

hadn't been soon enough, he knew now.

"the past two weeks have been killing me, petal. but I didn't want to push you too much, especially since mei mei wouldn't let me in when I tried to see you right after."

you didn't even know what to say. this was all you had ever wanted, to be able to be open and honest about how you feel and to find out that satoru felt the same way. but this was a lot, the revelation that he was in love with you marred by the whole situation with rumi.

"i've had feelings for you for a long time, toru. I just. I was scared to tell you, because I didn't think you felt the same way, and I didn't want to risk losing you." you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, and you tried to wipe them away with your free hand but it was already too late. "fuck."

"hey, hey, come here," satoru gently tugged at your hand as soon as he realized you were trying to not cry and you let him, standing up from the swing and moving towards him. he pulled you down into his lap, arms wrapping protectively around you as he held you to him, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of your head.

"you can cry, petal, it's okay. this is... a lot." there was the best friend you knew, the one you had fallen for. underneath the cocky attitude, the easy grin that signaled to the world that he knew just how talented he was, the stupid jokes that made everyone roll their eyes, satoru gojo was one of the most thoughtful, caring people you had ever met. it wasn't obvious, in fact you knew he went out of his way to put out a persona that would suggest otherwise, but he was someone who was always thinking about other people.

countless times, you'd seen him go out of his way to help people that needed it, to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. though he had made fun of you and awful lot ever since you'd met him, he had never once made you feel bad for crying. the first time he'd caught you crying, you had been hiding out at the playground across the street from school, sobbing your eyes out because a couple of older kids had taken the art project you had worked so hard on and tore it to pieces. they had called you a try hard, and satoru?

he had found them and made them apologize.

and so the two of you sat on the swing, him in the actual seat and you still being held on his lap. you let the silence was over you, silent tears rolling down your face that eventually came to a stop, cheeks drying.

"i'm scared you losing you too, y'know." his confession soft, almost as if he was whispering some sort of prayer to himself. you'd heard him anyway, hands resting on top of his as he held you by the waist. "even if you felt the same way, we could always get together, break up, and never speak again."

it was sort of a relief, the fact that your relationship meant as much to him as it did to you, that he had denied himself the possibility of a chance with you in order to preserve the bond you shared. you weren't quite sure, though, where that left you. you had just told each other that you were in love with the other, and though you both felt significantly more at ease than you had since you'd last seen each other, it didn't exactly feel like a celebration either.

"what... what does this mean for us?" you questioned, hesitant and meek when you wanted to sound strong and sure. "it doesn't feel like jumping right into calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend is the right thing to do. if that was something you even ever wanted to do," you rushed quickly. even though you knew how he felt about you now, there was still a cloud of doubt you couldn't shove away.

just because he was in love with you didn't necessarily mean he wanted to be your boyfriend, right?

"i see i have a lot of reassuring to do..." he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "but i get what you mean." your heart sank a little at his words, even though he was merely agreeing with a sentiment you had voiced first.

"i don't want things to change how they are. like, i don't want us to get all weird around each other or anything. i want us to still be best friends." he hesitated, and you weren't sure if he was second guessing himself or just trying to find the right words to say.

"let me take you on a date. a proper one, not one of the million friend dates we've done." you turned your head up to look at him as soon as he had said "let me take you on a date," butterflies suddenly filling your stomach - you were pretty sure you were going to need at least two days to physically recover from the emotional roller coaster you were currently on.

you opened your mouth to reply before shutting it again. you wanted to ask satoru a million questions, to poke and prod until he admitted this was all a terrible joke. but instead of voicing any doubt and insecurity that tried to dominate your thoughts, you simply said "okay."

which brough a genuine smile to his lips before he leaned down and pressed another kiss to you, this time to your forehead.

eventually, he took you home. the two of you mixed filling each other in on what had been going on in both your lives for the past two weeks with talk about where you two stood now.

you had settled on this: nothing was changing between you two, except for the fact that you were both finally being honest about your feelings. satoru was going to take you on a date and, hopefully, keep taking you on dates until you both felt it was the right time for your relationship progress. neither of you had expressed the worry on your minds, the "if our relationship progresses." that was a worry for another day.

gojo had insisted on walking you up to your apartment door, leaving you with a goodnight kiss on the cheek. and now that you were home and alone, as you started your nighttime routine you started to accept that maybe, just maybe, things were going to work out.

a/n: i rambled a little too much but these fools (me) always have sm to say!! things are turning around for now for gojo and reader, but we'll see if it stays that way... any thoughts/comments are always appreciated!!

taglist: open @basicallyjeankirschtein @therealanxiety @angelina7890 @starmapz @raquel12 @kittyyyyykats

[bokettochild]

What is Legend’s and post-totk Wild’s relationship like? Does it change or is it the same?

Honestly, I keep trying to write an answer but all I have are inexplicable vibes.

It would change. Legend's the same as he was but Wild's grown up. Wild would be either 22 or 23 by the time TotK is over (in game we're told it's been 5 years since BotW) meanwhile Legend is still, at best, 17, but likely 16.

That's a 6-7 year age gap where before they were either the same age or very close.

Legend's still got his experience, but now Wild has the context of years, of knowing what normal looks like. Post BotW Wild has no concept of normal or peace, but post TotK Wild would have spent 5 years just existing and doing People Things. He knows what normal kids are like now. He's a teacher. He's a leader. He's an adult, even if he's still a young one. But he's got that frame of reference that Legend never has had of what life looks like after the adventure, but now also with the understanding that legend does have of the fact that heroes' can be ripped away any time, life uprooted to save the world again at any moment.

Wild has life experience that Legend can't fathom. Wild knows what growing up is like. Wild knows what peace looks like now.

Legend doesn't even know what the word "retirement" means, much less "stop" or "peace". He's used to having only enough time to heal between adventures before heading out again, if that!

I think Wild would come back, thinking he could slip back in, just to realize he can't see his brothers the same anymore. I won't dig in too deep, since you just asked about him and Legend, but for the vet I think he'd just get shocked at how young his brother really is, by how screwed up Legend's outlook on life is, and I think he'd be floundering because the guy he used to look to as a veteran, an expert and a role model, is actually just a teenager with too much responsibility on his shoulders.

I don't think he'd know what to do with that, because that's still his brother, but Legend's no longer his BIG brother, or at least not his peer. Legend's younger than him now, and much as he tries to see the vet the same way he used to, he'd just keep realizing how screwed up everything about Legend really is.

Meanwhile Legend, Mister Abandonment-Issues, would be over here struggling with the feeling of being left behind and out of the know and suddenly feeling small around a hero who used to make him feel so big. Wild's an adult now, but he's not supposed to be. Wild's matured now (but still Wild) and he's not sure what to do with that. Wild is wiser now, knows things, isn't charging in without thought anymore, and Legend has to adjust his whole perception all while wondering if this is even the same guy. All while trying his hardest not to let on that he feels that way because you bet your BUTT this kid has gotten enough grief over the years for not being the same kid people used to know that he has no wish to make anyone else feel that.

Like, adventures change you, a LOT. Legend's had a lot of adventures, ergo; he's changed a ton over the years and it definitely throws off everyone who knows him every single time. it's not his first rodeo, but it is the first time he's not been the one riding the bull that is change.

I think they'd both struggle a lot with this. I think there'd be a lot of frustration and fear on Legend's side and a lot of shock and confusion on Wild's. I think both would grieve, and I know Legend wouldn't be the one to know how to fix it.

Legend fixes problems, but the thing that sets him apart from the rest of the heroes is that he's never had time between adventures to actually process and learn healthy coping mechanisms or ways to express himself. Kid knows how to fix other people's shit, but never his own.

Wild would have to be the one to cross the divide between them, and as the older brother now, I think that would just make it all the weirder for both of them.

Anyways, congrats, I had enough brainrot about this that I wrote a dang fic and then sobbed for a good ten minutes in a public coffee shop T-T

Thanks for the ask!

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Oh well, since you encouraged me... Something that's been on a mind since I've read your older brother!Dick I just keep thinking of the incest potencial... Even with the more than controversial ages

��𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍…

!!! 18+ THEMES, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, GN reader, fauxcest, age gap, toxic dynamic, noncon, making out, disgusting touching, brief hints of sexual content, general yandere fuckery, manipulation, kind of grooming(?), controlling behaviors, poor reader trying to cope so hard.

GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA—

Don’t worry, pooks, I saw all of your other asks about this idea and I’ll try to remember to hit all of the points you bring up. I just wanna keep it all in one place.

