#genuinely sorry for the long post but i promised

[azzibueckers5]

i want you to need me (need to want something more)

(ao3 link) (read iwkpa first) (wc: ~9k)

five times paige bueckers curses azzi fudd's entire existence and generally wants to die, and one time she curses azzi fudd's entire existence but for really awesome reasons this time so it's chill.

chapter 1 (of 2): in which paige is down horrendous. like horrendously horrendous

AN: hi hello looky here, i did indeed write more of these idiots. enjoy angtsy paige as promised. i swear the second chapter will make up for it. i hope. i smoked a joint by myself and listened almost exclusively to waiting room while writing the majority of this... so that's your warning in terms of angst levels and editing levels lmfao i'm sorry <3 (also there's a BRIEF mention of religious guilt but its like so super light- but if you're worried at all just message me)

1. june 2020, arlington, virginia

the dc humidity is stifling as paige races up the last stretch of asphalt after azzi and turns up the driveway to the fudd’s house, breathing heavily and trying to muster up enough remaining energy to catch the younger girl in the last stretch of their run.

the air is heavy around them, thick with an incoming summer storm, and paige doesn’t even have the breath to groan aloud when azzi’s finger’s graze the basketball hoop’s post at the top of the driveway a second before her own, their designated finish line. 

“i win again, fuck you,” azzi wheezes, the pride in her voice still audible even through her heavy breathing.

paige’s eyes do not catch on the strip of skin exposed between her waistband and the bottom of her shirt when she pulls her arms up to rest them on her head. they do not. 

she slaps at azzi’s leg half heartedly and attempts to keep both the fatigue and petulance out of her voice when she whines, “you cheated- grabbed my back when we turned up the hill.” 

they both know that paige was already losing. 

azzi doesn’t dignify it with a response, and only shoves her leg back in retaliation, which. rude. 

“so hot out. wish it would start raining already,” is what she says instead, and it's a testament to how long their run was that she’s not fighting the cheating allegations. 

paige grunts in agreement and hunches over, hands on her knees, trying simultaneously to catch her breath and also valiantly to ignore the sight of azzi stripping off her tank top in her periferal. and then she discovers that if she leans over far enough, her ponytail will fall over her eyes and she can inconspicuously ogle azzi from behind strands of her hair. 

delightful.

she’s too busy letting her eyes roam across the smooth, taut skin of azzi’s stomach that’s being revealed and involuntarily tracing the sweat droplets on her abdomen to notice that azzi throws the damp shirt at paige’s head, until it hits the side of her face and drops to the ground next to her foot. 

it takes a concerning amount of strength for paige to not reach down, bring the teal material to her face, and do something entirely insane like inhale it. or worse, lick it, which she’s pretty sure isn’t something you’re supposed to want to do when confronted with your best friend’s sweaty work out top. 

belatedly, she says “ew azzi, that’s nasty it’s all sweaty,” and hopes the disgust in her voice is convincing. she wishes azzi’s sweat was as repulsive as she’s trying to make it seem, but instead it just makes her desperately want to put her mouth on the places that produce it. 

there might be something wrong with her. probably.

and then azzi’s head tilts, in the way that almost always leads to trouble, “yeah?” 

and paige’s disgust was either too convincing and azzi feels like being a shithead, or not convincing enough and still azzi feels like being a shithead but for entirely different reasons, because the brunette smirks, and proceeds to wipe a hand across the moisture on her abdomen and then shove it in paige’s face.

paige wants to die. like genuinely. death. drowning. incineration. a bolt of lightning perhaps. 

instead, she shrieks, catching azzi’s wrists in her hands, and tries to shove her sweaty forehead into azzi’s neck, wrestling with her hands to get one free and lift her own shirt up to wipe the damp material across azzi’s side. 

they’re both squealing, giggling in between indignant grunts, and the struggle lands them pushed up against the plastic of the garage door with a thud, paige pinning azzi’s hips to the surface with her own. 

and this. backfired. a little bit. because now she’s pressing a sweaty, wriggling, half naked azzi against a hard surface. with her own body. 

her brain whites out for a second, and azzi must notice because she takes advantage of her hesitation to do anything and flips them, wiping her face down paige’s arm. 

and paige isn’t like, turned on by that, but she’s not not turned on either. what the fuck.

she can’t even come up with retaliation, too focused on how close they are and how warm azzi is, and the feeling of her skin pressed up against paige’s, and. she’s going a little bit insane, she thinks.

azzi stills then, too, at paige’s non-reaction, and then they’re just staring at each other, hands still gripping each other’s in a now forgotten attempt at defense, air thick with more than just the humidity. 

they stand there for a second, just looking, chests heaving, and paige isn’t going to kiss azzi, obviously, that would be stupid, but she’s certainly thinking about it, and.

and then thunder claps, loud, above them, warning of an imminent downpour, and azzi jumps away from paige like she’s been burned, stumbling backwards. 

her face is contorted, a little shocked, like she doesn’t know what just came over her. paige wishes she knew the feeling, but unfortunately she knows all too well what just came over her. 

her head falls back against the garage door, arms going limp, and she watches, dazed, as azzi disappears into the house, calling out something about how winners get to take the first shower over her shoulder, the screen door banging behind her.

she lets out a groan loud enough to be mistaken for another roll of thunder and wonders how long this silly crush she has will continue to torment her. 

this awkwardness– usually the result of paige getting to close, touching too much– has been happening more often recently, ever since she eagerly embraced the fudd family’s hospitality to let her stay with them through quarantine. 

if she’s honest with herself, which she usually isn’t, the tension has always been there, she’s just now letting herself notice it more, and she wishes– especially in instances like this when azzi gets particularly close to letting paige cross lines before shoving her away– that she’d never let herself pay attention to it all. 

because it aches a little bit, in a masochistic, addictive sort of way, the exhaustion of having azzi close in every way but one– the one she only lets herself think about in the darkness of the middle of the night, with azzi’s slow breathing only inches away. 

she wonders when, if ever, she’ll have the courage to do something about the way her stomach flips when azzi smiles at her a little too long, or the way her fingers tingle when azzi grabs her hand during movie nights. 

she knows the other girl like the back of her hand though, knows that she isn’t ready yet, doesn’t know if she’ll ever even be ready, so she shoves her fascination with azzi’s sweat into the corner of her mind labeled things i shouldn’t think about and presses a hand to her forehead, hard, trying to physically force it back. 

she stays outside long after azzi disappears, body cooling all the way off, and doesn’t follow her until the rain starts, until the water droplets pour down onto her and cruelly wash away the traces of azzi’s sweat from her skin.

2. november 2022, storrs, connecticut

paige has had maybe the worst day ever. 

okay not really, but certainly the worst day she’s had in a while. she’s not dramatic enough to say it beats that one in august, the scar on her knee is too heavy a reminder of that, but it’s up there, just mundane enough to be brutal in the quieter ways, the ones that add up.  

it had started, this morning, when instead of waking to the movement of azzi disentangling herself from paige’s comforter, the blonde had been jerked awake by the sounds of jana and ice bickering, loudly, outside her door and an empty left side of the bed. 

azzi and her had fought the night before– nothing big, just a flare up of irritation that happened sometimes when they spent too much time together– and she’d left their weekly movie night early instead of curling up against paige’s pillows and falling asleep like usual, leaving a lingering annoyance over paige’s mood already. 

so, naturally, she’d started her day in shitty spirits, and they’d only worsened through a particularly brutal PT session. 

and then she’d had to sit through a team meeting preparing for an upcoming game that she’d spend sitting, uselessly on the bench, had gotten a paper back with a less than stellar grade, and had been caught in the rain on her walk back from the dining hall with nika. 

all she wants to do now is to wallow in self pity, make azzi cheer her up, and tuck herself into her favorite spot between the brunette’s head and shoulder and let her hands in paige hair wash away the day. 

they’d made up from the night before at practice this morning, when paige had been incessantly annoying, throwing basketballs at azzi’s shots during warm ups until she’d dropped her stupid ignoring paige act, and she’s looking forward to finally unwinding in front of one of the only people she’s ever been vulnerable in front of. 

azzi hasn’t responded to paige’s text about coming over by the time she gets out of the shower, but she doesn’t really care, too sulky to wait for her to be done with her homework or whatever she’s deemed more important than tending to paige’s ego, and she trudges down the hallway and up the stairs between their suites with more drag in her feet than usual. 

caroline is sitting on the couch when paige barges in, and she looks surprised to see paige here, which is odd considering she spends equal time in this apartment as she does her own, but paige ignores the hesitancy on her face in favor of starting down the hall, too tired to care. 

but then caroline says “ wait, no,” shrilly, a little panicked, when paige makes it about halfway through the living room after a muttered hello, and stands up off the couch, as if she needs to physically interrupt her movements. 

and that stops paige in her tracks, because what.

“bruh- what,” paige bites out, and if it's a little rude, sue her. “azzi’s here, right?”

caroline hesitates. “yes, but-”

but paige isn’t listening, and caroline will understand, anyways, that paige really just needs azzi right now, so she cuts the brunette off, mumbling “kay, catch you later,” before walking the short rest of the way down the hall and to azzi’s door.

she can hear caroline protesting behind her, more urgently, but paige is having none of it, and pushes open azzi door without knocking. 

and stops short. 

there is a boy in azzi’s room. 

there is a boy on azzi’s bed . 

in paige’s spot. on azzi’s bed. 

there is a boy in azzi’s room on azzi’s bed sitting next to azzi, touching azzi’s thigh. 

paige feels like she might throw up. 

“oh- i’m. oh-” is all she gets out, as azzi jumps off the bed like she’s been burned, the stupid boy’s hand falling limply off her leg in the process. 

“paige! what’re you- hi- what’re you doing here?” she says, eyes wide and flustered, like she’s been caught. 

because she has, a little bit. they don’t exactly talk about the people they hook up with, but paige usually has some semblance of idea on what azzi is doing, enough to know when she needs to let nika get her uproariously drunk, or call drew for a couple hours to take her mind off things. 

they also don’t really ever bring people back to their rooms– in the rare event paige is feeling particularly horny, she’ll always go to a girl’s room, never bringing them back to hers. because her room is her and azzi’s space, and she’d kinda thought azzi’s room was too, seeing as the brunette had never brought anyone back either. until now, of course. 

on a fucking random thursday evening. fuck.

paige is reeling, and the entire day’s worth of shitty events comes crashing down on her. 

“m’sorry- sorry i was just- i’ll just-” she flips a finger over her shoulder at caroline behind her and backs slowly out of the doorframe, trying to stave off the tears welling in her eyes until she’s alone.

“wait, p, are you- are you okay?” asks azzi, hands wringing together in front of her. she looks torn, and paige is genuinely offended that this mediocre boy is enough to even hold a candle to her, enough to make azzi glance back and forth between the two of them like they hold equal weight in her life.

stupid-ugly-boy has been entirely silent throughout this horrifically awkward interaction, head moving between the two of them in uncomfortable confusion, and paige really wants to kick his face in. 

instead, she mumbles out a “no yeah- i’ll just. come back later,” and her voice sounds shaky. what the fuck.

azzi tilts her head and asks, imploringly, “you sure?” and paige almost wants to just break down right then and there, and cry about physical therapy and the rain and her stupid knee and her stupid paper and how this fucking guy messing everything up, but she glances at ugly-stupid-boy still sitting on azzi’s bed, and nods once, before turning on her heel. 

“m’sure. see you like- tomorrow. or whatever.” 

her voice doesn’t crack, which is something, and she hears azzi ask again but she’s already halfway back down the hallway, speeding past caroline and her pitying expression to get the fuck away from whatever is about to happen in azzi’s room. 

she pauses once she gets outside their apartment’s door for a second, half expecting azzi to be right behind her with a dismissive excuse for ugly-stupid-boy and soothing words for paige, because azzi always knows when she’s upset, always prioritizes fixing it, but when she realizes after five seconds that azzi isn’t coming, she starts down the hallway and lets the tears begin to fall.

she hasn’t cried over azzi in months, ever since she decided that she was going to have to be fine with being just friends, just best friends, that it was enough, but by the time she gets back to her room, she’s full on sobbing, and she collapses down onto her bed, muffling her cries into the st. john's basketball sweatshirt that azzi had left two days ago when she’d been there for a movie night and had ended up sleeping over. 

she doesn’t even have the right to be upset, not really, and this somehow makes it hurt worse. 

because azzi and her weren’t dating– weren’t anything– and she didn’t owe paige an explanation for what she did with her life, her body. even if it was with really stupid ugly boys. especially then. 

her heart feels like it's been hit with a hammer anyways, though, and she takes back the thought that she’d had earlier– that she wasn’t dramatic enough to say this was the worst day ever– because this was now officially tied with the day she’d torn her acl. 

at least that had had a fix- a surgery, and a rehab regimen, and doctors telling her how to get better, get stronger. she even had a return date, a definitive end to the injury, even if it was far off. 

but this feeling in her chest, the absolute panic coursing through her veins? there was no doctor that could cure it, and no timeline on when it would get better. 

she was starting to think it never would.  

…

paige must fall asleep like that, curled around azzi’s sweatshirt crying, because she wakes to the feeling of azzi pulling the hoodie out of her arms. 

she blinks blearily up at her, eyes puffy and disoriented, and she hates herself a little bit for immediately noticing how soft and pretty azzi looks in the dim light of the room.