ALSO, ALSO, ALSO, LIFE WITH OLDER BROTHER ENJOYERS. HEY. HEY. LISTEN. If you’re not fucking with this ask and you don’t want the wholesome platonic dynamic you conjured in your brain ruined for you, DO NOT PROCEED ANY FURTHER. LIKE, AT ALL. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You literally clocked me so badddd. Yes, the undertones in that series are 100% intended. I’m not gonna add anything overtly incestuous, but like… the subtext is there for the freaks to pick up on. Platonic incest where the lines blur every now and then, I love you so much.

Anyways, lemme get to yapping for real.

If we’re going to vaguely follow the Life With Older Brother series, Dick suddenly being so friendly to you would be… a little bit jarring. But try to think about it from his perfective: he wasn’t really there for Jason, and the thought of failing another younger sibling is too much to handle. Maybe he’s just trying to be more present for you. As weird as he may come off, you should at least give him a chance.

The beginning isn’t all that bad. Even if he’s relatively new to the older brother thing, you can tell he’s trying his best, and dare you say it, he’s actually fun to hang out with. Playing video games, going out for ice cream, trashy movie marathons… it almost makes you forget about those weirder behaviors. Almost.

Now, one thing you quickly noticed is how touchy-feely he is. Whenever you’re together, it seems like he’s always got sort of body part touching you one way or another. Sometimes, it’s subtle: a knee resting against yours, a very quick head-pat, his hand brushing against you as he gestures at something. Nothing all that noticeable unless if you’re very sensitive to touch. But then there are times where it’s a little more… overt. Like when he slings an arm around your shoulders. Or when he holds your hand while out and about. Or when pulls you against his side by your waste when it’s a crowded area. Every now and then, you find yourself wondering if this is normal. Do siblings usually touch each other so often? It kind of makes sense, but… considering you haven’t even been siblings for a full year, should he really be this comfortable around you yet?

If you think you can set boundaries with him, good fucking luck. He might’ve made it seem like he was hearing you out, but it won’t be long before he’s back at it with the touching. Okay… maybe this is something he really can’t help. As annoying — and weird… and uncomfortable — it may be, you’ll probably just have to suck it up and get used to it. Some people are just very handsy. But not like that! Oh my god, no. Dick’s Nightwing; a good guy, for Christ’s sake. He would never do anything like that!

(… Right?)

Here’s the thing about platonic physical affection: how weird can it get before people finally draw the line? Is it forehead kisses? Hugging someone by the waist? Having them sit in your lap whenever the opportunity arises? Are any of those things actually weird, or does Dick somehow make them weird? Because, yes, he still most definitely acts like an older brother — he certainly teases you like one, and you constantly have to fight against the urge to bite him like a feral weasel — but the touching… well… maybe familial affection is just a concept foreign to you (thanks in no small part to Bruce), but Dick somehow makes it feel like something else.

And you’ll admit; you don’t actually know what that something else is. All you know is that you’re pretty sure big brothers do not do that gentle, extremely intimate thumb-stroke thing to their little sibling’s face before a forehead kiss. And they also do not come up from behind their little sibling for a hug.

And the lap thing?

That was probably the turning point.

Because what older brother has their little sibling sit on their lap while watching TV? One hand on your hip, the other on your thigh… he’s doing that weirdly intimate thumb stroke thing on your bare skin, and all you can do is sit there and think, oh… I don’t like this. If you’re brave enough to ask him what he’s doing, he’ll play dumb. Hm? What do you mean, kiddo? He’s not doing anything… what are you talking about?

Before you can even begin to express how uncomfortable you are, however, his fingers start toying with the hem of your shit. You’re acutely aware of his knuckles brushing against the flesh of your torso, sending an uneasy shiver up your spine. Dick’s no stranger to touching your waist area, and while you still don’t really like it that much, you’ve gotten used to it. But this? Something about the actual skin on skin contact makes you freeze up entirely.

“You know,” Dick would thoughtfully begin, “I’m probably the luckiest big brother in the world. I don’t think you realize just how cute you are, (Y/N).”

His hand then inches its way up your shit.

BadbadbadbadbadbaDBADBADBADBAD—

Don’t bother fighting back. Don’t bother yelling at him. Don’t even bother squirming as he gently begins to run circles into the skin under your shirt. His grip on your thigh is like iron, holding you down to his lap and making any struggle futile. In fact, if I were to venture a guess, you’d probably be too petrified to even move, the shock of the moment rendering you completely immobile. This was supposed to be your big brother; yes, he’s a bit weird and overprotective, but he’s still your fucking big brother. And while your knowledge on big brothers may be extremely limited, you know for a fact that this is crossing a line.

Your faces become closer and closer until his breath is ghosting against your lips. “I love you, kiddo. You know that, right?”

You don’t dare to offer him a response. Hell, you don’t even know what you could say to that. The only thing filling your brain is the brazen warning bells screaming for you to get the fuck away from him. Except you can’t. For whatever reason, your body’s frozen in place, limbs weighing you down like heavy ice blocks.

You can’t move.

You can’t fucking move.

And, of course… he takes advantage of that.

By the time his lips softly plant themselves on yours, it’s too late. The lines between platonic and whatever the fuck this is have long been crossed, and you can never go back to pretending like everything is normal between you two. All of the subtle warning signs you opted to ignore were now blaring in your mind like loud sirens, almost mocking the fact that you didn’t fucking trust yourself.

This can’t be happening. This absolutely can’t be happening. You thought of this creep as your big brother; was this really the same guy that helped you with homework and let you play games on his laptop? Was this really the same guy under the Nightwing mask?

While the kiss evolves into something a little more passionate, he doesn’t take it too far. Just a gentle make-out session with roaming hands. He ends it by holding you against his chest, seemingly content with just occasionally peppering kisses to your face for the next hour or so. Neither of you say anything during this time. Even if you want to yell at him and demand why the fuck he did that, you’re too shocked to even form a coherent thought.

The man you thought could be your big brother is a massive fucking creep.

You think you’re going to be sick.

He doesn’t go out for patrol that night. Instead, he simply picks you up and carries you to his room, dressing you in his clothes for bed. You’re still trying to process the humiliation of letting this all happen as he slips you under the sheets with him and cuddles up to you. Sleep doesn’t come easy to you that night. How the fuck could it? Not only do you have that stupid fucking kiss haunting you, but now you have this sicko’s hand playing with the waistband of your shorts (his shorts), and god. You’re not sure how you didn’t throw up then and there.

So. What happens afterwards? Well, first off, no more phone. Dick’s not an idiot; he knows the lines he crossed that evening and would rather you not call Bruce or Alfred or the police. You’re also not allowed on his laptop unless if he’s supervising you, and your ass is not going outside anytime soon. Then we have the gross shit… yeah, now that he’s had a taste, he’s gonna be all over you. It won’t go that far just yet — he’d rather ease you into that territory, much like what he’s been doing before — but it can get a bit steamy. At least for him. You might still be grossed out over all this or whatever.

You know what the worst part is? He still has the audacity to act like your older brother. It doesn’t matter how many times he touches you or forces you to kiss him: he’ll call you kiddo through it all and offer to play some video games afterwards. In fact, are times where you both return to your previous sibling banter and you can almost convince yourself that things are totally fine. There you go again, falling for his meticulously set up trap.

This new dynamic might take some time to get used to, but Dick will try his damned hardest to make it seem natural. So what if Big Brother sometimes wants to pin his cute little sibling against the counter and leave love bites on their neck? Sometimes, it just has to happen. No harm, no foul. This could be normal if you stopped being so weird about it, you know.

And, you know what… you may find yourself finally accepting that this is your new normal. What else are you supposed to do? You can’t call anyone, you can’t run away, you can’t even fight back because he was trained by fucking Batman… you sure as hell don’t have to like it, but maybe you can make peace with it. This is nothing more than an annoyance from your big brother. That’s all. It’s not him grooming you. It’s not him taking advantage of you. It’s just him being a little irritating at times. Ignore the urge to throw up… ignore how your skin crawls whenever he’s near you… every sibling has their flaw, and being a total creep is Dick’s.

You’d probably begin to despise Bruce a little, too. Did he know how fucked up his former ward is? Or is the exact same way? Guess you’ll never know, because the man can’t even bother to check up on you. He essentially took you out of the system and threw you into the den of a wolf, subjecting you to a new personal hell you can’t even escape from. And Alfred… you thought he actually cared. Is he not concerned about the sudden radio silence on your end?

You really can’t help but wonder if anyone even thinks about you outside of the apartment, and with Dick being in control of what information he feeds to Bruce over the phone, all you can do is guess at this point. In the meantime, Big Brother just came back and needs a hug… why don’t you come on over to the couch, kiddo?

Ugh. There are so many fucking directions I can go in from here. You mentioned Bruce (or eventually Tim) becoming suspicious and finding out what’s going on, and GRRRRR. SO GOOD. SO FUCKING GOOD. I need to write a blurb about this. It’s so addicting. I just had to get some of the base ideas on this out because this concept has been marinating in my brain for way too long. I’m not kidding, I was going to actually explode if I didn’t get to talk about this. I NEED MORE OF THIS TYPE OF SHIT.

[joicecubes]

HEY!!!!! HEY YOU!! (sits you down to listen to me yap about my queer headcanons for gravity falls characters)

mabel - okay lets get her out of the way. this girl is queer as fuck. she may not realize it yet, but in her teenage years i know she’s experimented with every single label and microlabel in existence. she’d try out hundreds of neopronouns. she realizes her obsession with boys as a kid was a result of comphet. i don’t have a specific label for her because i think in the end she’d discover she can’t make herself identify with any one label. because she’s just mabel! unlabeled and proud.

dipper - do i even have to say it… he’s trans. i think every queer person in this fandom headcanons him to be trans. moving on

stanley - he’s kinda unlabeled too, but for a reason opposite to mabel’s. ladies, gentlemen, doesn’t matter to him! i think its fair to assume he grew up believing that being gay was wrong, it was the 60s and 70s and his dad’s a piece of shit, but as he traveled the country and met so many different people and then witnessed the times changing around him… he’d just. grow into his attraction for men. like, yeah i like men? so what? he doesn’t care for labels. “bisexual, mabel? pansexual? quit making up words!”

(more starting with stanford under the cut this is gonna be sorta long)

stanford - hehehheee okay this is my favorite. i’ve thought about his sexuality a lot. he’s definitely gay to me, and i don’t have much reasoning for that other than like… my heart is telling me that’s the right answer. but he’s also definitely on the aroace spectrum. i personally think he’s demi or grayromantic, he feels romantic attraction VERY rarely and its part of the reason why he felt so helpless in the dating department as a teenager, and also why as an adult later on he tells fiddleford he doesn’t understand romance. he’s hardly ever experienced it! and he wouldn’t really KNOW he identifies with those labels until he’s back in his dimension and mabel is in her obsessed-with-queer-microlabels phase. he hears mabel say “demiromantic” and, being the nerd he is, immediately wants to know what this new word means and why he’s never heard of it before. so mabel rolls a big-ass whiteboard in and starts Mabel’s Guide to the Aromantic Spectrum! ford learns something about himself that day.

fiddleford - HE’S GAY. he’s gay. he’s so gay. i know he canonically has a wife but he literally leaves emma may to work on this mysterious project with his best and only MALE friend from college like… BE so fr. he made ford TWO christmas gifts and forgot to get anything for his wife!! i imagine his marriage to emma may was more of a way for him to deny his sexuality and live what he believes to be a “normal” life. and that obviously doesnt excuse the neglect to his family (because what the fuck fiddleford) but its how i personally make sense of his behavior.

bill cipher - bill transcends human comprehension of gender and sexuality. bill is just bill. but in human terms he’s a lover of all genders. as long as he can manipulate them, they’re fair game! (sorry ford)

wendy - okayyy yesss i know i used the comphet excuse once with mabel but i’m using it again god dammit. with the way wendy talks about her past boyfriends and how we see her be so vaguely invested in her relationship with robbie, it makes me think she’s either a lesbian or somewhere on the aromantic spectrum. she’s just not super interested! but she gives guys chances because why the hell not and is never super into any of it, eventually they break up, and she moves on with her life. i imagine sometime after high school is when she reflects on that and thinks… huh. was i ever attracted to men at all?

soos - saving the most anticlimactic for last… soos is straight to me. but he’s an ENTHUSIASTIC ally :)

thanks for reading i really like overthinking the theoretical queer identities of my favorite characters have a nice day (and let me know if you’re headcanons differ i would love to hear what people think!!)

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

HELP I answered like half of these in my yap session yesterday

I'm just going to answer them anyways XD

Lore and clarification of game dynamics beneath the cut lmfao (I don't have the patience for ask box games today /lh)

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Vizzie currently lives with her mom. Her dad passed away two years ago over the summer under "mysterious circumstances" - which she fully believes her mother had play in. While she has gathered circumstantial evidence, she has nothing substantial. She and her mother were never on good terms, but without the buffer of her father things have only gotten worse. Her change from grade 9 into grade 10 seemed out of the blue/out of character, but nobody has gotten her to open up about it. She doesn't particularly care if her mother were to do the same thing to her as she suspects she did to her father, but the tension at home is far too much to bear continously, thus her finding every reason to not stay at home.

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

She finds her habits interesting. She feels the lovey-dovey act that she puts on after being confronted about following Azul to be extremely artificial - this is just because most emotions that aren't apathy or anger already come off this way to Viz. She likely knows her name and a couple of her classes/what teachers she has. This is pretty standard for most people she meets- she compartmentalizes people's schedules in her head, and knows where people typically are at any given time. This is nothing sinister, it's just information that happens to stick.

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

I would like to think she and Azul met in grade 9/the equivalent during some sort of spelling or science competition. While they're not quite as close as they used to be, she will sometimes rib him about academic achievements, and has his phone number. They're good friends, but she's definitely closer to Floyd now than she is with Azul.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs? (THIS IS DYNAMIC!! I CAN AND WILL ADD TO THIS IF OTHER PEOPLE WANT TO CHAT/COLLABORATE!!)

Floyd - honestly, the only person she feels she can act her age around. She loosens up around him - not enough to open up, actually, they know like NOTHING about each other, they just. Vibe. Ride or Die friends. One of the few people that makes her genuinely happy.

Jade - More casual friends. She eats lunch with him sometimes, and they text each other niche microbio/myc-olgy memes :D

Cater - He's a year ahead of her, but her dad (and her) helped him and his family move into their place at the beginning of her grade 9 year/his grade 10. They live down the street from each other, so he would walk her to and from school, and sometimes, to avoid the rising tension at home, she would hang out at his place. She used to walk him through his homework because she would study extra just to try and impress him. He painted her phone case as a thank you. (NOTE: THIS IS NOT MY AU. THIS IS LORE I'M MAKING UP ON THE SPOT. IF IT DOESN'T FIT/OP HAS DIFFERENT IDEAS, THIS IS NULL.) /lh/gen

@distant-velleity Yuhua - friends that fell out over misunderstandings :( She misses his company, but feels that her associating with him might drag him down with her. She knows the standard he holds himself to. She knows she's also been more bristly, harder to talk to, but if not even her former best friend could see past the mask she wears, maybe it's for the better she's no longer 'best friends' with him anyways...

Game Mechanic: If Quartz can make Viz and Yuhua make-up, they'll be able to incapacitate/distract Floyd for some time. This can be achieved by

Sending both of them to detention (medium difficulty, a few hours)

Obtaining Vizzie's journal and giving it to Yuhua (extreme difficulty, the entire next day)

@boopshoops Yuu Shi - Unlikely friends. Viz needed a favour and she paid a good price - Yuu Shi is the only person thus far that has been allowed to read any entry she wants from Vizzie's journal. In exchange, Viz was lent keys long enough to make a replicate of a store room key, and the roof access key. After that, the two keep in touch via post it notes - some are cute, but some hold more significant meaning.

Game Mechanic: If Quartz can get to the sticky notes before Yuu Shi does, (as they are left on the outside of her locker), she may find clues that pertain to Viz and Yuu Shi's future meeting spots to exchange info, puzzles to find out certain people's phone passcodes, or a hint as to where a weapon or usable item may be hidden.

If Quartz is caught by Viz, she'll only end up telling Yuu Shi so as to have someone who is more...influential to start up an embarrassing rumour with some truth to it, or planted evidence to make it true. The sticky notes will no longer be on the outside of Yuu Shi's locker. (They'll find another way)

@alestrameria Yukari - Toxic, one-sided Yuri? (Not on Vizzie's half)

Overall, Viz is a ride or die type of friend once you get to that level of trust. You won't know when you've achieved that though :)

5. What grade/year is your OC? Answered here!

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

At this point, she's holding on for the kids she babysits and for her birthday to roll around- so she can finally move out of her mom's goddamned house and maybe hire a P.I to open her dad's case again.