“can i-” is azzi’s sheepish, whispered question, gesturing down at paige’s arms. 

even in her sluggish state, she knows she should say no. even in normal friendship circumstances, crawling into each others beds after having sex with other people is considered fucking weird. 

but paige is a weak, sad, little idiot, and she does not say no. she nods instead, and azzi visibly sighs in relief, before slipping into paige’s arms like she has a thousand times before and tangling their legs. 

and paige’s heart hurts, because how dare azzi seek her out after breaking it so casually. and how dare her dumbass self let her. 

she doesn’t know why she asks, but she can’t stop the question once it pops into her head, and she waits a few moments, like maybe if long enough time passes azzi will fall asleep and she won’t have to hear the answer, and then:

“did you- did you fuck him?” she whispers, and the word fuck comes out harsh, vulgar. 

azzi stiffens in her arms, and there’s silence for a few beats, before she exhales a quiet “ paige,” and it’s answer enough. 

it cuts deep, so, so deep, and paige should cry, and yell, and kick azzi out of her bedroom, because that’s not fair , that she gets to sleep with other people and then come crawling back to paige, traces of someone else’s hands all over her, but instead she just inhales quietly against the stinging behind her eyes.

she shifts them on the bed, so azzi is curled up with her head on paige’s chest, and tilts her head back so the younger girl won’t be able to feel her tears when they inevitably fall.

and as azzi drifts off, paige wonders what her last straw will be, because she’s creeping closer and closer to the point of no return, the heartbreak of no return. 

she’s weak for azzi though, knows she’ll let the girl do almost anything, and as she lies awake, tears dripping quietly, uncomfortably into her ears, she knows she’ll always let azzi come crawling back, always give her whatever she wants. 

it’s not at all a comforting thought.

3. april 2025, tampa, florida

the music in the hotel suite they opted to turn into an impromptu after party is just on the side of loud called obnoxious , but paige can’t bring herself to give a fuck when azzi is singing along to the song emphatically next to her, smile wide and notes slightly off key as she tries to drag paige in closer to dance with her. 

her hair is damp from the earlier spray of champagne, and there’s confetti stuck to her forehead, and paige thinks she’s the most beautiful woman that's ever graced the earth. 

and she knows they’re both like, really, truly, exceptionally drunk, but she really hopes she’ll remember this moment in the morning: her and azzi, tangled together on the dance floor, pure joy splashed across the brunettes face, their teammates in various stages of hammered around them, champagne still flowing and laughter echoing through the room. 

she feels like she’s on cloud nine, like nothing could pull her down from  the high of the natty, and azzi’s unwavering attention, and her beautiful, strong, pretty hands that are tangled in the net still dangling from paige’s neck. 

when people start winding down (see: caroline carrying kk upstairs, and ice and jana passing out on the couch in the corner), paige and azzi drag themselves off to paige’s room. 

and in her haze, paige doesn’t really know why, but they stay tangled together on their waltz to the elevators, and in the elevators, and then back down the hall towards the room, and when paige almost trips over the door frame after fumbling with the key card, azzi laughs so hard she almost causes them both to crash to the ground, and.

and azzi’s laughter is still the best sound she’s ever heard– and she’s heard the buzzer at the end of a national championship game win– and paige really wants to taste it. 

and then. and then she is tasting it because she’s kissing azzi, wide and messy and giddy. 

and azzi’s kissing back, she’s kissing paige back, and this is definitely the best day of paige’s life, no doubt about it. 

they stumble through the door into the main room, bumping into the dresser in their insistence upon staying attached to eachother, but paige can’t be bothered to actually pay attention to where they’re going because she’s kissing azzi, and azzi’s hands are underneath her shirt on her stomach and her hands are in azzi’s hair– and holy fuck.

azzi makes a needy little noise in the back of her throat when paige tugs at her shirt, and their lips part for a second so she can yank it off, and paige wants that noise imprinted in her mind forever . 

she tosses the offending material behind her just as azzi turns around and launches herself onto the bed, giggling all the way, and paige takes a second, in her absolutely sloshed state, to appreciate the sight of a happy, half naked azzi climbing off balance onto the bed and waiting to be kissed, just as giddy as paige is. 

she’s so pretty. and she’s waiting for paige to come and kiss her, and fuck.

this is even better than raising the trophy over their heads, even better than cutting the net. 

and then azzi whines out a needy “ paige,” and she scrambles to follow, because what the princess wants, the princess gets. 

she giggles aloud at that thought– and then realizes when azzi makes an indignant noise that it hadn’t been just a thought but she’d said it out loud too. oops.

azzi pulls paige down on top of her the second she gets close, and she falls, limbs knocking and tangling in an unfortunate manner, but then their mouths are melding together again and paige doesnt care at all that her leg is trapped because they’re kissing . 

she moves her mouth down for a second, just to suck a mark into the skin of azzi’s chest, and azzi moans into her ear, and jesus christ. paige is overwhelmed. she pulls her head back with a nip of her teeth, and the sight of the darkened skin, red and angry and proof that azzi is hers, is enough to make her throb in her sweats. 

she surges back up to kiss azzi again when the younger girl's hands tangle in her hair, tugging like she’s just as needy for it as paige is, and.

and she doesn’t mean to– really, she doesn’t– but she’s still riding the high of the game, and azzi is spread out underneath her, clad in only a sports bra and sweats, kissing her, and there’s so much champagne running through her veins, and so much skin to put her mouth on and. she just loves azzi so, so much that she has to tell her. 

“fuck, az. love you- love you so much,” she mumbles, pressing the words into azzi’s neck, and dragging her tongue across her collarbone. “m’so in love with you,” she adds, almost as an afterthought. 

it seems like something azzi should know, probably, since it's so awesome and they’re kissing . 

except– azzi stiffens.

“no p, shhhhh– why’d you ruin it, c’mere,” azzi slurs, lazily, one hand pressing over paige’s mouth, and. 

and paige's heart cracks in her chest. 

she pulls back and blinks down at azzi, trying to come up with a coherent response while her mind catches up to the reality of what she’s just said.

“wha’” she says dumbly, at a loss, white noise suddenly filling her ears. 

“can we just. can this just be kissing– i don’ wanna complicate…” azzi trails off, and then when paige says nothing, tries to drag her in for another kiss, eyes unfocussed.

paige lets her, for a second, before her mind catches up to it, and then she jerks her face back, trying to ignore the keening noise azzi makes when she does, because. 

because she’s just told azzi she was in love with her, and the response had been don’t ruin it. she wanted to die.

“azzi, i can’t–” 

she frowns, eyebrows drawing up comically, and has the audacity to sound annoyed. “why not?”

paige cannot do this right now.

“can we just– can we just talk about this in the morning?” she asks, voice cracking on the last word. at azzi’s grumpy huff, she adds, a little desperate, “azzi, promise me we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

and azzi must be really drunk, because her eyes are drooping, but she agrees. “yeah, promise, p.”

paige doesn’t believe her, doesn’t even know why she wants to talk about it in the morning anyways, but as she glances down at the mark, now taunting, that stares up at her from azzi’s collarbone, dread settles heavy in her gut.

“go to sleep, az,” she whispers, and tucks a curl behind her ear.

“‘kay,” she replies, sleepily, drunkenly, and paige thinks fuck.

and she doesn’t know how that started and ended so fast— they were barely in the elevator like ten minutes ago— but paige feels her whole world come crashing down. 

and when azzi falls asleep almost instantly, half on paige’s side of the bed, curls tangled and face peaceful, like she didn’t just shatter paige’s whole entire heart, paige thinks that this might be the thing that finally kills her. 

she’s still drunk, so drunk, and the room is spinning from the liquor and blurring from the tears. 

she tries to muster up sleepiness that won’t come, tries to shut down the searing panic that’s thrumming through her, but the only coherent thought in her head is fuckfuckfuckfuck.

she’d known, on a deeper level, that azzi probably didn’t feel the same, but the way she’d been looking at paige recently, they ways she’d clung to her tonight, the way they’d just been fucking making out , it had made paige think, just maybe, that she’d had a chance, that maybe azzi’d felt it too.

but now she knows, with certainty, from the way azzi had callously rejected her, that azzi didn’t feel the same. 

if her entire body wasn’t so paralyzed with dread, she thinks she would probably throw up.

eventually, on what should be the happiest day of her life so far, championship net still tangled around her neck, dreams achieved, and the love of her miserable life next to her, she falls asleep crying. 

because she knows, with all the drunk certainty in the world, that this has fucked them up, fucked paige up, in a way that will be impossible to fix.

the taste of champagne on azzi’s lips and the echo of the words why’d you ruin it follow her into her dreams. 

and when azzi is gone when she wakes up, she’s not even surprised.

4. april 2026, indianapolis, indiana

the arena is deafening with the wrong crowd’s noise, almost suffocating, sky blue and yellow confetti falling around the sea of people on the court, as paige watches in despair as ucla celebrates their thorough defeat of uconn in the national championship.

the huskies had barely stood a chance, in all honesty. sarah had gotten hurt in the semis- a strained ligament after a particularly hard fall in the paint that didn’t pose serious long term concerns but had sidelined her for today’s game, and kk hadn’t been able to clear concussion protocol after a hard hit during the first quarter. 

which left azzi, and the rest of uconn, limping through what would otherwise be a quite competitive match, and just trying to not get blown out. 

azzi had played spectacularly too, in paige’s deeply biased but correct opinion, keeping it close enough to not be embarrassing and racking up 33 points and 4 steals. 

but it hadn’t been enough, and even from a hundred feet away, without having talked in months, paige could see how upset azzi was, how hard this loss would be felt. 

it made her want to bundle azzi up in her arms and hide her from the rest of the world– tuck her away and talk her down from the spiral that paige knew with certainty her brain was already starting to spin. 

except she doesn’t have that privilege anymore, and it was killing her. 

she’d sat with nika and a couple other ex teammates, so they get to go down onto the floor to give consolatory hugs and apologies, but by the time paige gets through kk and geno and all the other people who want to talk to her, azzi has already disappeared into the tunnel. 

caroline takes one look at paige’s faraway gaze following the back of azzi’s head, and shoves her towards the entrance. “go find her. gonna be the only one who gets through to her anyways.”

and it should be reassuring, that caroline thinks paige is still the right person to go after her, but it only adds to the pool of dread in her stomach. regardless, though, with a pat on nika’s shoulder, paige slips away into the tunnel, knowing without a doubt that azzi is hiding in an empty room somewhere, trying to compose herself enough to talk to the media. 

she ducks into three different doorways with no sign of the brunette, before coming across an empty office, lights off but an achingly familiar back profile visible through the window in the door. 

paige pauses, hesitating. a year ago, she wouldn’t miss a beat, would already be next to azzi telling her a stupid joke and trying to get a smile out of her, but she’s not sure azzi wants that from her anymore. paige hasn’t exactly been a stellar friend, avoiding alumni events and dodging texts, and the guilt is suffocating. 

still though, azzi is hurting, and paige will never be able to sit and watch her be upset without at least trying to do something about it.

cautiously, she raps her knuckles against the doorframe, before pushing in, not waiting for azzi to turn around. 

she does a double take when she turns enough to see that it's paige, and her heart breaks in her chest at how surprised she looks that it's the blonde, and how upset she looks at the loss.  

they stare at each other for a second, and it's almost awkward– a reminder of the last year that's aged them and driven them apart– and paige’s heart constricts. azzi looks so tired. 

she doesn’t know why she says it, why she thinks it will be funny, but she makes a pathetic attempt at breaking the tense silence by blurting “miss me out there?” and immediately regrets it. 

azzi’s face falls, cautious expression morphing into blatant hurt, and she curls in on herself. and fuck. paige is really stupid. 

“no, azzi, i didn’t-” she stutters out.

and then without thinking, with only the visceral need to comfort the younger girl running through her, paige closes the space between them in three steps and wraps her arms around azzi, one hand cupping the back of her head and nestling azzi into her neck. 

and then they’re hugging, and azzi relaxes into her, curling so tightly together that maybe they’ll be able to forget about the distance of the last year.

“m’really proud of you,” she presses into azzi’s hair. “still the best shooter in the nation, forreal.”

“i still lost ,” comes the response, ever the pessimist. 

“not your fault. played better than last year, even, and you were the mop .” 

paige pauses, assessing the mood, and then adds, still into azzi’s hair, “gonna go number one next week, az. i just know it. dc’ll love you. they already do.”

“maybe, but i’d probably pick lauren, cause y’know, she won,” she protests, and paige can feel the tears soaking the collar of her t-shirt. 

“hey.” 

she gently tugs azzi’s head back and out of her shoulder to look at her for a second, faces close. 

which is a mistake, because now they’re inches apart and azzi is so beautiful, even crying like this, and paige has missed her so badly, but she needs to make sure azzi believes the next words out of her mouth. 