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Honestly, being framed makes her a little bit excited, but she'll try not to show it. To her it's a puzzle, it's a matter of backtracking both Quartz's interactions and demeanor. This is a competition, and she doesn't intend to loose. She takes the accusation in stride, but the old 'honour student' comes out. She's direct and concise with her alibi, can and will manipulate the situation to her advantage. After all, she had her mom to learn from :)

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Nope! She's armed too and she hates the school uniform. Might tell Quartz that it's showing. Depending on how Quartz responds/their friendship level at that point, she may offer to modify her skirt for her, so that the pockets blend more seamlessly into the folds of the skirt, making it more difficult to detect anything in her pockets. If Quartz has pissed her off, when Quartz has gym class she'll be cutting the bottoms out of her skirt pockets. She makes a point of wearing gloves and using her old school uniform, new hairdo, and a mask to be harder to identify. Lockers ain't got shit on her.

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

She tends to be a bit of a floater during lunch. She doesn't mind keeping her own company, but she likes quieter places. She compulsively memorizes people's schedules - it's really not something she wants occupying her brain space but it does, so if there's someone she wants to meet with or...observe in particular, she usually knows where to go. During school, she skips most of the classes, hiding out in the greenhouse, a storage room, or on the roof of the building....she likes the roof.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Despite the shit she's been through, she was a gifted kid. Now she's just not putting in the same amount of effort, but she's still averaging A-/B+ in most classes. All her assignments are still in on time, and she's there for tests, but she no longer ties her grades to her self-esteem. Her grades still aren't 'good enough' for her mom.

ANYWAYS

There's my yapparoony fest FOR NOW mwahahaha

(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore

You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)

These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).

Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

[They are speaking about Quartz as example]

Floyd: "Who again?"

Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.

Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."

Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.

Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."

Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.

Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"

He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.

Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"

Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).

Leona has been held back so he is still 20.

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Floyd is jumping her.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.

Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.

Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.

Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.

Rook is watching you.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)

[ssscatola]

task force 141 headcanons because I have free will

soap wears nothing but adidas slides when he's on leave. he's sick and tired of getting blisters from his military boots that he refuses to wear any other shoe when he's back in scotland

ghost's favorite season is spring. he loves hearing birds chirping and singing (would never admit this out loud) and enjoys hiking when the weather is just right.

gaz will cook a mean roast and is a snob about what herbs and spices go with what meat and vegetables. (this goes for soap as well bc i headcanon he was raised on a farm)

price is so fucking tired all the time but hides it really well. he'll fall asleep standing up in a heli without a problem

speaking of price, he's a loud ass cougher and sneezer and the rest of the force mimic and tease him about it

ghost has every member of the force's phone number. Price is saved in his contacts as 'Captain Price'. Gaz is 'Kyle Garrick'. Soap is just /insert scottish phone number/ and he refuses to change it just to piss off Johnny

to continue that adidas slides thought for soap, i like to think he's dripped out in any sportswear brand. DEFINITELY has a Napapijri jacket and at least three nike puffer jackets. every item of clothing for the gym is either nike or under armour and every running shoe he has is by asics

Gaz has five colognes he rotates. Soap has three (used to have four but lost one??? where the fuck is it?). Price has one that he's been rebuying for the past fifteen years. Ghost also has one (stole the best-smelling one from Johnny)

Gaz really likes board games while Ghost enjoys card games

Price knows some russian and soap is learning spanish

Ghost grew up with nothing and is now insatiable. doesn't spend that much on decorating his apartment or clothes but he sees a weighted or heated blanket on amazon with raving reviews? doesn't even check the price; it's in his cart. A new mattress made out of memory foam for his shitty back? added to cart. He sees a commercial for a 70-inch flat-screen tv? he needs it to watch soccer in 16k 240fps and 480p re-run episodes from youtube of 'how it's made' when johnny visits him.

price types with one finger (sorry to this man)

ghost rarely types out a response to a text. or if he does respond, it's just a thumbs-up emoji

soap gets down NASTY to 2000's and 2010's music. Like girl this man is breaking his neck and back and ankles on the dancefloor after three-four drinks and nobody can stop him

continuing for soap, he once got wasted and borrowed a cigarette from someone at a club and turned into a hired assassin for the night. the guy who gave him the cigarette got jumped and soap dislocated the attacker's jaw with one punch

gaz has every allergy under the sun while ghost gets the flu every five years or so

ghost has a sharp left canine and johnny nearly flatlines when he sees it

price has freckles on his biceps and shoulders

ghost notices soap is always chewing gum. they make stops during missions so the sergeant can buy (more like swipe) a pack. always the same brand, always the same flavor, and he always offers a piece to ghost. for his birthday, ghost gifts him two mega packs (that's like 400 pieces?) of his preferred gum and soap's heart swells in his chest

these are all over the place but i'm writing a ghoap fic and my motivation is dwindling so i just had to write this :')

if anyone wants a part 2 let me know bc this was a lot of fun to write!

[nicky35]

UConn vs Villanova

paige: see what happens when you keep her on the ball. almost triple double and she would've gotten it had they not been up by like 50. super efficient night, which isn't shocking for her, but even 3/3 from 3 is crazy. i saw her a couple times come to help on defense, but stopped herself and went back to her man, which is good to see.

sarah: sarah strong just doing sarah strong things. she definitely gives p a run for her money when we're talking about best passer. she is so smart for someone so young. every game i am thankful she chose uconn.

kailtyn: this is what i've been waiting for. we've got glimpses here and there, but she balled out tonight. both sides of the court were looking strong. scoring in multiple ways, only 1 turnover, and no foul trouble! hope this builds her confidence, because even she's not playing well, you can still see her leadership influence on this team. you can tell she's smart and good with this younger group.

azzi: super strong defense. glad that it doesn't seem to go down even when she might've not had a great first half offensively. she looked a lot more comfortable and herself in the second. i'm sure if she got to play the fourth, she would've continued to get back, but it was a blowout, so i'm okay with it.

jana: i'm confused as to why she's still getting significantly less minutes than multiple bench players. i think she was much better at staying calm and disciplined, even when they were being a little rough in the paint with her (big surprise for nova). she's finally shooting 50% from ft, so i guess i'll take that babystep. she's just gotta continue to get more consistent though cause a center like her is gonna get fouled a lot.

kk: she just doesn't move me the way she seems to move others. i need more than "high energy" off the bench to warrant her being the first in and getting the most minutes off the bench. her driving to basket to get layups during the fourth is just not doing enough to justify p off the ball when she's in for the first 3 quarters. she's just still not running smart plays or showing how she can be starting pg next year.

ashlynn: defensively she was not great, but i did love seeing her jumping in to catch or tip rebounds. i will take as many aggressive rebounders as possible with this group. middy looked good, but 3 wasn't really falling tonight. glad she found other ways. overall kinda average, but i would like to see her get more minutes in the first half with more starting players than other bench players.

morgan: stats don't do her justice. you know she's gonna box out every time. love her setting screens and passes on offense (accept that one cross court to allie) but i need her start providing a little more scoring than shooting a three or one layup per game. still love her fearlessness and ability to adjust.

aubrey: she's warming up. just glad her vertical still seems good. that fall scared me for a sec.

allie: i wanna see her cut more and get herself available to be able to take a few more shots when she's getting more minutes like this game. glad she's looking more confident though and like seeing her look for ways to score besides the 3.

q: was there.