“if they don’t pick you, they’re fuckin’ stupid, okay?” she reassures, wiping a thumb under azzi’s eye. 

she inhales shakily but nods, and paige can’t resist adding “besides. either way you’re still gonna lose to me in the league,” with a lopsided smile.

azzi collapses back into her, with a weak groan, laugh muffled into paige’s shoulder, and it sounds more like a sob, actually, but it’s something , and paige just tries to hold her, tries to lessen the pain with physical touch alone. 

the last time they’d been this close without awkwardness had been almost exactly a year ago, and they’d been kissing, and. 

paige forcefully shut down those thoughts. she has azzi here, in her arms, and she isn’t going to waste it. she closes her eyes and tries to memorize the feeling of azzi’s strong body pressed up against her, the tickle of her curls against paige’s neck, the grip of her fingers against the back of paige’s shirt, the way she smelled, still sweaty from the game. 

because she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get this again, have azzi this close.

they’re quiet for a bit, just breathing each other in. 

and then azzi mumbles “i’m really mad at you,” into her shoulder, in lieu of all the distance between them, the awkwardness that they both know is paige’s fault, and guilt floods her senses.

paige thinks azzi can’t possibly be more mad at her than she is at herself.

“yeah,” she breathes out. “i know,” and tightens her hold. 

she wants to apologise, to get on her knees and beg for forgiveness and convince azzi to forgive her, to let her back in. that leads to hurt, though, so instead, she just grips her a little harder, like maybe telepathically she can convince azzi how much she misses her, how much the last year has fucking sucked.

the seconds tick by, and paige hopes that this is as healing for azzi as it is hurting for herself. 

and then a staff member paige doesn’t recognize comes barrelling into the room, shattering the sanctuary of peace that they’ve carved out, and azzi wrenches herself from away paige’s grasp, face wet and hands shaking.

“oh- i’m so sorry- i didn’t realize…” the woman trails off, seemingly processing that she’d just interrupted azzi fudd and paige bueckers.  

azzi wipes at her eyes frantically, and stutters out “no it’s um- it’s fine i think i have to go do press,” before darting out of the room with only a glance back at paige, eyes wide and expression weary. 

and then she’s just. gone. 

the woman looks between paige’s stock still position and the space by the door that azzi just fled from and starts profusely apologizing, but paige cuts her off with a gruff “its fine,” and the woman stops, before nodding and radiply following azzi out the door.

and then its just paige, and the lingering scent of azzi’s hair, and the ghost of her touch in this fucking empty office. 

she wishes, often, that she could hate azzi, because it would make this whole thing easier. but this is only a reinforcement of how she will never be able to do that, will probably spend the rest of her life loving her and missing the feeling of them pressed together. 

she stays in the room for ten more minutes, trying to compose herself, and when she’s more emotional for the rest of the day than she otherwise would be, she just blames it on ucla.

5. july 2026, dallas, texas

sometimes, on her darkest days, when she wakes up with azzi’s phantom touch on her face or her laugh still ringing in her ears, paige wonders if loving azzi as much as she does, without reciprocation, is her punishment for being gay, because it aches a thousand times worse than any injury she's ever had to endure. it's the kind of hurt that feels like it has to be caused by some higher power, has to be some sort of eternal damnation. 

this morning is one of those days, and she wakes with the echo of azzi’s name on her lips, only to be reminded of the harsh reality of her empty dallas apartment upon opening her eyes. 

she sighs, long-sufferingly, into her pillows, who offer her no advice, and resigns herself to another hollow day. 

there is no part of her, anymore at least, that struggles with her relationship with god and her sexuality– ironically enough it had been azzi that had talked her through her guilt-induced panic attacks during high school– but the feeling of punishment still lingers, occasionally, like maybe god was spiteful that she’d always worship azzi just a tiny bit more. 

she sighs again, this time to her ceiling, which remains as mockingly adviceless as her pillows, and counts to three in her head before dragging herself out of bed to get ready for practice. 

basketball is usually a sure bet at a good distraction, but today, they’re prepping for the next three games. 

which means they’re prepping for the mystics. 

which means paige has to see azzi’s fucking perfect (face) shooting form seventeen different times, and endure sideways glances from everyone in the room, as if knowing that azzi would be here, in dallas, in a weeks time wasn’t nauseating enough as is without everyone pitying her. 

only dijonai and arike knew the gut wrenching truth: that they had been neither lovers nor strictly just friends, but something worse, in the middle, just teetering on the knife’s edge that was more , until paige had knocked them off balance and the blade had eventually sliced through her head and heart and cut her open, leaving azzi with only a few knicks

the team was still aware, though, that they were on less than stellar terms– probably thought they were exes like the rest of the fucking world– but that didn’t spare paige from having to offer up intel, as coach had put it, on slowing her down 

(her quiet loyalty to azzi has no limits, it seems, because she only offers up a meager statement about the shooting guard occasionally favoring her left leg, which isn’t even really true anymore.  not that paige paid enough attention to azzi’s games to notice that progress. at all.)

film, evidently, drags by, and even the abnormal amount of stupid jokes from dijonai isn’t enough to distract paige from the miserable anticipation of having azzi in the same city. 

practice afterwards is even worse, somehow, and paige is uncharacteristically sloppy, getting told on three separate occasions to lock in. 

she lets arike trail after her when she hits the weight room instead of the showers, if only because she doesn’t have the energy to protest, and prays that the older girl, who has become something of a mentor, and who at least somewhat understands the predicament, leaves paige to her thoughts. 

surprise, surprise, her prayers go unanswered, and she makes it barely three reps into her chest presses before arike breaks the weighted silence.

“you can’t go on like this forever, p. you know that,” is her really chill, lightweight conversation starter. always to the point. 

“dunno what you’re talking about,” she says, stubbornly, sulkily. 

arike doesn’t even glance up from her own rack, like paige’s denial doesn’t deserve a response, before sighing.

“i’m talkin bout you barely being able to say the name of a girl you haven’t spoken to in months, haven’t been alone with in a year.”

paige resists the urge to tell her that, actually, paige had been alone with her in april, and it had hurt so badly to be that close to azzi that she’d nearly fled the state that night. it probably won’t help her case. 

“i can say azzi’s name. i just don’t like to.” her voice comes out relatively smooth, and paige mentally pats herself on the back.

“you grippin’ the bar so hard i’m worried you gon’ snap it in half.”

whatever. at paige’s stubborn silence, she continues. 

“look. i get it, okay, i do. but you need to at least try and move on. take advantage of what’s left of the break. take a pretty girl out on a date-”

“ rike-” paige starts to protest, but is ignored.

“you don’t have to marry her, paige. you don’t even gotta kiss her. but this sulking thing has got to stop.”

“i’m not sulking,” she says. not at all in a tone of voice that could potentially be mistaken for sulking. 

arike just raises an eyebrow. “i have a friend, jadyn, she’s cool. used to hoop. she’s asked about you before, definitely your type. lemme set you up, please. if not for your sake then the rest of us who’ve had to watch you mope since you got here.”

“how do you know what my type even is,” paige says, stubbornly. 

arike lets the bar fall out of her hands post-squat with a loud thump, before beginning to gather her things. mockingly, she asks, “do you want me to answer that?”

paige does not. she switches gears. “i’m not moping.”

unimpressed, arike squirts some water from her gatorade bottle down at paige as she walks by in response. “yeah, sure. just think about it, okay? baby steps.”

…

paige contemplates arike’s offer on the drive home, and in the shower, and even throughout her automated, rather lacking post shower routine. 

the last time she’d hooked up with someone had been a few months after the natty. paige had been hammered after a win with dijonai, had tried to take a random girl home from the bar, and had proceeded to call the poor girl azzi while they were making out against the door of her apartment. it had been as disastrous as you’d expect, and paige hadn’t tried since. 

she hopes, maybe, that the older girl has dropped it, and paige won’t have to either awkwardly shut it down again, or worse, suffer through a date with an unsuspecting stranger. but then as she’s pulling on a pair of sweats, her phone lights up in front of her with a text from the devil herself. 

arike: im sending jadyn your number, pleaseeee just give it a shot. 

she sighs, and glances at the mirror across from her. even now, a year since being anything remotely azzi’s, she still looks at herself and only sees traces of the younger girl. 

her third piercings that she’d let azzi coax her into (she had been staunchly against it until azzi had said, casually, “it’ll be hot” and paige had agreed in a matter of milliseconds.)

her hair, damp from her shower, smelling like the shampoo paige had been using since freshman year at uconn because azzi had said it smelled nice once. 

even her t-shirt, subconsciously chosen out of her drawer, was the color blue that azzi had said matched her eyes. 

it was ridiculous, after all this time, all this silence– silence that was paige’s doing– how firmly intertwined azzi still was in her life. her claws were still buried in paige’s whole being, dug just as deep as they’d ever been. to be fair, she’d never actually tried to dislodge them, beyond the whole no speaking thing, but still. 

she knows that probably needs to change, knows that part of the reason for putting distance between them was so that eventually paige could think about her without a knife between her ribs, but the thought of moving on feels wrong. even the idea of changing her fucking shampoo feels like a step too far. 

because paige doesn’t want to forget. there’s almost comfort in the misery: missing azzi– loving azzi– is as familiar as breathing, even if that breath feels like it's being ripped from asthma ridden lungs.

arike is right though, paige needs to at least try. she thinks about the words baby steps , and tries to ignore the nausea in her stomach.

she glances back down at her phone on the dresser when it lights up with another text, but her eyes skip over the notification from arike without reading it, and land on the time: 5:55. 

she only knows about angel numbers because azzi had gone through a brief phase during her second acl tear that she’d called her spiritual awakening (paige had called it azzi’s trip to crazy town ), but still, she remembered what 555 had meant. transformation. it had stuck with her, a little more than she’d expected, and she glances at her framed uconn #5 jersey that hangs next to the door to her closet. 

she can hear azzi’s voice in the back of her head, reading out of some voodoo book she’d picked up on a trip to her favorite bookstore, reverent even with paige making fun of her every thirty seconds. 

555 signals change and new beginnings, suggesting you should let go of old patterns that no longer serve you and embrace the significant shifts and personal growth that are on the horizon. 

god. she’d give anything to be back in that tiny dorm room in storrs, curled around azzi like nothing outside of her room had existed and listening to her drone on about tarot cards and spiritual realms. before paige had gone and fucked everything up.

but she’s not- she’s in dallas and azzi is in dc, she thinks , she doesn’t even know for sure, because they haven’t talked in months and- paige needs to get a grip.

and when the third 5 ticks to a 6 and her phone buzzes again, this time from an unknown number, paige resigns herself to trying . 

she’ll try to listen to this girl arike is convinced paige will like, and not picture azzi in her place; try and relax and let loose and embrace the possibility of moving on. maybe she’ll even let herself be taken home, she doesn’t know. 

but this moping thing is really getting old, and she knows it can’t last forever. over a year is already teetering on the edge of pathetic, and that's without considering the part about how paige is wallowing over a girl she didn’t even date. 

embracing change and new beginnings or whatever. she can do that. 

… 

god is laughing at her. he must be. embracing change this ass. 

as she sits in her car outside the apartment building she’s just fled from, trying to calm herself down enough to not be a danger on the road on her drive home, she curses her entire existence. 

herself, for just generally being a pathetic idiot, the stupid fucking angel numbers, for giving her the entirely false impression change was coming, and god, for making her life one long-running, miserable joke.

and most importantly, azzi fudd. for being like, so impossibly wonderful that paige is on the verge of a panic attack just from hearing her voice for the first time in months. 

how did she know. 

panic courses through her, more potent than the venom of a snake bite. all it took for paige to resort back to hopelessly, impossibly azzi’s, despite the taste of someone else on her lips, was a phone call that lasted less than 2 minutes and azzi saying i miss you.  

she feels like the scene is frozen (surprise, surprise, even the metaphors she makes up in her head about her own life are straight from azzi’s favorite movie) where ana begins to climb up the side of a cliff, huffing and puffing and evidently feeling like she’s made an exceptional amount of progress, only for the shot to pan out and reveal that she’s only a couple inches off the ground. 

because she hasn’t had to interact with azzi at all in the last year really, aside from painful group events and ignored texts, and she’s self aware, knows that getting over azzi is gonna take more than a year of just trying and failing not to think about her, but she didn’t realize how easily she’d fall back into her old feelings after a god forsaken two minute phone call. she’s been trying, slowly, to make progress, reconcile with what her life looks like without azzi in it, and had almost convinced herself real headway was being made, only for the last twenty minutes to completely shatter that mirage. 

paige knows she shouldn’t read into it, let azzi voice in her ear spark anything but regret and hurt.

except azzi misses her .

the ten minute drive back to hers is a miserable affair of trying not to think about the hurt in azzi’s voice following jadyn’s question in the background, and the fact that azzi said she’d text, and. 

and the fact that she’d called paige. drunk. saying she missed her.

paige has the backbone of a worm.

she’s returning from an otherwise very decent date and hookup and of course azzi as is the only thing on her mind. of course. 

she feels a little bit guilty, too, as if she was like. cheating on azzi. which is fucking ridiculous, she feels ridiculous. but she can’t fully squash the thought that azzi somehow knew that paige had just been kissing someone else and pretending the straight, silky hair in her hands had been curly and wild instead. 

whatever. 

she allots herself five more minutes to freak out, before resigning herself to the fact that she has to get out of the car, but as she goes to turn it off, her eyes catch on the time on the dash: 1:11am. 

the voice in the back of her head that sounds like azzi says the law of attraction and manifestation. 

she slams her head on the steering wheel in despair. 