[chaifootsteps]

i should've mentioned it when we were talking about tuca and bertie and them doing things right, but the arc bertie goes through with her SA and reclaiming it thru taboo fantasies is very similar to what ive been through, right down to a therapist opening me up to this new side of sexuality, and while it all happened to me years prior to the arc happening in the show, it broke me out of my anti shipper mentality that gave me this sense of justice and rigid rightness in what i was doing.

just thought now would be a good time to bring it up too because of the allegations against you and how what happened to max is basically the same thing that's happened to me. it's such an uncomfortable feeling to know someone who brought you into this world sees you like that, and having a fictional character similar to that person to self insert with in writing has helped far more then feeling disgusted with myself ever did or has, because i can stop anytime i want, or just get to a point where i move on completely from being able to gain anything from this personally. (which im leaning towards for now,) it's like bertie's therapist said, "because this time, you're in control."

i just wish antis could at least be more open to the idea that maybe, just maybe, shaming victims for coping this way isn't helpful, and that the lack of nuance implies shaming these uncontrollable fantasies (because you can't control your thoughts and like bertie's therapist said, "brains are weird!", although ive also heard the fear and arousal part of your brain is closely related which explains so many kinks to me tbh,) is the only form of healing and getting better, which it never will be. this kind of thing, of re-exploring your trauma thru fiction like this, definitely doesn't help certain people and that needs to be respected, but for anyone it does, they shouldn't just be written off as "normalizing their abuse", because im aware enough to keep this to myself, and to other people like me.

come talk to me about me "romanticizing" horrible things in fiction when you remember vivs shows have millions of views, and THATS why her writing like a fanfic author is bad - not because she inherently is one at heart. a large audience of adults should engage with these heavy topics, (and deserve to have them be written well, even if the stans swear they don't because nuh uh it's Da Best cuz mama viv made it,) not literal children. regardless of this unfortunate demographic that's naturally been formed and then unnaturally encouraged by the creator to line her pockets with their parents money, i think people have a moral obligation to tell a well written story about dark taboo subjects when they have such a large scale of production and connections like this, with some gray area in between, because theres some pieces of media that aren't as big as vivs creations or as small as fanfic writers (compared to other indie creations like video games or shows,) either, like mouthwash, or that one horror game with a sibling incest ending. that's what i mean when i said you aren't gonna make anyone want to fuck a lizard, but that vivs story's spread sentiment that would give 1970s victim blaming, "well, what was she wearing?" arguments a run for their money in how gross they are. i don't think max is gonna make anyone want to fuck their own dad either.

i hope this all makes sense! i think this is the most vulnerable ive ever been in your ask box. thank you for being someone who makes me feel strong enough to talk about this.

No, no, it makes perfect sense! Thanks for sharing your story, Anon...that was an incredibly vulnerable thing to talk about, and it couldn't have been easy.

I don't know if it's due to social media or what, but people have gotten really, really terrible at the concept of "I do my thing that works for me over here, you do your thing that works for you over there, and even though we don't understand each other, we mind our business about it." Like you said, it becomes a different conversation the more widespread and professional your piece of media is -- the same way that feeding 1,000 people a day is different than cooking for yourself -- but when we're talking about you and me and Max and all the randos on AO3? An appropriately tagged piece of work that makes a sharp distinction between fiction and reality is harmless.

What isn't harmless is telling someone that their intensely personal coping method is wrong and shameful and that they're a dangerous, evil person because it makes you uncomfortable, and that they're either a bad survivor or lying about being one.

Here's the scene from Tuca & Bertie, because it's so well done and always relevant.

[apeninastory]

ivan as a tragic-love character (pt.4e?) | Cure edition

Here we go! Last step - for now, because I'm definitely looking forward to Ivan's solo part 2, they own it to us!!

But first, part 4 HERE + a little recap!

Vivimeng gifted us three beautiful tracks with glimpses of Ivan's mind and feelings - and for that, I'll be forever grateful. I can't even begin to say how fascinated I am with this character, it feels like an eternal mistery the more we are shown about him.

Song-wise, we have Nowhere, Black Sorrow and Cure - listed in order of composition/performance and in a somewhat chronological order of the hints about the growing maturity of Ivan's character. Taking into account that the last two were probably not written by Ivan (but are still meant to partly speak about him and his relation to Till), the first his definitely the best portrait we have. Nevertheless, each of them gives us a piece of Ivan as seen from his own eyes/the eyes of Vivimeng, each with something more and something less.

Where Nowhere recounts his life, from his childhood to his years at Anakt up to his graduation (how he tries to fit in, how he imitates to compensate, how the dissonance between the Ivan he is and the Ivan-character he builds forms the mask everyone sees, how he learns to control his emotions, even those he doesn't comprehend and make him bitter, numb, resigned), the delivery of Black Sorrow is its direct outcome.

Nowhere has a flat rhythm, but it's full of complex, vibrating emotions, memories, considerations and images. Black Sorrow has a much more monolitic scenary (black everywhere), but has such richness in the way Ivan sings it and portrays its content - how the power in his voice builds with past flashes of Till, coming out hoarse and breathtaking. I love the play of opposites here, it feels like we are discovering two sides of the same character - the inner, numb voice of a Ivan who offers us a window to his soul and the charming, smiley boy on stage who tells us the story of a sorrowful unrequited love (where in reality, much deeper, it is not only about that, but also about how this world is taking the chance of keep loving Till from the shadows away from him).

Ivan doesn't pretend love from Till - that's not the kind of violence Ivan or his love are made of. It is more a type of intensity, of desperation born from lack of understanding and small, sudden epiphanies - from a need that is also quiet, wary and respectful.

Ivan's love is not pretty, soft and rosy. It blooms in secret, it is obsessive and requires petty attention. How could it not be? Imagine a boy who has never had anything for himself making his first friend. Imagine him being charmed by him and thinking about him and finding his eyes on him all the time - imagine him provocking him, hurting him, feeling guilty and fascinated and confused, because he doesn't really know how people show affection to each other, has never received love and care during his childhood, when it is most important and educational. Imagine him projecting all his hopes and positive feelings onto that person - would his mind accept that person slipping away from him? Till represents so much to Ivan - and contrary to many opinions, it is not Mizi who keeps Till away from Ivan (Mizi is part of what makes Till special in Ivan's eyes). On one hand, it is Ivan himself; on the other it is, of course, their lack of proper communication that makes Till iperaware and wary of Ivan.

Ivan's love is the result of normalized abuse and the lack of stability of an entire life, of the newfound happiness, quiteness, intimate dependability he formed with Till slowly slipping away from him because the alien society decided that they were meant to participate in a game where only one of them (or none) would come out alive. No matter how obedient Ivan is, the stage awaits both him and Till, and he will either die or have to live without Till.

This is the background on which Cure is performed.

12] Cure, or Ivantill at their best (and our worst)

Cure holds a special place in my heart, and I think we all know how impactful Round 6 was on all of us. While a big part of my previous posts were closely related to Ivan as a character experiencing the world, here I can finally delve into my babies' round however I like!

I don't really know how to talk about Till's verse, but I've been looking forward to it. I'd love to analyse him as a character, and I may do that in the near future, but I feel like I wouldn't do him justice - even though both me and Till are INFP and are quite similar. So forgive me if I lose his characterization along the way.

Allow me, to the tips of your fingers Allow me, to the ends of your feet Dissolve me in your gaze I don't want to let you go Please, leave me scars Please, hurt me so that Not a single drop of me remains Let me drown in you

If Till wrote these verses and I was on the receiving end of them, I'd swoon so bad I wouldn't know what to do with myself. But I can't help but think how well they match the second part of the song, when Ivan comes in, so I'm guessing the lyrics were written by the same person (alnst directors or whatever, but neither Till nor Ivan) with a precise theme in mind? Like, impossible love, a love that can never be?

That being said, we know he is thinking about Mizi. (But.)

There is none of the usual bite in Till's voice, but it is still full of emotions. The verses he sings seem like a prayer. A request to touch someone, manifesting his wish of not wanting to let go of that person. It's like he is saying through Cure's lines, "if I am really forced to let you go, if there is nothing I can do, please leave scars on me and make me forget about everything by drowning and losing myself in you/your memory - make me numb to everything so that I don't have to face this alone".

It feels to me that, since Till knows he is about to lose either himself or the one he considers a dear friend (death, either way, will be the outcome of this round), he reaches out to what has always been a source of solace and relief, his safe heaven - the memory and image of Mizi -, to get strength from her. So, while it is true that he is thinking about her, I also think he is reaching for her hand in his mind as a mean to brace himself for the inevitable. There is none of the usual heat in Till's tone, it's like he already perceives the defeat looming over him - he dies or Ivan dies, and either way, it is a loss for him.

There is another interpretation that I want to add, though (one we can make in retrospective, one we all probably matured after Till's death). Let's think about R7 Till - a Till that has already lost Ivan. I feel these words would take a deeper, more desolate nuance, one where Till is asking Ivan to either stay or scar him in a rhetorical way, because Ivan is already gone and he has already hurt Till beyond belief with his sacrifice and the feelings he never revealed. During Blink Gone, Till can't help but drown in his last memory of Ivan.

So maybe, while singing these verses, he is not directly asking Mizi to scar him, nor is he asking Ivan - maybe he is asking god, any god. Maybe there is no one behind those words as Till sings them - after all, I can think Till writing/saying this to Mizi, nor would he say it to Ivan (not pre-Round 7, at least). Those lines are for us, for the ivantill we see and could have been.

Until these falling stars Are buried in the blur of time On your icy lips Read my soul Yes, my soul, oh, oh

I love how perfectly these lines fit ivantill from an outer perspective.