…

sleep that night comes slowly, fitfully, morning even slower, and paige tries valiantly to set her overeager expectations that azzi will text to a very manageable zero.

she’s never been good at wrangling her mind into reason when azzi is involved, though, and when she rolls over at 8:30 and has no new notifications, she takes the pillow she’d just been lying on, presses it to her face, and tries to smother the side of herself that is still pining, nine years strong. 

(she fails.)

but then, after dragging herself out of bed, while her head is stuck deep in her closet, trying to pick out which depression hoodie she wants to wallow in today, she hears the distinct sound of a text tone from where she’d left her phone on the bed. 

she jams her elbow into the shelf, and then again into the doorframe in her haste to check her phone, but she can’t even pay attention to the sharp pain of her funny bone, because there, against her lockscreen of drew in a uconn bueckers jersey, is a text from azzi fudd. 

azzi 💗: you gonna show me your cowboy boots collection or what

and every (meager, pitiful) ounce of progress from the last fifteen months that hadn’t already disappeared the night before flies out the window. 

if paige were a smart woman, with her best interests at heart, she would reply with something dry and dismissive, push azzi away and resort back to the moping that’s been occupying her life for the last year. 

unfortunately, paige is a fucking idiot, through and thorugh, and azzi remembered to text, and is trying, again, despite paige’s track record of ignoring her, and. 

paige really, really misses her. 

and she hasn’t exactly made a lick of progress in this whole distancing herself thing, and really, what could one hang out do. it’s not like paige can fall more in love with her.

she waits for what she believes is a respectable, chill, not too eager amount of time– time in which she passes by pacing holes in her floor and trying not to throw herself out the window– and then responds an hour later. 

she can do friends. she can do one game and a hangout and not lose her mind. definitely. 

when paige has grey hairs in five years, she’s billing azzi for the dye treatment.

AN: peace and love <3 as always pretty pretty please tell me how you liked it. i BEG. wait also the title comes from lizzy mcalpine's pushing it down and praying, and it's the line that directly follows I wanna know peace again, wanna sing a different song which I thought was quite fitting. ALSO! the second chapter (the +1) should be out in the next couple of days i just wanted to get this out first don't worry. i will redeem myself from the angst and give you fluff and smut i swear on my life.

[katyawriteswhump]

omega snuggle services

Rating: M; Words: 3800; Tags: O!Steve, A!Eddie, fluff, nesting, emotional hurt/comfort, mild angst, some minor sexual content, scenting and smells, soft everyone, happy ever after. For @stmarchmm day 30 prompt, Alpha/Omega nests (really sorry, this one was already late then was the major casualty when my laptop died!) Also for @steddiebingo fill, Dream. Billion thanks to the always inspiring @moonjelly69 who fed me with the idea of people always assuming Steve is a non-traditional Omega when he’s actually super-domestic, and with the celia plant, which is from this amazing post.

Summary: A!Eddie is suffering from insomnia. O!Steve offers himself up for ‘snuggle services’—basically, Eddie gets to cuddle a cute, purry Omega in bed and see if it helps him unwind. Soon, Steve is building Eddie a nest. Eddie is sleeping slightly better, while discovering that he’s not the only one in desperate need of snuggles, comfort… and a true soul connection. Read on Ao3

💤💤💤💤💤💤💤💤💤

“Do you want to try Steve?”

It's not a question you expect when you’re ordering ice cream. Eddie had been explaining to Robin why he currently resembled Ozzy after a week-long bat-munching bender. In more tedious terms—about his life-wrecking insomnia. His zombie-brain can’t follow her drift. 

He blinks blearily. “Huh?”

“When I was struggling with sleep a while back, Steve really came through. He’s not a miracle sleeping pill cure or anything, but he loves to help people, and I’m sure he’ll be up for it. He helped Chrissy a week or so back and, you know, some Omegas do it professionally. I mean, snuggle services.”

Right. She’s not upselling a bizarrely named ice-cream flavor. She’s suggesting he hooks up with ex-douche-extraordinaire Steve Harrington. In order to cuddle him in bed. Like a Teddy Bear.

So many questions and objections swirl in his mind. He opens his mouth. Snaps it shut again. 

“It’s Steve’s afternoon off.” Robin scribbles on the back of a receipt slip. “Here’s his number—hit him up. Uuuuh, you're causing a queue now, shit-bird, scram.”

Eddie scrams with his melty banoffee ice-cream cone and calls Steve. It isn’t as awkward as he thinks it’s going to be. Steve is totally, “Damn that sucks,” then, “Yeah, that’s cool,” and says he’ll be over around 10pm.

He doesn’t seem to care that they weren’t exactly besties at High School and that, really, they barely know each other. He tells Eddie he’s thinking of going professional, “It’s not like I’ve got a ton of other career options,” he points out.

He promises he won’t charge Eddie. He’s still practicing, and he genuinely wants to help Eddie sleep better.

When he’s hung up, Eddie stares, guilt-stricken, at the phone.

Would Steve really offer this service to Eddie if he knew Eddie was an Alpha? 

Eddie is so ‘not out’ that he ought to convert the whole trailer into a closet. He wears blockers so strong they’re barely legal. Only Wayne knows. Eddie can’t handle the baggage attached to being such a rare designation in a small town.

Steve never got that choice.

Steve Harrington’s presentation had been legendary, happening one morning in Double Math. His Omega pheromones perfumed the classroom so thick and fast the whole damn school knew that King Steve was a ditzy little O-head by third period.

That was history, though. 

Eddie has to admit he found Steve attractive even before he presented and there was something mega catnip-y about Steve’s earthy, herby scent. Which underlined the cold hard fact. No way should Eddie be enticing an Omega who’d no idea he was an Alpha to, basically, sleep with him.

He sweats over it. At 9pm, he picks up the phone to cancel. Nobody answers. Two minutes later, somebody knocks on the trailer door.  “Helloooeeee, it’s me. Steve.”

Yeah, Eddie can smell that, and it’s reshuffling his brain chemistry. Holy fuck, does that boy bother with blockers at all? Steve bustles in, looking cute as fuck, hair all soft like he’s washed it for bed already. He’s also got a large knapsack slung over one shoulder. “Hey. I know I’m early. Hope that’s okay? I brought some stuff that might help and I need to set it up. Hope you don’t mind? Where’s your nest?”

Eddie reverts to his insomnia-addled mind’s word of the day. “Huh?”

“Your Alpha nest? You do have one, right?”

“I got a bedroom. Erm, how exactly do you know about…?” Steve’s nostrils flare and he follows his nose to Eddie’s little room. Not that it’s exactly hard to find. Eddie’s brain, meanwhile, literally gives up and implodes. He plonks his butt down on the bed and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How do you know I’m an Alpha?”

“I’m an Omega! Had my suspicions since Junior Year.” Steve sniffs a discarded sock—actually kinda inhales it, which is brave—and giggles. “No doubts now. This place is so damn Alpha it might as well sprout fangs. Tho’ it’s not exactly… nesty, is it? I’ve been reading the Snuggle Services Manual. Alphas benefit from nests nearly as much as Omegas.”

“There’s a manual? Should Alphas and Omegas, really… Uuuuuh, does Buckley know?”

“About the manual? Or you still fretting about the Alpha thing? If so, no, I don’t think she knows.” Steve tidies Eddie’s things away into boxes and draws. Eddie usually hates anybody touching his precious horde. He doesn’t mind Steve doing it. Maybe he’s too dog-tired to care. “Betas don’t pick these things up so well.” 

“Is she gonna kill me?”

“Depends.” Steve pauses to lick his lips and they’re all shiny and wet. “Gonna be straight with you—the manual says I shouldn’t snuggle with Alphas till I’m more experienced and learned about contracts and shit. But Robin and Henderson tell me you’re a good dude. So, are you gonna eat me?”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Cool. Robin will be fine. Look, we’re both wearing blockers, right?”  Seriously? How delicious does Steve smell without them? “And you’re taking suppressants?” Eddie nods. “Great. Me too. All we have to do is avoid scenting each other, rubbing any parts together. Now, chill, Eddie. I’m getting stress vibes, and that’s not gonna help. I’ll make this place more nest-like, then we get down to business.”

Steve gets on with ‘nesting’ the place up and pulls more squashed cushions from his knapsack than seems physically possible. Eddie lies on his bed, fingers laced behind his head and watches. Which is fun. Then not fun, when it occurs that ogling Steve’s ass is probably not textbook Snuggle Services behaviour. 

He closes his eyes and breathes Steve in. Damn, Steve’s scent is even more fragrant and sweet tonight than the ‘sleepy honey’ tealights he’s distributing about the place.

Eddie is starting to chill a bit. Then he opens his eyes and mumbles something about not expecting Steve to be into all this domestic baloney.

“Look, I’m an Omega! It’s so annoying that everyone presumes I’m non-traditional, because I’m into sports and shit too.”

 “Sorry, dude.”

“Nah, don’t apologise. I’m sorry for going off on one. Hey, you want a quick shoulder massage?”  That sounds pretty nice. Steve kneels behind him on the bed and gets his thumbs right into Eddie’s super-tense trap muscles. “Honestly, tho’,” sighs Steve, while Eddie leans into the Omega’s touch, which feels incredible. “I reckon I’d love homemaking and nestbuilding if I was Beta or Alpha or whatever.” 

Soon, Eddie’s shoulders are tingling, and when Steve stops the shoulder rub, he almost growls. Instead, he sinks into Steve’s nest of soft fuzzy cushions, intermingled with Eddie’s own bedding. Steve skips off then returns wearing a ridiculously cute pair of Winnie the Pooh PJs, with short lace-trimmed pants that cling to the shallow swell of his hips. He looks so soft and Omega. He’s also displaying a swathe of lickable thigh, and, when he stretches his arms in a yawn, he flashes a hint of creamy tummy.

Gnnnnng. 

How is Eddie supposed to sleep when his inner Alpha is baying for the energy to jump Steve’s bones?

The hot milky drink Steve offers distracts him slightly. “It’s spiced with hops, lavender and a little touch of celia.” Steve explains that celia, which tinges the milk a pretty pink, is a herb that grows wild in the forest. It’s rare, and blends with the hops, cherry and lavender to concoct a deliciously relaxing blend. It all rings a distant bell, actually. Eddie is pretty sure his granny used it for the same reason, and he’d totally forgot. 

He takes a sip. Hops, earth-mint and hints of mysteria blunova tingle against his tastebuds, mixed with the punchy cherry and smoky lavender. He blurts it out before he can stop himself: “Woah! This is delicious. It tastes a little bit like you, Steve.”

Steve beams. “Yeah, that’s what Robin said. It’s one of the reasons I thought this could be a good career move.”

Eddie savors every last drop, including his milk moustache. Finally, Steve mildly scolds him for suggesting music at bedtime. “No way! It’ll spoil our rhythms. You know, breathing and purring and all the sleepy stuff.”

“Ever thought of bringing a whip to these little parties, Mistress?”

Steve smirks: “Wasn’t in the manual.”

They get down to the business of snuggling. Eddie prays to a dozen deities that he won’t get an erection. 

In the event, it goes better than expected.

Steve curls against his side, head tucked beneath Eddie’s chin, and Eddie folds an arm over him, his lightly brushing fingers avoiding any bare flesh. With an Omega this close, Eddie knows he must be perfuming a bit, but Steve is out like a light. Eddie’s nerves settle soon enough. A gentle heat thrums between them, and Steve’s scent, mingled with the sweet smelly candles, makes every breath a comfort.

Robin is right in that Steve isn’t a miracle cure for insomnia. Doesn’t matter. Eddie feels relaxed and sleepy, tho’ when Steve starts snuffling into Eddie’s chest, it’s so damn cute, he pries his heavy eyelids wide to watch.

As Steve’s sleep gets deeper, Eddie’s breaths fall into sync. 

Wow, and Omegas really do purr in their sleep, and it feels freakin’ exquisite.

Eddie drifts off eventually—it’s shallow, but he gets about four hours, which is the best he’s had in a fortnight. He feels refreshed and waking with an Omega burrowed into him plants him immediately in a happy place. Steve is a little disappointed that Eddie didn’t sleep more:

“We should try again,” he says, gathering up his stuff. “Same time tomorrow?”

“You sure I shouldn’t pay you?” asks Eddie, even though it sounds a bit weird. And he literally has no spare cash.

“No way. Look, if I decide to go into this professionally, a reference would be cool.”

“From Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson?”

“Why not? It looks better than from my mom.” Eddie isn’t sure about that. Steve adds, kind of sadly, “At least folk in this town still remember who you are.”

Huh?

Steve comes back the following night, and they hang out and chill before bedtime. Once they’re in the nest, Steve drops off so fast that Eddie’s barely got his arms around him. This time, when Steve snuffles into his chest, Eddie gets a semi. He breathes through it, brushes a thumb, featherlight, across Steve’s cheek, and simply enjoys watching the Omega sleep.

The next night, they talk. More than Eddie’s talked to anybody in a while. Even to Wayne, who’s always ready to make time, tho’ he’s usually exhausted too, from constant nightshifts.

“Why do you keep it a secret?” asks Steve, as Eddie sips some silky-luscious cream-topped hot chocolate that Steve has mixed with the sleepy herbs.