Stars are an important element for both of them, and here, it feels like Till is buring that particular memory deep into his mind - to forget? To hold it dear one last time, since he starts to feel he doesn't have the strength to go on? Without Mizi, Till's chant is teary, a prayer with no god in sight, something sang as a last resort.

On your icy lips - another plea to the singing partner, almost like a prediction of who'll die and have their lips turn cold. If this song is meant to follow the theme of impossible love (not unrequited, just impossible, since one of the two has to die), how profound it is? Something like, "On your lips linger the words with which you will read my soul", as if the first singer is asking the second to dig into his soul and tell what he found there. "Read my love/affection for you in my soul, you know it's there, even if this is the end for us."

Maybe it's time I drown.

Oh, the irony! If only Ivan would do that! Read the affection Till has for him, find it engraved in Till's soul and heart - not romantic in nature, perhaps, but affection nonetheless. Till is unconsciously making a request that Ivan doesn't really hear and has no time to fulfill. Who is contributing in making this love impossible? Huh?!

Even if your cold words Carve scars beneath my eyes May they linger on your tongue You can break me apart Noticе my pain And mend me right now To quiet my fеars I'll drown in you

Ivan's verse are meant to be for Till. No discussion about that. Whoever wrote/chose the song knew - their relationship is made of harsh words and scars, but it holds especially true in Ivan's case. I'll go slow here.

Even if your cold words carve scars beneath my eyes, may they linger on your tongue - It starts with "even", so we already know that whatever comes after, no matter how bad it is, they are not considered totally negative on the singer's part. This song - this moment - makes Ivan realize that despite the harsh threatment he and Till reserved to each other, despite how he himself was far from gentle with the younger boy, he accepts it all. Till's "cold words" can "linger on [his] tongue", can be directed at Ivan, Ivan is fine with it and is giving him his permission: you can break me apart.

Why? Because maybe, like that, with Ivan bleeding from the harsh threatment, Till may notice [his] pain and decide to mend [him], make him whole again. Ivan's words are also a prayer - an hopeful, honest one, contrary to the resignation we find in Till: "do to me whatever you want, I'll accept all of you. Can you please heal me right after destroying me?"

One last request. One last hope, as if hoping to finally have Till look at him.

To quiet my fеars, I'll drown in you - This is probably the part that breaks me the most. Because I don't believe that Ivan wasn't afraid in that moment. For him, these are his last moments, the last minutes he gets to live and to see the person he loves. No matter how indifferent he is/fakes to be of everything, I can see him being afraid and reluctant in those instants - not to die for Till, but to die and say goodbye to him.

I think this is the moment Ivan knew for sure - or at least, since I am bad and am angst-addicted, I like to think it. This is the moment Ivan knew, despite all his own quirks, that he loved Till, and that he should have threated him differently. That's why his comic has so much of what he felt during Round 6 - regret, gratitude for Till being a victim to his shallow emotions and relief, I fear, for being able to do something that can be universally recognized as a symbol of true love (sacrificing himself).

Sick of these nights to come To be engulfed in silence In your gaze, where I'm seen Consume me, yes, me, oh, oh

I said before that something Ivan probably liked about Till was that he didn't have to pretend with him all the time. He could be annoying and a bit violent and unsufferable, and Till would yell at him but still let him stay near. Fake smiles didn't work with Till because Till is sensitive to emotions and their autenticity.

These linese are another fitting set of words for Ivan. I imagine him envoloped by the silence of the night, day after day, as he waits for the inevitable round, imagining him and Till singing together one last time. And of course, the one thing he has always (consciously and unconsciously) wanted - to be seen by Till. He pleas to be consumed, "consume me before death comes to me, before I take the last step and close my eyes and won't be able to see you ever again. Consume me with your eyes, for there is no other way I'd want to die".

To this everlasting melody Face to face, we dance With our story Lost in forever's embrace

Only the first two lines are delivered before the foreseeable tragedy strikes.

To this everlasting melody - I love the use of "everlasting". In a way, this moment will remain eternal, to us and to both of them, as it is the last instance of Ivan and Till together.

Face to face, we dance - These words hold Ivan's desire, but will never come true. Or in a way, perhaps, they do. Ivan's hands are on Till and he leads the younger boy to the end of the song.

These lines offer us the image of something that never will, a truth that is explicitated by the following words: With our story lost in forever's embrace. This song is meant to create a fixed moment of something that the two singers will never be able to replicate.

But we don't even get there, because Ivan notices Till giving up, can't even fulfil the entirety of the song and directly stalks toward him, reaching for Till and granting himself one last selfish wish - something Ivan had asked of Till at Anakt, but was denied.

And the rest is history.

SPECIAL] Of Ivan, Till and love.

Cure represents ivantill not because the words that compose this song are written by them and have to fit them (since they weren't, I think), but because these words describe what they are, what they are not and what they could have been. They mirror their known and unclear dynamics, the feelings they awarely hold for the other and those they can't perceive but that we can see.

This song is meant to be a melancholic love story of inevitable loss between the two singers, but the roles appear to be unclear, like the two of them don't fit perfectly - like they are being forced in those roles. Despite that, they are the perfect pick for the song. Why, then, can we still perceive this as an ivantill song? It's because we know that Ivan loves Till and that Till cares about Ivan, and no matter what we see, Till does feel anguish at the idea of losing him. It is not a conventional performance of an impossible love - it's the ivantill version of it, where what makes it impossible is not only the system they live in, but their miscommunication, antics and reciprocally hiding their true feelings for each other, be it love or something else.

That's why the round and the interpretation of the song are so complex. Mizi was Till's inspiring force and now, in Roung 6, she becomes the source of his remaining strength. It's either he lives or Ivan does, and since he doesn't have the will and energy to go on, Till gives up. He taps on his memory of her and closes his eyes to everything around him, lets himself go and accepts his own death. Maybe that's the moment the idea of Ivan's departure stops weighting on him, because it's when Till stops fighting and singing and knows that if he'll die, Ivan will live, so he stands there and waits. Little does he know...

Till's reaction to the kiss (surprise, resistance, resigned acceptance), the point where the song is interrupted - it is all emblematic of the armonization they should have reached at that point of the performance but never achieved, not on stage, nor in their relationship. The first time I saw the kiss (as an outsider to the fandom, since the kiss was the first thing Alnst related I ever saw - yeah spoilerr I know, twt's algorithm is cruel but knows me best), I had the impression that the gray-haired guy's rejection of the kiss wasn't out of disgust or anger, but of shock and apprehension - like he didn't expect it and was worried they'd get caught. I didn't know they were on a stage (and I though Ivan was police lol), so I was sad when the black-haired guy was shot, but I remember thinking "omg did he do that stunt the protect the other one? Does he love him?" and was immediately sold.

I stand there even now. Ivan does not hesitate - and the moment he reaches for Till, Till's pupils dilatate at Ivan's touch. My brain literally exploded at this detail. Till doesn't start resisting until after Ivan initiates the kiss, and he is just half-heartedly trying to get away - he probably has no energy and is confused as hell. Ivan's closeness doesn't seem to bother him, it's only the kiss that he has no explanation for. He doesn't even struggle when Ivan strangles him.

We know why Ivan did all of that - we know Till was in his mind until the very end, that he probably attacked his opponent to e disqualified and killed. Ivan's sacrifice reflects his last thoughts - I should have been kinder. His last little peck on Till's lips looks like an apology, for the previous forced kiss and everything else.

Heart-breaking highlight of this section: affection was something Till taught Ivan without even realizing. Better, it is something Ivan learned by watching Till nuzzling flowers, raging against injustices, blushing for love, getting offended and sad over something hurtful. That's why Ivan's love was unclear to him but so painfully obvious to us.

Let's remind ourselves a couple of things. Till wasn't aware of Ivan's feelings for him. I feel like he is the type of character that has great empathy and perception, that can easily resonate with the emotions other show and project on him or their surroundings. That's what makes him so vivid, so enraged. Till can't un-feel - it's what makes him so dear to my heart, and what probably made Ivan so intrigued with him. So he probably feels guilty and confused and angry. Those emotions fuel him during the last round, and even if we know (and he probable knows, too) that is isn't enough, he fights.