“Huh?” Eddie’s tired head is back in default mode, stuffed with cotton wool.

“Being an Alpha, dude.”

Oh right. He licks the cream from his lips, plops his mug down on the floor besides the beanbag they’re snuggling on.

“I like being a ‘freak’ for my sweet tatties and totally metal hair. Or what counts for it these days.” 

He scrunches the lank mess. 

Steve—with what might’ve been an excited squeak—moves around the back of the beanbag and starts brushing Eddie’s hair. It’s the second time he’s done this, and it feels amazing, even the snags and tugs. Scratch that, especially the snags and tugs. How the heck does Steve do it without any sting? 

Eddie forces his mind onto the matter in hand. “I don’t wanna be infamous for what I can do with my dick. Besides, my old man was an Alpha. The whole Hawkins pack would assume more than ever that I was his clone. Chief Alpha Hopper would either dump my ass in jail or run me outta town.”

Steve hisses sympathetically. He rubs circles on Eddie’s scalp, scratching lightly with his nails. It feels so good Eddie’s toes curl.

“I get that,” says Steve. “I’m happy you can wait till the time is right.  Honestly, I wanted to curl in a corner and die of humiliation for six months after I outed myself. You learn to roll with it.”

Eddie’s grimace is heartfelt: “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a coward?”

“Don’t be dumb.” And he’s halfway into Eddie’s lap again, cheek nestling above Eddie’s heart, offering a soul-warming, full-body hug. “You’ve been on your own since you were a kid. You’ve had Wayne, but it’s been tough. Alphas need to be looked after too. You know, learn to trust.” 

He gives a sudden brittle laugh.

“Steve?”

“Oh, it’s kinda funny. Me spouting this shit like I’m some kind of authority. My parents trust me a bit too much. I mean, since I presented... they’re like… out of town. Permanently.”

“Wow.” Eddie tentatively moves to pet Steve’s hair, and Steve lets out a long, shuddering sigh.

“They don’t say it out loud, but… I’m pretty sure it’s because I shamed them. It’s all right. I got people I trust. Robin, Dustin... and... erm, others.”

Eddie’s heart gives a sharp squeeze. Everyone knew the story of the fall of King Steve. He supposed—like everyone else, probably—that Steve still had a bunch of people around him to help pick up the pieces. Now, he doesn’t know what to say. He tries, “Do you count the town’s most closeted Alpha freak among that body of worthies?” 

“Sure. I trusted you super-quick, didn’t I? Besides, you’re really not that freakish, certainly not in a bad way. Sssssh, don’t worry, I won’t ‘out’ you on that either.” Steve’s giggle warms up again. His arms tighten around Eddie, whose cheek finds Steve’s hair. 

He loses himself in the cuddle.

Okay, his dick twitches with interest as Steve sprawls fully on top of him, weight pressuring into Eddie’s lap. He tries to ignore it. 

After a week, sleeping with Steve is pretty routine. Steve’s stopped taking his cushions home at night. The nest is basically nested in. They even begin listening to music before lights out—psychedelic Pink Floyd, mainly, which is about as mellow as Eddie gets. He still takes hours to drop off, while Steve is quick as ever. Having a soft purry Omega in his arms is almost as good as sleep anyhow, as is having a proper nest swaddled around him. Soon Eddie is pushing the six-hour mark.

He ‘outs’ himself to Gareth and the guys. Gareth rolls his eyes and mumbles, “We know. Took your sweet time, asshole.”

He grovels for forgiveness in a truly un-Alpha fashion, and Jeff flips the bird then offers a chummy hug. It feels so good not having to hide from his best buds.

When Steve massages his shoulders that night, he notices that Eddie’s “loosened up something wild. You finally spilled? Go Eddie!”

The next few days, Eddie grins broadly at everyone he passes in the street, flashing his Alpha fangs. He’s gotten his swagger back. The ‘freak’ is out and proud and back in business. Hopper doesn’t hound him out of town. He hands Eddie an application form for the police force, which is plain baffling.

That weekend, there’s a strange tartness to Steve’s scent. Eddie’s nostrils flare, concern sparking in his gut. He offers Steve a shoulder rub, and after a bit of squirming, Steve accepts, and following some gentle persuasion, he opens up.

His parents made a flying visit. They didn’t notice that the sheets on Steve’s bed were covered in dust. Nor noticed or cared that Steve left the house after an awkward dinner and never came home again. When he returned in the morning, they were gone.

Eddie pulls Steve into his lap and clasps him to his chest. His hand rubs soothing circles across Steve’s hip and lower back, and he inhales, exhales, deep and even, coaxing Steve’s choppier than usual breaths into rhythm with his.

 When Steve gets sleepy, he carries the Omega to the nest.

The Omega who loves to care for people, and yet is barely noticed by the wider pack, and has no family around to care for him.

The Omega who radiates relaxation and sweetness all rolled up into a bundle of sexy yum, with big hazel-brown eyes that’d soothe anybody’s soul.

Eddie blankets himself around Steve, so desperate to console the Omega that he’s suddenly worried he’s squishing him. He loosens his hold slightly. Steve sighs, rolls over in the circle of Eddie’s arms, and buries his face hilariously close to Eddie’s sweaty pit. Eddie cackles softly.

Nuzzling straight into the pit? Fucking brave. How could anybody of any designation not want to build a nest around Steve? 

That night, Eddie starts having wildly lucid dreams about domestic bliss with Steve. The dreams soon become as routine as sleeping together.

In Eddie’s slumbers, they’ve gotten their own little Winnebago, and they’re building a truly family-sized nest in it, woven with all their favorite things. They’re baking together too, starting with banoffee pie, which is Eddie’s top fave dessert, tho’ they develop quite the repertoire—cookies, muffins, chocolate brownies, blueberry pancakes. 

Nothing sexual happens, thank the Gods of Metal. Unless you count the dream where Eddie buys Steve a pair of fuzzy bear slippers to match his cute lacy PJs. He kneels before his… the… Omega to slide them on and might’ve planted a light peck on Steve’s ankle. Okay, his inner thigh. Either way, a slight case of morning wood is inevitable when Eddie wakes with Steve, so he’s relieved things don’t get more raunchy than that. 

The last thing he wants is a raging boner.

Then they kiss.

It is definitely part of the dream. They’re cooking in their stupidly cramped little kitchen, and suddenly Steve is nuzzling up his throat, rubbing and scenting, and his soft snuffles and purrs are too darn much. Eddie gently rests his hand on Steve’s head, holding him in place, no pressure. Eddie’s thumb toys with the hair at Steve’s nape, while Steve’s mouth drifts ever upward.

Then his lips capture Steve’s for a slow, lazy kiss. He licks the seam of Steve’s mouth. Steve opens for him, sliding his tongue slickly and sweetly against Eddie’s. The kiss tastes amazing. Not of the key-lime pie they were baking in the dream, but of lavender, hops and celia—the herbs in those amazing milky drinks Steve makes—and a hint of Eddie’s freshly cut grass and leather.

Too delicious. Too much. Too darn hot.

Eddie growls into the kiss like a ravenous grizzly, his every fiber heating and hardening. He wants Steve so bad, and not only to fuck him. They’re lightyears beyond that, and he moves his mouth to Steve’s neck. The Omega vibrates with irresistible little purrs, mewling with need for...

Eddie wakes up. 

Eddie’s got Steve clamped against his side, pretty much trapped there. Steve’s gotten one bare leg hitched up, spreading himself, and Eddie’s hand is wrapped, claw-like, around Steve’s thigh. The Omega’s chin is wedged on Eddie’s shoulder, his face tipped up. Their mouths are so close the air between them is moist with their fast, panted breaths. 

Steve doesn’t look scared or angry, only pink-cheeked and sleepily confused, blinking mussed hair from his eyes.

It’s a look Eddie’s grown to adore.

Their mingled scents are so thick Eddie could chew on them.

And he’s so freakin’ hard he’s concerned he’s gonna pop a knot.

He releases Steve so abruptly the Omega squeaks and rolls out of the nest, taking half the cushions with him.

“Shit! Sorry!”

He helps Steve up off the floor, then leaves him sitting on the edge of the bed. Eddie backs toward the door.

“What’s wrong?” asks Steve, nervously fingering his not-quite-kissed mouth.

“Uh… I don’t think what I nearly just did was in your Snuggle Services manual.”

“Oh.” Steve bites the bottom lip that Eddie is ravenous for. Sucks it in a way that makes his dick waaaay too interested.

“Sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Eddie stomps off to the kitchen. Glancing at the clock, he realizes he’s had eight hours of undiluted sleep. 

Christ, he needs strong coffee and a cold shower. 

“What the heck are you sorry about?” asks Steve, hurrying after him. “You wanted it, right? You wanted to kiss me?” There’s a little wobble in Steve’s voice, something fragile that punches Eddie right in the solar plexus. “I wanted it, Eddie. I guess I should be the sorry one. We’ve been dream-sharing for days now.”

“Dream-sharing?  Is that a thing?”

“Jesus, you’re clueless!” Steve tosses his arms up in despair. “Look, that is in the manual. Alphas and Omegas dream-share a lot. Normally, when they’re mated, but not always, and, you know, all the homemaking and nesting and stuff. Our… Um, I mean, the nest. It’s not necessarily a tentative mating bond thing between us. Simply suggests you’re ready to… you know… settle down. With somebody. Doesn’t have to be me.”

Eddie buries all eight fingers deep in his insanely messy hair, feels the blood throb in his temples. He isn’t ready for this. Building a nest to aid relaxation is one thing. Actually nesting? No way. Then, after about ten seconds of earth-shattering, soul-searching silence, he realizes he is ready. 

To nest with Steve.

The tug in his heart towards this Omega is epic. Has been for weeks.

He's never wanted anything more in his life. 

Steve is starting to huddle into himself, arms hooking around his ribs, eyes large and liquid. Eddie’s surge of protective vibes is a stronger wake-up call than any coffee, and he hopes Steve’s senses it.

He sees Steve, properly sees him, and it feels like he’s woken up from the longest sleep ever. An Omega obsessed with looking after people, even Alphas. An Omega so desperate to help and connect and belong that he offers no-strings-attached Snuggle Services.

For free.

He built Eddie a nest. He offered to look after Eddie, when they weren’t even friends. Now, he wants Eddie to be the one looking after him.

It’s so freakin’ special. Eddie feels the hot push of tears in his throat and eyes.

“Yeah, I wanted to kiss you, Steve,” he says, slowly edging forward. The idea of rejecting Steve… Wow, it makes him feel physically sick. “You’re quite sure you wanted it?”

“Jesus, how many times? Please, Eddie. Please want me. Please, please, please be my Alpha.”

“Don’t beg, Baby. You never have to beg.” It’s the closest Eddie has ever come to an Alpha bark.

Steve flies into Eddie’s opening arms, and they scent each other properly. Kisses happen for real, and a ton of running fingers through hair, and then plenty of bumping and grinding against the sink. Steve’s fists ball in Eddie’s t-shirt and cling. Eddie lifts him onto the kitchen counter without breaking a kiss, and slides between his legs. Soon, they’re gasping, sobbing and laughing, literally as one.

That evening, they go on their first date. Steve admits he doesn’t think he could ever want to snuggle with anybody other than Eddie again. Which is fortunate, because Eddie admits he’d probably die of jealousy or possibly rip Steve’s Snuggle Services clients’ throats out. They leave the bar early, to get back to Eddie’s and start to make their dreams reality.

Their fingers twine together as they knead the pastry. The banoffee pie is the best Eddie’s tasted, especially when he’s licking the cream filling from the corner of Steve’s mouth. They dream out loud about owning their own little Winnebago one day, about filling it with pups.

They go back to their nest.

Neither of them gets much sleep.