On the other hand, the Ivan we know loves surprisingly quietly. In secret, in the privacy of his mind and in the background of his own song. The Ivan we know shows affection loudly, hungry for attention, but from behind a wall. Then he brushes it off as if he is mocking his own crush, teasing and childish about admitting his interest. Letting Till know that his affection is real is useless, and nothing will come out of it. Each action has an effect, a consequence, and he probably thinks that a love declaration is done in the hope of receiving affection from someone special. Ivan believes love is unrelated to him, so what's the use? Till would reject him and grow awkward with him and Ivan wouldn't be able to stay by his side anymore, so he only has something to lose. He can't pursue it, can't be greedy for more, because he would be undeserving of it all the same - of Till's good heart, of whatever hunch of affection Till would confirm of having for him.

Ivan wants, but doesn't know how to deal with it. And despite it all, he still reaches for Till - because how can you suppress love in those little moments where your body moves before your mind?

I am not sure if I covered eveything I wanted to say, but writing about them is such a beautiful experience, I probably won't refrain from adding stuff on tumblr if I feel like it. In the end, we go back to the original question I had in mind when starting all this - the idea of Ivan being a tragic-love character, and what it entails.

For someone thinking to be unlovable and with his "unrequited" feelings for Till, Ivan's character has as much to do with love as all the other characters, if not more. Alien Stage itself is a question, reflection and celebration of love. I think that ultimately, it is open to interpretation, as we all have different degrees of sensitivity and can read things in different ways, just like Ivan's askewed perception of himself and how, in his constant, quiet search to fit in and imitate others, he never truly understood that he was indeed loved.

Each character has their own definition of love, and Ivan felt like he did not belong to any of them - while in fact it is not a quest of fitting definitions, but love itself that adapts to the people we have and want in our lives.

So, does Ivan want to be a tragic-love character? Does he willingly become it? I don't think he wants, but in the end, his character intertwines with this vision because even if he can't accept the idea of being loved, he is loved - and his unawareness enhances the tragic nuance of it. Does he actively reject love? Yes and no. I think he'd be happy if Mizi or Sua or Till were to manifest affection toward him, but he'd probably accept it on surface level, or believe they fell for his facade/are doing it out of pity or without truly knowing him.

Consciously, he simply believes that just like people breath and exist, he can't be loved. He didn't have the time, the means and the chances to actively overturn this belief. The tragedy of his character hides in his nature, upbringing and dissonance: it is partly an obvious, inevitable outcome and partly something he didn't stop from happening (because for him it was equally unavoidable). For us, he is a character doomed to a tragic love story. For Ivan himself, love has never been in the picture - his affection was a quiet, brimming thing, and he could only... bury it with himself.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

get to know your moots

Thank you for the tags @ace-turned-confused, @beefrobeefcal, @sp00kymulderr --- what's the origin of your blog title?: Escaping reality one run-on sentence at a time. Easy. I use run-on sentences in the fiction I write to escape reality. 🫡

OTP(s) + shipname: Idk. Like, Gordon Brittas and Laura? So I guess like.. Laurdon? Arthur Morgan and Sadie Adler? Me and Pedro Pascal. Maldro, if you will.

favorite color: Orange. A very specific orange too. Tangerine Tease. Pantone #17-1349 Do I know that # by heart? Of course I do.

favorite game: The Sims, Red Dead Redemption 2, Assassins Creed Valhalla, the noises that Balatro makes when my husband plays it.

song stuck in your head: "Never Run Away" by Kurt Vile.

weirdest habit/trait?: Too much self reflection here. Maybe the way I say certain words? Breb, birb, chippies. Or like do I just mention I'm freakishly good at multiplication? People make fun of how high pitched my sneezes are. I also will run a mile to avoid a moth. (besides @mothandpidgeon)

hobbies: Writing, baseball, cooking, losing the PS5 media remote.

if you work, what's your profession?: I'll just paste my normal Mallory tagline. I sell toys for a living, that should tell you enough.

if you could have any job you wish what would it be?: Probably like the secret girlfriend/wife of a 49 year old Chilean born actor. Or interior designer. Sometimes I dream of going back to school for it.

something you're good at: Tossing something in the air and catching it over and over. Losing the PS5 media remote.

something you're bad at: Not feeling overwhelmed by laundry. Not losing the PS5 media remote.

something you love: When I find the PS5 media remote quickly.

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Baseball, my favorite music, Jimmy Stewart, Disney World.

something you hate: MOTHS (sans @mothandpidgeon), weird 70's fabric that's itchy, Freddy Krueger, the lack of Martian Manhunter in DC properties.

something you collect: Lapel pins, action figures, tchotchkes, cool picture frames, Joey Votto cards. I own four Disney Cuddleez (Wicket, Grogu, Figment, Donald) I think that's a lot for a woman in her 30's.

something you forget: To leave my car sunglasses in the car.

what's your love language?: My Scottish ass is definitely not answering physical touch. Acts of service and giving/receiving gifts.

favorite movie/show: 28 Days Later/Anything Smosh has done the past few years.

favorite food: Sandwiches. Your girl loves mayo.

favorite animal: Otters, birbs, quokkas, cats (though my husband is allergic to them), Schnauzers.

what were you like as a child?: So many of my toddler photos include me, mouth wide open, sans pants... lookin' like a terror. Though, my parents say I was very well behaved (until teenagedom) sooooo I guess wacky but within the rules allowed.

favorite subject at school?: English, history and art. I really loved earth science.

least favorite subject?: Math once algebra entered my life.

what's your best character trait?: Good question. I think I've very good at reading people and adjusting myself to help to improve their mood. I'm incredibly empathetic.

what's your worst character trait?: Impostor syndrome. Being incredibly empathetic.

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be?:

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet?: Groucho Marx and Marquis de Lafayette. I think they'd get along WONDERFULLY.

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): I think about The Road Not Taken by @guiltyasdave often. It's so gorgeous and haunts me in the best way possible.

No Pressure Tags: @ohheypedrito, @mothandpidgeon, @schnarfer, @devineconjuring, @secretelephanttattoo @sawymredfox, @almostfoxglove, @maggiemayhemnj, @yourcoolauntie, @yopossum @hellfire-state-of-mind, @justagalwhowrites, @thelightsandtheroses, @bitchesuntitled, @jennaispunk

[starkspondwater]

Not So Bad- Stan Marsh x Reader

Summary-Next up for 7 minutes in heaven is Stan Marsh! You always thought he was just some asshole (or did you) but one little game will change that real quick! (light SMUT)

Others in the series: Butters x

A/n: I do not know how to write for Stan but I tried my best! I also was not sure how to end it. Like at all. I wasn't going to write it tonight either but with everything going on in my country I needed something to keep the anxiety away!

You weren’t sure how Wendy roped you into going to a party, and you sure as hell didn’t know how she pulled you into this dumb ass party game. You didn’t talk much through highschool, running around in different friend groups so you were surprised by the sudden friendship when you both saw each other in your women’s studies course that semester. She was truthfully the only other person in the class that put in effort and through group projects and study sessions you got closer, which she definitely used to her advantage.

You had become a regular at Tolkein’s house as hanging out with his girlfriend gave you that perk, but those were normally kickbacks with a smaller group of people. Tonight, unfortunately, you were faced with a mansion full of people you had only seen in passing. Thank god the man supplied good alcohol.

Sitting in the circle with others, Wendy having cuddled up to her man, you watched as people flitted in and out of the room. From what you had heard from others there appeared to be games being played in random rooms throughout the house, including a game of strip-go-fish (how that was played you weren’t quite sure but the image gave you a laugh). You felt only slightly uncomfortable with your short shorts riding up a little too much and your top a little too clingy as the room grew warm with bodies. You mentally thanked the fireball circulating your system as it kept you from complaining, something Wendy had specifically asked you not to do tonight.

Across the circle, lazily sipping on a half drunk bottle of beer was Stan Marsh, football star, guitar player, and asshole. Well, that was a bit harsh. You hadn’t actually spoken to the boy since elementary school, boys and girls splitting off into their respective groups often, and as you grew to be teenagers you both ended up on entirely different ends of the social ladder. To you he just seemed very full of himself, laughing loudly, palling around too much, and in general just always being there.

Since he and Wendy officially broke things off in 7th grade he had led a string of girlfriends, each popular and pretty. Stereotypical highschool. You didn’t have any beef with the girls, to be clear, your issue was that it all just felt cliche, and living in a small town intensified that feeling. To make matters worse, however, was that you had caught yourself looking at him more and more over the years. In class you would find yourself tracing the lines of his broad shoulders with your eyes, noticing the stubble he had some mornings when he ran in late, and many other things. It was embarrassing, so to stay safe you just kept thinking of him as some jock asshole. 