💕💕💕💕💕

my steddie fic on AO3

zero pressure tag @wheneverfeasible

[graysbullshit]

a list of brazillian fun facts you might want to know for your qsmp fanfics! (or in general lol)

DATING IN BRAZIL (because I know at least 50% of yall are gonna be writting slash):

Phase 1 can be or texting/talking or ficando (infinitive: ficar), it depends on how shy you are;

Ficando means to be actively seeking a person out consistently with the intent of talking for a bit and then making out (it does not entail any level of loyalty);

Brazillians only consider it "making out" if you french kiss;

Kissing without tongue is considered weird and viewed negativelly;

A little peck on the lips is cute, but not really what we consider kissing;

There are two types of brazillians: the ones that will start dating after a week and the ones that take months to make up their minds;

If a brazillian is interested in you (even if you don't know each other) and you're in a party there is a very good chance they will walk up to you and ask if you want to make out/ask for your instagram handle (it depends on what kind of party it is tbh);

Also, most brazillians kiss and tell lmao;

It is not uncommon for outgoing brazillians to make out with random strangers, especially during carnival;

We are a sex positive country mostly;

We are very sensual, even if we have no romantic interest;

Mock-flirting or Joke-flirting is very common in friend groups;

People who make out/date with the person their friend likes are called Talarica or Talarico;

When you get cheated on you're called Corno;

People usually go on dates after ficar for a whille;

Usually, if you're going on dates with someone it is expected of you to be faithful or to end things (you can't go on dates with a guy while also going on dates with another guy, that's fucked up);

We call dating namorando, from the infinitive namorar which refers back to namorado (boyfriend) and namorada (girlfriend);

brazillians are typically very direct when they are interested in someone, which doesn't mean they will say "oh, i like you" right away, but they will flirt for sure;

in Brazil saying "I love you" isn't a big deal, most brazillians will say it pretty fast and not saying it back (if you're in a relationship) is considered VERY WEIRD;

brazillians have the tendency of being very jealous lmao;

GEOGRAPHY:

Brazil is a continental sized country, being the fifth biggest country in the entire world. It is bigger than the USA, if counting only directly conected land (ignoring Brazil's islands and Hawaii and Alaska);

Because of it's size, brazillian states have a great number of differences in language, culture, food, climate, and politics;

There is as much animosity between states as in the USA (the difference being: brazillians will always defend each other rather than gringos);

The brazillian streamers are all from the Center-West, South-East and South of Brazil (unfortunatly there is nobody to represent the North and North-east);

The south-east is the are of biggest economical impact, while the center-west is known for the capital of the country (Brasília) and the agriculture, while the south has a terrible reputation (they have livestock too, but mostly a bad reputation);

Brazil has two of the biggest cities in the world: the 5º biggest, São Paulo, and the 19º biggest, Rio de Janeiro;

Nobody fucking likes São Paulo (the city) except from the people that were born there or lived there their entire lives;

Brazil has a mostly warm climate, and most brazillians consider anything below 20ºc to be cold (vai sulista, fala que no sul é mais frio, fala);

Brazil's seasons are more often defined by the level of humity, rather than how hot/cold it is;

Brazil is a giant when it comes to agriculture and livestock. We have a lot of grains, and red meat. If you drink coffee and eat meat you have definetly tasted brazillian products without knowning, since we do a lot of exportation (especially to europe);

Brazil has natural diamonds, pre-sal (which can be used in the making of combustives), gold and other precious stones.

HISTORY:

Brazil was mostly colonized by the portuguese, but there was also a presence of the Spanish, French, Dutch and British. You can tell by the architecture;

Rio de Janeiro was the capital of the Portuguese Kingdom for a little while;

Brazil (much like Mexico) was once an Empire;

Brazil (as it's own coutry) has had only two Emperors;

the Brazillian Empire was a big deal despite ending fairly soon;

Brazil's Empire once eliminated about 90% of the male population of Paraguay during a war, which is def a war crime. We have repayed them for what happened, though;

Cities like Rio de Janeiro have a lot of Imperial architecture, but most of the colonial architecture can be found in states like Minas Gerais;

Brazil sent troups in WWII to Italy, the famous Smoking Snakes;

Brazil was forced into a dictatorship by the USA (surprising no one);

Brazil had a president that decided to develop highways instead of trains (i fucking hate him). It's the same guy that moved the capital from Rio de Janeiro to Brasília;

Brasília was build with the blood of poor people and it fucking sucks, but it has the shape of an airplane so everything is fine ig /s;

Brazil's first woman president and it's current president were both tortured during the dictatorship;

Brazil is a concervative country, despite everything;

Do not ask me about Brazil's politics, because it's so fucking insane lmao;

GENERAL CULTURE:

Brazillian culture exists on top of three axes: Portuguese, African, and Indigineous;

We take A LOT from Japonese culture (since we are the country with the biggest Japonese population outside of Japan). I've never met a brazillian who hasn't watched anime, even my grandma knows what Pokemon is /srs;

Some other important diasporas in Brazil: Lebanon (we have more lebanese than Lebanon itself lol), China, Germany, Italy, and many different African countries;

Most brazillians listen to funk and sertanejo, but other brazillian music you might be interested in: samba, BRrock, mpb, BRpop, Axé, and Pagode;

Some other famous brazillians you might not know, but you should: Silvio Santos, Celso Portiolli, Rodrigo Faro, Angélica, Eliana, Xuxa, Luciano Huck, Pyong Lee, Mauricio de Sousa, Ariano Suassuna, Clarice Lispector, Machado de Assis, Guilmarães Rosa, Fernando Pessoa, Vinicius de Moraes, Toquinho, Mateus Hwang, Tiago Leifert, Tadeu Schmidt, Boninho, Guilherme Briggs, Fernanda Montenegro, Rodrigo Santoro, Wagner Moura, Seu Jorge, etc;

Most brazillians only drink tea for medicinal reasons (like cammomile tea);

Most brazillians love coffee and hate iced coffee;

Most brazillians start drinking coffee at a very young age;

Drinking (alchool) age in Brazil is 18yo, but most brazillians start drinking around 15yo;

Most brazillians love meat and barbecue. Here is a picture of a brazillian brabecue:

Brazil, differently from other American coutries, didn't have potatoes/corn as it's basic food, we had a root called Mandioca. Although it is still very beloved in brazillian cusine, the base for brazillian meals is currently Rice;

In Brazil we usually don't eat a lot during breakfast, but have a big meal (with rice, veetables, meat, and beans) for lunch and dinner. And our dinner is usually around 20h-22h;

We don't use AM or PM;

We use the metric system and Celcius, and we very much deslike the imperial system and what's-his -face is an abhorrent scientific disgrace;

brazillians who suck up to gringos are called "Vira-latas", which can be translated to "mutts" or more directly "eat-trash";

brazillians have mutiple coffee breaks during the day, mostly in the afternoon;

brazillians brush their teeth at least 3 times a day (mostly after every big meal);

brazillians shower at least once a day, some going as far as to shower three times a day during summer;

brazillians do not use snapchat and they think it's obsolete (because it is);

brazillians will pirate anything that isn't made by other brazillians, and I mean ANYTHING. There is no shame in pirating in Brazil and we are very proud of being the country that pirates the most in the world! We will also buy counterfeit products knowing they are counterfeit;

brazillians rivalry with argentinians is REAL. And, although is mostly a football thing, it really translates to everything else (especially if it's online);

brazillians have a hierarchy when it comes down to rooting for stuff, and it goes like this: brazillians, sibling countries, latin americans, other african countries, other third world countries, japan, other asian countries, european countries, anglo-saxon americans, argentina (if it's football), germany, portugal;

[remxedmoon]

(you worked yourself to death.)

yeah i wasn’t kidding when i said these would be coming soon. <- haha funny joke marshall. so!! remember when i said that this post would be coming out last weekend? guess whose tablet broke a few days after saying that! so sorry for the delay!! this is long overdue. here’s a link to the drive, as always! everything in this part of the update should be in the miscellaneous folder (outside of the menu icons, which are in the menu folder. wauaua).

unedited versions below the cut, plus some notes. fair warning 90% of this is just ui stuff lol

so! all of this was already done by the time i posted the enemies. the delay isn’t *entirely* because of the tablet issues, i just managed to get distracted by making: even more redraws! i’d say new update soon but after what happened last time i shouldn’t jinx myself. but! almost All of the art for the initial mod release is done!!!! exciting!!!!!!

please be nice to me (silly) this is my first time doing frame by frame animation in… give or take 5 years? i followed the original animations pretty closely, so they don’t look Awful but i am Aware of the jank. i’m not an animator!!! they’re Good Enough for my purposes.

hey did you know that the original teleport map is slightly off center. did you know that. that’s not the case for the redraw for the record but it did make things a little harder. despite that, i think you can tell i was having fun with the dormont part of the map. i would’ve put more detail into the house, but we never really get a more detailed look at it??? and i didn’t want to make assumptions. so that part’s just traced from the original 👍. anyways shoutout to the clocktower being Curved for whatever reason

outside of those, all of the added art is actually just spritework. i didn’t know this at first, but there’s a TON of copies of sprites from the icon set. Basically Everywhere. so those are added now! and should work properly! also added a few sprites that were Missing from my original batch. not going to put them all here, but a few Important ones (which i actually had to make new art for) are the rock paper scissors cheatsheet, the Larger versions of the craft signs (used in the calamité fight and. probably somewhere else idk), and the craft signs for the tutorial kid fight!

aaaand i think that’s it! for stuff from this update. yeah no there’s more coming buddy. my tablet already broke one time this week there’s no way it’s happening twice. i’m not working on portraits Just Yet (though the temptation has been There), but i’ve got the title screens, a few backgrounds, and the ending cgs done! along with a few other assorted cgs sketched out. because im out of my fucking mind. so, uh, see you soon!! enjoy!!

[styxxsyringe]

omg please do explain the contrast in the designs!! i'd love to hear

ok!! basically it all comes down to the amount of red in their designs. for octavia, red is a consistent color that shows up all over her design. red as a color signifying passion, anger, confidence, etc... i wanted it to show octavia's personality as a blunt, determined and opinionated person, and her freedom in expressing those parts of herself.

however for vivica, while red is a consistent color, i made sure to put far less of it into the design, and the rest of the design is mostly monotone/grayish colors. i wanted this to symbolise that vivica, while determined and passionate about her goal of killing/capturing octavia, locks away any "wrong" emotions or feelings that would defy the clear crucifix organisation, if that makes sense ? basically that her personality, at least in the presence of her superiors, is mostly repressed and her true emotions are surpressed/muffled (?) by the organisation she is involved in, hence the monotone. the fact that it's the uniform of her school where this is most apparent is also important.

and also its not completely related but i decided to make vivica's pupils target shaped as its both a cross + to signify her obsession with octavia + her relentlessness/desire to fufill her goals no matter what! sorry if the meaning seems like a stretch or is a bit pretentious sounding, i'm not the best at symbolism 😭 i hope this was interesting at the very least

[emberglowfox]

Heyyyy, I stumbled upon your blog just a few hours ago and I'm already hooked, but I am wondering about something.

So, if your Link is transmasc... uhhhh how did his top surgery go down? I don't think "ye olde medieval fantasy land" Hyrule has anyone (alive by the setting's present day) with the tools or skill to do it the modern way, and I also don't imagine magic methods would leave scars.

Sorry if I'm overthinking this, I'm just genuinely curious if there's an answer.

honestly, there's any number of answers to this. i tend to go with whatever's funniest to me (i've seen lots of "shake r stick to remove tits" jokes in the tags of that rauru drawing, which make me laugh) but i take it you're looking for a serious answer here, so i'll take off my jester cap for a moment.

i see this question a lot: "how would he have top surgery in an old time-y setting? they didn't have surgeries like that back then", and i feel like this kind of disregards the fact that this is a fantasy setting. sure, surgeries like that didn't exist in our ye olden times, but we also didn't have giant murder robots stomping around on tentacle arms, or fairies that can make a crop top deflect a sword, or so on. maybe he got purah or robbie to do it with sheikah tech! maybe, due to the fact that there are huge monsters stomping around everywhere attacking people, hyrulian medical technology is far more advanced than we realize, and they have even cosmetic surgeries (done somewhat differently, obviously, but still). maybe he got a great fairy to do it with magic, and just asked them to leave scars because it looked cool and/or he wanted to be openly transmasc. maybe, as some comics have joked, he just did it himself with the master sword, because he's built like that.

okay, i'm getting into joke territory again, but i'm sure you see my point. zelda, and most fantasy, plays by its own rules-- why do we have to return to the 'standard' rules of realism to place trans people in it? why not have fun and get creative with it, you know?

TL;DR: i don't really have a set headcanon 'this is how link got top surgery' in mind when i draw him, but there's basically infinite ways it could have happened by nature of fictional fantasy.

[lecliss]

The choice from Sunday is kinda weird cuz the options are build a cage in the house for the bird or build a nest where it fell and one leads to the bird growing up but dying once its set free and the other one probably leads to it dying much sooner. They both feel like the same option and even tho obviously the most kind, caring, morally right thing to do is keep it inside so at least it lives longer even if it's in a cage. But like to me both options suck and are basically nothing cuz I'm sorry if I look like a bad person for this, but I'm not sorry, but I'm not fuckin touching a wild animal. Even if I knew it was there even if I bothered to check out the sound to find a bird, which I wouldn't, I'm not touching it. I'm not even getting close enough to find out it's too young to fly yet. Whatever happens to it happens man and I'll never know what happens to it cuz I'm not even gonna look at it. Like, where's the 'you seem like an asshole but really it's quite a normal choice' in this whole trial thing??? That's usually an option you can pick. Sunday!!! Sunday, listen!!! There are more than two choices!!! You don't have to always do something!!!! You can just walk away!!! You don't have to try to do something for everyone all the time!!! Think about yourself sometimes!!! It's not selfish I promise!!! SUNDAY!!! OH MY GOD HIS WINGS ARE COVERING HIS EARS HE CANT HEAR US!!!!

[spearxwind]

btw if you sent an ask or a DM in the past few weeks and I havent gotten to it yet i am so sorry but it may still be a hot minute until i do due to irl stuff + my mental health

dont worry im doing fine ive just been heavily prioritizing irl stuff and i have accidentally let DMs and such build up so I will try to pick away at them when the hectic weeks stop coming

[highwayphantoms]

lmfao i send my dog to daycare so he can have some time around other dogs and of course NOW i get smacked with bitterness about shit from four fucking years ago

[technicolorxsn]

I always feel a little bad queueing art but also I don't rly wanna spam constantly

[future-crab]

Thinking about the time at the beginning of all this when my doctors told me the soonest they could schedule a test to try and determine what was going on with me was April, and I told them, "I don't think I can live like this until April."