Someone barked out laughter, breaking your train of thought and bringing you back to the present. Stan had now leaned forward, a boyish grin on his face as he looked around the circle and spun the bottle. For a second his eyes flicked to you, nearly causing you to choke on the badly mixed drink in your hand. Coughing a bit, you watched as the slender neck of the bottle spun and stopped, pointing  at none other than you.

The girls around you giggled, pushing you up to your feet and towards the closet. You could hear Wendy laughing behind you and if you still had your senses you would’ve yelled something at her, but before you could do so Stan was shoved in behind you. At the movement you nearly fell, only saved by his hands coming up to grab your waist.

“Sorry, dude,” he chuckled, only moving his hands away after a moment.

“It’s alright,” your willed your voice to not shake. Crossing your arms you attempted to make yourself a little smaller, giving you an ounce more room away from the boy next to you. You felt weird and you were sure he could hear the thumping in your chest.

“So, uh, are you like, okay with this?” Stan motioned between the two of you a little nervously.

“Being shoved in a closet?” You mentally cringed. Being a smartass was not going to help you in this situation, but it was all you could muster.

“No, like, kissing and stuff,” he said as if he really believed you didn’t know how this worked. He mistook your dumbfounded look for confusion and continued. “It’s kind of part of the game, y’know?”

“I know what 7 minutes in heaven is, Stan.”  You tried to keep the smart assery out of your voice as you answered him. “I just didn’t think you’d want to. You don’t even know me, dude.”

“Of course I do, Y/N, we’ve been in school together for like, ever. Wait- is this because of what Kenny said?” What?

“...What did Kenny say to me?” You tried to think back to all of your interactions over the years. You honestly didn’t have too much to do with the blond, though occasionally when in the same room you did joke with each other. You could not recall anything he said having to do with Stan.

“Oh that son of a bitch! He lied to get to me- goddammit!” Despite his words you heard no actual malice in his tone. All you were wondering is what Kenny would have told you. It had to have been about you if he was that concerned, right? Thankfully, you did not have to wonder for very long, as Stan broke with your prolonged silence.

“I had mentioned to the guys a few times that I thought you were, like, attractive, y’know? And…” he bit his lip as he hesitated. “I thought the skirt you wore the other week was kind of hot. He kind of kept teasing me about not having the balls to say anything to you.”

You remembered exactly what he was talking about. Your sister had decided on an impromptu makeover one morning, and like the she-devil she was, had shoved you into one of her many short skirts. You had spent the whole day worrying about flashing your ass to the poor student body. Wait- what was that first thing he said?

“Oh,” was all you could get out of your mouth, feeling your cheeks heat up at his admission.

“So…” One hand reached back for your waist and you felt him lightly squeeze, making you jump. “Did you want to…?”

“Um, yeah! Sure.” Jeez, you don’t need to sound too eager. You were still a little weirded out by this whole thing. You were not like the girls Stan usually dated, and you knew nothing would come of this anyway. Then, a little voice in your head spoke up. Fuck it. It’s a party.

With a firm but gentle touch, Stan grabbed you and brought his lips down to your own. Lips melded together in a dance as his tongue lashed forward seeking entrance. You had kissed your fair share of people, though it always felt clumsy and inexperienced. This kiss made you feel like you had drunk far more than you actually had. 

Warmth coursed through your veins, partially from your drinking but mostly from him. His large, rough hands roamed, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Tentatively, you let your hands explore, feeling the wide expanse of his chest through his t-shirt and up to those shoulders you could finally admit distracted you. Eventually, your hands moved up to his dark hair, knocking off the blue beanie on his head.

The second you touched a single strand on his head, he moaned into your mouth. Good to know he likes that you thought. Experimentally, you continued combing your hands along his scalp. A surprised yelp escaped you as Stan gripped your ass, a growl ripping from his throat. Briefly separating from your face he looked at you with hooded eyes. 

“Keep doing that and you’ll end up in trouble.” Your thighs snapped together as the words wound their way around your head. Based on the smirk the boy in front you had, he knew exactly what he was doing.

This was much more than you had bargained for. You figured you’d get at least a drunk makeout sesh in from some guy you wouldn’t care to recall the next day- instead you had Stan Marsh looking at you like that and from the clarity of his words you knew he was not drunk.

Some of the liquid courage you had previously poured down your throat sprang forth and you dared to grip his hair, lightly tugging. Immediately you were pressed to the wall as lips hungrily took to your own. Calloused fingers found their way under your shirt with feather light touches against your skin. You felt your shirt ride up as he continued towards your chest.

You were pleasantly surprised that despite how he was kissing you, Stan seemed hesitant. It was as if he was silently asking for permission to keep going, and to you that made him much more attractive. Puffing out your chest a bit into him was permission enough as his hands found their target. You could feel him squeeze a bit, humming at the feeling. He was gentle but commanding, and the combination had your head spinning.

You felt possessed. It wasn’t enough and you wanted closer, you wanted more, and Stan seemed to have the same line of thought as you. Only breaking from you for a split second, he brought your shirt up and over your head before expertly bringing a hand around and unclasping your bra. You fought the urge to cover your chest as he leaned back to gaze at you. Even in the horrible closet lighting you could make out his dilated pupils as he took in the sight in front of him..

With a glance to your face, he brought his head down and clamped his mouth to one of your nipples, his hands gripping your waist to keep you in place. As his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud, you gave yourself over to the experience. Allowing your hands to rest on his head and shoulders, your head lolled back.

You could feel your panties growing moist by the second, small whimpers released from your lips mixing in with the sounds he was currently making at your chest. As he rose back up, now paying attention to your exposed neck, your hands instinctively fell downward onto the waistband of his jeans.

Almost immediately you pulled back, growing stiff. Stan, sensing a change, pulled back as well and observed your nervous state. After a moment, a grin broke out onto his handsome features. 

“You alright?” His voice was lightly teasing, but didn’t give off the vibe that he was making fun. You weren’t sure what to say, or maybe you did, but this all felt a little too bold for you. I mean you weren’t even his type for christ’s sake, even if he did admit to finding you attractive. 

Stan, despite common misconceptions, was not dumb. He’d known you for a long time and even though the two of you didn’t really talk for whatever reason he could still clearly read your body language and the little facial expressions you had. He came to the conclusion that he’d have to spell it out for you.

“You do know I like you, right?” you sputtered a bit, causing him to chuckle. “That’s why I was worried about Kenny talking to you. He kept saying if I didn’t have the balls to say anything he might as well as you out himself, and I didn’t want that.” 

Almost as if to prove it to you, he took one of your hands and placed it on the zipper of his pants. You could clearly feel how into this, and you, he actually was. His breath grew heavy as you rubbed along the length of him. He was girthy, that much you could tell. Your fingers skimmed his zipper when the door to the closet flew open.

The once muffled sound of the party slammed into the room with you. Stan quickly turned the two of you, shielding your exposed form from those that might be looking in and covering you in shadow. Haphazardly you threw on your bra and shirt, feeling the strap twist uncomfortably as your fingers numbly hooked things together. Your breathing was ragged and you attempted to slow it and create some semblance of calm. Stan, thankfully, stood there patiently and quietly, ignoring the jeers from outside.

Once done you very much intended to do your walk of shame directly out of the party. At least at home you could spiral with the remains of your dignity in peace. As you began to speed walk out you felt a large, warm hand slip into your own. Looking up you saw Stan with a small smile on his face, not even stopping to say anything as the two of you moved toward the exit. 

“What are you doing?” you asked after a beat of silence. The fresh mountain air outside was an immediate relief to the embarrassment you had felt inside the home. Fellow classmates that had already been sitting outside peered at you curiously, causing you to turn away.

“Well, I figured after the whole thing with them opening the door you might not want to continue, but maybe we could grab some slushes and talk for a bit?” He tugged his previously discarded beanie down over his ears. “I could also just drive you home. I just didn’t want to end this so quickly.”

Pleasure unfurled in your belly as you took in his words. Stan really did like you, like he said. You could try to tell yourself all you wanted that he was some asshole but you knew that wasn’t true at all. He was considerate and fun, and maybe you could build something on that. You pretended to ponder for a moment before answering him.

“I suppose a slushie couldn’t hurt. Just no funny business!” you teased as you followed him down the road, stepping in time with him.

“No promises!” he grinned, lightly knicking a hand into yours and intertwining it with his own.

Yeah, he wasn’t so bad after all, you decided.

[lunalaastra]

The Brothership Experience:

This was fun to draw XD Like I said, I think I’m keeping it a sketch ‘cause I think it kinda works