And now it's October...

[clioerato]

Reverse of this post.

AU Unrealistic 90s, sorry

Eddie is like: "Well, Steve is just a really loyal ally. Really… physically loyal. And caring. I guess that's just the level of friendship a popular dude has." And Steve is genuinely convinced that they've been together for a long time and that Eddie knows.

1986:

They start hanging out. Then they hang out every day. Then they live at Steve's for a week straight.

Steve: “You can leave your stuff here, you know. Closet’s half empty.” Eddie: “Damn, you really are the most considerate straight dude I know.” Steve: “…Huh?”

1986:

They regularly sleep in the same bed. Sometimes they hold hands. Sometimes they kiss. Sometimes they kiss for a long time. Sometimes for a very long time.

Eddie (after kissing): “This is crazy. I mean, I get it, experimenting and all…” Steve: “What?” Eddie: “Nothing. I’m cool. You’re cool. We’re cool.” Steve (искренне): “Yeah. We’re the best couple I know.” Eddie: “…Couple of what, though?” Steve: “What?”

1987:

Steve gives Eddie a silver ring on a leather cord. Eddie wears it, even in the shower.

Eddie: “This is, like, a friendship ring, right?” Steve: “That’s literally a promise ring.” Eddie: “…A promise of what?” Steve: “Of us, Eddie. What the hell else would I mean?” Eddie: “Right. Us. Bros. Tight.”

1987:

Eddie: “You take care of me like we’re married.” Steve (smiling): “We might someday.” Eddie: “We might… legally non-binding kind of way.” Steve: “Eddie. We file taxes together.” Eddie: “You’re just very organized!”

1988:

Robin: “How’s your boyfriend?” Eddie: “Boyfriend? Who?” Robin: “Steve. Your literal partner in life. Your domestic co-op. The man whose shampoo you steal.” Eddie: “Steve’s not my boyfriend. We’re just… you know… post-labels.” Robin: “Eddie. You live together, you kiss. He holds your hand. He told me you're his boyfriend.” Eddie: “…He what?”

1988: Eddie: “Steve. Real question. Are we… dating?” Steve: “You’re joking, right?” Eddie: “Sorry! I didn't mean to! Maybe I misunderstood. I… I'm sorry, did I ruin everything between us?” Steve: “Eddie. We have a dog. We hosted Thanksgiving. We kiss. We have sex. You made me a Mixtape titled ‘songs that remind me of us’.” Eddie: “I thought you just needed a roommate with benefits and deep emotional intimacy?” Steve: “That’s literally a relationship.” Eddie: “…Holy shit. We’re boyfriends?” Steve: “We’ve been boyfriends for years, Munson.” Eddie: “Huh. Go figure. Guess I’m dating King Steve.” Steve: “You’re lucky I love you.”

Now that Eddie’s caught up emotionally, he’s 110% in. Possibly too in.

Eddie: “So... should we elope? Vegas? Matching rings? I’m thinking silver, with little bats engraved—” Steve (choking on his cereal): “Wait. What? Now you want to get married?” Eddie: “Well, yeah! We’re already basically married, babe.” Steve: “Don’t ‘babe’ me while talking about bat rings and eloping.” Eddie (grinning): “Too late, husband.”

*** Eddie: “So I saw this house. Big porch. Weird attic. Ghost potential’s high, but I think we can make it work.” Steve: “...Are you asking if I want to buy a house with you?” Eddie: “Well, yeah. We live together. We share a car. We kiss. A lot. I have a drawer full of your socks. I think it’s time we haunt a place jointly.” Steve: “This is how you propose real estate to me?” Eddie: “You should be grateful. The realtor loved my ‘gothic charm.’” Steve: (sighs) “We’re gonna need a mortgage... and a sage bundle.” Eddie: “You love it.” Steve: “I do.”

Grocery store, middle of the cereal aisle:

Cashier: “You want to sign up for the store discount card?” Eddie: “Yeah—uh, do I have to put my husband’s name too, or just mine?” Steve (pauses, then stares): Cashier: “...Congratulations?” Steve: tearing up immediately, holding a box of Cheerios like it’s a wedding bouquet Eddie (realizing): “Wait, you’re crying??” Steve: “You said—you said husband! In public!” Eddie: “I also said ‘Cheerios,’ are we crying about those too?” Steve: “Shut up.” Eddie (gently): “I meant it.” Steve: “I know. That’s why I’m crying.”

Later that night, in their definitely haunted new house: Eddie (quietly, as they’re brushing their teeth): “You know I really do want to marry you, right?” Steve (mouth full of toothpaste): “Mhm.” Eddie: “Not just for grocery discounts.” Steve (spitting): “I love you.” Eddie: “I love you too, husband.”

[wernerherzogs]

.

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you overworking yourself (hyung line) !

pairings: hyung line x reader (find maknae ver. here)

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 1.6k

cw: light cursing, overworking, fatigue, fainting

a/n: i had to cut this in half since it was getting too long and i wanted to make sure i posted today! i have NO idea why i made seungcheol's so long lmao. hope you enjoy kings ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ also, i will be closing my requests so i can catch up on them over the weekend, i'll try to get them done by monday! thank you for all the support, it means so much to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

seungcheol - seungcheol is livid. you're still at your second part-time job when seungcheol calls you, "send me your location, y/n." you didn't tell seungcheol you had taken on a second job. you've never been comfortable with money, always having to work multiple jobs to stay afloat. that was until you met seungcheol, and since then he's always taken care of your expenses, even offering to pay for part of your tuition, and you decided it was enough. you didn't want for your (millionaire) boyfriend to think you were using him, so you told him you took on some evening classes.

today, you're covering someone else's shift. originally, you weren't going to, but after their promise of sending you a little extra money for it, you accepted.

"cheol, i told you i'm-"

"at class still? don't bullshit me, y/n. you didn't take on any new classes, you left your paper schedule on the counter."

your stomach drops. ah hell, you must be stupid. "y/n, what are you really doing?" he asks, almost pleading. there's absolutely no fighting it at that point, "i'm... at work. shift just ended, i'll send you my location." in defeat, you sit on a barstool at the restaurant and wait for seungcheol.

when he walks in, his eyes are immediately on you, walking over and grabbing your hand. "let's go," is all he says. the car ride is silent with tension; he only asks about it once you two are both home. "why? y/n there's no reason for you to be working another job. i'm right here; if you needed financial help, i could've helped you." he says gently, trying to maintain his frustration, but his brows are furrowed, exposing his true emotions.

"that's just the thing seungcheol, you're always here to help me. i don't want to use you because i can't support myself." you reason, but seungcheol obviously isn't buying it. "y/n, you're not using me, even if you did i wouldn't care. i don't want to watch you struggle when i know i can help." he takes your hand into his own. "don't do this to yourself, please. i love you too much to let this keep going." looks like you're quitting that job.

jeonghan - you and jeonghan are walking home from your date night. it's supposed to be romantic, you two walking hand in hand, but you're feeling the weight of the all nighters you've been pulling all week to finish your project, walking wobbily on the side walk.

"did you drink or something? you're walking a little funny babe." jeonghan teases before giving you a genuine look of concern. you try to laugh it off, "hah, maybe." but then your eyes start to droop ever so slowly. jeonghan notices, "have you been sleeping?" damn. did your concealer wear off or something? you're about to respond, but your legs give out and jeonghan catches you before everything goes dark.

you wake up on the couch, tucked in with a blanket with jeonghan caressing your forehead lovingly. "so i'm guessing the answer to my question is no," jeonghan murmurs, giggiling. "but seriously y/n- don't scare me like that," he adds. "i know i know, sorry-" you say, trying to sit up, but jeonghan interupts. "i don't think so, you need to rest baby," he gently pushes you back down before joining you on the couch. "we'll talk about this seriously later, let's just sleep for now." wrapping his arms around you, leaving you no choice but to comply.

joshua - joshua wants to trust you, knowing that you're fully capable of taking care of yourself, but he can't help but worry when he looks over at you. you've been sitting at your desk for hours now, trying to finish all your assignments before the end of the grading period.

he walks over, putting his hands on your shoulders and massaging them. "you've been working for a bit, love. how about a break?" he suggests. you turn around, giving him a small smile, "i really would shua, but i've got like 2 hours till this is due. just let me finish this and i'll take a break." he frowns, "you promise?" "i promise," he hums in response, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before retreating to whatever he was doing.

2 hours later, joshua is back at your desk, only to find you slumped over your papers. he sighs, shaking his head before taking a look at your laptop. "hm, looks like you made the deadline," he says softly, gently shaking you awake.

"you did it, love. i'm proud of you, but i don't want you doing this often- it makes me worried." he murmurs, "come on, you need to take your well deserved break in a more comfortable space," taking your hand and guiding you to your room.

jun - honestly he gets it, between his singing and acting career, he knows what it's like to always feel like you're on the clock. he still doesn't approve of this though.

you just got home from working over time, it's 11:35- you both should be asleep, but he's waiting for you on the couch. looking at you, his heart breaks, noticing the eyebags, the bad posture, the way you're barely holding onto your bag, all of it. he makes his way over to you.

"oh, y/n," you don't process what's happening, about 30 seconds from fall asleep as he holds you. taking your bag from your hand, he then ushers you toward the couch. he helps you take off your jacket and shoes.

"do you want something to eat? water?" he asks while laying you down. you shake your head, but he still hands you a waterbottle anyway. "i'm always scared when you're like this bǎo bèi," he comments softly. "please take care of yourself, but if you can't, i'll be here." he gives you a kiss before laying your head down, falling asleep almost immediately.

hoshi - hoshi is nothing short of assertive, literally showing up to your job. "soonyoung, what are you-" "do you know what time it is? i'm taking you home." he leaves no room for argument as he drags you out of your work place. you're going to need to explain this to your manager.

"i'm not letting you do this to yourself, y/n. it's late. why are you still trying to work at this hour?" he asks, frustrated. "soonyoung, you know why. i don't have a roommate anymore; i can't pay rent with one income." he sighs, "i know, but you just look so- i don't know- tired now. i can help y/n, just let me."

there's no talking your way out of this, you just let him drag you all the way back to your apartment while rambling about how bad working late could be for your health: what if someone kidnaps you on the way home? what if you faint while you're walking up the stairs because you're so tired? what if you're so sleepy you don't notice someone walking by and you run into them and fall into a storm drain?

wonwoo - he doesn't scold you, but he'll get all nerdy and tell you terrible facts about not taking care of yourself.

you're bent over your laptop, trying to finish a whole group project on your own since you got assigned terrible partners. he sits down besides you, whispering in your ear, "keep sitting like that, and you won't be able to walk properly at 40," you scoff, but adjust your posture anyway, you don't want to test this guy. smiling in victory, he kisses you before walking away, reminding you to take a break.

you don't listen to him though, getting carried away in your work. wonwoo comes back every so often to tell you that your brain will start eating itself because you haven't eaten, you'll get terrible wrinkles because you're dehydrated, all that stuff.

once you're finally done and in bed, he scolds you, of course. "i know you think i'm joking, but i'm not y/n. this isn't good for you, next time you do this, i'm forcing you to stop, okay?" he strokes your hair and gives you a kiss. "i love you a lot, so take good care of yourself, can't have you dying on me."

woozi - out of all the members, he's definitely the one who relates to you the most. he knows you'll drown out the sound of people telling you to take breaks, so he takes things into his own hands.

you're working at your desk when woozi turns your chair around and grabs your hand, dragging you to the couch. you try to argue, you really need to finish this so your group doesn't fall behind on the project, but he doesn't take no for an answer.

"shush y/n, just let me talk." he starts, "i know what it's like, i really do. you feel like everyone is depending on you, and maybe they are, but you don't have to do it all alone," when you try to dismiss him and get back to work, he's actually pinning you to the couch. in any other circumstance, you'd be turned the hell on... but he's serious about this. "listen, stop trying to shut me out y/n. i'm someone you can rely on, and i want you to. don't do this to yourself, i won't let you."

you nod in agreement. "good, now let's just stay here for a second," he lays on top of you, trapping you under him so there's nothing you can do but rest.

[fairestwriting]

Reader sleeping on the couch after an argument w/Dorm leaders? How they would react w/happy endings?

this got super long so i decided to change up the post layout so longer stuff would look nicer. But im also posting from a new device so if this goes up and theres any formatting fumbles then uhm. you didnt see anything

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

Despite how hotheaded and stubborn he is, it’s actually really rare for you two to really argue. He values your opinions on everything, and he’d hate for you to feel like he doesn’t hear you or care about your feelings. The last thing he wants is to make you feel like doesn’t care.

That, however, is something he’s still learning. It’s not very easy to let go of the habits he developed growing up— Especially if he thinks what he’s doing is best for you. He doesn’t know how to convince people, so he ends up coming off forceful and inconsiderate. It might even happen without him noticing he messed up, if you’re not extra straightforward about it.

So he knew you weren’t happy with him, but really didn’t think it was that bad, seeing you asleep on the couch is the last thing he was expecting. Even more if it’s the first time it happens, it makes him freeze go into panic mode.

You’re woken up to a really shaken looking Riddle, asking you what you’re doing on the couch at this time in very genuine confusion. He might not even have considered it was because of the argument, too focused on trying to figure out what’s up with you. And it’s hard to stay upset at him when he so readily listens to whatever you have to say, apologizing profusely and making a promise to not do it again that he’ll always keep. His intention from the start was to do what’s best for you, after all— So if he turns out to be wrong, the first thing he wants to do is to correct it.

𐙚 Leona Kingscholar

Arguing with Leona is… definitely a situation. It might have you wondering if it even counts as an argument at all. Sometimes he just doesn’t seem to even react to what you have to say, sometimes he straight up states he can’t be bothered to argue. He’s not as stubborn towards people he really likes, but he’s still very proud.

He can actually tell that he messed up very quickly, pretty much in the middle of whatever interaction went wrong, but can’t bring himself to actually back down and admit it. He doesn’t even bother trying to convince himself that he’s right or anything, he’s just that allergic to saying the word “sorry”.

When he walks past you, his first thought is that he should just “let you sulk”. It’s probably not the first time it happens to him in a relationship— And the same routine plays out every time. He wants to walk away, but he can’t. He eventually does, then he comes back and stares for minutes. Regret starts to really sink in then.

You have a blanket draped over you the day after, and Leona just so happens to be around to ask, much more tentatively than usual, if you’re coming with him to get breakfast. It’s his version of an apology, kind of. He’ll actually say it out loud if the subject of the argument was more serious, but that’s rare. He’s not very good at this and the both of you are aware of that, but he still cares, and he’ll get there eventually. Maybe.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

Surprisingly, or perhaps not, he might actually have the lowest argument rate out of all dorm leaders? He owes a lot of it to just being good with words, he pretty much always manages to bring up his disagreements in a really non-confrontational way, they’ll barely even register as disagreements at all. If he can’t find a way to seamlessly compromise, he often just keeps his thoughts to himself.

...Mostly because he gets too anxious at the possibility of you rejecting him. Even if it’s something small, it’ll stay inside his head and refuse to leave, getting dwelled on when life starts to get particularly stressful. If you two argue, the likelihood is that he actually started it, because some other minor issue came up and the pile he was mentally stacking ended up falling apart.

Things can get really messy in the moment. Everything sounds offensive to him when he’s freaking out, while at the same time he’s painfully aware that he’s being overly emotional and causing problems that didn’t exist before. He stops his rant suddenly when self control manages to return to him, but at that point things were already said, and you’re walking separate ways after he awkwardly suggests you two just take a moment to cool off.

He might not even see you on the couch, being too ashamed to leave his office, but Jade will let him know either way. Azul won’t disrupt your sleep, and he’ll even try to give you enough time in the morning to get through your usual routine, but as soon as it’s possible he’s looking for you to privately apologize. He takes care to clear up any misunderstandings before voicing any of his worries, even though it’s visible how nervous he is. It comforts him just to see you looking at him with fondness again, seriously relieved that he won’t be losing you over the situation.

𐙚 Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim is another one who doesn’t really argue, but that’s not to say he doesn’t voice his disagreements, because he does, and he does it very often. It happens as soon as the thought pops up in his mind, spoken all lightheartedly. Regardless of what the subject being talked about is.

…Which can very easily become a problem. He does take all your boundaries very seriously, but you need to be very straightforward about them. So if it happens that you two get into a topic he doesn’t know is touchy for you, he might say something that comes off insensitive. And yes, he will ask you as soon as he sees the change in your expression, but the lack of tact doesn’t mix well with you already being upset, and you end up just walking away.

Only then he stops talking, freezing up completely. He can tell, that you probably want some space now, and he’ll honor that— but the whole thing doesn’t leave his mind for hours. He has no clue of when he should go look for you to try to talk and apologize, no clue of how he should even word it all when he doesn’t know what he did wrong. His heart shatters when he sees you sleeping on the couch.

He probably asked Jamil for advice, then heard that he should really give you your space, but he just can’t take it. You get shaken awake and he’s tearing up while he apologizes, saying he really didn’t mean to make you upset, that he’ll do his best to be more careful if you tell him just what went wrong, but also that you don’t need to talk right now if you don’t want— He’s a little clumsy, and very emotional, but you know he means well, and that he loves you very much, which he’ll be sure remind you of over and over again.

𐙚 Vil Schoenheit

It’s no secret that he can really nag people, but Vil really doesn’t like to actually argue— He’ll say it every time a disagreement or misunderstanding starts to get tense. Partially a self-reminder, he’s aware that he doesn’t have nearly as much patience as he would like to. It can take a decent amount of effort to keep himself in check.

You two do successfully compromise very often, but sometimes even his suggestions can come off very harsh. It’s no secret to anyone who knows him. His peacemaking attempts are still pretty blunt, and his opinions are never held back. It can easily get upsetting, going as far as feeling like he’s judging you even though he’s not.

Vil actually takes a moment to tell that he might have said the wrong thing. He’s not so proud he’ll refuse to admit his own mistakes, but he’s just… used to upsetting people. You can outright leave mid conversation and it still won’t be his gut reaction, he always believes whatever he’s saying and only wants the best for you. It can take a good few moments until he realizes you’re not just “sulking” the way his underclassmen at the dorm do when he scolds them. Finding you asleep on the couch can honestly shock him.

He won’t wake you up right away— It’s still important for you to get your rest, and he wants to really think about what happened before he says anything— but there’s no way he’ll let you spend the night there. His voice is really soft when he calls your name, waiting for you to gather yourself before he tells you he’s sorry. Gently reassuring you in whatever you need while he explains himself, he’ll make sure everything is okay before he touches you at all, wrapping you up into a hug when everything is finally settled.

𐙚 Idia Shroud

He’s freaking out, full stop. He didn’t even think he’d ever get far enough with someone to be in this position. Since when does he even have the audacity to argue with a partner he never even believed he’d get? Whatever he did, he wholeheartedly believes he screwed up big time.

...And even though it’s his anxiety talking first, he might actually be right. He’s usually really passive, doesn’t even voice disagreements beyond maybe just whining about not wanting to go somewhere with a lot of people. And even then, he might be willing to try, just for you — So what went wrong? Probably a messy misunderstanding, where he said a lot of things he doesn’t mean…

He’s honestly just expecting it to be over. Believing that you’re going to block all his socials and never speak to him again. The second you walk away, the only thing in his mind is the absolute worst, so when he sees you on the couch he’s… relieved? But just for a second. It means there’s still hope for him! You would have just disappared if you wanted nothing to do with him, right? But he also recognizes the trope, he knows he’s going to need to work to be forgiven—

Idia is just standing there when you wake up. Pacing around the living room and losing his mind. He gets startled when he sees you’re awake, like he’s terrified of what will come next. At least he’s had (more than) enough time to think about what happened… the apology you get is very much sincere, even if it gets rambly at certain parts, ending with the two of you comforting each other.

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

For obvious reasons, things can get tricky with Malleus. Whenever you feel like you’re really starting to understand him, something strange will happen again, it’s a real cycle. All the factors in his upbringing connect with each other to build a very specific kind of character. Even if it looks like you two are really similar, there’s going to be a minimum of a handful of details that just change everything.

He’s always careful with his words, with basically no exception, but sometimes he just doesn’t know what the “right” thing to say would be, or he doesn’t know what a certain cue could mean in the moment, or whatever he knows is something that doesn’t apply outside of specific context of the royal family he’s a part of— The possibilities are endless, but a lot of the time, it’s more likely that things will just chalk up to the fact you don’t understand each other’s perspectives.

He might notice something is off right away, he might think nothing wrong happened at all, it can be wildly different depending on the topic at hand. He’ll ask what’s wrong if he does notice, but even if you do try to explain to him why you’re hurt, it may not make sense inside his head right away. And even though he’s genuine and fast to apologize, it can feel cold when he clearly can’t tell what’s actually wrong.

When he walks by the couch you’re asleep on, it doesn’t even register as being related to the argument right away. He shakes you awake to tell you it’s not a good idea to sleep there because it gets really cold later in the night. Right now, he’s had enough time to process and understand the situation, quickly giving you a new, truly heartfelt apology. Even if in the whole thing, in retrospect, was a pretty minor issue — And if it isn’t, or you’re just not ready to forgive him yet for whatever reason, he doesn’t push it. The only thing he’ll insist on is having you sleep somewhere more comfortable, really.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[miyaz6ki]

Hear me out..Jealous!kinich x reader smut...also I love your writing style it makes me wanna explode🤭

──── bet you feel it now, baby

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. you didn't have to laugh that hard at his joke. it wasn't even that funny. he's better, it's fine, he'll just show you how much better he is.

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader, !!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. posting wip list in a bit plus brief overview of 800 special fic (it'll probably be genshin/hsr :3)

۪ ⠀✧ warnings. possessive behavior (kinich), jalosi /j, kinda ass/pussy eating (see to it however you like, i used no real specific term, reader is blindfolded for some parts, jealous behavior, rough sex, sex itself, y'all get walked in on (be ready for this to be implied into more of my kinich works LOL), establish relationship

"ahhn- kinich i said 'm sorry.. pleasef- slow down!" your face in the pillows, your words muffled and long gone into the night. the black-haired man's raspy voice spoke from behind— your boyfriend, kinich, of course. "he wasn't all that entertaining, why laugh like how you do with me?"

it was torture to him, seeing how it went from an awkward laugh, a polite smile, to a more genuine appearance to the stupid guy that just had to come up to you while he was busy getting a little snack for ajaw— even ajaw wouldn't comment on how his face looked this time, keeping his own silence as he ate the delicious candy.

"fffuck- he was an old classmate i had at the akademiya- 'm sorry, i-i really am kin-!" he almost laughed at your words. classmate? doesn't mean you should be playfully hitting shoulder like that. or teasing him like that. it's all his, no one else should be able to have it.

you shuddered, what felt like cumming again for the umpteenth time in a row, he hadn't stopped pinning you against the wall, and making you see stars over and over again ever since you saw your "classmate".

"doesn't matter." he groans, finishing inside you once more, your eyes were blindfolded by his headwear, previously on his forehead. he carries you onto the mattress, laying you down a little roughly. "w- what are you doing?"

you shivered once more, feeling warm exhales near your entrance, his cheek resting suddenly on one of your thighs. "all mine, right?" the blunt tone present in his tone definitely made it out as if you couldn't tell him anything other than yes (because it was true). his lips start to scatter a plethora of glossy little kisses all over your thighs, the sensation of getting him to cover every inch of your legs felt like a fever dream.. was this really a punishment?

you could feel his other hand snake to one of yours, which was somewhere on the bed. holding it tight as he started to place wet pecks over your hole. "hhnnn.. kin stop- ... stop teasing me.." you felt yourself moan into his touch, your other hand reaching out for wherever his head was. your fist grabbing at his hair, almost trying to push him into you further.

you felt him groan into you, you could sense he was whipped for your taste. the way you moaned his name. his.. name. "ahh- ahhh fffuck!— kin it's all yours, i promise!" his hand left yours, and stopped lapping at your hole for a moment- you heard a small grunt, and two things landing on the floor.. was he taking his gloves off?!

you could feel him sitting you up with one of his other hands, arms setting you down onto his face, arms locking around your thighs. straddling you over his mouth, as he started to devour what was his. no other guy could do this to you, not without making you feel as good as he did.

shit and he definitely did, the way he made you feel wasn't like the stupid losers who'd try to hook up with you back in the akademiya. or tried to pick you up in the streets. they can't make you feel turned on as much as you did when kinich blindfolded your eyes with something he doesn't usually take off and hear his belt buckle start to come off- ahhh nothing was better!

oh you felt yourself almost creaming on his face just thinking about it. not to mention how good he worked his tongue into you, definitely tasting every little bit, every little nook & cranny his tongue could reach.

he made a small sound, looking up to see you slowly riding his face as is, trying to rub yourself near against his nose. his authorative hold was more than enough to stop you from moving again, one of his palms moving over your stomach to feel the way his tongue moved inside you.

his head busily buried itself more into your scent, glossing his tongue so carefully, making sure you feel it. you started to feel something pool in your stomach- ssshit you were gonna cum again! your hands trail back down to his hair, gripping it harshly again, him seeing signs that you're close, he fastens his pace, licking as much as he could, no longer concentrating on the taste, more on your facial expression.

"ahhn- kin i'm g'na-!" "mmm there it is, such a good kitty." were the words he moaned into your hole, as he gladly lapped up every inch of your delicious juice/cum.

as he placed a kiss onto your entrance once more, he places more than just one kiss onto your lips, making out with you for a bit. letting him taste what he's been tasting for the past hour, the shared, mix of both of your cum.

your lips finally parting from his, your eyes still shut close 'till you feel a fist of your hair being gripped, "not done yet." is all kinich whispers, his voice a little coarse as he continues to kiss you. "all.. yours," you feel him take your hand, putting it over his heart while you both pull away from the kiss, a string of saliva being created. "and all mine, please?" he points to where your heart is in your chest.

his blunt attitude could only make you laugh, planting a kiss onto his head, and nodding to an agreement. "mmm- yeah. all yours."

"you guys are reaaaaaaalll corny! you're lucky i like your partner this time!" ajaw butts in as you laugh, while kinich simply scoffs- looking the other way and burying his face into your chest.

not as cool as my other works, and it's more cringe if i keep looking back on it, cute request tho !!!!<3333